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Chapter Text

Oscar feels his pants getting soaked as he drops to his knees. The rain is relentless, the cold drops hitting his face harshly. He hears a soft neigh from next to him and feels Fae’s snout bump him on the shoulder gently, but he doesn’t move. Hot tears mix with the freezing rain. He shuts his eyes, hoping it’ll ease the unbearable ache in his whole body. It doesn’t. For years he’s dealt with this pain. It feels aching, like inflammation is raging through every vein and bone, and it’s only gotten worse over the years. It was easier to deal with when he wasn’t on his own. When his parents were alive and made sure to take care of Oscar to the best of their abilities. But ever since they passed away, he has been out in the world, trying to find somewhere to settle, going from job to job. The nomad life has drained him of his energy and worsened the pain immensely. So now he’s kneeling somewhere in a puddle on a meadow, his horse Fae following him and neighing softly to get him to get back up. But he can’t. His chest has never hurt this way before, and he cannot seem to move.

“Please,” he whispers. “Why won’t somebody help me? I can’t take this pain anymore… I’ll do anything… Please.”

When he opens his eyes, the meadow in front of him is no longer empty. Instead, there’s a tall figure – human-like, but definitely not actually human. It’s engulfed in purple shadows and seems to be made of them as well. Its head seems to be a mix of human and dragon, scales leading down its neck into the shadows. Oscar doesn’t say a word. He stares at the figure, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“Child,” the figure speaks, how voice low and menacing. “You seek help. I can help you.”
The rain continues to drench Oscar. The figure seems unaffected, the droplets disappearing right before they hit it.
“Who are you?” Oscar asks.
“My name is Kashar.”
Oscar’s eyes widen even more. “Kashar. God of Law and Order.”
Kashar smiles, pleased that his reputation proceeds him. “Correct. I can make you better. Become a Paladin for me, child. Take an oath and I will make you better. I will take your pain away, I will heal you, I will give you the power you deserve.” Kashar steps closer, leaning down to the drenched, desperate young man.
“What is your name, child?”
“O-Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”
The god reaches down and holds Oscar’s chin, taking a closer look at the face, seeing the exhaustion and – more importantly – the desperation in his eyes. He has finally found the perfect candidate.
“Do you want my help, Oscar?”
Oscar nods, his face being held in a way where he can’t look away from Kashar’s face, his bright yellow eyes and rough scales.
“Yes,” he breathes. “Please.”
“Then take the oath. Be the protector of this area. Make sure there is law and order.”

Fae neighs softly and bumps against Oscar’s shoulder again, but he ignores her for now.
“And I will stop being in pain?”
Kashar nods. “I will take away your chronic pain. You will become stronger, I will give you a sword to wield, and you will become a fighter. Do you want that?”
“Yes,” Oscar replies, his voice strained from the pain, his breath labored.
Kashar’s smile widens. “Wonderful.”
“What- what would happen if I broke the oath?”
The god’s face darkens. “I would strip you of your powers, your pain would return, and I would punish you. Severely. But that’s a silly question. You won’t break your oath. Give me your arm, child.”
Oscar is too tired to fight it. Like instinct, he holds out his arm. Kashar pulls out a dagger and drags it across Oscar’s forearm, making the young man wince. The pain gets intensified as Kashar puts two fingers on the cut, pressing down.

Kashar speaks the oath, making Oscar repeat each part through gritted teeth, the combined pain of everything that’s happening making him lightheaded.

“I, Oscar Piastri, vow to do everything in my power to make sure there is order in the land of Kashar. Everyone who breaks the law shall be punished appropriately by my hand.”

Purple smoke emits from Kashar’s hand, seeping into the cut on Oscar’s arm. The young man shuts his eyes, wincing and groaning in pain. The cut burns – and then all at once, the pain stops. Kashar pulls his hand away, and the cut is gone, replaced by a purple mark in the shape of a sword. Oscar kneels there for a moment, the rain still hammering down loudly around them.

“How do you feel?” Kashar asks him.
“I’m… not in pain,” Oscar answers softly. Slowly, he rises to his feet.
Kashar smiles, pleased to see that he finally has a new Paladin to do his work for him. He grabs a branch off a tree, gripping it tightly, enveloping it in that same, dark purple smoke. When he holds it out for Oscar to take, it has turned into a sharp sword.
“Try it out.”
Oscar takes the sword. It doesn’t feel as heavy as it looks. He looks around and sees a small tree. He swings the sword, cutting through the tree stump effortlessly.
“Woah. Was that me or the sword?”
Kashar chuckles. “A combination of both. You’ll have to work on your technique, child. But don’t you worry.” He steps up closer and grasps Oscar’s hair, pulling it up to make him face his new deity. “I will guide you. I will teach you everything you need to know. You now have purpose again. A mission.” Kashar’s eyes darken for a moment. “Do not waste this chance because I will make you regret it. Do you understand?”
Oscar looks up, ignoring the pit in his stomach. He is no longer in pain. That’s all that matters right now. After all these years, finally, he can just breathe and exist without aching.
“I won’t let you down, Kashar.”

