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Chapter Text

Ever since their death, everything had become complicated.

They’d return to Paradise after their every expedition, aware they’d a flock to look after now. That they’d held responsibilities that no sheep ever had.

Let alone an omega.

All of their life, Lambert was taught to keep their head low and do as they’d been told. His parents had always been loving and patient, yet knew better than anyone that their son’s life would be littered with harsh expectations and inflexible demands.

Whenever Lambert would witness his parents interact, he’d longed for the kind of love they’d shared. Their father, as far as alpha’s went, had been a gentle soul. He’d spontaneously take his wife’s hand and burst into out-of-tune dance, their small, cottage home filled with constant laughter.

Lambert’s own romantic experiences, however, never bore softness.

Always direct. Unromantic. Robotic.

No alpha would ever care to listen to his stories, nor care to ask the young ram questions that wouldn’t devolve into sexual innuendos or how good of a housewife the omega would be. It’d all been disheartening, the same case being true for other species Lambert would occasionally attempt to speak with.

When the Bishops eventually came, Lambert hadn’t been with his parents. He’d known them dead, yet was strangely thankful for not having witnessed anything in regard to the event that inevitably killed them.

They’d known, at the very least, that they’d have died in each-other’s arms. Without a shadow of a doubt, Lambert knew his father would have shielded his mother from the strongest of blows. Would have held her close, whispering words of love and comfort despite his own fear.

Lambert ignored the likely possibility that they’d been worried for them in that moment. That they’d wondered where their son was.

“My leader?”, a confused voice startled the sheep out of their thoughts, the crown bearer blinking a handful of times as to regain their surroundings. Before them had been one of their flock, a bear with their head tilted in question. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, my faithful,”, the ram beamed in turn, as radiant as the moon with their gentle, welcoming glow, “thank you for looking out for me.”, they’d smiled warmly, looking at the brown bear with a pleasant smile, “Do you need me for anything?”

“Ah, ugh, no-“, they’d shook their head in emphasis, their smile somewhat tight, “you’d just been stood in the same spot for about three hours.”

“Oh,”, Lambert laughed bashfully, “time is a funny thing, I always manage to lose track of it.”, they’d waved their hand dismissively, finally reanimating their body from where they’d stood. It’d been rare for them to get so lost in thought following a crusade- normally it’d been during them that they’d drift into memories as they’d slaughtered through the onslaught of heretics. “Had you a chance to clean up the outhouse yet?”, the sheep asked instead, changing the topic.

“About that,”, the bear scratched the back of his head, breathing in through his teeth, the sound coming out as an annoying hiss, “I’m not good at cleaning,”, the, coincidentally alpha follower, complained, “I think you’d do it much better.”, he’d explained.

And that.

It struck a nerve.

Yet still, Lamb only sighed in complaint, shaking their head.

“I’ll see what I can do in a moment.”, they’d spoke simply, hoping that another one of their flock would be more suited and willing to do the task. This kind of behaviour had been the case since they’d first began to build the community, and Lambert hated themselves for being unable to scold or order them more directly.

The One Who Waits himself had warned the sheep as to not become a slave to their own following, and yet here they’d been.

After a few extra pleasantries being exchanged with the bear, Lambert made his way towards their personal tent as to not sulk in their self pity in front of their flock. They’d been a surprisingly fragile and impressionable bunch, with The One Who Waits dubbing the majority of them as idiots.

Lamb hadn’t agreed, but they’d known better to disagree, also.

Speaking of their God, he’d been… different than Lambert imagined.

Charismatic and with an odd, but very present, sense of humour. He’d always been very generous in praise, his sharp smile rarely leaving his veiled features. Naturally, he’d been as spiteful and cold as the sheep anticipated, speaking of murder as one would speak of the weather.

He’d wanted the other Bishops dead, with the four of them having sealed the black cat in the impromptu prison of his. Lambert hadn’t known the extent of their conflict, as such could think little more than ‘two wrongs don’t make a right’ in regard to the matter.

Granted, and perhaps they’d been biased in their view, they’d been inclined to think their God right. The Bishops slaughtered all of sheepkind, with the God of Death the only one who’d appeared remorseful for Lambert’s predicament.

In an odd way, the two of them had been much the same. They’d found an unfamiliar kinship in their isolation, and perhaps it’d been part of the reason the two of them seemed to get along so well.

Aym and Baal, as Lamb learned to know them, hadn’t paid the sheep much mind. The two young cats eyed them curiously, yet were yet to voice a single word, never once speaking over their master.

Inevitably, Lamb found themselves at ease in the presence of the towering God. Whenever they’d succumb to deep wounds, there’d been a moment of utter relief at the approach of death. It meant they’d see their God. That their current pain would vanish in an instant, allowing them a moment of peace and clarity.

‘Vessel,’, a deep voice hummed melodically, almost as though it scolded the sheep, ‘you’re unusually thoughtful.’

“I guess I’m feeling sentimental,”, the ram laughed in turn, voice filled with warm humour as they’d entered their home, “besides, I think plenty all the time!”, they’d defended with a bleat both amused and playfully hurt, “are you saying your future liberator tends to be dumb, my lord?”

‘I’m implying you’re a creature of impulse and instinct,’, The One Who Waits spoke in a way that told Lambert he’d rolled his crimson eyes, ‘you’ve no need for thought.’

“Ah, I’ve heard that one before,”, Lambert sighed, picking up the crown from atop their fluffy wool, lowering it down to eye level, “don’t think, just do as you’re told.”,

‘… seems I’ve struck a nerve.’

“I-“, the sheep began to speak, yet paused abruptly “no,”, they’d sighed after the pause, clutching onto the crown, “not you. Just…”, again a moment of quiet, Lambert’s words barely a whisper, “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”, they’d admitted regretfully, aware they’d been letting their God down by the suggestion alone.

They hadn’t a clue how to lead. What to say to motivate people or how they’re to plan out their day.  They’d feel the way his alpha followers looked at him. The hunger and yet confusion, as though they’d seen them as unbefitting of the crown.

They knew nothing, yet deemed the ram as not enough.

And they’d been right, surely.

‘Might I be frank, Lamb?’

“Of course.”

‘Your mortal life was a waste.’, The One Who Waits spoke without missing a beat, his tone and delivery monotone, ‘your existence amounted to nothing. You were born and then you’d died.’

“I-“

‘So do not waste this chance,’, he’d emphasised, the eye of the Red Crown staring up at its temporary owner, ‘you, Lamb, are the key component to changing the world as you know it. You alone will surmount to an event that’ll be recalled for thousands of years to come,’, and Lambert could imagine it. Their name sung in praise despite their presumed status, ‘your second life will end the tyranny of the Old Faith, and of that I am certain.’

It’d been an unfamiliar feeling to be believed in so utterly. A God of insurmountable power promising an unremarkable sheep a world of recognition. A purpose given to someone who’d strayed too far in search of it.

“… Thank you, my lord,”, Lambert sighed quietly, feeling their heart swell in an unfamiliar way, “for believing in me.”

‘Mm,’ The God hummed in turn, the sound close to a purr, ‘and if you think your disposition your weakness, turn it into a strength.’

“What do you mean?”, the sheep asked warily, their head tilting as though the God stood right before them, the two conversing in person.

‘Wrap them around your finger,’, The God explained simply, ‘if they desire you, they’ll do anything you want of them.’

“Desire?!”, the sheep squeaked in surprise.

‘You’re appealing, Lamb,’, The One Who Waits explained, unbothered by Lambert’s rapidly crimsoning features, ‘play their game. Become an unattainable prize.’

“Would… that still work as devotion?”

‘They’ll be calling your name, vessel,’, Lambert could hear the smile in their God’s words, ‘why should the context matter?’

“Jeez,”, Lamb lifted their hand’s up to their face in a futile attempt to cool their cheeks, the crown nestled into their wool once more, the ram remaining flustered, “I hadn’t anticipated this conversation with you. Now I’m embarrassed.”

‘Give it a try.’, their God urged with a playful purr, either utterly confident in his vessel or amused at the prospect of them actually listening. Regardless, swallowing thickly before taking a deep breath, the ram turned atop their hooves, aiming back towards the entrance of their tent.

In no time at all the sheep was outside once more. They’d stomped through the grounds of the cult confidently, quick to find the bear, the alpha conversing with a handful of the others who’d resided in Paradise.

“- so I’d told them- oh, leader,”, their conversation ceased abruptly, all heads turning towards the sheep with silent questions, “is something the matter-?”

“Yes!”, the sheep interrupted far too enthusiastically, flinching as they’d cringed at their own volume, clearing their throat, they’d continued to speak, “I really do need you to clean the outhouse after all, Joan.”, Lambert smiled sweetly, looking steadily at the bear.

“I’d already told you I can’t.”, Joan’s brow raised questioningly, the rest of his friends equally confused.

Alright. That was to be expected.

“Alright, then,”, the sheep sighed in feigned disappointment, “I’d thought you strong enough for the job, but I suppose I’ll watch someone else’s show of strength…”

“I-“, Joan’s eyes widened, the bear suddenly stiff.

“I’ll do it!”, the skunk beside him beamed excitedly, lifting up their hand as to emphasise their willingness.

“No,”, a third member of the group, a dog, spoke up in protest, “I’ll do it.”, he’d emphasised, growling lowly at the skunk beside him.

Snarling suddenly, Joan also piped in angrily.

“The leader asked me to do it, so I’ll be doing it.”

It worked.

‘As simple as that, my vessel.’, Narinder’s voice purred also, the sound of it bouncing against Lambert’s skull pleasantly.

“It’s alright, Joan,”, the sheep smiled sweetly, taking a step towards the two men beside the bear, grasping both their hands in gentle thanks. “As for you two, I won’t forget about your selfless acts.”, the ram directed their words at the other alphas, eyes soft and thankful.

Both the skunk and dog looked to be beyond enamoured as their eyes glanced between their leader and the spot where they’d grasped their hands gently.

“But-“

“Perhaps you might help me next time,”, the sheep spared Joan only a passive glance, making it painfully obvious that, at the moment, it’d been the skunk and dog that deserved their attention. “For now, I’ve other tasks to delegate. Have a good day, the three of you.”, the leader hummed playfully, letting go of the two alphas as to take a step back, nodding in goodbye before they’d left.

‘Excellently played, my vessel,’, the cat praised, ‘I knew you capable.’

“I’d even remained tact.”, the sheep whispered excitedly in turn, feeling positively buzzed about finally having their way, yet not having a need to change their nature, either.

‘Your reward had been ingenious also, little Lamb.’

“Reward?”

‘Your touch,’, The One Who Waits explained plainly, the tone of his previous praise not quite yet lost, ‘a deceptively simple yet effective means of manipulation.’

“An accidental reward, you mean.”, the ram couldn’t help but laugh, still feeling the tingle of excitement as they’d glanced behind themselves, watching the skunk and dog race to their appointed task, leaving the brown bear alone.

‘I’d told you,’, the three-eyed cat hummed knowingly, ‘your instincts will take you far, my Lamb.’

And with that, Lambert hadn’t felt so bad anymore.

I’m fact, perhaps they really could amount to something.

Chapter Text

Although it’d taken some time to get used to, Lambert found they’d gradually began to navigate themselves around Paradise with more purpose. They’d see what worked and what hadn’t, playing the game that many of their following believed they’d been in charge of. The ram would caress his followers gently when appropriate, leaving fleeting touches and hushed words of thanks.

Naturally, they’d drawn a line. Where followers would try as to reciprocate those actions, they’d been quick to step back from their attempts, making in clear it hadn’t been welcomed. They’d never been particularly comfortable with unfamiliar beings touching them to begin with, and their following had teetered a strange line between familiarity and unfamiliarity.

The One Who Waits had rightfully warned his vessel as to not get attached to their following. To do as they’d pleased with them and gain their favour, but to themselves be fairly detached from them emotionally. It’d quickly proved to be for the better, with their death or betrayal hurting far less. It also allowed for clear thought, even during emotional conversations with their flock.

There’d been exceptions, naturally, that would prove better company. Be it their more favourable personalities or particularly devoted individuals, some would be kept around for longer than others. Beings blessed by longevity, such as Ratau, Clauneck, Taro or even Monch proved pleasant company of the more intimate nature.

Long, friendly conversations and words unburdened by the cult leader’s usual sweet words of feigned care. Lambert actually cared for those beings, befriending them out of his own desire to do so.

Naturally, their benevolent’s God’s opinion on each individual heavily inspired his vessel’s decisions. The One Who Waits had shown particular care as for the sheep to avoid alphas of more violent nature, which Lambert couldn’t help but quietly appreciate.

The Fox in particular appeared to be a being the God warned of, reminding the ram of the possibility that, had the crimson beast caught Ratau, his hunger could easily be directed at The Lamb instead.

“Sounds like you’re worried about me.”, Lambert laughed playfully, a gentle tease at the tip of their tongue as they ran back towards paradise, having only just fed The Fox a handful of fish.

‘Behave,’, the cat warned in turn, yet his tone bore a certain type of fondness, ‘had I not know better, I’d take your tone as belittling, vessel.’

“Ah, well, it is my luck that you do know better, then,”, the sheep hummed back with a smile, feeling their grin stretch with humour. It’d been nice like this. Nice to speak with their God so leisurely as things went well. Paradise had been thriving as of late, and the preparations to take on Leshy had been in full swing.

Lambert could hear the humoured, raspy voice of his God laugh lowly. It’d been as though a rumble of rocks or harsh purr. Perhaps they really shouldn’t, but they’d wondered briefly if they’d ever get to hear their God happy enough to purr.

‘Perhaps,’, The One Who Waits’ voice startled his vessel minutely, the sheep letting out a small bleat of surprise at the deep voice, ‘shall I be freed once more, I may feel inclined to purr.’

Sighing in relief, Lambert spoke back with a bashful chuckle.

“And here I’d thought you’d scold me for being improper.”

‘Your willingness to make me happy is no trait I’d wish to discourage,’, there’d been a trace of a tease in the statement, ‘though you certainly have a tendency to phrase things oddly.’

At first, Lambert chuckled happily once more, feeling positively elated at their God’s playful tone. It’d been so rare to hear, after all.

“Perhaps you’re-“, but whatever the crown bearer wished to say lodged violently in their throat, a surprised choke leaving their lips as they’d stilled abruptly.

The world turned silent around them save for the rustle of leaves, the red crown quick to turn into a sword, its sharp edges glittering dangerously in the dim lighting of the forest. The stillness settled like a thick blanket, Lambert’s ears perking up as they’d began to listen closely to their surroundings.

They’d hadn’t been certain of what they’d heard, but it’d been much a step akin to their own. A hoof against bark and grass, though a little out of tune to be their own. It’d been a peculiar feeling, as though an illusion had been shattered.

Their steps were their own, until they suddenly weren’t.

Had someone been mirroring their steps-?

Just as the though had occurred, a dark shadow leapt from within the dense foliage of the forest, meeting the steel of Lambert’s sword just as the ram lifted it to guard their face, deflecting a blow meant to decapitate them.

“That attack was in poor taste,”, the sheep laughed despite themselves, pushing back against the blade of whatever heretic had just attacked them, jumping backwards as to create some distance between the two of them, “I’ve died to such a fate before.”, they’d then pointed out playfully, pulling their collar down just enough as to showcase their scar with their free hand. Their golden bell jingling with the movement as their tone feigned hurt.

Boomingly, the darker being laughed in turn. They’d straightened where they stood, peeling back the hood they’d worn. A wicked smile upturned their features, their eyes shining with nothing if not utter amusement. An unmistakable, purple eye of a crown blinked from the middle of the axe that the being wielded. Widening their eyes in surprise at what’d been beneath the cloak, Lambert spoke before they could stop themselves.

“You’re-“

“A goat,”, the figure opposite them chimed in humorously, evidently finding whatever expression Lamb had been making to be unreasonably amusing. “The Goat, I’d go as far as to say.”, they’d then hummed in their deep voice, turning atop their hooves gracelessly, “and you’re ’The Lamb’ I’d heard so much about, I assume.”

“But- weren’t you also-?”

“Slaughtered much the same? Yes,”, the Goat laughed out, pulling at their collar, revealing a scar much like Lambert’s own, “and I’ve the scar to prove such a fate.”

“But you’re here.”

“Once again,”, the Goat rolled their eyes, as though hating the idea of repeating themselves, “much like you.”

Swallowing thickly, Lambert’s eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“You won’t tell me how you’re alive, will you?”

“Nope,”, the darker being popped the ‘p’, smiling from ear to ear, “you catch on quick, I’ll give you that. I’d go as far to say I’m a bit of a fan of yours, you know?”

“A fan?”, Lambert repeater warily, the grip on their sword tightening. The One Who Waits hadn’t a need to tell Lambert to be wary of this particular being.

This foreign God reeked of danger. Of death and destruction. Lambert really had grown familiar with the stench of it by now and yet-

And yet the prospect of this stranger being like them. Of understanding them like no other being left in the Lands of the Old Faith could ever do.

Lambert could feel their heart begin to race. They really didn’t want to fight this newcomer.

‘Lamb,’, their God’s voice was stern in their ear, a hiss audible just beneath his tone, ‘remain rational. They are a threat. No other God should exist here.’

“Listen,”, The Goat spoke this time, their voice naturally harsh in delivery, “why don’t you tune out the annoying bug in your ear, hm?”, it’d only been now that Lambert noticed that the dark being steadily approached him with unhurried straps. Calculated. Stalking, almost.

Swallowing thickly, the ram narrowed his eyes in accusation.

“You can read my thoughts.”, he’d stated, taking a cautious step back.

“As you can mine, I assure you.”, Goat waved their hand dismissively, yet an axe proceeded to draw a line in the earth they’d walked upon, the purple eye of it not leaving the sheep. Briefly, Lambert focused on confirming the claim, looking into the new God’s mind, finding only clutter.

Their thoughts were a jumbled mess. A constant string of loud, interrupting thoughts. The sheep couldn’t help but wince at the sudden volume of them all, shaking their head in an attempt to rid themselves of them, ceasing their mind reading.

“Your mind’s nonsense.”, he’d complained, watching the goat’s feature twist knowingly.

“What a rude thing to say,”, they’d tutted, “and here I was under the impression you didn’t want a fight.”

“I don’t.”, Lambert responded certainly, “we’re the last of our kinds it…”, they’d paused for a moment, swallowing thickly, “it’d mean a lot if we could be friendly.”

“Friendly,”, the Goat snorted as they’d laughed out, parroting the word as though the punchline to a joke, “alright,”, they’d smiled “how about a show of goodwill, then?”

“…that being?”

“Come here and give me a big ol’ hug,”, their smile was sharp, baring teeth, “be-rid your weapon and approach me, surely you long for familiar contact as much as I do.”

“But your weapon will remain drawn?”

“Naturally.”, they’d shrugged nonchalantly, almost as though they’d been testing the sheep. And honestly, Lambert should’ve expected as much.

Taking no more than a deep breath, The Lamb withdrew their weapon, allowing for the crown to sit back atop their fluffy wool comfortably. Its crimson eye appeared uncertain about the ordeal, becoming yet another unusual aspect to this entire event. Seemingly caught off guard by the ease with which Lambert retracted their weapon, the smile against Goat’s features faltered minutely.

Wasting little time as to not allow their mind to dwell on the action, the ram took confident, albeit awkward, strides towards the purple-adorned God, encasing the darker being in a hug before the Goat could so much as flinch.

They had done, though, in the sheep’s arms. Perhaps they really hadn’t anticipated the ask to be met with such a confident decision. Lambert could feel himself smile, even, as he’d felt the Goat stiffen in their arms as though a wooden board.

Deciding not to overstay their welcome, after a brief, tight hug and a few pats against their back, Lambert stepped back a meter or so, looking at the utterly confused expression of the God. Honestly, it’d been rather funny.

“I hadn’t thought you’d actually…”, the Goat trailed off as they’d spoke, brows furrowing in evident dismay. Seemingly despite themselves, the axe they’d clutched dissipated into nothingness, taking the form of the crown once more instead. “You’re odd.” They finally sighed, hand resting against their hip.

Standing up close to The Goat, Lamb noticed that the both of them shared a similar height and stature, with the only major difference between them being the size of their horns- Goat’s being far more impressive than Lambert’s own. With time, however, they’d likely curve much the same.

“One of a kind, you could say.”, the sheep laughed good-naturally, deciding the two of them had managed to break the ice. Following the ram’s words, however, The Goat tilted their head in evident confusion, brows frowning further.

“Wait-“, the darker being took a step forward, suddenly inspecting the red crown barer as though they’d grown an extra pair of arms. The Goat then took a cartoonishly large inhale, one Lambert would find amusing had he’d been unaware of the reason behind the curiosity, “you’re an omega? Really?”

“What do you mean ‘really’?”, the sheep asked warily, taking a cautious step backwards so that the newcomer hadn’t been right in their face.

“The Fox said you were,”, Goat explained, straightening up and subsequently returning the comfort of space between them, “I just thought he’d said so based on your disposition or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whispers of the forest rarely, if ever, dub you a tyrant,”, The Goat shrugged, “your approach to Godhood is simply unique, I guess.”

“… you’re not put off by the fact?”, Lambert asked uncertainly, eyeing the opposing alpha with some skepticism.

“You’re fine,”, they waved their hand dismissively. If anything, the foreign God seemed to relax at the revelation, “just don’t expect me to go easy on you because of it, or something.”

Sighing out in nothing short of relief, Lambert smiled brightly at the words.

“You better not.”

Chapter Text

“Perhaps they hail from beyond the Lands of the Old Faith?”, Lambert hummed in a questioning reassurance, The One Who Waits having been evidently on edge since they’d met The Goat. It’d made sense to be discomforted by the purple God’s appearance, with them evidently being aware that Lamb had only been a vessel.

