Chapter Text
The cult was as busy as always with followers bustling about and doing assigned tasks for the betterment of the establishment. The fields were just as lively and flourishing with the help of the living bush himself, and the kitchen was running smoothly due to Heket’s skills with a pan. It was peaceful all things considered, and with all the olden gods finally given restful mortality nothing could go wrong…. Except for a certain two perhaps.
The sound of clashing blades echoed through the clearing as a sharp spearhead made contact with the curve of a battle axe. There was a wild laugh that accompanied the attack; one manic and excited to strike again. Goaten rushed quickly from the skilled blocking of his attempted win, but his opponent was far from naive. Shamura, the once god of war and all knowing, easily out maneuvered the heady swing with dance like grace, pressing away from any harm like the batting of lashes.
“Stay still dammit!” The goat screamed as they rushed forward, but yet again the arachnid did not comply.
“It will take more than your petty bloodlusts to waiver me, little god of conquest.” They hummed almost teasingly using their long spear to swipe under grey hooves.
Goaten laughed at the move, using the leverage to go for one of their arms.
It wasn’t a new event to anyone who had been with the cult for more than a few years. This kind of sparing, one filled with screaming banter and snarky swings, was almost a daily occurrence. Both warriors were patrons of the draws of war, and with the goat’s undying appetite for carnage; who else to feed their blade than the spider who had once deemed over such? Yet, even after almost five years of battles, Goaten had never once gained victory. He was still new to holding the power of war, but his opponent had eons under their belt.
Shamura’s spear head, golden and embedded with decorum of web and silk, barely missed one of the dark grey ears as their smaller sparring partner growled. There was a smirk on their fanged lips, and it boiled the goat’s blood.
“You seem to be having trouble,” They mused as they pulled back just enough to feel the air of the slash, jumping back with grace, “are you sure you do not wish to give up?”
“Over my rotting corpse!” He yelled before outright throwing the blackened steel axe at Shamura’s head. The bishop easily ducked out of the way, of course, and chuckled at such naivety.
“Being unarmed is not wise in battle, littl-”
“Don’t run your mouth!” Goaten hissed before running at them in full force, “I’m not done yet!”
The spider braced for the impact, but the rushing sound of wind behind them made them turn back. The axe, one thought to be thoughtlessly discarded, had boomeranged back to its sender. That split second had given the shaggy mammal the perfect opening, and with his full might, Goaten toppled Shamura over and onto the dirt ground. The sound of their spear clattered to the distance and out of reach; their opponent took their chance. With more power than their smaller yet built frame should have possessed, Goaten forced the spider down and skillfully caught their blade.
A final crack! of earth made the clearing, and those who watched in the near distance, froze in cool silence.
Shamura laid on their back to the earth, multiple eyes blown wide as they stared up in shock. They had been pinned as their purple clad other had embedded the pointed blade of their axe into the ground around their neck. Their dreads, ones previously bound back, spilled around their head like the wings of a framed butterfly. A cackle sounded above as clawed hands pressed down on two their wrists, and firm weight steeled on their stomach.
“I finally got ya!” Goaten laughed with the biggest fanged grin stretching across his face. “I told you I would! I’ve seen all your tricks, ‘Mura! You should see your fucking fa-”
“I accept.”
The phrase wiped the glee of that grey face and instead replaced it with confusion.
“Ya accept?” He asked as he cocked his head to the side, “Accept what?”
“Your courtship.” Shamura said calmly as an almost relaxed expression came over their eyes, “You have beaten me in battle and proved yourself worthy, so now I will become your mate.”
In an effortless motion one of their arms came up and gripped the axe’s royal handle before tugging it free of the dirt's clutches. They sat up easily as Goaten stumbled off of them and onto the dust, staring in furthering befuddlement when the spider rose to their feet and handed back the weapon.
“I will begin preparations for our joining.” They mused down with a smile; it held a barely contained excitement, “A week from now when the moon is plump and round; we will consummate our union in my nested den. I want you to make haste and do not dwindle, as I want you at your fullest like the moon will be.”
They leaned down and cupped Goaten’s chin with one of their four hands.