The god smiles – Oscar is unaware of the danger in his smirk, the glint in his eyes. Kashar knows he now has a way to control what happens in his land without lifting a finger, without having to do any dirty work. A desperate man, no, a child, in pain who wants nothing more than to stop suffering and find purpose in life again. He couldn’t have found an easier target if he tried.
“I will be in touch,” he tells the young man who nods and sheaths his new sword before getting on his horse with ease. “For now, ride back to Rokhar and start your duties. I will make sure you have a roof over your head and food, but only if you do your job. Understood?”
Oscar nods and smiles. “Yes, sir. Thank you for helping me.”
“It has been my pleasure. I will see you soon, my child.”
His look follows Oscar as he gallops back into the woods, and a chuckle escapes his lips. Finally.

Chapter Text

For almost two years, Oscar has been doing Kashar’s bidding. He’s well-known across the land – Kashar’s right hand, the punisher, ruthless justice. He’s feared, judged, avoided. Oscar is not living the life he expected after taking his oath with Kashar. At first, it felt good to carry out his orders. The power gave him a rush, and it felt like he was doing a good thing, the right thing. Like he was protecting the people by providing order. Kashar taught him how to fight. The god is not a particularly patient teacher and often got upset at Oscar for being “sloppy” or “too predictable”. Oscar pushed through – what choice did he have? He took his oath. This is his life now.

He's no longer in pain every day, but the more time passes, the more often his chest aches. Kashar told Oscar how to handle which crimes, which punishments to carry out. They range from reprimands to imprisonment to physical violence and murder. He’s only had to kill murderers, but even that was… tough on him. Sometimes the punishments felt justified, often they did not. People begged him to spare him, but he didn’t have a choice. Recently, despite Oscar’s fear-inflicting presence, crime has risen. Kashar has decided it’s time to worsen the punishments. That was a few days ago. Now, Oscar is riding on his horse, having been called to show up to punish thieves. He feels sick to his stomach, barely having been able to sleep the past few nights since Kashar announced his new laws. Thieves get imprisonment – unless it’s repeat offenders. Then? Death penalty. No appeal. Just execution, right there. Oscar’s hands shake around the reigns of Fae. The horse neighs softly, feeling his inner troubles. He used to believe Kashar wanted to truly help him – but he doesn’t know what to believe anymore. He doubts his deity, his cause – himself.

And as he rides up to the guards, his blood runs cold. They’ve grabbed two men by their collars – no, not men. Children. Teenagers, no older than fifteen. Oscar has seen them before – he has punished them before for stealing, before Kashar worsened the laws. Repeat offenders. Death penalty. The guards step away, leaving Oscar to deal with the two tied up kids. Their expressions are those of fear and horror. They know what the punishment is. Oscar tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail. He gets off Fae, tying her up on a nearby fence. His steps feel impossibly heavy as he approaches the two kids – a boy and a girl. Noah and Jenna. Siblings. Orphans. He knows their story. They’re trying to get by, just the two of them.

“Please,” Jenna begs, “We were just so hungry. We haven’t eaten in days… we just wanted some bread.”
Oscar stares back at them, his eyes glassy, his face pale.
“We don’t wanna die,” Noah cries. “Please don’t kill us. Please don’t kill us.”
Oscar’s hands tremble as he reaches for his sword, tears almost spilling out of his eyes. He unsheathes it and stares at his own reflection for a moment. Dark circles. Tired, lifeless eyes. Is not being in pain worth all the pain he is causing others? He’s not happy either way. He looks up at the teenagers who are both sobbing now. He shuts his eyes for a moment. He has to make a choice. The sobs and pleas echo in his ears, and he feels like he can’t breathe. He grabs their ropes and drags them with him.

“We will do this somewhere more hidden,” he says, his voice shaky. The kids are still crying, straining against the ropes and Oscar’s grip, but the paladin is too powerful, too strong. He drags them into the woods and turns to them. Oscar knows this is gonna have huge, horrifying consequences for him. But he cannot get himself to punish these children, to end their lives just because they wanted to eat. He takes a deep breath and raises his sword. The kids close their eyes in terrified anticipation – but Oscar simply cuts through their ropes, tears now streaming down his face. They open their eyes, surprised.