Goat knew that Lambert would speak with their God, yet The One Who Waits hadn’t been acquainted with the purple eye of their crown, even if he’d claimed it eerily familiar.

To top it all off, The Goat knew of Lambert’s goal. They’d known the Lamb’s quest to vanquish the remaining Bishops as to free the one below. They’d known so much, in fact, that they’d known The One Who Waits’ name.

(‘Narinder’, The Goat laughed out after they spoke, lips curling dangerously.

‘Who?’, the sheep asked in turn, their head tilting curiously.

‘Do you not know the name of the one you serve?’)

As such, their God’s response came predictably;

‘I highly doubt that the case, vessel.’, which’d been said in a pensive tone. The worry was less-so about Lamb, with the sheep capable of defending themselves and- should they die- being resurrected, but more on the potential end goal of the darker, horned being.

Harsh, crass and violent. They’d been an inverted reflection of Lamb, in a way, with the two of them uncomfortably similar in prowess and ability. As the two of them conversed, before The Goat retreated back into the depths of the forest, there’d been multiple instances of surprise attacks followed by bellows of laughter.

Perhaps it’d been their odd way of showing affection.

Or perhaps a way to test the only other being capable of matching them in their undeniable strength.

The purple-adorned God left with the parting promise of helping Lambert once he’s to face off against Leshy, giving the ram a playful salute before pulling their hood back over their head and scampering off.

“Maybe our goals simply align, then,”, Lambert hummed thoughtfully, entering the grounds of Paradise with gentle steps. Their hooves dug into the soft soil of their home. “Much like ours have.”, they’d mused, referring to the two of them: The God and his vessel.

‘Hm.’, The One Who Waits hummed noncommittally, evidently unsatisfied with the suggestion. ‘Be careful regardless, no God helps without interest of their own.’

“Roger that, my lord.”, Lamb finally smiled, glad to have eased Narin- The One Who Waits worries, even if only a fraction. Or perhaps they’d been giving themselves too much credit in that regard, seeing as they’d conversed casually with a God, decidedly not one of their flock.

“My Lamb, you’re back.”, a follower approached wearing a kind smile, the Panda’s eyes sparkling up in adoration.

“Yarlen,”, the Lamb smiled back at the beta, hands outstretched in a welcoming gesture, “do you need something?”, the ram soon asked their follower, the unusual fur markings of the former pilgrim proving intricate to look at.

Beyond the Lands of the Old Faith. What could possibly lie over the ocean?

“Not at all,”, the panda shook his head, “I could ask for nothing more here.”, he’d insisted, his thoughts further proving his adoration of the leader, “just wanted to see how you’re doing. You always do so much for us, I hope you get enough rest, leader.”, Yarlen added earnestly.

“Thank you, Yarlen,”, the sheep chuckled lightly, eyes soft as they’d reached out their hand, gently petting the top of the Panda’s head, “but our God blessed me to where I’ve no need for sleep,”, the ram assured, praising their collective God as he’d spoke, “all so that I may tend to his flock to the best of my ability. Thank you for deeming it enough.”

“More than enough,”, Yarlen assured once more, near-melting at the Lamb’s soft touch, “but sleep is not the only form of rest!”, he’d spoke up enthusiastically, his leader’s hand retracting as to fall naturally back to their side, “back over the ocean, we’d had a simple massage called ‘tui na’. It consists of gentle and firm hand movements, the yin and yang of sorts.”

“Although that’s an incredibly kind proposition, I’m not one for indecency.”, positively mortified at the prospect of getting massaged in front of their flock.

“Nothing indecent about it,”, Yarlen defended quickly, reassuring his leader, “tui na is done over clothing, as such can be practiced anywhere.”, he’d explained, yet no pressure was present within the Panda’s words.

And that… did sound nice.

Yarlen hadn’t been an alpha, as such him being motivated by some sexual desire had been really quite slim. Furthermore, both him and his sister, Jalala, proved to be very hard working and dedicated, likely to have come from a difficult situation overseas, subsequently escaping and finding their way into the Lands of the Old Faith.

A blessing or a curse, it’d been hard to tell when Lambert himself had never ventured beyond these lands, growing accustomed to its rules and expectations since his mortal birth.

Helping change those very foundations since his mortal death.

“Alright,”, the leader eventually sighed out thankfully, a breath he’d been unaware of holding leaving soft lips, “I’ll leave myself in your care, Yarlen.”, the ram then laughed humorously, posture relaxed.

Yarlen, on the other hand, looked about ready to explode with anticipation. It’d been rather endearing, really.

In the Gateway, Narinder breathed out, the sound evidently tired. The usually-imposing God closed his crimson eyes following the action, stretching his still, sore limbs as far as he’d been capable. His chains pulled as they’d resisted the movement, their sound irritating Narinder’s sensitive ears.

Both Aym’s and Baal’s, as the two guards sat patiently beside their Master, ears twitched at the uncomfortable sound. Nothing but the sound of chains to wake up to.

What a sorry excuse of an existence.

“Master,”, Baal looked up to their God, head tilting minutely as he’d glanced upward, “will the foreign God impede the Lamb’s progress in freeing us?”

“It sounds as though this Goat dislikes you, Master,”, Aym only added, both kits now looking up at their elder, “what if they poison Lamb’s mind with their ideals?”

“Oh!”, Baal perked up as though coming up with an idea, Narinder’s eyes now lazily tracing between the two young cats, focusing on whomever had been speaking in the moment, “what if they begin to worship them instead?”

“That’d be annoying,”, Aym huffed, crossing his arms as his tail twitched, “I only just began to tolerate them.”

“Who are you kidding,”, his white-adorned brother deadpanned, crossing his arms also, “you’d roll over if they’d told you to.”

Crimsoning rapidly, Aym had been quick to defend himself, his deeply black fur standing on end.

“I would not-“

“Their faith is intact,”, Narinder assured in a soft yet stern voice, reassuring the worried kits, finding that he hadn’t the need to see the two break into a needless argument. “And I know the both of you favour the sheep, as such you ought to cease your bickering,”, the three-eyed God hummed, aware both kits now bristled at the observation. “They’re a capable vessel, yet they’re inexperienced. To worry for them is natural, though I’ve faith they’ll continue their duty unperturbed.”

“But- the Goat-“

“They’re an undesirable variable,”, Narinder agreed, acutely aware of the discomfort that the unfamiliar God brought him. “But Lamb established immediate peace, which’d been the correct thing to do. If this other God is determined to help with the Bishops, so be it.”

“… I suppose, even if there’s a betrayal, Lamb can’t exactly ‘die’.”, Baal thought aloud, both kits having visibly eased.

“Precisely,”, Narinder agreed easily, a relaxed hum leaving his lips, “we’re at an advantage no matter what’ll happen.”

“Right as always, Master.”, Aym spoke needlessly, both kits nodding in agreement at the statement. Wordlessly, Narinder regarded his guards once more, eyeing the two leisurely before closing his eyes once more, content as to lose himself in a moment of peace.

Thoughts of the sun. The distant memories of the warmth of it against his fur. Of sitting under fig trees as light flickered between their dark leaves.

He’d imagined Aym and Baal feeling the grass beneath their paws. Of them chasing butterflies with evident wonder in their eyes. And, perhaps oddly, Narinder could imagine Lamb seated beside him, speaking of nothing in particular as they’d pleated flowers into the intricate patterns of their ancestors.

Allowing himself to be lost further in his thoughts, only Aym and Baal noticed the soft smile against their Master’s tired, usually-scornful lips.

Chapter Text

“Have you fought Leshy in the past?”, Lamb couldn’t help but ask, a gentle tilt of their head accompanying their curious words. Seamlessly, the sheep knew exactly how to make themselves look formidably soft and huggable.

“You could say that,”, The Goat shrugged leisurely, shining their cloven fingers without a care in the world, “not that he’d remember. But he’ll for sure remember this time.”, the alpha smiled wickedly, the tail beneath his cape wagging excitedly.

Why did it feel as though Lambert made himself familiar with a lot of sadists? The One Who Waits, The Fox, The Goat.

Hopefully it’d been a coincidence.

“What does that-“

“Anyway,”, Goat interrupted unapologetically, turning back towards the sheep with a playful spin, “how was your massage?”, they’d asked darkly, their tone of voice sinister, even if their chaotic thoughts hadn’t conveyed anything particularly threatening.

“… how do you know about that?”, Lambert swallowed thickly as he’d asked, an uncertain shiver running down their spine.

“I’ve seen it,”, the goat shrugged once more, turning back easily as to face the direction they’d been walking, “with my own two peepers.”, The Goat then laughed, the noise evidently amused at their own wording.

“You followed me.”, Lamb stated sternly, eyes narrowing with the accusation.

“Of course I did!”, Goat stated honestly, facing the ram as to look them up and down, “you’d be stupid to assume I wouldn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Curiosity.”

“… shouldn’t I be killing you for that, or something?”, Lambert spoke half-jokingly, unfamiliarly uncomfortable with the notion of being watched. He’d grown accustomed to Their God’s ever-present gaze, finding they hadn’t minded it in the slightest. But The Goat hadn’t been their anything, save for potential ally.

The purple God’s disdain for the Bishop of Death had also been apparent, leading the ram to inevitably hold themselves at arms length, attempting to watch their actions carefully.

Their God would not come to harm. Lambert would make sure of it.

“Oh, you can try, woolly.”, The Goat purred, excitement evident in the challenge, “but I’ll wipe the grass beneath our hooves using your face if you do.”, the alpha spoke playfully, buzzing at the suggestion of a fight alone. What an incredibly odd being… or had it been normal for Gods to be this proud and boisterous?

‘More-so the norm, vessel,’, The One Who Waits’ chimed in with a low hum, the sound alone enough to ease the discomfort that settled against the ram’s shoulders. ‘Rarely does Godhood favour cowards. Even rarer do those bestowed with a crown remain sound of mind.’

Lambert only just barely stopped themselves from laughing at the obvious jab, finding their God’s playful tone undeniably humorous, the sheep only smiling subtly as to not draw attention to their thoughts.

“How about we focus on defeating Leshy, instead of ourselves?”, The Lamb suggested, eyes pleading and yet undeniably amused. Visibly deflating, The Goat begrudgingly agreed, though not without a grumble of disappointment, pointing out that it’d been Lamb who’d suggested a fight to begin with.

As the they’d continued their journey to where The One Who Waits instructed the two of them would find Leshy, the purple God and the red crown’s vessel fell into an eerily familiar rhythm as they fought together. They’d complimented each other perfectly, synchronised in a way that twisted Lambert’s gut unfamiliarly.

He’d never…

Alphas never-

‘Lamb,’, their God startled the ram, the omega’s thoughts halting abruptly, ‘focus.’, The One Who Waits hissed in warning, subsequently allowing Lamb to jump out of the way of a spiked trap just in time.

“Sorry.”, the ram apologised genuinely, their voice barely above a whisper as they had. Were their standards truly so low? That all it took was someone who hadn’t doubted their strength?

They really shouldn’t be this distracted when-

A pained cry cut off the sheep’s thoughts, the red crown bearer quickly aware that the sound had been their own. Leshy truly had a thing for traps, considering how Lambert jumped from one only to be skewered by another.

They’d heard the Goat laugh out with evident humour as they’d turned, their smile wickedly amused as they’d approached the ram, finishing off the last of the heretics the two of them had been fighting.

An ugly mess spilled before the sheep, their blood pooling pitifully at the base of the spike, their abdomen pierced completely.

“Want me to help you out?”, The Goat asked unnecessarily, lips upturned into something wicked and familiar.

A sadist for sure.

“Please.”, The Lamb breathed out pitifully, gritting their teeth at the unpleasant sensation. And perhaps they should’ve asked for the nature of the help first, having expected to be lifted off of the corroded metal with a slither of care.

The Goat instead swinging their axe right down at their head, however, should’ve been anticipated. With a sickening crack, everything around the sheep, alongside the unpleasant sensation of dying, had been gone.

After a short moment of nothingness, Lambert opened his eyes to see familiar, bright white. Chains decorated the domain as though cruel jewellery, three black cats standing a short distance away, staring down at the sheep with unreadable expressions.

Well.

That’d been embarrassing.

“Sorry I’ve-“

“Approach, vessel.”, Their God interrupted, crimson eyes sharp and cold, even as they’d narrowed thoughtfully as he’d stared at the sheep. The Bishop of Death outstretched one of his pained limbs, beckoning Lambert to stand atop it, the chains that wrapped around it undeniably painful.

Swallowing thickly, Lamb really hoped they hadn’t dissapointed their Lord. Stepping onto the large cat’s paw, the ram was then lifted gingerly up to the cat’s eye level. Before Lambert could open his mouth to speak more, The One Who Waits suddenly pressed them to the side of his cheek.

The Lamb’s surprise must’ve been evident by their pathetic little squeak alone, their God’s thin, delicate veil in the way of the unnatural action. A million embarrassing questions filtered through the sheep’s mind, their brain a mushy mess as their God gingerly marked the sheep with his scent.

His actions were gentle, even as a low, discontent growl bubbled just beneath the black cat’s surface. His whiskers were prominent even when covered delicately by the veil, Lamb’s God pushing into the smaller sheep in a way that almost made them stumble backwards.

“You reek of The Goat, Lamb,”, The One Who Waits complained, eyes darkly discontent as he’d withdrew Lambert as to eye them better. “You’re mine, not theirs.”, he’d hissed protectively, leaving no room for negotiation.

Nodding pitifully, finding it incredibly hard to speak, Lambert swallowed thickly as they’d continued to gazed up at their God. They’d been surrounded by their scent. They’d been marked by it.

They’d been wanted.

“Of course.”, they assured the imposing cat, their voice a whisper despite the confidence behind the words, Lamb finding their mind suddenly clear.

Wordlessly, Narinder then closed his eyes confidently, the Lamb’s surroundings all spinning for a moment. They’d been intimately familiar with the ordeal, soon finding themselves blinking back up at the sky, the Goat chewing on a handful of grass a short distance away. They’d stood when they’d noticed the sheep’s eyes blink awake, the darker being stretching as he did.

“Finally,”, The Goat complained, pulling Lambert up to their hooves before the ram could even process what’d been happening. Quickly, the purple-adorned God grimaced, “geez,”, he’d then laughed, covering his nose, “Narinder went a little overkill with the scent, wouldn’t you say?”, The Goat took a step back once he’d helped the sheep up, finding the overwhelming scent amusing.

Death.

The scent of it had been rather putrid, if you’d to ask any other being. Stale and cold. A fresh corpse.

Lambert, however, hadn’t seemed to mind in the slightest.

Chapter Text

To say Lambert had felt rather elated after his encounter with The God of Death would be quite the understatement. The sheep had been humming happily, actually finding themselves to be useful to the Goat, who’d previously been stuck doing the majority of the damage to any heretics they’d encountered as they’d traversed further into Darkwood.

The alpha evidently favoured brute strength. They’d swung their purple crown with ease, even as they’d transformed the sentient object into a gigantic hammer- Lamb’s personally least favourite transformation. Besides the hammer, Goat also seemed particularly fond of their axe, flinging it with unnerving precision, cutting through multiple heretics at once.

If nothing else, it’d made Lambert excited to try it out for themselves. A small, prideful part of himself simultaneously wondered if The Goat had also admired their own skill with the blade. An amused snort emanating from the Goat, making it evident they’d been very aware of the sheep’s thoughts at the moment.

Lamb wanted to combust where he’d stood out of utter embarrassment.

“Relax,”, the foreign God waved a dismissive hand, the both of them now approaching Leshy’s temple, “I do think you’re an impressive fighter. Thanks for thinking me the same.”, they’d laughed with a good-natured tease, smile sharp and daunting. They’d meant well by their words, however.

“Really?”, Lamb beamed, flattered to no end, the previous red tint of their cheeks gone in favour of genuine pride. For a God to find their skills impressive, they’d must’ve truly been doing well.

“Pft,”, The Goat laughed in turn, “wish you could see your face right about now, with how bright your eyes got,”, the God continued to tease, the both of them slowing their pace as they’d approached Leshy’s hideout, “it’s really quite cute.”, the alpha mused.

“Let a man be happy…”, Lambert pouted, ignoring how bashful they’d suddenly felt. The Goat appeared to favour saying things that garnered a reaction, as such the sheep hadn’t thought into the remark too much. Besides, the both of them had to focus, easily spotting the worm a short distance away, dedicated followers surrounding the towering God.

Lamb swallowed a lump of inevitable nervousness. The first of the Bishops. He had to get this right.

“On a separate note,”, The Goat suddenly whispered, somehow having found himself right by the sheep’s side, so close that the two of them had now been shoulder to shoulder, “are you feeling alright?”

“Ugh,”, Lambert sounded out dumbly, perplexed with the sudden, serious worry from his companion. Although taken aback, they’d slowly nodded, “yes? Shouldn’t I?”

“No no, that’s great,”, The Goat assured ominously, stepping away from the ram with ease, leading the both of them closer towards Leshy. “I’ll ask you after the fight too, though.”

“…alright?”, The Red Crown barer nodded slowly once more, following the purple God with some hesitance.

‘That’d been rather unfamiliar.’, The One Who Waits mirrored Lambert’s own thoughts. ‘Tread with caution, vessel. And in reference to Leshy, his attack pattern is rather chaotic. He’ll burrow beneath soil as to surprise you upon his resurface.’

“Got it. Thank you.”, The vessel spoke earnestly, appreciating their God’s cautionary words. And the fact that the both of them were somewhat unnerved by The Goat’s shift in demeanour. “Hope you enjoyed the show.”, they’d then added more confidently, a playful smile splitting their face amusingly.

‘I most certainly will, my vessel,’, the God purred, matching his vessel’s expression, ‘all of their punishment is long overdue. Enjoy your revenge, sweet lamb.’

“Any specific wishes, my lord?”, the sheep asked curiously, watching as Leshy perked up, evidently having caught wind of the intruders by now.

‘Simply enjoy yourself,’, the cat spoke darkly, the tone of his voice sending a shiver up the entire length of the ram’s spine, ‘the bloodier, the better.’, was all he’d left his request at. So, with the message loud and clear, Lambert diligently followed The Goat’s lead, summoning their blade seamlessly.

Leshy bristled in the distance, his following quick as to sacrifice themselves before their God, the one of Chaos swiftly growing into a monstrous size. The worm’s screeching had been largely incomprehensible, cried out in a tongue long dead. The one thing the both of them could understand, however, had been hissed out venomously.

“I can smell him on you both.”, the sound of his voice screeched, The Lamb looking over to The Goat with a silent question. The purple God promptly shrugging,

“You probably transferred some of his stink to me, given how possessively he’d marked you.”, The Goat teased, their smile sharp. Saying nothing more, the both of them leapt into action.

Leshy, although formidable, lacked planning in his actions. The worm worked purely on instinct, becoming easily distracted with whomever would aggravate him at any given moment. Whenever one would distract him, the other would dash up behind him as to deliver several harsh punctures and slashes, steadily approaching the fight’s finale.

Unfortunately, Lambert hadn’t been completely unscathed in the ordeal. A number of spikes and traps surprised the sheep, earning them a handful of hefty blows- both to their pride and physical body.

The One Who Waits hadn’t spoken a word as the fight continued, whilst Lambert’s thoughts raced faster than their adrenaline-filled heart. To Lamb, he’d currently been fighting an utter monster. A cowardly being that used their power as to hide from justice.

He’d been one of the ones who’d slain all of sheepkind. An undeniable piece to a disheartening, disgusting puzzle. Truly, Lambert hated the Bishops, the foul beasts so vile they’d discarded their own family.

A single glance at the Goat revealed much the same, an unmistakable fire of revenge rendering their features stern and cold. They’d both had a single goal in mind, and they’d been about to achieve it.

With both of them, the confrontation hadn’t lasted long. Leshy’s movements became sluggish, his body trembling as he’d collapsed violently onto the earth. He’d been breathing heavily, panic evidently surging through him in overwhelming bursts. The worm chocked on his own blood as he’d attempted to speak. To plead.

“You do not understand,”, he’d hissed, both Lamb and Goat now standing before him, both breathing with a quickened pace. “We did what we had to.”

“Let me guess,”, Lamb spoke coldly, the sound of their hooves making the worm flinch, “so that you wouldn’t die? You’re a monster deserving of this fate.”

“…”, Leshy spoke no further, his breathing flared yet shallow. Perhaps he’d accepted his fate, otherwise running out of arguments to plea with.

“Should we-?”, The Lamb turned towards The Goat, about to suggest the two of them shared the killing blow.

“The honour is yours, Lamb,”, The God assured, taking a step back, “I’d done all I wanted.”, was the only explanation they’d provided.

Nodding with mild hesitance, Lamb turned back towards the one of Chaos, summoning his blade once more:

Promptly stabbing it cleanly into the worm’s head, a single, desperate and pained cry being the last sound he’d emitted. Pathetic, just as the creature itself.

‘Do it again.’ The crown whispered this time. It hadn’t been their God, nor their own mind. ‘I can sense you wish to.’, it continued to entice, the eye of the sword lodged into the worm’s skull beckoning its banter closer, ‘let me exact your will.’, and Lamb could feel the itch to fulfil That carnal need.

They’d contemplated it, truly. The worm had been dead, yet he’d still been recognisable.

‘Turn his face into a pulp.’, the crown continued to hiss its enticing poison.

“He’s dead,”, Lamb’s breathing began to steady, The Goat watching the ordeal curiously. “We do as instructed.”, he’d then uttered non-negotiably, jumping atop the motionless beast, dislodging their sword from its skull. Robotically, the ram moved to the worm’s mid-section, casting the Crown’s blade into the monster’s ribcage, carving into it with purpose.

A sickening crack suggested they’d found what they’d been looking for, the Lamb leaning down before ripping out his heart.