“I must warn you I am not as spry as I was in my prime, but I do not wish to be taken simply either.” Their lids lowered, “You are the first in seven millennia to defeat me, so do not disappoint my choosing.”
Shamura then pulled away, picked up their golden spear, and disappeared into the heart of the cult leaving their bloodlusting fighter spiraling. He did not move as the declaration soaked into his core like ichor on his shawl, and it was only the mummering of the bystanders that brought him back to reality. His narrowed pupils stared at his battle axe and the way it settled in his palm. Its heaviness was grounding to his mind and a sigh weaved out of his lung as he grappled.
The hell did they mean his courtship?!
A few watching faces shrunk back as a heated glare was sent their way; the blade turning black and manifesting as a crown on his disorderly mane. He needed to know what the fuck was going on, and knew exactly where to go. Hooves thudded across the encampment as Goaten weaved past houses and through the stoned plaza. Just past the effigy of their mirror was the temple; its red wood glinted in the overhead sun, and the doors clattered open as they pushed inside.
The sanctuary was gilded in grey stone and accented with hued burgundy. Chandeliers of circled candles lit the worshiping hall in dancing light, and at the preacher's altar stood two lightly bickering figures.
“I believe a Ritual of the Harvest would work best, and then we can have a Feasting Ritual to celebrate the upcoming season!” Lambert explained as they gestured to the open facing book that laid before the two, yet their companion just crossed their arms.
“I find that an excess,” Narinder argued as his focus left the pages and flittered to the lamb, “it would be a waste of seeds, and even with the season’s change most of our crop will not wilt.”
“You’re missing the point!” The wooly leader huffed, pointing a finger toward the cat, “The followers would enjoy a little bit of fun! Besides, the change in the day’s clock always brings down the people’s mood.”
“...If you want to do a feast, then why not an Ocean’s Bounty?” His sleek black tail swayed, “It would not harm our current resources, and you could find volunteers to help you… Though you could command them all the same.”
“I think it’s just because someone wants fish,” They teased with a smile, “but that is a good idea… Oh! Goaten, come help us decide something!”
“I actually came to talk to fuckface.” The goat interjected as his hooves echoed with each forwarding step.
“I told you not to call me that, vermin.” Narinder growled as his third eye opened to glare, but the purple crown wearer didn’t back down.
“Oh, like I give a damn!” Sharp fangs peeked out as Goaten smirked, though it did falter a bit as irritation flooded back, “Is there something wrong with that sibling of yours?”
“You…will need to be more specific.” The reaper questioned as he uncrossed his arms.
“Shamura,” He pressed, finally joining them at the stage, “I thought we fixed that head of theirs ages ago, but now they're spewing nonsense!”
“Did something happen with Shamura?” Lambert asked with worry, “Did they hurt you again? I told you getting so violent while sparing was a horrible idea!”
“I’m fine, lamb!” He waved away the hands that reached for him, “They barely scratched me; I won after all! Yet, now they started talking abo-”
“You…won against Shamura?” It was Nari that spoke up, ears perked slightly making his already towering height worse.
“Yeah, are your ears working?” Goaten snapped as their frustration started bleeding out, “That's what I said! Is that so damned hard to believe?!”
A gasp sounded next to them, and sideways pupils found Lambert with their hands to their mouth; a wide grin barely being held back. They had a bounce to their step as they took the goat’s hands.
“Congratulations!” They beamed, and Goaten found himself ripping his hands away.
“The hell are you talking about??” His sight flickered between the two.
Lambert blinked as they took a moment to register the pull back while Narinder stared with a narrowing gaze. It was only the crackling of candlewick that resounded in the hall until the cat spoke again.
“I see…You do not know.” Red eyes frowned, yet there was a bit of mirth from the situation as well, “I see that, even with the crown of my sibling, you are still but an idiot.”
“What did you just call me?!” Grey claws itched with the need to summon his blade for battle, but Lambert got in between.
“Stop, both of you.” They sent a glare to the jet black feline before switching to their mirror, “Goaten, if you win in a battle against a Bishop, it means you have earned the chance to court them.”
“W…What…No, you’re fucking with me!” He argued, but Narinder shook his head.