“Go,” Oscar whispers, his voice coming out strangled. “Run, hide. Take this.” He hands them some gold coins. “Get yourself some food but stay low.”
“You’re letting us go?” Jenna asks, quickly pocketing the money. “But… I thought you had an oath.”
“I… I do,” he responds softly. “But I… I don’t agree with it anymore.”
“What will happen to you now?” Noah asks.
Oscar doesn’t respond to that. “You need to go, now. Take care of each other.”
They nod, and whisper hurried thank you’s before running into the woods.

Oscar takes a few deep breaths, the reality of what he’s done setting in. He broke his oath. He knows it’s a matter of minutes before Kashar finds out. Oscar shuts his eyes, allowing himself to cry for a moment. The forest is quiet, almost peaceful. The wind is rustling; the birds are singing. The reality of Oscar’s situation almost makes it seem eerie. And then he feels a feeling he’s had many times. A tingle in his chest and a violent pull as he’s sucked into Kashar’s realm, engulfed by the god’s dark purple smoke.

He knows what’s about to happen and he has no way of stopping it. 

Chapter Text

Even though Oscar is used to being pulled into Kashar’s realm, it always takes him a few seconds to adjust to the darkness and overall feel. His heart is hammering in his chest as he looks up to face his deity. Kashar’s face is twisted in anger and disappointment, his yellow eyes boring into Oscar’s. The paladin swallows hard.

“So,” Kashar starts, “You’ve decided to be an idiot and a coward, huh?” His voice is dripping with fury – the kind that Oscar has never experienced before, and it terrifies him.
“I did what I deemed as right,” Oscar responds, his voice not as stable as he would like it to be.
The god scoffs. “You didn’t do your duty. You broke your oath. Do you understand what that means? Or do you need me to spell it out for you since you are clearly utterly stupid.”
“No, I understand,” Oscar simply replies.
Kashar roars in anger, purple fire emerging from his mouth. “You are useless! You had one rule, do not break your oath. Yet here you are.” He narrows his eyes. “And you’ll wish you just listened to me. I should’ve never picked someone as naïve, as stupid and cowardly as you.”

He raises his hands, causing purple smoke to circle Oscar who feels a strange pulling sensation within his chest.
“When I found you, you were nothing,” Kashar snarls. “You were a child begging for someone to help you, crying like a pathetic baby because you were hurting. And I fixed you!”
Oscar stands there petrified – but it’s not a mental block. He physically cannot move, tendrils made from purple smoke latching around his arms and legs, keeping him in place.
“I fixed you and I gave you powers and a simple task for you to do in return. But you failed to do that. Even with your powers, you are nothing. And soon, you will be even less. And you will be all on your own, wishing you were already dead.”

Kashar steps up to Oscar, grabbing his arm forcefully and wrapping his long fingers around Oscar’s arm, pressing down on the mark he got from the oath. Slowly, he pulls back his arm, extracting a dark, shimmering substance from the mark, which is slowly opening again, turning back into the cut it once was. At the same time, Oscar feels himself growing weaker and – worst of all – his whole body aches in that old familiar way, his same old chronic pain returning as the deity undoes his spell he cast less than two years ago. Kashar pushes him down by his head, forcing him to kneel down, as he pulls his other hand away, having stripped the young man of his powers completely. Oscar’s breathing is labored and shallow as he feels a mix of pain, panic, desperation, and fear for what’s about to happen next.

“And don’t you dare think that was all. You will be appropriately punished for your actions.”
Kashar pulls back his arm, his hand transforming into a claw. He lashes out at Oscar’s chest, leaving deep scratches behind. Oscar cries out in pain, still being held in place by the tendrils. He tries to free himself, desperately tearing at them, but to no avail. His chest is bleeding and heaving; his hands are shaking. He doesn’t beg, doesn’t plead- he just kneels there and takes his punishment. Another claw strike hits him, this time across his face. His eyes don’t get hit, thankfully, but he has three painful scratches reaching across his face. Kashar looks down at the oath breaker with a mix of disgust and anger. “Pathetic. Look at you, crying, just like you were when I found you. You’re worthless… and killing you would be far too merciful. You will die on your own soon enough. And when you do, you will think of me and wish you kept your oath.”

With those words and a puff of purple smoke, Oscar finds himself kneeling in the woods, covered in his own blood and tears. He looks down at his chest, his shirt getting soaked by his own blood. He gets up slowly, every movement aching, the tears never stopping. He drags himself back to Fae and onto the saddle and starts riding down the street. He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s going to do. He holds on to the reigns with the last of his strength, the combination of the old chronic pain, his injuries and the blood loss making him increasingly dizzy. He knows he can’t go back to Rokhar. They wouldn’t welcome him. They would just leave him to die, and Oscar couldn’t even blame them. So instead, he follows the road, hoping to reach an inn soon. He grows weaker and weaker until he eventually passes out, slumping off Fae and hitting the dirt with a soft thud. Fae neighs and bumps his face with her snout. Oscar regains consciousness, but he knows he’s not getting back up from here, not in this state.