“Honestly,”, the sheep laughed bitterly, the Red Crown returning as to rest atop their fluffy wool, “I’m surprised they even have those.”, the ram scoffed, throwing the organ up as for the Crown to capture it diligently, storing if for whenever it’ll be needed.

“… you handled this a lot better than I would’ve.”, Goat hummed as the sheep jumped off of the worm’s massacred body, letting the deceased filth rot where it lay. “You sure you don’t wanna stab it twice for every one of our kind?”

“No,”, the sheep shook his head, sighing, the stress of the ordeal finally leaving their bones, “I’m not them,”, Lamb gestured back towards where they’d come from, urging a return back towards Paradise, “may this one be forever tormented in his death.”, the vessel spared the remains of Leshy a final glance, a semblance of peace easing their mind.

“That’s… disappointing.”, The Goat complained, groaning out their discontentment. Lambert turned towards the God with an unreadable expression, eyeing them up and down before speaking.

“It’s dead, and you’ve as much free will as I do,”, the sheep shrugged, taking several steps back towards home, deciding the walk would be welcomed, “I won’t lecture you. Do whatever you want with the body, I’m going home to celebrate with my flock.”, Lamb concluded, making their way further into the woods.

‘Impeccably done, my vessel,’, their God praised, the relief in his voice unmistakable. One of his shackles had clearly crumbled, Lamb’s heart picking up its pace at the revelation. ‘Though I’d have approached Leshy’s death differently, I cannot lie and say you haven’t my upmost respect.’, the cat purred, not a hint of disappointment present, ‘your strength continues to surprise me.’

“Thank you,”, Lamb whispered breathlessly, feeling elated at having their decision be approved. Revenge had been achieved- needless cruelty or outbursts of anger leading only to losses. “There was blood, as you’d wished.”

‘There was.’, The One Who Waits confirmed, heat coursing through Lamb in turn.

“And he’d suffered.”

‘He had.’

“… are you happy?”, the sheep asked carefully, their voice small.

‘You’ve done perfectly, my lamb,’, The cat assured, aware the sheep had feared their own inability. This display, however, discarded any and all uncertainties instantly. ‘You’ve killed a God.’

“With help.”

‘A feat most impressive all the same. Do not downplay your own achievement.’, The God reprimanded, his words stern yet seeped with reassurance.

“… thank you. Again.”

‘As I thank you, Lamb,’, Death hummed, ‘May you continue to impress me.’

And although The Goat paused for a moment where they’d stood, looking back out over the corpse whilst Lamb conversed with their God, he’d followed the sheep in the end, jogging over to their side and falling into easy step beside them.

“Whatever,”, The Goat groaned, interrupting the conversation between Vessel and God, “it would be a waste of energy, anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“And pointless, since it’s not like he’d be able to feel any of it.”

“Mhm.”

“…”

“…”

“Something tells me I’ll hate your approach to this by the end.”, The Goat then grumbled, earning himself a soft, good-natured laugh from the red-adorned vessel.

“Thank you for the help, in any case,”, the ram spoke honestly, “it means a lot that I didn’t have to do this alone.”

“Yeah yeah, keep your embarrassing thoughts to yourself.”

“You’d read them anyway.”, the sheep hummed, pointing out the fault in logic.

“At least It’d save you the decibels.”

“You are so rude,”, Lamb laughed out in disbelief, playfully punching the alpha, the God snorting humorously at the interaction. “Do you not have stuff to do? Other than pestering me?”

“Not particularly, especially since…”, The Goat trailed off, yet the alpha’s eyes remained fiercely on the sheep.

“Since what?”, the sheep questioned, tilting their head.

“Don’t you feel it?”, The Goat frowned, seemingly genuinely confused.

“Can’t you just tell me normally?”, Lamb asked, exasperated.

“You’re in heat, aren’t you?”, the purple God asked in turn, frowning, “or real close to it, I guess.”, they’d shrugged, Lamb only noticing their proximity once the action brushed their shoulders.

“… well shit.”, Lamb could only curse in their rapidly growing anguish. Looking back at the Goat with evident concern, the alpha having stood far too close, their scent prominent and pleasant, an enticing mix of charcoal and cut grass.

Chapter Text

“-and with that, my faithfuls, the first Bishop fell!”, The Lamb announced enthusiastically to their following, joyous cheers and loud, excitable ‘praise the Lamb!’s filling the air of Paradise. Lambert smiled down genuinely at their flock, eyes shining up as they continued to speak, “as to celebrate the occasion I announce a Holy Day, so be sure to enjoy yourselves to your hearts content. Food shall be as plentiful as the drink, as such indulge in your greed and desires.”, they’d smiled, more excitement instantaneously erupting within the temple.

Despite the evidently light atmosphere, one of the followers jumped up and down with a raised hand, a question evidently burning at their lips. It’d been Joan, the bear alpha who’d now followed their leader’s every word.

“Yes, Joan?”, Lambert smiled warmly, urging his question asked.

“Who’s that?”, the bear asked, underhand pointing next to the ram. A collective hum of equal curiosity rippling through the crowd.

Looking to their side, more than aware of who the sheep would find, they’d grimaced lightly at how close The Goat stood beside them. The purple-adorned God’s aura had been decidedly dark and gloomy, their fierce, cold eyes scanning the sheep’s flock. The foreign God followed the red crown’s vessel all the way back to Paradise, claiming that they’ll help the sheep.

Whatever that’d meant.

“A… friend,”, the sheep smiled, returning their attention back to their flock. Their expression remained joyful as they’d continued, “they’d helped me with defeating Leshy, being a fellow worshiper of The One Who Waits.”

Goat’s head turned quickly as to face the sheep with evident accusation, the God’s dark features unable to look more offended had they tried.

“So they’re a… disciple?”, the bear guessed skeptically, Lamb clasping their hands together happily at the suggestion.

“Exactly that,”, they’d agreed, radiating comfort, “please listen to their orders if I’m unavailable at any point.”, the ram then asked, foreshadowing their own need to remain locked up for some time.

Gods, they really hadn’t been looking forward to the ordeal. Regardless, with a few parting words, all within the temple had been dismissed as to continue their day, preparing for the celebrations of the Holy Day.

‘I’d been under the impression the Crown would subdue your… carnal desires, so to speak.’, The One Who Waits hummed thoughtfully once the two of them had been alone. Well, as alone as they could be, seeing as The Goat had currently been glued to the ram’s side.

“Biology is biology, I guess,”, Lamb grimaced, shaking their head in annoyance, quietly thankful that their flock hadn’t refined enough senses as to also notice their leader’s approaching heat, “The Crown had certainly lowered their frequency,”, the sheep picked up on the silver lining, their smile tight, “though I suppose I don’t feel it yet? Perhaps the ordeal will go smoothly?”, they’d asked with awkward hopefulness.

The Goat was currently flicking one of The Lamb’s tufts of wool, unusually close, unbothered by the conversation the sheep shared with their God.

“You smell like wax and falling leaves.”, The Goat spoke semi-cryptically, utterly unprompted.

Great.

‘… I should hope you don’t intend to spend it with… them.’, Death hissed, making it evident his venomous words had been directed at The Goat specifically. Lamb smiled subtly at the evident distain the two Gods shared towards each other for no apparent reason.

“My intention is to tough it out,”, the sheep spoke, looking to The Goat as they had. The purple-adorned God frowned, their expression harsh and difficult to interpret. “Though if it’ll be like a normal heat, then I fear I won’t have much of a choice.”, the sheep sighed, massaging their temple.

‘Lock yourself away until it subsides, then.’, Their God spoke sternly, as though commanding an order. ‘Do not allow them to abuse your trust. They’re an unpredictable beast.’

“You sound like a protective alpha, your highness,”, the sheep bleated humorously, uncertain why the’d said that. Perhaps their heat really had a hold on them, “I’d spend my heat in the gateway, had I not feared traumatising your guards.”, they’d laughed, their chuckle amused and bubbly.

The One Who Waits remained silent, evidently caught off-guard by the statement. Furthermore, it’d only been now that Lambert paid attention to The Goat now burying their face into the back of the Vessel’s neck, their wet, silky nose sending a shiver down the entire length of the sheep’s spine. It’d been cool against their hot skin, pleasant and-

What impeccable comedic timing their heat had, truly.

“Don’t touch me.”, Lambert suddenly hissed, whipping around and taking several steps away from the alpha as though the physical contact burned them. The Goat’s eyes widened in surprise at first, the God stuck in one spot as he’d followed the sheep’s movements.

Before then their gaze darkened.

“Calm down,”, The Goat ordered, and Lambert hated how quickly their muscles turned into jello. They’d felt utterly compelled to listen to the alpha. Be a good little omega. “Just, sit down somewhere.”, the God took several steps forward, approaching the ram.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”, the sheep snarled through grit teeth, startling once their back touched the wall of the temple.

“You’re not yourself right now,”, The Goat paused, yet their gaze was as cold as steel, “I’ll take care of this.”

“I’m not myself?”, The Lamb laughed bitterly, “you’re one to talk.”, they’d growled back, “you’d been acting strange since this morning.”

“Because you’re in heat,”, The Goat reasoned simply, “there is an easy way to return back to normal.”

‘Lamb,’, Narinder’s voice was audibly worried, a hint of unmistakable alarm. Lambert hated how they’d whined pleadingly at the sound of it alone. They wanted to be marked by their God again. ‘Use the crown to defend yourself.’

“Narinder, I can’t-“, Lambert felt their stumble, suddenly wishing nothing more but to lay down, Death hadn’t questioned his vessels use of his name, but the way Narinder’s stomach flipped unfamiliarly told him he’d enjoyed the informal title. “I can’t really think about much right now, let alone fight.”, he’d hissed, though the action was more meant at their traitorous body. “I knew I wasn’t meant for this.”, they’d then whined more bitterly, the words directed only at themselves.

Alphas hadn’t ever the need to be helpless like this. Hadn’t the urge to beg for someone to claim them or the like.

Perhaps the Crown made it worse, as Lambert continued to be acutely aware of loud, perverse, distracting thoughts. It’d felt as though they could only watch as things were happening.

“Lamb,”, a deep voice spoke beside them, the sheep startling, the Goat staring down. They’d been fairly sure their God attempted to speak to them, also, but everything around them sounded as though muffled by thick cotton. “Give me your arm.”, the alpha demanded, Lamb feeling the unmistakable arousal of the purple God as they’d leaned in closer.

Obediently, they did as they’d been instructed, dreading what’d come next. Or perhaps they’d anticipated it. They weren’t sure anymore.

“Please,”, they’d sounded out weakly, ‘don’t’, they’d wanted to say. They swear they did. But the comforting scent of the other. Their proximity. “Take me.”, they’d pleaded, hoping desperately that their God wouldn’t see or listen. So with that request,

The Goat promptly bit into soft flesh of The Lamb’s arm.

The goat ripped into the sheep’s forearm with predatory ferocity, the ram in question opening their mouth as to scream in agony at the sudden spike of pain. At the violent action that ripped apart their flesh right before their very eyes. Before any sound could escape the sheep, a clump of fabric was promptly stuffed into their mouth, muffling their screams with ease.

The Lamb attempted to push the God away, kicking at them from where they’d now sat with their back against the wall. Blood dripped quickly from the open wound, Lambert finally able to kick the foreign God with enough force to actually push them off of themselves. The Goat stumbled backwards, their breathing heavy as they’d wiped at their lips and chin.

Lamb looked up in fear, their arm an unresponsive, bloodied mess. They’d looked between the wound and the culprit, The Goat having the audacity to sigh out contently. With their free hand Lamb pulled the rag out of their mouth, tossing the fabric aside bitterly.

“What the fuck?!”, they sheep yelled out, their words a hiss as they’d struggled to stand up. The adrenaline of the confrontation coursed through them, their heart pounding as the Red Crown promptly turned into a sword, the sheep finally capable of forming a thought.

Wait-

A thought.

They’d-

“I’ll get Ratau,”, The Goat spoke nonchalantly, walking over as to pick up the fabric they’d only just used to gag the poor sheep, “you teleport to your quarters, we’re lucky nobody came in as is.”, the dark being scoffed, turning around with a final glance at the sheep.

“You’re insane.”, The Lamb’s heart slowly began to calm, their heat taking a back seat, allowing fight or flight to run its course. Clarity. The bite brought both of them back. “Thank you.”, they’d then chocked out in a far more hushed tone, wincing as they’d touched their massacred arm.

Snorting an ugly laugh, The Goat shrugged,

“Don’t think I’m some saint,”, they’d approached the door, licking their thumb off of some residue blood, “you’re very expressive with your pain, so I’m not complaining.”

“… did you just get off to biting me?”, The Lamb asked in disbelief, expression utterly tired.

“It was that or getting off to fucking you,”, the God rolled their eyes, pushing the door of the temple open, “now get out of here before someone else finds you. You smell real good right now.”, and with that, they’d left.

Allowing himself a moment of silence, Lamb focused on the sound of their own breathing. On the hammering in their chest. All things considered, as Lambert looked at his still-unresponsive arm, The Goat had done something undeniably kind.

‘Are you alright?’, the soothing voice of their God spoke, Lamb relaxing immediately upon hearing it.

“I don’t think this is nearly the end of it,”, the vessel sighed, teleporting the short distance between the temple and their tent, not trusting the walk, “I’m sorry you have to…”, the sheep trailed off, their temporary clarity by no means meaning any lack of embarrassment.

They’d made themselves a desperate fool in front of their God.

‘I am nor afraid, nor judgemental of your heats,’, The One Who Waits spoke calmly, reassuringly, ‘but if privacy provides you comfort, you may temporarily cease your connection to the Crown.’, the God said lowly, not a hint of anger or disappointment present.

“Won’t that have downsides?”, the sheep asked warily, feeling their throat tighten at how considerate their God could be. He’d been willing to give his vessel uninterrupted privacy and trust.

‘No,’, Narinder spoke confidently, ‘should you be in danger, the Red Crown would still act accordingly.’

“But you wouldn’t know my thoughts?”

‘They’d be your own.’, the black cat confirmed, his voice nothing if not reassuring.

“I’d really appreciate that,”, Lambert breathed out earnestly, the relief of the knowledge relaxing their shoulders, “only for a bit. I could speak with you in moments of clarity.”

‘You could do as you wish, vessel.’

“… I enjoy speaking with you,”, the sheep smiled, feeling their heart swell, “I wouldn’t like to be apart for longer than necessary.”

‘Though I must ask, my Lamb,’, Narinder spoke seriously, his tone baring no hint of humour, ‘that should The Goat lay hand upon you again, you dispose of them.’

That, well-

It’d been a harder promise to make.

And their arm really hurt.

Chapter Text

Ratau startled, lowering the book he’d been reading in favour of looking around his hut, evident alarm contorting his usually-calm features. His single eye raked across the space skittishly, the old rat being under the impression he’d heard a creak of his wooden floors. With a relieved sigh upon spotting nothing amiss, he’d eased.

His old shack would sometimes have the need to settle its old bones, just as he’d often had to. The Fox hadn’t governed this neck of the woods, either, so fearing for that to be a potential cause was rather silly of him. Relaxing promptly once more, Ratau returned to his book, comfortable atop his bed. Naturally he’d wished to play Knucklebones, yet his comrades had currently been tending to their own matters, forcing the former vessel as to entertain himself through other means.

“Watcha reading, big man?”, a whisper tickled the rat’s ear, Ratau jumping out from where he’d sat quickly, stumbling over himself in his panic. A piercing, sadistic laugh echoed around the small space of the hut, a beast’s eyes shining with utter amusement as the rat stumbled to stand, facing the intruder.

Atop his bed, laid leisurely as they’d kicked their legs playfully, was a foreign God.

A purple crown sat unmoving above their brow, its single eye staring directly at the rat, fearless as it did. Ratau swallowed thickly, scanning the newcomer’s features. Strangely, this odd God resembled-

“Lamb?”, Ratau asked warily, fearing of whatever curse could have possibly overtaken the kind, gentle being.

“Wrong,”, the dark creature laughed, though amusement sparkles in their eyes, “though I suppose you’re closer than most. ‘The Goat’ will suffice.”

Ratau swallowed again.

“The Goat,”, he’d parroted, clearing his throat in an attempt as to remain calm and collect, “and what is it that you need of me?”, and, evidently, this goat had hoped for the question, their smile turning wickedly sharp.

“I need nothing,”, the purple God purred, “though I suppose our dear little Lamb just might.”, he’d then smiled further, shuffling as to sit atop the bed instead of lying down.

And, despite his confusion and uncertainty, Ratau nodded curtly at the words. He’d been willing to help however he could, the Lamb’s safety his top priority. Both for the One Who Waits’ needs, and for his own heart.

Back in Paradise, at that very moment, Lambert sat down on his bed in the leader’s tent, following the action with a small, tired sigh. Despite the inevitable to come, the ram allowed himself a moment as to enjoy his continued lucidity. The One Who Waits explained the severing of the connection with the crown briefly, though warned that the sentient object could be non discriminatory when it came to the concept of ‘threats’, as such he wouldn’t recommend for Lamb to ‘let it loose’ in the midst of Paradise.

“And how do I reconnect?”, the ram asked carefully, their hooves dangling over the edge of their bed with curious playfulness.

‘Simply adorn yourself with the Red Crown once more,’, their God explained plainly, Lambert dully feeling heat bubble in the pit of their stomach. They hadn’t much time, their arm having restored itself to a mostly-healthy state, ‘Will for me to hear you, and I shall.’

“Thank you,”, the ram breathed out with a little smile, “for trusting me with this. And your patience.”, they’d laughed gently as they’d added, feeling warmth take merciless hold of their cheeks.

‘You’ve given me no qualm,’, the God of death purred, ‘as such I’d see no reason to insist upon your discomfort. Affairs of the body hold intimacy and value to many, as such it is your decision on what value they hold to you, vessel.’

“You’re very kind, my Lord.”, Lambert smiled genuinely, their words barely above a whisper.

‘Not a title many would bestow me, I must admit.’, the black cat hummed with evident amusement, the playfulness of the words making the omega’s heart flutter. Or perhaps it’d been their returning heat? ‘Consider yourself fortunate for such treatment from me.’

“Sounds as though you like me,”, the sheep huffed in quiet hopefulness and a hint of a tease, laying down on their side, playing with the hem of their cape, pulling at the fabric, “though I’d wanted to ask, could your guards hear me?”

‘No.’, The God spoke without missing a beat, ‘only should I wish it so. They know not of your predicament.’, he’d continuously assured.

“… can they hear you?”

‘Not at the moment,’, the cat hummed, a question evidently at the tip of his tongue, ‘I am communicating with you through our shared crown, not through my divinity.’, the God explained, even if, to Lambert, those words meant little in terms of explanation.

The sheep could feel their own arousal at this point, imagining their God’s scent and proximity. Sharp claws raking delicately through their wool. Imagining the way they’d leave a trail of yearning in their wake.

The vessel wanted to pull the fabric of their cloak away fully, revealing their body ready to serve their God. Their alpha. As to have his piercing, gorgeous eyes only on them, his dark veil doing little to hide curious staring.

“Would you like to watch me?”, the question came out breathlessly, the faraway glaze to the Lamb’s eyes suggesting they’d long been taken over by involuntary lust. All things considered, The One Who Waits’ vessel showed remarkable resilience, even during their shortly shared conversation.

‘Perhaps you ought to ask me the same question once you’re unaffected by an aphrodisiac of your own making.’, the black cat hummed, almost as though a tease. Lamb’s heart raced even more, their fingers twitching in anticipation as their breath hitched, ‘sever the connection, vessel.’, he’d then ordered, though the God’s words bore no harshness.

Swallowing thickly, Lamb focused as to do as they’d been instructed, obediently listening to their God, a silent prayer of thanks muttered against their soft lips. Within a few seconds, the red crown floated off of its barer’s head, gently placing itself at the bedside table, its single, red eye soon to close. The ram focused on the sounds within his mind, finding he’d indeed been alone with his thoughts once more.

Breathing in shallow gasps, Lambert could feel the heat that’d bloomed within his gut, taking shape of a thorny flower. A rose, no doubt, with its beautifully elegant petals yet sharp barbs.

With a gentle sigh, Lambert finally grasped the length his erection, shuddering at the realisation he hadn’t devoted himself in such a way for a very long time. Nor a God, nor anyone. The ram bit into their own cloak as to not whimper too loudly, feeling the warmth bloom and seed.

A name ran constantly through his mind, the desperate plea for them to complete them going unheard for now. Lambert imagined sharp claws holding him in place, ordering the ram with a raspy, cold voice.

Narinder, as he’d stood dormant in the gateway, couldn’t help the smirk that parted his scornful lips. He couldn’t hear Lamb anymore, nor communicate directly with his vessel. And yet, as familiar devotion reached his Godly form, Death’s own words echoed in his mind.

‘They’d be calling your name. Why should the context matter?’

Aym and Baal left their Master’s sudden, subtle purr left unquestioned.

Chapter Text

Lambert had imagined many things.

Scenarios that, surely, bordered heretical in their intensity and humanisation of their God, of all things. The ram’s thoughts ranged from chaste kisses at the nape of their neck, to the drawing of blood as Narinder bit more fiercely into the soft flesh over the sheep’s off-colour scar.

From gentle care of protective, reassuring hands, to the reason of their utter undoing. Where Lambert would find himself pressed against the closest hard surface, crying out curses as they’d begged to be ruined beyond recognition.

And the ram shamelessly enjoyed all of them. Every single scenario their mind provided, with their God as their alpha, would inevitably lead to pathetic whimpers of completion and hasty words of devoted prayer. They’d all fit the God, somehow. Every version in the ram’s mind felt like the correct one, providing both comfort and indescribable, insatiable, incomprehensible destruction.

Utter ruination.

Death seldom showed favourites, and yet Lamb still lived and breathed, despite the scar over their neck proving their should-be decomposition.