“It is true, and while not all of my siblings stand with this tradition, Shamura and I both did.” His gaze shifted down to the lamb that stood before them and softened ever so slightly, “It is the reason I took Lambert’s hand… After some time of reflection, of course…”
That earned a small chuckle, but he continued regardless.
“If you indeed won against my sibling, then their acceptance of your advancement is correct.” He tapped a polished claw to his chin, “In all of our time as gods, even while I was imprisoned, I had never heard of them taking the hand of another. You must have truly caught their eye if they gave you so many chances.”
“Chances? You’re telling me they’ve been toying with me this WHOLE TIME!?”
“Not necessarily,” Narinder didn't even flinch at the screaming, “my sibling is as refined as they are cunning. They are a creature that plans; that waits for the kill. You have caught their eye, for what reason I cannot understand, but they trust you enough to union with you. Do not squander the opportunity, because it will only happen once. If you choose not to accept… Then I can not promise you a much longer existence.”
“But I wasn't TRYING to court them!?” Goaten explained as his volume spiked, “I was just training with them!”
They both blinked at him.
“You…weren’t flirting with Shamura?” Lambert asked as they tilted their head, and the goat looked offended.
“No?!”
“....A fool you truly are.” Nari hissed between his teeth, “You must be blind not to see your quipping banter, nor the way they gaze at you. My sibling does not spar with just anyone, let alone more than once. All other suitors that did not meet their standards ended up as food after a failed battle. Yet, you stand before us with years of mortal time spent locked in weaponry clashes and do not see their desire for you? Pathetic you are, crown bearer.”
They glared at each other, but nothing passed the goat’s lips. He stood there with clenched fists that desired to collide directly center to all three eyes, but never did he pounce. Instead he pondered; his mind wandering back to all the moments they were intertwined in battle. They way the arachnid moved with such elegance as they had heretic blood dripping off their skin. They way their purple dreads followed behind like a veil as they walked beside them, or the interweaving of words that they shared. Maybe it wasn’t just because of the crown they shared…
“I… guess that makes…some sense,” Goaten said reluctantly as his fists uncurled, “but that still doesn’t explain everything! We already defeated them once, no twice! If that was a requirement why bring it up now?! They even said they were making some kind of…nest? A den or some shit.”
“Well… I defeated them the first time,” The lamb interjected, “and the second time we did together.”
“My sibling is a creature of mystery.” Death mused, “They keep their intentions closely kept, but to me I feel that they are looking to bed you.” He smirked with a sneer, “If they really are going to make you their mate, then I would start praying.”
The cat couldn’t stifle the deep chuckle that he let slip, and Lambert smacked his side with a hand.
“Stop trying to scare him, Nari!” They scolded.
Goaten watched the two share bickerance, but none of it stuck. The arachnid wanted him as their mate? Surely that could not be the case… Yet, he remembered the way their hand gently creased his face, and the look of relief in their sets of eyes…
His own eyes widened.
“You two were talkin’ about a ritual, right?” He asked as they met their attention.
“Hmm? Oh, yes we were!” Lambert smiled as they pointed at the book, “Next week is the full moon as well as the season’s change from summer to autumn, and I was thinking of holding a banquet to welcome it.”
“....Shamura mentioned something about preparing for the full moon…”
“Shamura has always had a connection to such.” Nari explained as he stepped toward the altar, “Their crown bore the mark of the crescent, but when the light was full and round is when their true power was at its most encompassing. It does not surprise me that is the time they chose.”
“Oh, a banquet would be perfect than,” The lamb didn’t lose their smile as they spoke, “We will hold the feast, and once the moon is at its highest you both can go have fun!”
“Are…you trying to set us up?” Goaten asked skeptically, and Lambert did not dissuade.
“Its not that, but I see how you both look together.” They patted his purple cladded shoulder, “You’re always smiling with them, or having fun. I don’t know anyone else other than myself that can keep up with you…understand you. I want you to be happy here, and if that involves them, then I won’t object.”
“...Sure,” He answered, looking away before piping up again, “and I have to agree with fuckface for once, kinda. I would harvest any end of season crops, and add fish to fill in any gaps.”
“That’s a good idea! See Nari, I told you a third opinion would be the best!” Red cocked down at them.
“You said nothing of the sort, usurper.”