The ram was currently buried under a no-small mountain of blankets, nuzzling their muzzle into the comfort of their pillow, convincing themselves that they could faintly smell their God against the soft fabric. They’d have long discarded their fleece a short distance away, decidedly not wanting to ruin the fabric, seeing it a gift from the God of Death himself.

The coolness of the tent air had been a short lived remedy against his skin, however, seeing as the ram’s entire body now felt as though it stood ablaze.

They’d took a deep, calming breath. The sheep attempted to still their heart as they’d sat up in their little nest, only using one of the thinner blankets as to throw it over their naked shoulders, using one of his hands as to gently fix up their appearance.

Lamb made sure to delicately curl some of his wool as for it to frame his face better, he’d then combed the sides and back slightly, if only for them to be pat down a little better.

They could think clearly once more, even if the relief was likely to be as brief as it’d been the last few times. Still, The Lamb gently called out to the Red Crown, the object floating up as to reach its barer, its single eye remaining closed.

Once the crown sat atop soft wool, it’d instantaneously opened its eye once more. Lambert shuddered at the sudden, familiar presence of their God in their mind.

‘Vessel,’, The One Who Waits addressed, a gentle hum accompanying the sound of his voice, ‘what’d caught your curiosity this time?’, he’d asked knowingly, the Lamb falling into a habit of interrogating their God once reconnected with the crown.

He’d found it all rather amusing, Narinder must confess.

“Do you have a type, my Lord?”, the sheep asked earnestly, as though they’d been in the most dire need for an answer.

Very amusing.

‘Hm,’, the cat purred, smile etched against his features. ‘Those unique, I suspect. Though I admit, my lovers were few and far between.’

“How come?”, came another curious question, the sheep sat in an undeniably attractive way. They’d looked beckoning, their pretty eyes wide with curiosity.

‘Few do more than fear Death,’, the cat explained, yet his wicked smile proved him unbothered, ‘and seldom do I deem someone worthy of my advances. I wish to respect my partner, yet to be deemed worthy of the leniency of Death itself… needless to say, my little Lamb, most affairs which involved myself were brief.’

“Even other Gods?”, the sheep continued to pry, readjusting their position as they’d shuddered, their body quick to demand attention once more. Despite their predicament, Lamb’s curiosity continued to persist.

They’d reminded the God of himself in that regard.

‘There’d been one,’, The One Who Waits hummed thoughtfully, rarely venturing so far into the past, ‘before the spread of madness, when Godliness was commonplace.’

“Was that your first love, then?”, the ram asked quietly, a small smile prominent against their flushed features. They’d looked to be increasingly comfortable, their eyes closing peacefully.

‘The one of life had been the first, yes,’, the cat smiled at a distant memory, ‘I’d been but a kit back then. A foolish thing of little knowledge.’, Lambert chuckled lightly, feeling as warm as the sun as they’d listened, their God no bigger than his guards a humorous image.

“What were they like?”

‘She’d been much akin yourself, vessel,’, The One Who Waits concluded, Lamb’s own heart threatening to stop at the admission, ‘a kind soul of endless energy. Passionate when pushed, even if we’d spend most of our evenings together rather lazily.’, the black cat spoke softly, calm as he had.

“What happened to her, then?”

‘I’d killed her,’, the God admitted without missing a beat, the words making Lamb pause, a chill running down their spine, ‘once fighting amongst Godhood began, she’d approached me personally. I’d offered a place where she and her following may rest. Eternally safe from harm.’

“… you’d spared her from having to witness destruction.”

‘Her principles, although admirable, lacked realism,’, the God spoke matter-of-factly, ‘Only later had I found out she’d been the first. Clauneck foretold the Death of Life to mark the beginning of the end.’

“She’d asked to be killed preemptively?”

‘She’d asked to be spared the violence,’, The God corrected, ‘to her, every life had been sacred. For all she’d loved to destroy itself would’ve, inevitably, destroyed her.’

“Had you ever wanted to bring her back? Once this is all finally over?”

‘… no.’

“Why?”

‘She appears to prefer the stillness of death,’, the black cat hummed thoughtfully, ‘just as I‘ve the affinity for the momentum of life.’, the God decided, hoping the explanation itself would be enough.

“You’d given her happiness.”, Lambert stated in understanding, wishing they could’ve had this conversation with the God in shared privacy, sitting close to them.

‘A lovers’ only obligation.’, the God agreed, the lightness of his tone suggesting he’d been satisfied with the conclusion of the topic. Whilst smiling gently at the pleasant quiet, blissfully content despite the usually-uncomfortable heat in their gut, Lambert startled at the sound of movement behind him.

Turning his head abruptly, the leader of Paradise soon locking eyes with none other than-

“Joan-“, Lambert swallowed thickly, straightening where he’d sat. The sheep adjusted the blanket over their shoulders, feeling uncomfortably exposed before the bear. “I am in no state to house you, my faithful.”, the sheep attempted to mitigate the situation, feeling their traitorous body yearn for the alpha to beckon closer.

They’d felt so utterly incomplete, after all. Satisfied in mind, yearning in body.

“I believe otherwise, my Lamb,”, he spoke hungrily in turn, his eyes trailing the ram’s poorly-covered body in just the way Lamb detested. “I’ll take the burden to help you upon myself, if you allow it,”, the alpha began to unbutton the cloth that adorned him. “You smell positively heavenly.”

At this point, the sheep had been really concentrating on not letting their heat slip. The Goat had been one thing, but Joan?

“I’m thankful for your consideration,”, Lambert spoke with subtle difficulty, shuffling backwards in his bed, “but my body belongs to our God,”, the ram promptly whimpered, feeling their stomach churn in yearning, “I shan’t indulge beyond what he allows me.”

“Right,”, the bear scoffed bitterly, their robe promptly discarded. There’d been a possessive scent to him, an erection evident through the thin fabric of his undergarments. “Yet you’d allowed Yarlen to touch you. I deserve a turn, also.”, he’d hissed, undeterred.

‘Lamb,’, The One Who Waits spoke in a tone colder than usual, ‘sever the connection.’, he’d instructed, no room left for debate.

Perhaps he ought to have argued. To ask their God why he’d wanted to leave the sheep alone with the unfamiliar alpha. The sheep’d been utterly useless at the moment, unable to will a single violent, defensive thought.

As such, Lamb simply did as instructed.

With a gentle breath they’d closed their eyes, focusing on ceasing their connection with the Red Crown as it floated down from their wool. Barely had Lambert the chance to feel his thoughts become his own before a sickening, vile crack sounded out throughout the leader’s tent.

Blinking their eyes open in surprise, Lamb found their crown’s eye closed, the sentient object sitting comfortably in a pool of gore and blood.

An instant massacre.

A being wiped from existence in all but a second.

Lambert stared at the pulp on the ground motionlessly, feeling their heart quicken its pace as their walls, floor and even bed were now drenched in blood.

And yet still, relief washed over them instantaneously.

Chapter Text

When Ratau and The Goat made their way into the Leader’s tent they’d been… surprised, to say the least.

An annoyed grumble emanated from the depths of a bundle of blankets, a discontent sheep sitting up in their bed soon after. Naturally, Lambert hadn’t been the problem, Ratau needing only a single breath of air as to realise what the ‘help’ the ram had been after was.

Their leader’s tent, however, had been a bloodied mess.

“The fuck happened here?”, The Goat spoke for both of the guests, the sound of his deep voice making Lambert startle where he’d now sat atop his bed. After their head turned towards their two guests, the sheep positively beamed.

“You’d brought Ratau,”, the sheep smiled brightly, their crown’s closed eye only now catching The Goat’s attention as they’d glanced at their small bedside table. “Would you know how to help me?”, they’d then asked the rat hopefully, shuffling atop their bed, grasping one blanket tightly as to wrap it over themselves.

Standing with a small sway, the sheep took several steps towards the alpha and beta, their gentle expression endlessly hopeful. They’d stopped just short of the blood, evidently unbothered by its presence.

The entire tent smelled of death in the midst of autumn.

The Goat quickly concluded why the sheep appeared ill-inclined to clean it.

“I’ll make some tea,”, the old rat sighed knowingly, Lamb’s usually-neat demeanour shattered into something more comfortable, so to speak. “It’ll soothe your heat.”, Ratau then assured, carefully stepping around the blood pooled at the ground.

“Alright,”, Lambert smiled happily, promptly deciding to sit down on the ground patiently, directly in front of the ‘remains’ on the floor. The sheep swayed from side to side minutely, humming happily at having guests. They’d began to draw passively in the blood, finally looking up at the Goat with a low chuckle, “the crown killed someone.”, they’d then explained simply, the purple God looking up at the sentient object.

Still, its eye remained closed. The Goat’s eyes narrowed, the God confused about a multitude of things regarding the situation.

The Lamb was clearly out of it, no questions there. But, in equal measure, they’d appeared to have a better handle on the heat altogether. Despite being in the presence of an alpha, they’d been yet to throw themselves at the goat. And then there’d been the fact the crown supposedly killed someone of its own will.

As Ratau began to brew some tea, The Goat took the opportunity as to crouch down next to the sheep, poking them lightly. With bright, curious eyes, The Lamb tilted their head in silent question.

“How did the crown kill anything in your state? I thought you couldn’t formulate violent thoughts.”, they’d asked with earnest curiosity, the workings of the crown always a topic of interest. Lamb shook their head.

“I can’t,”, Lambert confirmed, leaning a little closer to the alpha, “Narinder taught me to sever my connection with it. It seems to protect me automatically when that’s the case.”

“Huh.”, The Goat sounded out somewhat dumbly, their brows furrowing at the revelation. It’d made sense- God’s who’d been omegas would have a natural disadvantage, so the crowns made up for it with increased violence, should it be required.

Lambert’s scent had still been incredibly hard to ignore. Especially this close. Especially when he’d progressively leaned in closer.

“Can he hear you with the crown like that?”, The Goat still asked, The Lamb shaking their head once more as to emphasise their ‘no’.

“He’d said my thoughts are mine alone, in this state.”, the sheep purred, almost as though they’d praised their God. Naturally, Narinder claiming he hadn’t been listening could be a ploy. A means to an end, gaining The Lamb’s unrelenting devotion. But if it were true…

“Then I can tell you, if he’s not listening,”, The Goat glanced between the sheep and the crown still resided by the leader’s bed, hoping for their impromptu plan to work. Their voice, however, remained a whisper. “That I’m the God of knowledge. Of the future.”, he’d spoke seriously, hoping the sheep wouldn’t pry.

Lambert frowned at the admission, head tilting.

“Why is that a secret?”, the ram whispered back in question, curious eyes turning wide with ideas.

“I know of what’s to come,”, The Goat doubled down, “it‘s how we’re going to defeat the Bishops.”

“That’s-“, Lambert breathed in excitedly, closing the distance between the God and vessel as to hug them tightly, The Goat doing little more than startling in surprise at the gesture “-amazing!”, they’d beamed, nuzzling their silky snout into the crook of the goat’s neck.

“Knock it off,”, The Goat grumbled, grasping the sheep’s shoulders as to push them a short distance away, “you’re being too-“, the God was then promptly silenced before they’d a chance to finish their thought.

By a kiss, of all things.

It’d been a gentle press of lips, Lambert pulling away just as quickly as he’d leaned in, soon nuzzling back into the stunned goat, humming playful tunes once more.

“We’ll free Narinder,”, the ram spoke lightly, their entire self emitting utter excitement. Happiness, warmth, arousal, it’d all mixed together into an incoherent mess. “And I’ll be by his side.”

The Goat was no saint.

He wanted. He’d been greedy.

He’d lusted.

Love hadn’t been something he’d felt for others. He’d liked or disliked them, and Lamb had been no exception. But he still wanted to claim them before Narinder had a chance to betray Lambert, as he’d so readily done to The Goat themselves.

And he’d wanted to warn the sheep then and there. To tell them that Narinder couldn’t give less of a shit about them, and that they could be Lambert’s God instead, if they’d needed one so dearly.

But he spoke no more. Not after Ratau finally returned with tea, urging the sheep to shift away from the stiff board that’d been The Goat, nor as he’d cleaned the blood off the floor, much to The Lamb’s complaint.

“I didn’t mind the blood.”, the sheep pouted, nuzzling themselves sadly into their covers. Ratau gently brushing the vessel’s wool, unknotting their pretty curls as the crown continued to sit dormant a short distance away. The Goat cleaned the remains of crimson regardless.

Ratau had even gone ahead as to change The Lamb’s bedding and blankets, the entire area of the tent clean once more.

“It’s best to rest when it’s clean,”, Ratau soothed gently, running careful fingers through the current vessel’s coat with utmost care, yet grimacing slightly as he’d glanced up and over to the foreign God within the home, “though I must ask,”, he’d sighed with evident discomfort, “who are you?”, he’d inquired, his single eye narrowing at The Goat.

“I’d answered that already.”, the God deadpanned in turn, rolling their eyes as they’d put away the cleaning supplies. Grumbling to themselves about having to clean at all.

“Allow me to rephrase, then,”, the rat appeared undeterred, The Lamb’s heavy eyelids making it evident they’d been fighting against sleep. The tea which’d been made for them, mixed with Ratau’s gentle caresses, proved to be the perfect remedy for the incessant, uncomfortable heat in the omega’s gut. “What purpose do you have helping The Lamb?”, the old rat asked coolly, as though he’d been any form of threat.

As though The Goat hadn’t fed him to The Fox in the past.

“Our goals align,”, they’d shrug, not allowing the evident bubble of anger to fester. They’d always hated being challenged, especially by beings who should be trembling like a leaf before them. “We wish the Bishops dead.”

“You’ve said you’d been the God of Knowledge,”, Ratau’s ear flicked, emphasising that he could hear the God and vessel speak before, “of the future,”, again, the old rat hadn’t known when to remain quiet, “then tell me, how do you help this future? Why can’t it play out with Lamb and Lamb alone?”

“I think you ask too many questions.”, The Goat spoke coldly, voice so threatening it lacked the usual heat that would come with such words.

“Just know I’ve my eye on you, son.”, Ratau shot back, bewildered at the sudden reaction that followed his words. The purple beast laughed loudly, a harsh, painful sound. They’d continued to laugh, the sound so vile that Ratau thought he’d be sick.

And oh.

Did Goat love a smidge of irony.

Chapter Text

Following three days of ‘house arrest’, things were undeniably far better. So much so that The Lamb had asked The Goat to accompany them towards their first trip to Anura.

The Lamb complained of the ache in their muscles as they’d walked beside the God, as well as having gone out of their way to apologise for their previous, lust-induced behaviour. Naturally, not even The Goat was enough of a dick to blame uncontrollable impulses on the omega, instead mentioning that, all things considered, they’d gone through it pretty well.

After Ratau had shown up, the old rat appeared to know exactly how to help remedy the effects of the ram’s heat. He’d made them tea and helped construct a more prominent nest with the addition of weighted blankets, soon to bring in some decaying leaves as per Lamb’s increased pleading for a ‘nicer scent’, which Ratau guessed to be that of decay. He’d been correct in the assumption, naturally.

The Lamb appeared to have decided they’d wanted to be claimed by Narinder in their heat. The Goat had concluded as much earlier, and quietly hoped to have the opportunity as to force the sheep into the reassessment of who their God should be.

Narinder, after all, had been a manipulator.

A desperate God willing to do anything as means of freeing himself from a (supposedly unjust) prison. A Bishop with no moral qualm when it came to using a lonely omega- undeniably aware of the nature of their feelings towards him.

They’d been lonely, too. The purple, unkempt God was just as lonely as the one adorned in striking crimson. Perhaps he’d even thought of Narinder as a friend in a too-recent past, knowing exactly how easy it’d been for someone to fall into the trap that’d been his claws and honeyed words.

Lamb was foolish to think him otherwise. But The Goat understood they’d equally hadn’t known any better, much like himself. If The Lamb was as capable as him, which they appeared to be, then they’d make it regardless of help. Shattered and alone, but they’d make it.

Last of their kinds. In species and Godhood.

But once Narinder falls dead and The Lamb’ll be in need of guidance once more, they’d step in.

They’ll have their soul. Their body. Their faith. They’ll be the last together.

“The Goat has been acting strange as of late,”, The Lamb whispered to their God, watching from afar as the foreign God tortured a heretic whom belonged to Heket, their agonised screams echoing pitifully in the midst of the autumn forest. It’d been needless cruelty, as far as Lambert was concerned. “ever since my heat, they’d been… off.”

‘What does that entail, vessel?’, The One Who Waits asked with a low hum, The Lamb’s mind racing incomprehensibly, ‘have they posed a threat to you in any way?’, the God of Death’s voice was unbelievably comforting to the small sheep. Safe.

“No,”, Lambert shook his head reassuringly, a gentle, thankful smile upturning uncertain lips, “I’d… kissed them on impulse, right near the end. They- ugh-“, the sheep hesitated, swallowing an odd lump in their throat, “they’d told me something reassuring. I was so happy that…”, again, the sheep trailed off.

Thoughtfully, Narinder hummed.

‘You believe they’ve a qualm regarding your actions?’

“… is that stupid to assume?”

‘No.’, Their God answered plainly, ‘none favour unwanted advances,’, The One Who Wait’s voice bore a semblance of gentle comfort, ‘though I highly doubt that the case. Had they not been the one to spoil the inside of their cape to your expression of pain?’, the cat had the audacity to ask casually.

“-!”, The Lamb promptly chocked on air, their ears and face lighting ablaze, the colour matching that of their cape, “my Lord,”, they’d chided, feeling their eyes water in embarrassment, “that’d been a rather graphic image.”

‘An accurate recount of events, I’d think,’, The God of Death countered smugly, humour no doubt upturning dangerous, sharp lips, ‘do you believe I’ve misspoken?’

“I believe you’re crass,”, Lambert corrected, promptly shaking his head in an attempt as to clear their thoughts. Surely, their God spoke in such a manner primarily as to embarrass his faithful. “I’m always jarred by your straightforwardness when it comes to these subjects.”

‘I suppose your own hesitance comes from inexperience,’, the black cat hummed in turn, his veil swaying as he’d focused briefly on his guards, the two in the midst of a spar. ‘I’ve lived a millennium too long for subtlety.’

“I guess that makes sense,”, the ram sighed, their heart easing its pace, “Gods appear to favour riddles, but to call them subtle would be an obvious lie.”

‘You’ve a light tongue when it comes to the subject of Divinity,’, The One Who Waits pointed out, ‘had you worshipped other Gods in your past?’, this time, it’d been evident that the cat asked based off of his curiosity alone.

Had The Lamb worshipped Gods other than him?

“Sort of?”, the sheep laughed quietly, their lips a playful upturn at a passing thought of their God being jealous, “we’d worship sleep,”, The Lamb hummed warmly at the memory, their hands picking at blades of grass between their cloven fingers as they’d sat down atop it, “we’d always count every sheep in our home or village, before we’d rest, so that they may all be protected. Although I suppose we’d never known of a physical deity who’d ruled over our sleep.”

‘A God of slumber?’

“Had one like that ever existed?”, the sheep asked curiously, a lump suddenly forming in their throat. To learn of the old Gods had been forbidden by the Bishops, the sheepfolk instead sharing their beliefs through family gatherings. No longer were their odd displays assumed to be that of worship or residue devotion, simply that of their kind.

‘…Yes,’, The One Who Waits spoke with some delay, as though reminding himself of details. ‘An incredibly formidable God, he’d been. A brown ram with an enchanted bow, the mere mention of him a cause for fear.’

“I-“, Lambert stuttered, “what?”, they’d looked up, hoping their surprise evident, “the God of sleep was a sheep? And a feared one? How had that come about?”

‘Gods needn’t rest,’, the black cat spoke thoughtfully, as though attempting to give the ram the most accurate recount, ‘yet he’d made it so they did. Gods feared sleep, as it forced reflection. They’d nowhere to escape in the confides of their own mind, made to relive their most regretful encounters and decisions. During the war, no one lived without fears.’

“So they’d… gave them nightmares?”

‘They hadn’t a need,’, The One Who Waits clarified, ‘they had only needed to cast their spell. A guilty mind did most of his work.’

“I see,”, the sheep hummed, feeling odd pride swell within them. Hopefully their God hadn’t thought their faith to be wavering, as Lambert himself felt it only soar further. He’d spoke so respectfully… had it been because it had meant something to The Lamb? “Did he…?”

‘Die? Yes. As they all eventually had,’, the God hummed truthfully, continuing to speak following a short pause, ‘though I must admit he’d… inspired me.’

“Inspired?”, Lambert frowned, head a slight, involuntary tilt.

‘Dreams,’, The One Who Waits spoke vaguely at first, ‘death used to be still. A nothingness. That is not the case anymore.’

“The God of slumber inspired you to create the afterlife?”, Lambert asked with genuine amazement,  hoping they’d read into their God’s words correctly.

‘And I should think he’s grateful for it, seeing him a resident of my domain,’, the black cat purred with amusement, ‘It is wonderful design, truly. One’s mind delivers the most hurtful of punishments. Hides the most niche of fears in the subconscious.’

“Did he ever… hear my family’s prayers? See us practice his rituals?”, the sheep asked hopefully, a gentle tone to their words.

‘Unlikely.’

“… right.”, the sheep sighed, their disappointment evident in the saddened tone. The Lamb thought their God would leave the discussion at that, seeing as it’d been a conversation unrelated to death or their goal, yet that hadn’t been the case.

‘But it would seem you carry a piece of him still, as such I’m certain your dreams are far more favourable than most.’, the God of Death spoke in odd reassurance.

“Shouldn’t that,”, the sheep paused, evidently perplexed, “should that not annoy you? That I’d wish for anything from another God…? Is this a test, perhaps?”

‘Lamb.’

“Yes, my lord?”

‘Do you enjoy consumption?’, Their God asked without seeming reason, causing his vessel to frown. ‘Does eating bring you joy?’

“It does.”

‘Does that make you a worshipper of Heket, then?’, The One Who Waits challenged, the tone of his voice unreadable. ‘Should you see her soon, would your blade falter at the thought of your latest meal?’

“Of course not.”, The Lamb responded confidently, head shaking in emphasis.

‘Then know details of this sort do not matter,’, a wicked smile once more picked at the black cat’s lips, his teeth glinting sharply as he’d continued to speak leisurely to his vessel. ‘You’re free to experience and do as you wish, for you’ve my faith as much as I have your own.’

“So I may indulge in the benefits of other faiths,”, Lambert hadn’t been sure why his heart began to beat so rapidly, but his mind was suddenly filled with cotton. Perhaps not all of their heat had completely vanished just yet. “Because you know I’ll only worship you?”

‘Precisely, my smart, sweet little sheep,’, Narinder positively purred, the gentle praise having Lamb feel as though butter in the midst of the summer sun, ‘other Gods may have a taste of you, but I know you’ll always be mine.’

Chapter Text

Lambert should’ve, honestly, expected as much.

At this point, their God had been an outright fantasy, one ever-present somewhere in the corner of their thoughts. It’d been unlike the omega to so pitifully yearn for an alpha’s attention, but The One Who Waits’ demeanour as a whole had been nothing short of utterly magnetic and mesmerising.

In death he’d smile sharply, yet soothe his vessel with a delicate claw. His pained hands would treat the small ram with upmost care, even as the towering God of Death spoke of the many ways Lambert crushed their enemies. Of how strong they’d been. How meticulously vengeful, just as he’d wished them to be.

The scent of decay lingered whenever the sheep would awake once more in life, the impulse as to pull the fabric of their crimson fleece tighter around themselves uncontainable. They’d nuzzle their nose into the fabric inconspicuously, feeling comfort ease their tense limbs and bring utter relief and reassurance.

If their God noticed that they’d managed to die just as the scent from their cape became faint, he hadn’t said anything in that regard.

Furthermore, despite the observation likely being silly at best, the God also listened to his vessel.

Listened, remembered and repeated. When The Lamb randomly mentioned their love for reading sappy novels, The One Who Waits told them (as the sheep and goat found themselves within one of Heket’s few libraries), that he’d remembered the Bishop of Famine had a section of books that could be to his vessel’s liking.

He didn’t need to do that. Every book the sheep excitedly picked up from the shelves was time wasted, after all. A day of waiting added to the cat’s eternity.

But then he’d also asked.

Asked how the books were. What the story was about.

Asked if the ram would be happy to read with the guards, should they carry a novel with them upon their demise.

Their God’s curiosity, however, spanned to all topics. He’d known such a great deal of things, so much more than Lamb ever believed possible for a single being to, yet insisted he’d wanted to listen to the small sheep’s truth.

By the third week of traversing Anura, The Lamb could hardly focus anymore. Whenever their God would speak, a trail of yearning was unceremoniously left at their hooves. They’d anticipated something. The persistent heat in their gut never leaving, to the point that it began to ache.

That same night they’d asked the Goat casually if they could camp out for the night, the sheep complaining of feeling drained and tired due to the mushrooms that plagued the domain. Although the God looked unconvinced, he hadn’t fought the sheep on the idea.

In general, The Goat appeared far more compliant, serving as a guide as to lead the both of them towards the Bishop of Famine with evident know-how. Perhaps Lambert ought to have put more thought into questioning the purple God’s odd behaviour, but their mind had been utter mush.

Evening came quickly and Lamb retreated into their temporary tent, asking their God if they could sever the connection to the Red Crown for some time, as they’d wished to relax. They said they’d wanted to bathe in the nearby stream and massage their sore limbs.

The One Who Waits granted the request easily, simply urging the ram to enjoy themselves, as they’d deserved it.

And even that went straight to Lambert’s dick.

It’d been a little pathetic, Lamb must admit. The utter yearning they’d developed for their God was beyond embarrassing, his praise and gentle words leaving Lambert an incomprehensible mess. They’d go as far as to say that they’d long developed feelings for the black cat, the mere thought of him enough to have the sheep smiling goofily to themselves.

They’d thought of their heat. Of reassuring words and gentle care. They’d thought of the words said by their God.

Would he want to watch them now? Would he enjoy raking his three crimson eyes over what the mere thought of him did to his ever-faithful vessel?

Would Narinder order his hand? Direct every jerked stroke with an upturn of sharp lips, looking down at his vessel proudly showcasing their devotion.

Lamb’s breath hitched at the thought, the pace of their hand quickening as they’d mewled pitifully, nuzzling into their own, red fleece, the scent of their God having lingered faintly against its soft fabric still.

Wasn't faith supposed to be an innocent thing?

Shouldn’t Gods feel unattainable and cold?

Why could Lambert so vividly imagine their God purring their name, then? Almost feel the way in which hot breath would tickle his ear as Death itself urged his vessel to slow down. To enjoy every stroke as he’d instead swallowed every moan. How he’d bite into the soft flesh of the sheep’s scar for every shaky breath.

They’d came into completion soon there after, a gentle cry of relief forcing them as to bite down into the fabric of their fleece. Although it’d been late, the sheep dreaded the idea of being heard.

They’d allowed themselves a moment to breathe, the action audibly laboured at first. They could so easily run for hours on end if they’d had to, and yet the mere thought of their God would leave them utterly breathless. Lambert sighed contently soon enough, swallowing a lump in their throat as they’d sat up on their bed, eager to clean what they’d dirtied.

Once the tent was returned to its norm, the sheep decided they’d take that bath in the creek after all. The evening air felt nice and cool against their hot skin, the ram looking around briefly to see if they could spot their companion anywhere. They couldn’t.

Leaving their crown behind as to bathe in continued privacy, The Lamb approached the water confidently. The area they’d camped at had been pleasantly quiet, the sound of running water the only consistent noise.

Gingerly taking off and folding their cape, the young ram placed their fleece at the bank of the creek, carefully stepping their hooves into the running water. With a pleased, content sigh the sheep soon sat down in the water. Although wet wool could be a nightmare to dry, the Red Crown had been capable of summoning fire at will. Lambert may not yet be confident with the magic, but they’d known it enough to make the drying process a far less tedious-to-do task.

The Lamb enjoyed the unusual peace. The silence of their mind and the lack of mouths to feed. Naturally they’d grown to love the community they’d built in Narinder’s name, but taking care of so many beings at once was undeniably tiresome at times. The peace, however, hadn’t lasted long. It never did, being a vessel.

“You shouldn’t be here without your crown.”, The Lamb promptly startled at the deep voice, water splashing around them as they’d visibly jumped. Looking behind them, The Goat looked down at them with utter unamusement as they’d stood directly behind the sheep.

“Don’t scare me like that.”, Lambert sighed in relief at the intruder being their companion, the God of Knowledge watching them with an unusually hard stare. Lamb made sure as to sit in a way that hadn’t overtly exposed their naked body, but otherwise found it surprisingly easy to relax despite the God being an alpha.

Although the goat’s usual sharpness appeared sanded down as of late, they’d still provided comfort ever since the sheep’s heat. They’d done far more than most alphas would’ve, and even went out of their way as to comfort the omega when all was said and done.

Silently, The Goat looked around. They’d taken in the surroundings with a thoughtful frown against their features. The God then stepped into the creek beside The Lamb, taking a few further steps into it before bending down, cupping some water as to wash their face. Despite the unusual nature of this shared activity, it hadn’t felt awkward.

They’d stayed in relative silence for a prolonged moment, Lambert passively watching as the buck shook water off of themselves as though a dog. Lambert allowed himself an amused smile at the display, a quiet, humorous huff leaving his lips. It’d been kind of cute, really.

The Goat stood straighter at the sound, turning his head with a slight tilt. The world stilled for a second as the God’s eyes watched the sheep bathe for a moment, before the goat’s body turned to where he’d faced abruptly.

“Lamb”, the purple God took several steps forward, stopping just short of the sheep, suddenly kneeling down into the water. Lambert tensed somewhat, eyes widening at the sudden, close proximity, “I suppose it’s only fair I warn you of something.”, they spoke cryptically, outstretching their hands as to cup the sheep’s face.

Their hold was uncharacteristically gentle, residue water making the touch cool against their warm face. Pleasant.

“Pardon?”, the sheep asked, perplexed. They hadn’t attempted to move away from the hold, however, despite the oddly compromising position they’d both found themselves in. It’d been intimate, in an odd way.

“I won’t go into specifics because of time continuum shit,”, they’d grimaced, their face now barely apart as he’d pulled the ram close, “but know that you can’t trust Narinder. Not fully.”

“What do you mean?”, The Lamb frowned, their heart strangely restless this close to the alpha. Their voice came out weak, barely even a whisper.

“He’ll betray your trust.”, the buck grimaced as he’d stated, his eyes sharp and unrelenting, expression as hard as stone. “So be wary of that.”, their purple cape was soaked by now, though they appeared unbothered by the fact.

“When-“

“I won’t tell you more,”, he’d abruptly let go of the sheep, standing back to his hooves as though nothing had transpired. “But know that you can come to me, should you need.”

With that, The Goat simply left the sheep to continue their soak in the water.

To soak in doubt.

The ‘God of the future’ couldn’t help the way his lips upturned darkly as they’d walked away. The seed had been planted.

Now it’d been time to let it sprout.

Chapter Text

Heket was a vile beast.

She’d been a far more calculated alpha than her brother, but the utter cheatcode that’d been The Goat proved to make her futile attempts at destroying the pests beneath her feet unceremoniously pathetic.

With The Goat’s instructions, her thrashing and crushing were made to look like a child’s temper tantrum. The Goat warned of the fact she’d get faster the more desperate she grew, but that once the sheep memorised the attack patterns she’d relied on, it would be as though they’d been dancing with the Bishop of Famine.

Lambert, somehow, hadn’t anticipated the purple God to be a dancer.

Naturally, not everything about the fight had been smooth sailing. Sometimes the frog would do something unpredictable, subsequently getting uncomfortably close to actually hurting the either of her to-be killers. Just as The Goat warned, her desperation soon made her sloppy. She’d become almost as chaotic as her fallen brother, a croaking mess of hatred.

“You’re bringing… your own… demise…!”, she’d gurgled sickly, the alpha’s blood pooling at her neck as she spat the words out, eyes pained yet violent. She’d spoken out of fear, if her tone of voice was to be believed. The Lamb, however, found it difficult as to procure a single drop of sympathy for the utter monster.

Lambert remembered her smile.

The sadistic glint in her eye as the last lamb laid before the lot of the Bishops. He’d been so afraid and alone, no one to turn to and no chance to run or fight. There’d been no dignity in the way they’d killed him, the action so needlessly cruel and targeted.

And Lambert had her specific smile engraved in his skull. The sickly gurgle of her pleased laugh, as though she’d seen the death of a pest.

“Death is only a change,”, Lambert’s breathing was laboured, heart hammering painfully for all who’d they’d lost to this monster- no better than Leshy. Perhaps even worse. “It takes only from those living. Death itself is peaceful,”, the frog crumbled beneath her own weight, her multitude of injuries unbearable, “and yet I can only hope the One Who Waits gives you no rest, for you do not deserve it. For what you’d done to my God, your kin,”, the sheep hissed, Heket’s eyes darting with alarm, “and for those slain at an alter. Robbed of comfort during the one time you could provide it.”

With their cold, hurt words, a final swing of their sword was delivered. Heket was killed, her death as swift as her younger brother’s.

Her body now laid limp before the sheep, who’d breathed heavily as they’d stared down at the corpse with nothing short of disgust. Another monster now rested in the hands of The One Who Waits.

Wrongs have not been righted. There was no peace in hurting others like this, and so Heket’s vile smile that day made no sense to him.

An eye for an eye…

‘Vessel,’, The One Who Waits spoke calmly, the sheep reminding themselves to take a deep breath at the sound. A short distance away, The Goat stood pensively, watching what The Lamb planned to do. ‘Why do I feel uncertainty from you?’, the question was asked sincerely, as though the cat was genuinely perplexed.

“I hate her.”, Lamb admitted easily without missing a beat, climbing atop her dead form as to retrieve her un-beating heart. A heart that, despite what one might think, still existed. Breathed. Felt. “But she was your sister, wasn’t she?”

‘…’

“…so you’d loved her,”, the sheep continued, undeterred by the pause, “and I’m sure she’d loved in turn-“

‘Lamb.’

“-but then what made them do something so vile?”, the sheep hissed, stabbing the crown into the beast’s chest, “to imprison family, and then smile as someone who they don’t know, who’d never wronged them, trembles knowing their life will end-“, the sheep’s voice grew a little desperate, the action of carving out Heket’s heart cold and calculated.

‘Lambert.’

A pause. Silent, save for the disgusting squelch of flesh as The Lamb shoved the monster’s heart into the depth of the Red Crown. They’d been obedient, even in their anger.

‘I understand these qualms. I share them with you,’, The One Who Waits spoke soothingly, urging his vessels heart as to calm, ‘but trust that they are not who’d they once been. I’d loved my siblings a millennium ago. Fear had made them unrecognisable as my family, the act of taking your loved ones not one they’d so much as entertain back then. There is no good left within them. It’d taken me a thousand years to realise such a thing myself.’

“Do you hate them, then?”, the sheep asked quietly, sitting atop the motionless corpse as they’d glanced downwards at the contorted form. Briefly, they’d recognised The Goat a short distance away, staring at them with an unreadable expression.

‘…I fail to feel much of anything these days, vessel.’, and that revelation was said so earnestly. Words of someone so utterly tired of their existence, the way it’d been. Strangely, it felt as though this had been a more intimate admission than usual, as though the God of Death wouldn’t have usually said this much.

Those words were followed by a prolonged pause, both The One Who Waits and The Lamb stuck in an odd impasse, almost as though basking in the strange, genuine bond that appeared to weave them together. To say their God had been vulnerable would be far too much of an overstatement, but there’d been undeniable trust in the admission, surely.

He’ll betray you.

‘Lamb,’, the sheep started for no apparent reason, their heart suddenly hammering against their ribcage, like that of a guilty child’s. ‘I sense-‘

“Another one dead, then!”, The Goat had finally approached, stood behind The Lamb as warm hands grasped the omega’s shoulders, shaking the ram with light excitement. “Two more to go. We’ll get through this together easily.”, the purple adorned God smiled sharply, head tilting lightly to the side.

In one, smooth motion, The Goat gently pulled Lamb backwards, craning their neck as to gently press their snout to the sheep’s dark-grey cheek, the action very obviously affectionate. Not waiting for a reaction from the sheep other than a surprised jolt, the alpha stood leisurely.

“But we should get back to your flock, I sense that Heket had plagued the grounds of Paradise with a curse,”, The Goat sniffed curiously at the air, “famine. Rather on brand.”, they’d then rolled their eyes, outstretching an arm out towards their companion easily.

With a curt nod and a thankful smile, Lambert took the hand as to be hoisted back up to his hooves. The both of them jumped off of Heket’s dead body, making haste as to reach the sheep’s home, their way back filled with pleasant, relatively mundane conversation.

Narinder, on the other hand, could do little more than growl subtly at the ordeal. He hadn’t been able to catch exactly what The Lamb thought briefly, but there’d been an undeniable weight of doubt that accompanied it.

There’d been an increased surge of devotion as the two spoke, Narinder making sure as to blame his sudden, unplanned honesty on the fact. But then it’d abruptly cut. As though his vessel purposefully grounded themselves with some kind of reminder.

Lamb hadn’t ever faltered like this before.

“I knew it,”, Aym hissed beside his master and brother, the fur at the back of his neck standing. “That disgusting goat is throwing a wrench your plan, Master!”

“They must’ve used an opportunity when The Lamb hadn’t been under the protection of your watchful eye,”, Baal continued for his brother, “perhaps it’d be for the best to prevent them from severing the connection, from now on?”

“No,”, the God sighed tiredly, closing his three, crimson eyes in a moment of contemplation, “I shan’t revoke freedom, as my vessel would then begin to fight against the casted chains. Although it is true The Goat is likely to blame, I believe the best approach would be direct questioning.”

“… they appear oddly close now, don’t they, Master?”, Aym asked warily instead, the two kits having been shown both the battle with Heket’s as well as the aftermath.

“Something is certainly amiss,”, Narinder affirmed, the black cat feeling a headache rear its ugly head. “Again, I must question my vessel. Privately, seeing as this goat is starting to be far more of a hindrance than first anticipated.”

With as devout as The Lamb was until this point, Narinder hadn’t even entertained the idea of a possible dissent of any kind. Although no such thing was on the immediate horizon, The God hadn’t been foolish enough as to not notice the inevitable threat of such a thing.

The Goat appeared to know all the Bishops well, the fact obvious in the way they’d fight alone, but Narinder had never heard of the beast. Their appearance appeared to be random, with them initiating a fight before deciding that sticking around would be a more entertaining idea.

Whatever plan they’d now had was half baked at best, with Narinder refusing to acknowledge the irritation that bubbled in his gut at what he’d spent so long crafting and preparing being threatened.

He’d needed Lambert’s utter devotion.

He’d needed them to give themselves utterly to him. To love him, and as such anticipate his freedom.

He’d really began to like this vessel, too. An oversight on his part.

He wouldn’t ever allow himself to be betrayed again.

Chapter Text

Everything had now been under control in Paradise. Famine had, indeed, spread across its grounds as though a disease, but it hadn’t been anything a bowl of pumpkin soup and some freshly baked bread hadn’t counteracted. A few of the sheep’s flock fell ill following the curse, yet were soon thereafter treated, now feeling as good as new.

The Goat rarely, if ever, interacted with The Lamb’s following. Part of the reason the vessel felt comfortable as to house the foreign God had been the fact they’d never expected anything from the sheep’s flock. They’d never barked an order or done anything to undermine the Leader’s authority. In fact, Lambert would go as far as to say the usually-rambunctious God would go along with everything The Lamb said, even playing along with being a supposed ‘worshipper of The One Who Waits’, despite the idea seemingly insulting their very soul.

Having that in mind, however-

The One Who Waits had been uncomfortably quiet.

Normally, him and his vessel would fall into idle conversation about whatever was going on at any moment. Any qualm or enquiry the sheep possessed would quickly be dispelled and answered in a heartbeat, their God’s cold voice carrying a fond warmth for knowledge, it seemed.

But that had no longer been the case. Today, as Lambert noticed, it’d been The Goat that would answer. They’d fill in the gaps in The Lamb’s knowledge, almost as though aware of the unusual silence in the sheep’s mind.

As they pondered passively over the fact, the purple wearing God had approached the young vessel with a smile that could only be described as mischievous, their features sharp and cunning.

“I’ve a gift for you, O’ vessel of Death.”, they’d bowed lightly as they’d spoke, the gesture easy to be considered mocking had Lamb not grown accustomed to the God’s antics, a further, amused glint in their eye causing Lambert to visibly frown.

“Uh-huh,”, the ram sounded out skeptically, brows furrowing further as they’d rested a hand atop their hip. “And what would that be?”

“If I’d told you, the element of surprise would be lost.”, The Goat underhand pointed at the sheep leisurely, as though that alone excused their vagueness. Sighing in utter defeat, The Lamb followed warily as The Goat began to lead them in the direction of the vessel’s tent.

“… Will it hurt?”

“Hm,”, the God of knowledge hummed as though met with a conundrum, their eyes trailing the grounds of Paradise as though physically searching for the answer, “I suppose that’ll all depend on you.”

“Oh, goody.”, the sheep sighed with a roll of their eyes, promptly ignoring the amused laughter that burst playfully out of their companion.

Following a few extra paces, the both of them had made it into the spacious, crimson tent. Before Lambert could ask any further questions, however, they’d been unceremoniously lead to and pushed down in the middle of the small home. They’d sat down with a little yelp of surprise, blinking up in confusion as they’d watched The Goat circle them.

Perhaps they’d ought to have been born a tiger, or something.

“Alright, so,”, the darker God clasped their hands together, procuring a colourful piece of fabric from within the confides of their cape, one different from the one they’d previously used to gag the poor sheep some days ago. Still, it’d made Lambert swallow thickly with a smidge of nervousness. “I’ll let our crowns chill for a while,”, the God spoke, approaching the seated vessel with an expectant, outstretched hand. “And then I’ll have you meet someone.”

“Meet?”, Lambert asked warily, watching as the God’s crown floated down from atop their unruly head, the sheep carefully instructing their crown as to float up and sit beside it. Should they need it, they could still easily call upon it. “Meet who?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be… excited to see them,”, The Goat spoke cryptically, stepping away from the sheep as to place both sentient crowns onto a nearby dresser, curiously positioning them so that they’d faced each other. As the crowns stared intently into their eyes, an unfamiliar buzz entered Lambert’s mind. It’d been as though static, in some strange way. “Though I suppose the words ‘hear’ and ‘feel’ would be more accurate.”, the God glanced down at the colourful cloth in their grasp, turning and making their way back towards the sheep.

“… you wish to blindfold me.”

“Yes.”, The Goat smiled, the expression far too sadistic to provide any comfort at the idea. He took several steps towards the sheep, outstretching the fabric out to them, almost as though assuring that it hadn’t been anything dangerous. What a stark and confusing mix of danger and reassurance.

Though, at this point, Lamb just associated those things with their friend.

Friend.

They do consider them that now, don’t they? A strange yet comforting presence, despite everything.

“Alright,”, The Lamb breathed out, noting the pure, rare giddiness that bloomed upon the purple God’s features. “I’ll just trust that you won’t hurt me.”, the sheep then sighed with their own playfulness, rolling their eyes.

“You do make it pretty hard not to, sometimes.”, The Goat’s features were sharp once more, the statement (probably) a compliment. They’d then wasted no more time, outstretching his hands further as to soon blindfold the sheep with uncomfortably ease- as though an action they’d done often.

It’d probably been best not to think about the fact.

The world turned black for Lambert. He’d breathed in carefully, their ears twitching as they’d followed the sound of The Goat standing. The God circled The Lamb some more, likely making sure they’d truly hadn’t been able to see anything. Seemingly satisfied, they’d hummed contently, taking several steps away from the sheep.

“Now give me a moment to summon your guest.”, they’d reassured, the ram feeling a gentle breeze fill their tent with a pleasant whirr. A while passed, then another.

Seconds turned into two or three minutes, which, although not long, felt strangely vulnerable when you’d been blindfolded, sitting on the floor of your home. Lambert shuffled where he’d sat, taking a gentle breath as he’d continued to focus of the sounds that surrounded him.

But then a smell hit them.

Strangely subtle, yet all too familiar. The way they’d perked up at the scent alone, head turning involuntarily to its source, even if they couldn’t see.

An amused laugh sounded out around the space at the gesture, the familiarity of it making Lambert’s heart race.

The One Who Waits. Narinder.

“I should’ve anticipated such unperturbed excitement from you,”, the voice purred, soft steps approached the seated ram slowly, “even in this lesser form, my vessel remains as devout as ever.”, the deep voice of their God sent a shiver down the length of the sheep’s spine, their ears raised in alert anticipation.

“You- of course- I mean-“, the sheep began to stutter, quick to shake their head and take a deep breath, “how?”, they’d asked weakly, their breath stuck in their throat.

“Relax, my little sheep,”, his voice continued to purr, the subtle, barely-there sound of paws shuffling as the voice approached, “I must confess that I am not truly here.”, he’d hummed, the alpha’s clawed fingers grasping the Lamb’s shoulder as he did, completely counteracting his statement.

“I don’t understand.”, Lambert whispered pitifully, craning towards the touch subconsciously, yearning for it to press harder. To linger. To stay.

“To put it as simply as I may, I am but a projection,”, the cat explained, Lambert feeling the way he’d crouched directly behind them, pressing his broad chest against the sheep’s back. The God’s free hand began to pull and rake through the ram’s wool playfully, as though kneading it, which promptly turned Lambert’s insides into molten glass. “A part of Narinder The Goat knew. A piece long dead, I’m afraid.”

“How are you here, then?”

“Do you doubt me, vessel?”, Narinder asked with an edge of playfulness, nuzzling into the crook of the omega’s neck, ever so tempted as to bite the soft skin which resided just beneath their stubborn collar and bell. “Don’t you believe yourself worthy of a more tangible reward? You should know me ever so generous with my praise.”

“My lord, you don’t have to-“, Lambert suddenly gasped in surprise, they God’s warm, barbed tongue harshly licking the off-colour skin of Lambert’s scar, the bell that usually clasped around their throat now vacant. When had their God taken it off of them?

“Do you accept this?”, the cat pulled away only a fraction, whispering the words right into the sheep’s sensitive ears, the warmth of Narinder’s breath tickling it. “As fraudulent as I may be in regard to whom you truly worship. Should you wish no more, I shan’t continue.”

They’d been presented with an easy way out. This hadn’t been The One Who Waits which Lambert knew, instead a seeming fragment of him which’d been long dead. The Lamb should’ve pondered everything more carefully, but frankly they’d craved this for far too long.

“Please,”, they’d breathed pitifully with the plea, pushing themselves further back and into the protective grasp of their God, “reward me.”, they’d begged, the way in which Narinder played so softly with their wool utterly maddening.

“As you wish.”, his voice purred once more, a smile stretching his features as Lambert felt teeth against his neck.

Narinder pulled Lambert closer, spreading his knees where he’d kneeled as to more comfortably accommodate the ram’s form. He’d been quick to kitten-lick scarred skin once more, the hand previously on the sheep’s shoulder now having traversed downwards to their thigh, unapologetically grasping the soft flesh on the inside of it.

The Lamb immediately mewled at the pleasant sensations, breathing hitched as they’d felt their dick twitch at all the attention. Their God, Narinder, was rewarding them. Giving their most devoted a taste of release. Of desire and lust.

Their God. Their-

The sheep paused abruptly, their shoulders tensing with a sudden realisation. The cat pressed behind them felt it also, their movements stilling much the same.

‘May I take the blindfold off?”, they’d asked heavily, attempting to still their heart.

“I believe you’ll be disappointed, should you do that.”, something changed in the tone of Narinder’s voice in an unfamiliar way. The man’s clawed hands retracted without hesitation, the heat previously pressed against the sheep’s back now a short distance away.

“… I think I should.”, was all the warning given, Lambert soon pulling back the fabric over his eyes and squinting at the light that immediately burned them. The ram blinked a handful of times as to adjust, swallowing thickly before hyping themselves up enough as to turn.

Before them was-

“Narinder,”, the sheep breathed out, bewildered to find the cat before him, except in a form far more mortal. “You’re-“, they’d paused abruptly, only now paying mind to the fact their God’s eyes were now a dark, dreamlike purple.

“Not him, no,”, the man before him shrugged nonchalantly, a smile far too familiar suddenly splitting the cat’s handsome features. “I’d told you it’s only an illusion.”, the voice changed into something deeper, the God before them standing with a small whirr, turning theatrically.

Lambert barely had the chance to blink before who’d once been Narinder now stood imposingly as The Goat.

“You-“, the sheep near chocked in their own bewilderment, standing abruptly themselves from where they’d sat, their expression quick to turn to justified anger, “what the fuck is wrong with you?!”, they’d inquired, flailing their arms up as they had.

“Oh please,”, the God dismissed, a hand waved nonchalantly, “I can read your mind, I’d known what you wanted-“

“You can’t do this sort of thing!”, the sheep interrupted, calling upon their crown, the sentient object having been caught in an odd trap by the purple crown. It’d been as though, unless called, the two crowns would’ve been stuck in endless, silent staring.

Deep within the Gateway, Death stirred at the sudden noise. The crown appeared to have experienced odd interferences, his vessel having become unresponsive for a short duration of time. Now that Narinder could see what’d been happening once more, he’d been caught off guard by Lamb raising their blade in the direction of the foreign God.

“Well, now this is going to be interesting.”, Aym spoke a short distance away, his eyes lighting up excitedly.

Narinder, for once, could certainly not disagree.

Lambert gave no warning before he’d attacked, genuine anger so prominent that even his God could sense it. An undeniably unfamiliar emotion when it came to the shorter vessel.

“So what, then?”, the sheep hissed, unbothered by the God in purple jumping out of the way with only a small grunt of effort, “you’d decided to mock me?”

“Calm your pretty head,”, the Goat smiled, this time parrying an attack uncomfortably close. “This was supposed to be a gift, remember?”

“You’ve no right to impersonate my God.”, the tone of the ram’s voice sent shivers down ever Narinder’s spine. Whatever the case, the black cat had to admit the two arguing over him bode well. Perhaps Lamb could be reliable after all.

“Come on,”, the Goat laughed bitterly, their facade seemingly showing cracks, “once this is all over, I’ll be only ‘Narinder’ you’ll have left, anyway.”, he’d hissed, scoffing as he’d dodged another one of The Lamb’s attacks.

Both Lamb and Narinder paused dead in their tracks at the words.

The ram’s breath was quick with a mix of emotion and expertise, the red crown’s vessel looking over at the Goat as though they’d grown an extra pair of horns.

“Master…”, both kits looked up to their God, Narinder, on the other hand, felt the undeniable twinge of fear that accompanied the revelation.

This Goat knew far more than even Narinder could’ve anticipated, so much so that the God of Death doubted he’d known half of it.

It would seem they truly had anticipated to kill The One Who Waits upon the God’s release.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean?”, The Lamb asked warily, their voice barely above a whisper as their borrowed crown returned to sit comfortably on its barer’s fluffy, soft head. The ram’s posture, however, was rigid and stiff.

“Take off your crown, then we may talk.”, The Goat responded in turn, glancing up between the red crown and vessel of Death as though wary of its location.

“No.”

“… Lamb,”, the foreign God frowned sternly, eyes sharp as they’d locked down onto the omega, “this conversation shouldn’t concern him.”

“If you wish to converse about my God, then he has every right to listen,”, the ram stood his ground, hooves adjusting as to stand more comfortably against the wooden floor of their tent, “you claim you only wish to help me, yet time and time again you hurt me. The One Who Waits, in comparison, had been continuously kind,”, “he’d been there for me. Brought me back from the depths of death and took such meticulous care of me-“

“He’s manipulating you!”, The Got yelled out, throwing their hands above their tall horns in utter defeat.

“And what are you doing, then?”, the sheep hissed defensively, tone of voice confrontational, “how is anything you do any different?”, they’d continued to question, taking a confident step towards the foreign God, “I’m not-“, they’d faltered, their voice quick to recover, “I’m not some fool. I’m aware my God doesn’t love me the way I’d wish, just as I’m aware that you see me as some kind of trophy to be earned.”, at this point, Lambert’s voice was filled with genuine hurt and disdain, “I do not understand why you hate him so much, as he’s the only one who’d done nothing to hurt our kinds. They rest in peace, and I am thankful that there’d been at least one God that gave me, and them, that single closure.”

“Lamb-“

“You’ve no right to try and scramble my mind,”, the sheep continued undisturbed, eye contact fierce, “I make my decisions, yet your interference has damaged even my God’s trust in me.”, they’d rightfully blamed, having never thought themselves capable of doubting their beloved, “I’ll free him, with you or without. And then I’ll protect him from you if I must.”,

“You don’t understand.”

“And you’re making it no easier to!”, there’d been something utterly helpless in the sheep’s tone, “I’ve… I’ve no reason to distrust Narinder, other than your words. Let me make my decisions, as I’ve the right to. Just-“, Lambert took a shaky breath, clearly emotional, even if his words were continuously stern, “-leave.”

“Leave?”, the Goat parroted with unusual quietness to their tone, brows furrowing with genuine uncertainty.

“Yes.“, The Lamb swallowed, “leave me be. Stop thinking for me.”

“… forever-?”

“No.”, The ram protested quickly, frustration laced in his words as he’d watched the Goat before him shrink in an odd way. As though he’d been scolded by a teacher. “Just give me some time, please.”

“… if that’s what you truly want.”, the God of knowledge hadn’t sounded convinced, yet simultaneously hadn’t fought the smidge-shorter man on his decision, “I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”

“…”

The Goat remained still for a beat longer, yet The Lamb’s stern, cold eyes spoke volumes of how lenient they’d be with their request. With an annoyed nod, one which appeared suspiciously jerky and uncertain, the Goat then turned upon their hooves and fulfilled the Red Crown’s vessel’s request. Lambert watched the God leave in silence, their breathing inconspicuously rapid as emotions coursed through the cult leader, heart hammering in their chest uncomfortably.

Anger. Disappointment. Sadness. They’d all took turns in taking over the young ram’s mind as though a carousel. There’d been doubt, though this time it’d inevitably been directed at The Goat.

Narinder, The One Who Waits, had been everything to Lambert. The very reason he’d still breathed. An unmoving rock in the face of the ram’s unrelenting waves of emotions. He’d been kind and patient. An undeniably comforting presence and source of genuine happiness. In these months spent together Lambert had learned so much from him. Felt so much because of him.

Narinder wasn’t going to betray them.

Lambert just wanted to free him, then be by his side.

He’d wanted to-

To hug him, maybe?

Had that made even a slither of sense?

‘Vessel,’, The One Who Waits’ voice had been calm and soothing, the mere sound of it beckoning the sheep close, and for their emotions to still. ‘You’re crying.’

“Sorry,”, they’d laughed. It’d been a pitiful sound, “I’m just slightly overwhelmed is all.”, the sheep dismissed with practiced ease, quick to wipe at their eyes as they’d forced a smile upon their soft, pretty features. “Ready to go, though! Whatever you need me for, my Lord.”

‘… Lamb.’

“Yes?”

‘Visit me within my forced domain, if you could.’, he’d spoke in a mix of suggestion and Godly order.

“Right now?”, the sheep asked warily, their voice small, as though uncertain.

‘I think it an appropriate time,’, The God hummed in turn, a portal drawing itself out at the vessel’s hooves. ‘Unless you’ve plans, that is?’

“No,”, the sheep shook their head with a small sigh, wiping the last of their tears, “you’re always my top priority.”, Lambert assured their God with a smile more genuine, closing their eyes as a familiar, pleasant whirr  of wind surrounded them, lifting the small being briefly into the air before swallowing them into the depths of the black-crimson ichor of ancient magic.

Within a few seconds, The Lamb opened their eyes once more, the towering presence of their God now directly before them. Notably, it would appear he’d sent his guards away, seeing as the two young cats hadn’t been at the God’s sides.

“Approach, my vessel.”, The One Who Waits beckoned with a gentle jerk of his paw, ushering the crown barer closer. The sheep swallowed thickly, yet approached their God without hesitation. The alpha stood tall and proud, his veil swayed with every one of his gentle movements.

Having done as instructed, Lambert soon stood close to the three-eyed cat. Narinder outstretched one of his skeletal hands, promptly, yet gently, scooping up the small sheep into his protective grasp. The Lamb only sounded out a small noice or surprise, otherwise allowing themselves to be lifted by the larger beast without resistance.

“Tell me,”, the God levelled the ram with his eyes, his black veil the most delicate of barriers between them. “What had transpired, my little sheep?”

“… I don’t know where to start.”, they’d spoken defeated, reaching downwards as to pick at the hem of their cape, busying their cloven fingers. “The Goat they’d… taken your form.”

“And?”, the cat pried, his curiosity undeniably peaked.

“And then they’d,”, a pause, even if brief, “they’d seduced me.”

“But you’d seen through their illusion?”

“Yes,”, the sheep finally appeared to regain their ability to breathe, letting out the smallest of sighs, “even though I’d… hoped it was you.”

“Is that so?”, the God asked, an amused smile upturning his usually-sharp lips. His thumb bent towards the small vessel, the claw of it caressing the top of the sheep’s head with practiced ease. Subconsciously, Lambert craned towards the rewarding touch, “you’d took such offence with impersonation?”

“… I’m sorry.”

“You’ve done no wrong,”, The black cat assured, his movements slow as he’d continued to caress his vessel, “though I admit I’d been worried, even if briefly.”

“About?”

“Your faith, my vessel.”, Narinder spoke plainly, making the smaller sheep flinch at the admission. “Your doubt had wounded me, though I can only assume it’d been the result of The Goat’s poison.”, he’d growled lowly as he’d spoke the name, a hiss at the edge of his barbed tongue. “Had I given you reason to doubt me?”

“… no.”, The Lamb admitted in a voice far too small.

“Then tell me, what had the foreign God warned you of so desperately?”, there’d been something unreadable in the imposing God’s tone, even as he’d moved his hand as to gently lift the sheep’s chin, instead. Despite the size of his claws and the ease with which he could kill the little ram, he’d remained ever careful when handling his most devoted.

“They’d said that you’ll betray me,”, the sheep disclosed easily, looking down at their hooves in shame, “I think… I think they’d alluded that you’ll kill me.”

“Kill you.”, Narinder parroted with a thoughtful hum, “and why had the fraud deemed that your fate?”

“I don’t know, my Lord.”

“Hm,”, the cat hummed pensively, watching as the sheep beneath his thumb melted at all the attention, their pretty, dark eyes closing calmly as though ready for sleep. They’d been… undeniably charming in their disposition. Cute and sweet, and yet a being capable of unimaginable slaughter and destruction. “Say, my little Lamb,”, the God purred, straightening out with a playful glint in his eye. “Does your devotion flow unperturbed once more, then?”

“Of course.”, The Lamb answered easily, a gentle, curious tilt to their head accompanying their confident words.

“Then remind me,”, his claw raked through wool in a way that made the sheep shiver, “had you not wished to showcase this devotion?”

“You-“, the sheep startled, now-crimson features ablaze in an instant, “my lord you don’t mean-“

“If you’d be comfortable with it, Lamb,”, there’d been a seductive purr to the cat’s voice, even if the alpha’s tone remained non-authoritative. “Why don’t you show me the depth of how deep it truly goes?”

Chapter Text

“As fate was foretold, it shan’t be changed.”, Clauneck hummed unperturbed, the large, crimson duck simply watching his guest pace angrily before his well-maintained, purple carpet. The Goat paced to and fro with a stern gaze, their eyes ablaze with passionate disdain of the situation.

“You’d said their fate was different to mine,”, The God hissed, “yet they’re just as stubborn as I.”

“Yes,”, Clauneck hummed humorously, a smile stretching his beak, “Gods, both present and future, share such a characteristic. It comes to them as easily as their attempt to fight what’d been long foretold with cards.”

“Do not patronise me,”, The Goat hissed, the purple eye of their crown glaring at the bird as he’d spoke, a warning evident, “this is far different than what the Bishops had done in their futile undergoing. I had attempted reason, not slaughter.”

“A far more difficult path indeed,”, the larger merchant agreed thoughtfully, unbothered by the threat that now lingered around the space of his sanctuary, “but, unfortunately, just as ineffective.”

“Gods, are you insufferable,”, the horned beast groaned, cloven fingers pinching the bridge of his silky snout. “I much prefer Kudaai’s presence. At least he provides me with the tools capable of carving a new path.”

“That is a lie he tells all his clientele,”, the bird defended with a little more emotion than usual, a spirit of competitiveness awakened by the mention of his brother alone. “He, as is my sister, is oblivious to destiny.”

“You say that as though they hadn’t carved their own,”, The Goat rolled their eyes, hand now resting atop his hip, “such as Chemach creating her own crown, fearing abandonment from her kin. Tell me, have you visited her as of late? Or do you do only as the cards ask?”

“…That is not why you’re here.”

“No, I insist,”, The Goat hissed, picking up a random card from the pile. It’d been death. “Oh, well, won’t you look at that!”, the God beamed, looking up at the bird as he’d showcased the card, “change, was it? Maybe it’s about time you let your own inactivity die.”, the God’s voice just bordered on shouting, their eyes fiercely cold as he’d threw the card in the duck’s general direction, “know that at least I’d tried, meaning I’ve no regrets. Would you say the same once your family abandons you? Or will you sit there, patting your own back, as you congratulate yourself on a job well done because, hey! At least you didn’t waste your time on something futile.”

“…”, Clauneck didn’t speak at the outburst, his eyes hooded as he’d silently regarded the God before him.

“No wonder Narinder disliked you,”, The Goat spoke lowly, turning atop angered hooves, “Death hates stagnation, and you’d rooted yourself into a single spot.”, by the time he’d finished speaking, The Goat had already been making their way back into the depths of Silk cradle, their used-to-be home.

Atop the purple blanket of the merchant, Clauneck sighed out a gentle breath. The duck reached down as to gingerly pick up the thrown card, death staring back up at him with evident judgement. In silence, the bird began to ponder.

As The Goat made his was through the rocky terrain of Silk Cradle, they couldn’t help but reminisce of the past. The Lamb had told them that they’d grown up in Darkwood, surrounded by forests and lush greenery, their days off spent lying in grass and caring for others in their flock.

The purple God, however, grew up here.

The area was mountainous and unwelcoming, filled with darkness frightening to casual wonderers. And yet their dark coat allowed easy camouflage. Their sharp hooves designed to scale near-vertical obstacles with utter ease. He’d lived with his parents until he hadn’t, then traversed by himself for a long while, if not the majority of his youthful adulthood. He’d been content in being alone. In finding things and fighting for resources.

Seeing as The Bishop of Knowledge’s domain was renowned for their libraries, he’d also read a lot. Sit in the warmth of a grand library for days on end, occasionally. He’d learned and known and experienced. He’d always wanted to be the best version of themselves before…

The God frowned deeply as they’d thought, looking up to see that their hooves took them to a familiar sight. It’d been one of the grander archives of the domain, the walls of it chipped with the unrelenting passage of time.

Interacting never came easy to them.

Leading. Ordering others around. That’d been easy. Natural, even.

But everyone took things so differently than he’d intended. Other beings became scared of them, even if the young goat instead that, as long as they didn’t give him a reason to, he wouldn’t hurt them. Because he wouldn’t.

But they’d oftentime become even more scared after that.

Lamb was different because they’ve never feared the purple God.

Narinder had been different, too…

Again, The Goat paused. This time he’d found himself already in the depths of the archives, familiar with where everything was. The God wasn’t sure what he’d been looking for, yet found he’d still touched the spines of books as he’d read their titles and authors.

“You’re here early…”, a voice spoke calmly, the sound of it carried by the emptiness of the library. The Goat promptly frowned, previous thoughts forgotten as they’d turned to face the intruder, “Or perhaps far too late? It would appear you’re no sheep.”, Shamura hummed.

The spider walked over to where The Goat had been stood, returning a handful of tomes to their rightful places. The Bishop was elegant despite their injury, head held high even as they’d glanced down at their ‘guest’. Despite their huge stature, they’d fit into the grand building seamlessly. Although they’d towered over the other God, they’d remained respectful in their approach.

The spider, despite being the eldest and most powerful of their siblings, had been the only omega amongst them. The Goat remembered the surprise they’d felt when they’d fought for the first time, seeing how powerful they’d been. They’d been impressed then. They’re impressed still, even now.

“Your death will come, just not today.”, The purple-adorned God confirmed, settling on picking up the book his cloven fingers lingered over the spine of for the longest.

“Then I shall enjoy my reading still,”, the spider smiled weakly, turning to face the smaller being before them, “It is pleasant to share the quiet in good company.”

“Good company,”, the goat laughed loudly as they’d repeated, a sharp smile splitting his harsh, unkempt features, “your future downfall stands before you, should you need reminding.”

“All who seek knowledge are good company,”, the spider doubled down, yet the tone of their voice was almost… playful. “If nothing else, books provide a splendid distraction from the inevitable.”

“Is that why you’re here?”, The Goat asked with a raised brow, Shamura having appeared oddly peaceful at the moment. Usually they’d long have attacked the foreign God. Perhaps they’d been confused.

“I do not know,”, they’d hummed, “my mind is not what it once was. Perhaps it’s distraction, perhaps it’s the comfort of the familiar. With words so plentiful, one is never lonely here, either.”

“Right,”, the shorter of the two sighed, the hold of their book harsh, their fingers digging into the hard cover of it without the goat’s knowledge, “so you’d accepted defeat and are wasting time?”, they’d spoke bitterly.

“No,”, they’d shook their head gently before turning, urging their visitor as to follow them with a silent gesture of one of their hands, “I nor waste time, nor accept my fate. I shall fight will all of my power, so that I might die without the loom of regret. Well… at least in that regard.”

“… you think you can change what’s to come?”

“Unlikely,”, they’d smiled of all things, the subtle gesture doing something odd to The Goat’s stomach, “but you must earn my death. I’d be no God of War should I have not fought to the end.”

“… do you regret what you’ve done?”

“I… wish I could say I do,”, Shamura closed their eyes for a moment, pensive as they’d hummed, “but I do not regret my intentions. I’d wished to keep my family safe, but despite the knowledge I possessed I’d still miscalculated.”

“Miscalculated,”, The Goat scoffed, “you’d banished your family and brought the demise of innocence. I think that goes beyond a casual ‘oopsie’, good intentions or not.”

“Yes,”, they’d relented easily, “I’d bided my time for as long as I could, but the consequences of my nature and decisions have caught up to me. It is… freeing, in a way.”

“And how is that?”

“Knowledge brings comfort, and now I know what’s to come.”, the Bishop turned gracefully, sitting themselves down onto a grand loveseat, well maintained despite the condition of the place. They’d gently pat the space beside them, urging The Goat to join them. “My comeuppance is due, meaning the punishment I cast upon myself is nearing its end.”

“… guilt?”, The Goat guessed.

“Of course.”, the spider confirmed easily, watching the foreign God sit beside them without a hint of discomfort. Shamura watched The Goat open their book silently, their many eyes trailing the smaller beast with a mixture of pensiveness and familiarity.

A moment of silence passed as The Goat tapped their book somewhat impatiently, as though annoyed at whatever thought crossed their mind.

“… would you like for me to read aloud?”, The God asked quickly, not sparing a glance in the purple Bishop’s direction. Gently, the spider smiled.

“I’d be honoured.”

Chapter Text

Honestly speaking, considering how frequently The Lamb had surpassed expectations and surprised their God, Narinder should’ve anticipated that their reaction to his offer hadn’t been all it’d seemed.

Their flushed cheeks and seemingly worried stutter would’ve suggested they’d been embarrassed by the idea of pleasuring themselves before their God. Perhaps they’d even felt a smidge of humiliation at having been reminded of their heat and subsequent, whispered questions of whether or not Death itself would enjoy watching his vessel sensually beg for him.

But no.

The Lamb hadn’t been embarrassed at the idea,

They’d been incomprehensibly excited by it.

Their fluffy tail swished at the mere thought. At the question alone. Their cheeks evidently not the only appendage of theirs to feel a rush of blood. Their scent bore a subtle sweetness to it now, their cloven fingers holding onto the clawed thumb of Death’s hand hopefully, their bright eyes looking up at the powerful beast before them with unmistakable arousal.

Death’s future liberator was far more receptive to the idea than could’ve ever been anticipated, so much so that it’d made Narinder laugh in amusement. A full, genuine laugh. Good-natured and warm, which’d only been further fuel to the sheep’s carnal desire to please the towering God.

“You never cease to amaze me, Lamb,”, the black cat smiled as sharply as a polished blade, all three of his crimson eyes staring down at his vessel with newfound curiosity, “such an unassuming creature,”, he’d hummed playfully, raking a claw through the wool of the ram’s chest, watching them shiver receptively, “and yet your arousal is immediately apparent by your soft scent alone.”

“I worship you wholly,”, the sheep’s words were oddly breathless, their mind focused on how their God noticed the sweet smell. Being approving of it. “I feel no shame in doing anything you ask of me.”, they’d nuzzled their cheek gently into the digit currently showering them with attention, their face warm, much unlike the gateway.

Narinder found it rather pleasant, he’d had to admit.

“As it should be,”, the cat praised, watching the sheep shiver pathetically as his claw shifted downwards, caressing their pretty, full thigh. They’d already stood on shaking legs, yet held themselves stubbornly steady despite the fact. Always a fighter, even when utterly submissive. That, too, humoured the God who’d watched them. “Your acts please divinity, my vessel. I’ll make sure they’re to be recorded with upmost care once I leave this prison.”

The sheep mewled at the friction their God had been providing, breath uneven as they’d looked up at Narinder with a mixture of lust and forced lucidity.

“Surely you don’t mean this, my lord?”, The Lamb asked quietly, following the movements of their God’s claw by standing to the tip of their hooves, eagerly chasing the pleasant attention.

“Is that apprehension I hear?”, Narinder smiled darkly, “and here I thought you proud to serve me.”

“I’m-“, Lambert moaned pitifully, cutting themselves off as their God left behind a ghost of a touch against the ram’s member, “always,”, they’d breathed out through their teeth, attempting pitifully to push the large finger back to where it’d touched them. They’d failed to do so. In fact, their God hadn’t even twitched. “Proud of my servitude. But I worry for your reputation.”

“Oh?”, the black cat raised a curious brow, “and how, pray tell, would you devoting your body for my entertainment tarnish it, exactly?”

“Well,”, The Lamb looked right into Narinder’s piercing eyes this time, mischief shone in them in an unfamiliar way. A smidge of defiance. Perhaps the pretty little sheep hadn’t been as obediently submissive as Narinder would’ve thought them to be. Yet again, The Lamb surpassed expectations. “Serving your vessel like this. What would that make the last, mighty God, if not a slave to his devotees?”, the ram purred, daring the other man to take the bait.

And what truly heretical bait it’d been.

“Watch yourself,”, the cat growled lowly, bringing the sheep closer to his face, his words a warning, his eyes sharp. His smile, however, betrayed him. Narinder felt his own robes grow a little tighter, a pit forming in his stomach from the cocky tone of his vessel’s voice. “It would appear my sweet little sheep has an affinity for lighting matches. I’d heard your wool flammable.”

“I’m fairly certain I’d been set alight for you in the past,”, the sheep hummed, unperturbed. Their scent grew even sweeter and more enticing. They’d must’ve felt incredibly safe as to speak to a God in such a manner. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”, they’d then promised easily, caressing the thumb they’d held onto, urging the return of the electrifying contact.

“Hm,”, Narinder purred, the sound of it, this close, making Lambert’s heart race. The omega could smell the faint change of scent in their alpha, The One Who Waits’ scent reminding the sheep of figs, now. A subtle sweetness. They’d managed to arouse their God, the knowledge alone almost sending them unceremoniously over the edge. Their dick twitched, Narinder noticing with a curious flick of his ear and a smug smile, “such devotion would’ve earned you the status of a spouse, back in the day,”, the God’s breath warmed the ram, his words, instead, making the vessel whimper at the implication. To be betrothed to their God would’ve been the highest of honours. “With such a ferocious personality to compliment your unassuming appearance, I’d have shown you off proudly to whatever Godhood remained at the time.”

“My lord,”, The Lamb suddenly pleaded, their dick, although untouched, was hot and demanding of attention, “I believe it’s best we change the course of conversation.”, they’d begged pitifully.

“Is that so?”, Narinder’s smile grew wickedly cruel, his eyes lighting up with sadistic amusement, “is the idea of domestic life with me so enticing that you grow close to completion at the mere thought? Why, and here I thought you’d bore no weakness…”, he’d purposefully teased, leaning forward as to gently poke the wool atop his vessel’s head with his soft nose.

Lamb’s heart stopped briefly before ramping up again. They’d wasted less than a second before returning the gentle affection, standing atop the tips of their hooves once more as to reach, nuzzling vigorously into their God’s wet nose, feeling it’s coolness even through Death’s veil. An amused huff once more lightened the air, the God finding such a display endearing. The Lamb truly had been a fearless little thing.

“You are my weakness, that is true,”, the sheep breathed out shakily, attempting to sound confident and calm. “As you are my greatest strength.”

“How poetic,”, Narinder mused with a sharp smile, the black cat’s claw gingerly shaking off one of the sheep’s hands, urging them as to instead grasp their aching length. The God themselves pressed the sharp tip of his paw back down to the sheep’s thigh, making the smaller being take a sharp breath. “Who’d have anticipated my vessel such a romantic?”

Lambert wasted little time before he’d began to stroke himself helplessly, the sound of their God’s voice, the scent of the alpha and the sharp, electrifying pressure pressed onto the inside of their thigh having long driven them nothing short of mad.

Narinder watched with a subtle purr, his expression dark and cunning, his curious nature urging him to hold the sheep a little tighter, hearing their moans and whispers vibrate through him. He’d felt them squirm and cry out pitiful prayers, calling out for their God with the most subtle of pleading, begging cries.

Lambert leaned back into the paw behind him as he’d continued to fuck his own hand, opening his eyes through pleasured moans, making sure their God truly watched them. Narinder did, naturally. He’d inspected every action, soothing his vessel approvingly by massaging their thigh.

“Slow, vessel,”, the God purred, the vibrations of the cat’s voice making The Lamb mewl discontentedly, their stunning, dark eyes shining with lust mixed with frustration at the words, “I wish for you to feel every movement. Pay mind to every angled jerk of your powerful wrist.”

Lambert nodded weakly at the order, imagining easily that it’d been their God to stroke them into completion. That those crimson eyes were looking down at them sadistically as every movement grew painstakingly slow. As Narinder smiled into the crook of his most devoted’s neck, speaking words of hushed, private praise.

“Just like that, Lamb,”, he’d spoken just in time with the image in the sheep’s mind, no doubt finding himself comfortable within his vessel’s mind. “Build up that fire for me, my utter perfection.”, he’d purred.

It really hadn’t taken much more than that, not even the slow pace at which Lambert pleasured himself being able to stop the utter burst of arousal at the title.

Perfection.

Their God’s utter perfection.

“Mm.”, Lambert moaned pitifully, pulling up their fleece as to muffle the sound of their completion, as well as to spare their crimson attire the fate of being dirtied. They’d leaned further and further into the protective paw behind them as they came, whimpering pitifully as they’d jerked their hips, milking every last drop for their God.

The amount had been impressive. Had their vision not been utterly clouded by the sheer impact of their climax, perhaps they’d tell their God that they’d never came to such a degree. Nor were they ready to admit they could do it again. And again.

“How impressive, vessel,”, Naridner purred, watching The Lamb’s chest raise and fall rapidly, their scent now that of sex. “You’d displayed yourself most impressively to me. How are you feeling?”, the God asked more earnestly, summoning something with his limited magic.

“I’m good,”, they’d breathed out hoarsely first, allowing the fabric between their teeth to finally fall, “great,”, they’d then corrected with some urgency, “perfect,”, the sheep then settled on instead, holding onto The One Who Waits’ limb once more, preventing themselves from falling from their gelatine legs. “I’d like to do it again.”

“Is that so?”, Narinder quirked a curious brow, raising the smaller being closer to his face once more.

“I’d do anything for you.”, the ram emphasised, nuzzling into the black cat’s paw once more.

“Believe me, little thing,”, their God smiled with a hint of fondness, his thumb moving as to return the soft gesture of his vessel, “the closer I am to my freedom, the more generous I shall be with these bonding sessions,”, he assured, smile now baring sharp, dangerous teeth, “destroy the two which remain, do so in my name, and I promise to use you thoroughly, my liberator.”, the black feline procured a crimson cloth, first gently pressing it against The Lamb’s flustered features before letting go of it once the sheep took careful hold of the soft fabric.

“Should I… should I set off now-?”

“What’s the haste,?”, Narinder smiled with amusement at his vessel’s sudden eagerness, instead lifting them up further, up to his shoulder, “rest,”, he’d insisted instead, beckoning the sheep the step off atop the white and red fabric of his cloak, “you’ve had quite the emotional day, my Vessel. Rest your mortal psyche in the safety of my presence.”

“…I won’t be a burden?”

“I assure you, I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay so long had you even been one,”, the cat hummed in gentle reassurance, passively watching Lambert sit down on their God’s shoulder, their soft gaze one Narinder knew to be enamoured by their God. “Besides, Aym and Baal wished to see you, also.”

It’d been a time since he’d felt worship so strong. It’d been foreign, almost.

Though perhaps he’d simply misremembered, given how long ago he’d had the last of his followers. The devotion of the likes of Ratau, his former vessel, paled in comparison to The Lamb’s, somehow.

“Oh,”, the ram frowned, tilting their head with curious uncertainty. “Why is that?”

“I believe they’d wished to scold your behaviour,”, Narinder answered with a thoughtful hum, “though, given their nature, I believe their blades shall hold the majority of this ‘conversation.’”

“I don’t want your guards to make a fool of me,”, the sheep huffed, yet shook their head in amused denial, “they’ll wipe the floor with me still! As they’d done in the past.”

“Such is the nature of punishment.”

“You’ve no intention of intervening, do you?”, The Lamb asked with an exasperated sigh, a surprised squeak leaving their lips as the shoulder they’d occupied began to shake.

Narinder, once more, had laughed. It’d been light and playful, warmer than Death had any right to be.

“You’re capable, my vessel,”, he’d praised nonchalantly, “and as with all your previous encounters, I believe this one shall make you stronger still.”

“With all due respect,”, the ram deadpanned, one of their hands flicking their God’s veil. Narinder should’ve been angered at the gesture, yet felt unmistakable fondness instead, “I think you just enjoy watching others fight for your attention.”

“Oh? Is that how you see it?”, his smile bore teeth, “then I suppose you ought to try your best then, isn’t that right?”, he’d then asked more lowly, a seductive undertone accompanying his words.

Butterflies bloomed in The Lamb’s gut as though summer flowers. They’d swallowed thickly, shuffling closer to the crook of their God’s neck.

It’d been made official: They’d truly loved Narinder.

Chapter Text

The Lamb awoke to the sound of gentle conversation. The One Who Waits’ voice had been the most pleasant of rumbles to wake to, the sheep stirring near-silently in an understandably good mood. They’d been nuzzled up into the crook of their God’s hood, the alpha’s scent only further comforting the ram, making the process of getting up feel like an insurmountable, impossible challenge.

The conversation Narinder held with his guards was muffled at first, but slowly grew more comprehensible. Baal’s voice was quietly asking about a fire spell or another, humming thoughtfully at the answer provided to him in turn.

“What is your take on the matter, Vessel?”, the God of Death asked, shifting his head in a way that caused his dark veil to tickle the kind-of-sleeping sheep. Lambert blinked his eyes awake at having been addressed, even if the action was a little sluggish. They’d looked up at their God with a tired, soft expression, yawning as they’d slowly sat up.

“Pardon, my lord?”, they’d questioned respectfully, wiping sleepy tears from their eyes. Their borrowed crown floated atop their head once upright, their crimson cape askew after many hours of sleep. Death’s Vessel hadn’t the need for sleep like this, yet the warmth their God provided, even unintentionally, had allowed the young ram to fully relax.

“Fire, my Lamb,”, the black cat hummed, gesturing towards his white-adorned guard with a graceful movement of his wrist, “have you much expertise in wielding its power?”

“Oh,”, the sheep frowned slightly, an awkward laugh leaving their lips, “no, not at all.”

“Hm,”, their God hummed thoughtfully, “I suppose it true I’d rarely bore witness to you wielding such magic,”, The One Who Waits outstretched his skeletal hands towards the sheep, allowing them a safe way down from his shoulder blade. “Is there a reason for your apprehension?”

“Aren’t you the one who’d warned I shouldn’t play with fire?”, The Lamb asked humorously, unable to keep the smile off of their lips, a gently laugh leaving them promptly after. They’d stood up from where they sat, stepping atop the paw provided with comfortable familiarity.

Narinder, rolled his stunning, crimson eyes at the words, yet smiled subtly as he’d lowered the sheep to the white ground of the Gateway.

“You mean to tell me its raw, all-consuming power disinterests you, vessel?”, the black cat smiled wickedly with the question, vividly remembering how he’d first mastered fire in his youth. The unpredictable, consuming power of the force of nature perfectly encapsulated death’s essence, painting it in equal measures as rebirth.

“… pretty much, yes.”, the sheep shrugged somewhat, which’d made all the cats pause.

Baal and Aym shared a look, as though finding the Lamb nothing short of insane. Narinder, on the other hand, frowned deeply at the admission.

“And why is that?”

“I’d like the think it’s… respect?”, the sheep answered more so as an uncertain question, “fire, to sheep, was always devastating. We’d hold rituals to appease it. Bonfire nights. The burning of wool. It simply doesn’t feel right to use something that…”, they’d paused, looking between their God and the other two cats, seeing their frowns deepen. Despite that, they’d swallowed and continued, “something that I respect.”

A silence followed the nonchalant admission. The sheep’s gentle smile was prominent, if not gradually becoming more strained. Sometimes it’d been easy to forget they’d been the last. These things made sense to them, yet were likely confusing nonsense to others.

“I mean,”, The Lamb shook their head after a prolonged pause, “if you’d prefer I wield fire, my Lord, I’ll do just that.”, they’d assured quickly, attempting to backpedal somewhat.

It was stupid of them to put their biases above the needs of their God. They’d done so unintentionally, but they’d actively hindered the progress of their God’s escape.

Anxiety began to rear its ugly head at the thought. At the mere idea that they’d somehow appeared unappealing to Narinder. They’d known fire magic and could use it, and their God asked for assistance when it came to tutoring his guard, and they couldn’t help.

What good was not utilising all they could? What if-

“Lamb,”, their God spoke calmly, “breathe. I’ll need no such thing from you.”, Narinder assured, watching as the sheep remembered to take a few gulps of air. “I simply hadn’t anticipated this answer. It is… curious, is all. I hadn’t meant for you to doubt yourself.”

“But… shouldn’t I utilise everything we have?”, they’d asked warily, a strange weight squeezing the omega’s heart.

“You’re doing perfectly fine without the use of fire,”, Narinder shrugged in an informal manner, one of his long claws poking Baal back into reality, the shorter cat startling somewhat. Baal had been staring thoughtfully at The Lamb, yet ceased his intense gaze in favour of closing up his spell book. It’d been one the ram brought a few weeks back for them. “Your knowledge is vast on varying topics, including ones I’m less familiar with, such as sheepfolk customs.”

“Alright,”, The Lamb breathed a little easier, a familiar heat picking at their cheeks, “thank you. I’ll continue to do my best, and I’ll substitute for my weaknesses.”, they’d smiled up at their God as they’d promised, the three-eyed cat sparing them a small, approving nod.

“Though if I may, Lamb,”, Narinder hummed after a thoughtful pause, leaning a little closer to his vessel, “As your God, I demand your devotion and expect nothing short of excellence in your endeavours and subsequent freeing of me,”, The One Who Waits spoke in a tone cold and authoritative, before it then turned quieter and more private, “but, as a living being much like yourself, I urge you to never lose your individuality. It is a lesson I implore upon my guards, and it is now one I now order upon you: know the fate of death more graceful and honourable, than that of living as your own caricature.”

And that.

It’d meant a lot.

After a short moment of further contemplation, Aym and Baal had eventually taken a step forward. The One Who Waits straightened back up where he’d stood, gesturing towards his subjects that he’d said his part. The twins nodded at each other before then asking the Lamb for a duel.

They’d claimed it’d been to test the sheep’s faith and to challenge them for their doubt, but a part of Lambert understood it’d been for the brothers’ own enjoyment, also. After a curt nod from the sheep, their fight commenced.

Predictably, Aym and Baal had shown no mercy when faced with the shorter ram. They’d been strong and resilient, baring a lifetime more of experience when it came to the mastering of their blades.

Of course, that hadn’t been to say that The Lamb was anywhere close to a pushover. They’d held their own undeniably better than during their previous encounters, blade ready and their dark eyes sharp. Lambert was a cunning and adaptable ram, figuring out the twins’ strategies with unnerving ease, unafraid of taking the defensive before they’d interacted with Aym and Baal more offensively.

The fight hadn’t lasted long, exerting a lot of their energy. It’d been intense and fast paced, the twins working together as they’d met blades with the sheep.

It hadn’t taken long, and it’d ended with a surprising tie.

Narinder had been generous with his praise, yet made sure as to point out any glaring imperfections and areas of improvement for both The Lamb and his subordinates.

Upon their return the following day, The Goat had found The Lamb’s tent undeniably empty. They’d sighed at the inconvenience of the fact, yet couldn’t really bring themselves to be surprised. Narinder was a smart God, meaning he’d undoubtedly bettered the ram’s mood with honeyed words and sickly sweet promises.

Narinder had been mamy things, but he’d certainly hadn’t been inexperienced or a dunce. He’d likely already added two and two together, coming up with an answer close to the truth as to who The Goat had been. Details may have eluded the beast of death, yet the buck knew precaution would be taken because of the purple God’s knowledge of the future.

It’d been irritating, not knowing what they should expect. Part of Narinder’s danger came from his adaptability, that same characteristic earning others his respect. He likely wouldn’t go as far as to tighten the leash he’d had around The Lamb’s neck, but the black cat excelled at promises that’d provide the same effect.

The Goat had to admit they’d had to back off, even if minutely. Evidently, they’d miscalculated just how deeply The Lamb’s devotion to Death went. Narinder inevitably won a battle he’d been unaware of taking part in, subsequently blowing the purple God’s plan wide open. They’d had to build up trust with the sheep once more, establishing themselves as someone more approachable. An actual friend.

On a far more positive note, the closer the sheep thought them and their God grew, the more they’d eventually trust their counterpart.

The Goat passively walked around the tent. He’d picked up books and trinkets strewn around the place, inspecting them briefly and with mild interest, before then returning them to their rightful places. It’d only been once the God noticed a piece of crimson fabric in the corner of his vision that he’d paused. The buck turned Its mighty head curiously, impressively large horns tilting with the movement of his skull.

Hooves walked over the earth beneath them unperturbed, ungraceful and nonchalant in their approach. A moment passed as they’d paused, picking up the fabric with little delay.

Between calloused fingers, the God held a piece of embroidered fabric with uncharacteristic gentleness. The purple-wearing beast ran a careful, cloven thumb over the pattern, paying mind to the uneven bumps of the symmetrical pattern. A ghost of a smile appeared against dark lips, memories of warm summers and cool winters suddenly at the forefront of the buck’s mind.

He hadn’t ever been particularly close to many beings who’d shared his species, yet he’d remembered this.

Compulsory embroidery classes he’d hated. The amount he’d sneak out of because of their supposed unimportance. It had been a common practice to record important events in such a manner, a work of art, meant to treasure memories. It’d been bittersweet to see one, more than likely hand made by the sheep who’d occupied the tent. It depicted the young ram, even if the piece hadn’t yet been finished. A crown was in the process of being added.

A treasured memory. To be bestowed with the crimson crown.

A gentle, tell tale breeze filled the room. The sound of flowing blood hadn’t startled The Goat, given their familiarity with the subtle noise. They’d barely lifted their head as to look over at the ‘intruder’ in their own home.

“You’re here,”, The Lamb breathed out in a hard-to-read tone, as though both surprised and relieved at the knowledge. A sigh escaped their lips before they’d continued to speak, noticing with a gentle tilt of their head that The Goat held a piece of their ‘art’, “and you’re… snooping around?”, they’d guessed, tone half-joking.

The Goat remained silent for a moment too long, looking away from the sheep in favour of glancing back at their embroidered version, instead. They’d noticed that the Red Crown’s vessel appeared to be in good spirits, giving their suspiciously warm scent.

It’d reminded the God of afterglow. It carried a faint scent of death itself.

“… this simply caught my eye,”, The Goat explained somewhat vaguely, allowing the same, subtle smile to cross their stern features. It had been barely there, yet The Lamb paused at its supposed sincerity all the same. “What an odd object to remind me of… them.”

“Of our people?”, the sheep asked a little warily, just to make sure. They’d made their way over far more gracefully than The Goat, looking down at their companion’s gentle grasp. In turn, the purple God hummed, outstretching their cloven hand as to return the ram’s unfinished project with evident care.

“I guess so,”, The God shrugged, grumbling somewhat, “I don’t particularly make it a habit, though. To think about them, I mean.”

“I understand,”, the sheep smiled weakly, “you could keep that one, if you’d like. Or I can make you a different one entirely.”, the ram offered with a pleasant expression.

“…That’d be… kind… thanks,”, The Goat responded after a short delay, speaking with evident unease at the gesture, handing back the unfinished piece, “and sorry, about yesterday.”

“It’s alright,”, the vessel assured softly, grasping the fabric given to them carefully, “we’ve the same goal for now, so let’s continue to work together.”, they’d spoke enthusiastically, clearly in a great mood. Nodding curtly at the words and display, The Goat gave back a simple response.

“Sure.”

Chapter Text

Kallamar was an odd God, his actions having been lead exclusively by the insurmountable fear of his brother, who’d he helped chain below in the gateway. He’d been noisy and panicked, begging for his life with every gash he’d been subjected.

The Goat appeared to carry particular distain towards the squid, helping The Lamb defeat him with far more involvement than when they’d helped with the other two Bishops. Lambert dully noted to themselves that they should ask the purple God for an explanation of this particular hatred once the one of Pestilence was defeated.

Ultimately, his besting had been a deceptively simple task. The Lamb would go as far as to say it’d been the easiest yet, especially considering the eagerness with which The Goat sprung into action. Naturally, The Lamb’s own hatred of the Bishop should not be understated, the ram seeing the squid as responsible for their hurt to the same degree as the two Gods already slain.

But as the squid fell and trembled before the sheep and goat, the God of Knowledge stood particularly unapologetically. He’d looked down at the squid coldly, likely only stopping themselves from further punishing Kallamar because of their self-inflicted rule of allowing The Lamb to deal the final blow upon these monsters.

“I beg of you,”, the squid cried desperately, looking between the ram and buck with scared, pleading eyes, “spare me. Please. Please do not send me down to him.”, he’d begged with ugly sobs, trembling much like the sheep and goats he’d slain.

“How ironic,”, The Lamb scoffed, taking a step in the squid’s direction. Predictably, the once-powerful God flinched pathetically, “not only have you never spared any of our people,”, the ram hissed, staring directly into the Bishop’s eyes, one of them closed due an injury he’d sustained during the fight, “but you also do not wish to go where you’d sent your own kin. What makes the guilty think they’re worthy of more care than the innocent?”

“I’ve changed!”, he cried out his lies, “I pledge to never take another life! Surely you’re better than this?”, Kallamar was stumbling as he’d attempted to push himself up. As he’d willed broken limbs to mend for a chance of escape.

“You’re right,”, The Lamb stood much closer now, their sword clenched steadily between their fingers. Those words made the squid pause, almost hopefully. As though he’d deserved such a comforting emotion. “You’ll never hurt anyone again.”, The sheep confirmed coldly, slicing into and through the squid’s skull in a motion usually reserved for an axe.

A sickening crack echoed around the temple as the sheep chopped down into the squid’s brain as though a log of wood, the sound followed swiftly by a comforting silence.

The Lamb took a step back as they’d allowed their breathing to settle. They’d looked down at what they’d done. At the motionless beast who’d hurt so many of the sheep’s kind, leaving pain and heartache in his wake. It’d felt undeniably freeing to know such a monster was dead. To know not only that their God was a step closer to freedom, but also that they’d been closer to it, too.

Each death of the Bishops was like applying soothing balm to an open break, yet it’d also been all the young sheep could do as means of remedy.

‘Once more, you’ve done impeccable, my vessel,’, Narinder’s words further soothed the ram, who’d sighed in relief at the ordeal being over. ‘Retrieve Kallamar’s heart and-‘, but whatever their God wished to say further was promptly cut off.

Lambert startled at a sudden roar, their God falling silent in favour of listening, also. Besides the Red Crown’s Vessel, The Goat had gone absolutely crazed. The horned God pounced the lifeless body of the squid, their breathing heavy and angered as they’d absolutely demolished what’d been the God’s corpse.

They’d slashed and stabbed at the body violently, gouging out eyes and tearing off limbs in a bloodied mess. Lambert was quick in their attempts to calm their companion, raising both their hands and voice.

“Goat!”, they’d called out in alarm, watching the purple God steadily drenched themself in black-crimson blood of the slain squid. It hadn’t looked as though they’d been listening. “He’d dead, you’re-“, The Lamb ducked quickly, their crown, in turn, jumping up as they’d both avoided a tentacle as it flew past them. “-calm down!”, they’d urged more sternly, calling up at their companion.

To the sheep’s surprise, The Goat did pause, even if briefly. They’d stopped dead in their tracks before turning abruptly, glaring down at the sheep with evident offence.

“I hate cowards,”, the goat hissed venomously, silently ordering their crown to turn into an axe before then hacking it violently into the lifeless body. “Have you heard him?!”, the God then laughed in utter disbelief, “urging some kind of moral high ground from us, the fucking audacity of this piece of shit-“, and, again, The Goat returned to mindless violence against the dead Bishop.

Although the sheep cringed somewhat at the excessiveness of the action, they’d only shared a glance with their crown before opting to sit down on the bloodied ground of Anchordeep, stained with the black ichor of its former master.

There’d been little more to do than wait. Sighing quietly, picking out chunks of flesh from their wool, which had very much not been their own, The Lamb quickly opted to speak to their God.

“I’ll need yet another Bath,”, the ram grumbled, looking up at their crown as the object stared intently at the ongoing display of anger, the single eye of it making it hard to discern any emotions it may be feeling towards the outburst. Perhaps Narinder himself enjoyed the display. Or perhaps he didn’t. “Are matters of Godhood always this bloody?”, they’d attempted to speak a little more jovially.

There’d been no initial response as the Red Crown remained still in the air. It floated a short distance above the seated sheep’s head, its crimson eye locked firmly onto the purple-wearing God. It’d been silly to be jealous over something so small, and yet a twinge of envy still nestled uncomfortably in The Lamb’s gut. Yet still, they’d waited patiently for a response.

Carefully picking out other bits of fish and meat that’d lodged themselves into usually-pristine, soft wool. Passively they’d looked over towards The Goat, their companion digging into the squid’s ribcage, ripping out the beast’s heart before throwing it in the sheep’s general direction, the organ bouncing crudely a handful of times before it laid limp and gross against the dirtied floor.

Seemingly, that’d been enough to regain their God’s focus. Again, although petty, a weight seemed to lift off of the sheep’s shoulders. Narinder hadn’t been interested in The Goat, he’d simply feared for the organ which Lamb was to retrieve.

Standing happily to their hooves, The Lamb bounced over towards Kallamar’s fatty, gross heart. They’d lifted the bloodied organ with about as much care as one would pick up a sock full of mud. They’d then unceremoniously thrown it into the Red Crown’s seemingly infinite storage, the sentient object opening instinctually as to catch the prize.

‘… despite their behaviour, you’d trusted The Goat as to not damage the heart?’, their God asked, fully solidifying The Lamb’s ugly jealousy as needless worry. There’d been something further reassuring with how their God hadn’t demanded they retrieve it amidst their companion’s outburst.

“They’re good at remaining rational, as much as it may seem otherwise,”, The Lamb smiled reassuringly, outstretching their bloodied arms towards their borrowed crown, cupping it protectively, “they control their emotions really well, especially considering that they never hide them.”, the ram hummed thoughtfully, carefully placing their God’s crown back atop their fluffy head, snug between two yet-small horns.

On that note, another thing Lambert truly envied was the size of The Goat’s horns. His were still rather unremarkable, which meant he’d looked forward to the day he’d be able to show them off once thick and curled.

They could be worthy of their God only once they become their best self.

‘You believe horns would change you so much?’, Narinder asked with clear amusement, pushing aside the ram’s thoughts. They’d nothing to hide from their God, but that particular nugget of information could’ve been omitted or ignored by the ruler of death, for the sake of The Lamb’s own sanity.

“I know I wouldn’t really change,”, the sheep laughed a little bashfully, grabbing one of their elbows shyly, “but you should’ve seen how impressive they can get! I’d always looked forward to the day I’d get to compete with them.”

‘Compete?’, Their God asked curiously, ‘I suppose I am aware of certain customs which involved horned beings. I assume you mean duels, so to speak?’

“Exactly!”, the sheep beamed excitedly, “for a moment, for that fight, it doesn’t matter who you are. Alpha, omega or beta, young or old, all would begin on equal footing. A chance to show strength, regardless of status!”, they’d been increasingly emotive as they spoke, imagining the fights of rams vividly, “and my father was amongst the strongest, too. Even though my horns started to grow in much later, he’d thought me all the tricks for when they’d finally curl.”, although their tone of voice was bright, it’d been evident a flicker of sadness tightened their throat.

‘I remember when you’d thought of your father before,’, Narinder spoke with a reassuring thoughtfulness. It’d been a simple gesture that meant he’d understood. That if The Lamb wasn’t ready, they needn’t speak of them yet. ‘Of him being a gentle soul. Much like yourself, I suspect.’

“… yes,”, Lambert spoke thankfully, smile warm, “I… my Lord?”, their voice grew quiet, almost hopeful.

‘Yes, vessel?’

“I understand this is a stretch but… did you see them? My parents?”, The Lamb asked with a gentle voice, the first favour they’d ever truly asked of their deity. A simple remedy to a broken heart.

‘Do you mean their deaths?’, The God clarified, his vessel nodding after a moment of pause. ‘Then I have, yes,’, Narinder hummed thoughtfully, remembering the moment with a slight smile, ‘they’d thrown a rock at Leshy’s head, he’d killed them on the spot. They were spared the theatrics and their dignity, dying in direct opposition. They’d been crushed, feeling no pain. Admirable, wouldn’t you say?’

And that’d been a lot to unpack.

It had confirmed that Leshy was directly behind the death of his family. That the God they’d lived under the technical protection of had turned against those who’d resided within Darkwood. On top of that, they’d resisted the Bishops. They fought, even if it were with a single rock. They’d felt no pain. Hadn’t been marched to an alter, either.

Lambert wiped at their eyes, wetting his hands with heavy tears.

‘And now that I think about it, those horns truly were impressive. Perhaps Leshy grew envious of their girth, given the twigs that are his own.’, Narinder mused as he’d continued to speak, the lightness of his tone mixed with the words making Lambert laugh.

Grief was a funny thing. It simultaneously made the ram happy and sad to know what’d happened to his loved ones. He’d wiped away tears that appeared to have no end, yet laughed and recounted stories of his parents with bright smiles and genuine joy in his voice.

Narinder listened and spoke his part. Effortlessly made the sheep feel better because he’d understood the importance of healing. It’d been gradual. Painful. But also a celebration of life.

As The Goat continued to shred whatever was left of Kallamar, inconspicuous tears leaving their eyes, cries of anger leaving desperate, hateful lips, The Lamb instead leaned against a crystal, asking Narinder what their parents’ eternal dream was about.

Grief, truly, was a funny thing.

Chapter Text

Narinder never had many mates.

Naturally, that hadn’t meant he’d needed or ever wanted them, but The Lamb’s disposition had inevitably got him thinking about it. There’d been something undeniably enticing as an alpha, Godly or not, to have a being so devout to you. It’d been a kind of intoxicating devotion that’d been much sweeter than usual. More intense in every conceivable way.

It hadn’t been a foreign concept for Gods to wed those that bore this kind of affection for them. The sort that rendered them at their Divinity’s complete mercy, and to be so with resounding willingness.

Lambert was, undeniably, a pretty being to look at. The ram was filled with energy to the brim, defiant and loyal all in the same breath. They walked confidently with purpose, having grown to allure their following with their dark eyes and strong legs. Lambert became more comfortable with themselves and their leadership, and yet were putty in the hands of their God.

It’d been quite amusing when he could feel the spike of jealousy writhing within his vessel whenever the God would so much as glance at their suspicious companion. Naridner could sense their discomfort and disappointment, even if The Lamb had been self-aware enough as for their own mind to ease those feelings.

They were, truly, the perfect Vessel.

And Narinder, in his benevolence, made sure as to take maticolous care of all which belonged to him.

“My Lor-d,”, Lambert slurred their prayer as they’d moaned pitifully, crying out in pleasure as Narinder wrapped his vessel effortlessly around his thumb, smiling darkly as he’d felt the ram’s dick twitch at the contact. “Fuck.”, they’d whispered breathlessly beneath their breath, only further amusing their God.

It’s been so easy to have them mewling pathetically in his grasp. To have them begging as their thighs rubbed against their God’s thumb pleadingly, the softness of their warm skin alone threatening to have Narinder purr in satisfaction.

Once they’d returned back to Paradise they’d bathed as they’d warned they’d intended, undressing in the presence of the crown with no need nor want to cease their connection with it. The omega spoke their usual way as they’d cleaned blood from their wool, taking the opportunity as to trim their soft coat, seeing the convenience. It’d been rather endearing how they’d gone into needlessly great detail about their wool’s maintenance. The scent of lanolin permitted the air, complimenting the ram’s natural scent, as such Narinder told the sheep it’d been quite attractive.

Once they’d been done with their careful maintenance of appearance, they’d come to see their God with immediate haste.

Sending Aym and Baal off to check the perimeter as for God and Vessel to share a private ‘conversation’ had been simple enough.

“I’d have assumed my Vessel’s disposition to be far less vulgar than this.”, Narinder deep voice purred, the cat moving his digit in a circular motion, petting The Lamb’s stomach as much as he’d stroked the impressive length of their dick.

“Nng-“, Lambert cried out pathetically, his thighs tightening around their God’s hand, breathing quickened and erratic, “yes- fuck,”, they’d continued to utterly lose themselves in lust, speaking nonsense as pre-cum already pooled pathetically where their God soothed their wool. Through their pleasure, tears welled up in their eyes as they’d watched Naridner work. To see their God pleasure them in such a way was hypnotising to the smaller sheep.

Lambert rocked his hips in an attempt to match their God’s playful rhythm. They’d pushed themselves lovingly into Death’s protective paw as they’d uttered cryptic, devoted prayers. Narinder could feel the surge of desire and dedication that his vessel harboured towards him.

And that’d, undeniably, been exciting for him.

“I must admit,”, The God purred sadistically, “to see you in such a state is rather endearing. Not a coherent thought going through your mind at the moment, is there, my Lamb?”

They’d wagged their cute little tail, their mouth opened lewdly as it begged to be filled, melodic gasps leaving parted lips in quick succession.

“Not a coherent thought.”, the black cat hummed with evident satisfaction once more, smile wickedly sharp as he’d removed his thumb, shifting it away from his vessel’s member, exposing them to him in the process. The reaction of The Lamb had been immediate, their eyes snapping open where they’d unknowingly closed at their God’s pleasant, maddening touches.

“Please,”, they’d begged right away, chasing the digit which’d now held them in place instead of pleasuring them, “please, Narinder, more.”, they’d pleaded pleasantly, their towering God huffing in endeared amusement at his vessel’s expression and lack of formality.

“Narinder?”, The One Who Waits teased immediately, fixing his veil in a way which no longer obscured his handsome features, crimson eyes demanding full attention, which The Lamb provided without instruction. “Such informality surely requires disciplinary action, wouldn’t you say?”, he’d spoke further without heat, readjusting the pretty omega in his grasp, admiring their pleasing curvature.

“Punish me as you see fit, just please,”, they’d the audacity to demand, their voice an unusual authority. Their gaze was so sharp as their irritation grew, bubbling in a way that crimsoned their features. What a feisty little beast. “Finish what you’d started.”, they’d urged, involuntarily causing their God to smile further.

“Is this how you demand all your wants?”, Narinder hummed, drawing close, smelling the sweet scent of the undeniably close-to-completion omega, their frustration more than understandable. “Had you been so spoilt to think it enough? A handful of pleas and lewd prayers?”

“I’ve little more to give,”, they’d admitted in their frustration, knowing they’d been giving their entire self to the alpha. To Death itself. “And I’d never wanted something as much as this. Perhaps I’m not as eloquent is asking for- Ah-!”

Narinder abruptly silenced his Vessel, the ram crying out in utter pleasure as their God brought them close, running his hot, wet, barbed tongue across the length of his vessel’s exposed manhood.

It’d been an immediate convulsion, the sheep held tightly in their God’s grasp as they’d attempted to fold in on themselves at the unbearable spike of electricity that ran through them. Genuine, pleasured tears left The Lamb’s eyes as a shocking orgasm hit them. They’d cried out in choked sobs, their moaning so loud they’d had to bite harshly into their hand, easily drawing blood from the limb.

A single lick had been all it took.

Their God spared a single action, the barbs of his tongue simultaneously raking through wool as much as they’d massaged their Vessel’s cock.

It’d been such a threatening yet pleasurable feeling, Narinder’s cat tongue sharp yet careful, the God evidently knowing exactly how to use it.

Lambert had been panting pathetically, heart rapid as they’d attempted to get off of the high of their orgasm, not having expected its sudden intensity. They’d whispered quiet praises and ‘yes’s as they’d become completely undone, on the verge of genuine tears at the indescribably pleasure of everything combined.

“Fuck.”, they’d chocked up pathetically, opening their eyes barely a slither as to see the way in which their God licked his lips with satisfaction, eyes darkly amused as he’d nonchalantly fixed up his veil back into place. Lambert ran his bloodied, cloven hand through the damp wool between their horns, enamoured by Narinder’s steady, protective grasp.

Death held them with gentle care. Cradling them, cooling their blazing warm skin with naturally-cold hands. The omega couldn’t help but mewl in satisfaction as they’d slowly returned to reality, surrounded by the scent of their lover and God. Gifted with the opportunity to be so close to such a caring being.

Gods had been known for their aloof coldness, yet with Narinder, even that’d been endlessly comforting. He’d shown such gentle care and consideration. Showed such selflessness in pleasuring his most devoted above himself.

“Have you come to, vessel?”, Narinder asked smugly, looking about as satisfied as a certain saying would suggest. This kitten certainly got his fair share of cream.

“I think,”, Lambert groaned discontentedly at having to change position, even if slightly, “that’d been a mind altering experience. Is this how you’d gotten your third eye?”, the sheep asked in a tone suggesting seriousness.

First, all three of Narinder’s eyes opened at having been taken utterly aback. Then, the God laughed.

It’d been booming and warm. The most amused Lambert had heart it yet. He’d shook as he’d laughed, Lambert feeling the vibrations of it mixed with an undeniable purr.

Their God began to purr.

Purr because of them. Because of the joy they’d brought him.

The warmth The Lamb felt at the moment had been indescribable. The divinity before them looking so lavishly radiant, his smile not teasing nor sadistic, just purely humoured.

“I must admit, Lamb,”, the cat hummed, the warmth of laughter not yet leaving his deep, sultry voice, “I’ll miss your visits.”

“Miss them?”, the sheep asked with a tilt of their head, finally sitting up in the Lord’s gentle grasp.

“Of course,”, the cat hummed, smile warm, yet oddly strained with what sounded suspiciously like guilt, “only Shamura remains. Once they fall, I shall leave this wretched place, never to return.”

“Oh,”, the sheep laughed now, too. They’d smiled at their God, feeling silly for that strange worry that twisted their gut without their conscious knowledge, “naturally. I’m looking forward to the day I’ll cast away the last of your shackles.”

“As do I, my vessel.”