“I’m sorry, Fae,” he whispers. “I’m not strong enough to take care of you anymore. Go, find somewhere to live. You’ve got lots of time left… not me. I think… I think my time has come.”
The horse doesn’t move, nudging him with her nose again. Oscar closes his eyes, reaching out his shaky hand to pet her one last time, tears slipping out non-stop.
“Why does it have to hurt so much,” he whispers. “Why couldn’t I just fall asleep and never wake up instead? And- and why… why does it take so long? I want it to be over…”

As Oscar lies there, Fae gallops away. He sighs, closing his eyes, hoping she will find someone to take her in and take care of her properly.

Chapter Text

Oscar opens his eyes again when he feels something – or someone – close to him, no, even touching him. He blinks a few times. He’s still on the side of the road, but there’s a man he’s never seen before quickly and diligently wrapping his injuries in bandages.
“Don’t move,” the man simply says as he notices Oscar being more alert again. “You’ll just aggravate it. You lost a lot of blood.”
Oscar just stares up at him, still feeling woozy and dizzy. Is he dead? No, he’s still in pain. That can’t be. But something crazy must have happened because one minute, he’s all alone, and the next, the most beautiful man he’s ever laid his eyes on is patching him up. A small neigh lets him know that Fae returned to him.
“Smart horse,” the man comments, still focused on his task, “She alerted me and brought me back here.”
Oscar manages the tiniest smile, moved by Fae’s loyalty. He looks back at the man. “Who are you?”
He glances up from his work. “My name is George Russell. Don’t worry, I know who you are.”
Oscar’s heart drops. “Oh.”
“You know,” George says, “this isn’t a sight I would’ve expected. Kashar’s right hand all messed up and bleeding on the side of the road. Who got you this good?”
“Kashar,” Oscar simply responds, causing George’s bright blue eyes to widen.
“…Yeah. That- that’ll… do it, I suppose.” He stops working on the bandages. “Come on, I live nearby. I have things to properly take care of you; this was just to stop the bleeding.”

Oscar doesn’t protest as George takes him back to his place, Fae following behind them. George ties her up behind his hut, petting her gently and feeding her some sunflower seeds. He takes Oscar inside. The hut is filled with jars of various things: Herbs, tinctures, spices, and too many things that Oscar doesn’t even have an idea what they could be. It smells of lavender incense. The walls are plastered with dried herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling or different drawings and writings – one that particularly catches Oscar’s eye is a beautiful drawing of the moon cycles, along with what they mean for spells. He notices tarot cards lying on the table. George lays him down on a sofa and gets out a first aid kit.

“You’re a witch,” Oscar comments.
“Correct,” George confirms. He takes off the bandages again and starts disinfecting Oscar’s wounds. The younger man winces at the sharp sting.
“Sorry,” George says softly, “I should’ve started with this. Drink this.” He hands Oscar a vial with a green liquid inside. “It’ll help with the pain.”
Oscar doesn’t really hesitate before drinking it. What does he have to lose? It eases the pain, though it doesn’t make it go away. He mutters a thank you that’s met by a nod from George, who is looking through his kit. He pulls out another vial.
“Close your eyes and breathe deeply. This will hurt, but it’s more effective than stitches.”
Oscar quietly obeys and then lets out a small cry of pain as he feels the liquid hit his wounds. It feels like George is pouring boiling water onto it.
The witch is trying to work quickly, not wanting to cause Oscar more pain.
“There, done,” he eventually whispers after taking care of the cuts on his chest and his face – and the one on his arm from the oath.
Oscar opens his eyes and looks down at his chest. The wounds are covered by a thin layer of skin.
“It’ll take time to heal properly,” George explains, “but not as long as it would with stitches. Just let me bandage you and then you can rest.”

A while later, Oscar is just lying there. George made him some tea that he’s drinking with shaky hands.
“Why did you help me if you know who I am?” Oscar asks.
George sits down next to him, with his own cup of tea in his hand. He takes a sip before answering. “Well, I’m not an asshole. You clearly needed help.”
Oscar nods. “I… appreciate it. Thank you.”
The witch nods and smiles. “So, tell me… why did your own deity scratch the life out of you?”
Oscar stares at his tea. “I broke my oath.”
There’s a beat of silence as George digests that information. “Because of his new rules?”
The paladin nods. “Yes. I would’ve had to kill two kids… I just… I couldn’t do it.”
George nods, a newfound respect in his eyes. Breaking an oath is not a small decision. He notices that Oscar still looks uncomfortable. “Are you still in a lot of pain?”
“I’m okay.”
George rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t expect a different answer from someone like you. I’m a witch, I can help you with most things – but only if you let me.”

Oscar hesitates before letting out a sigh. “I deal with chronic pain. Or, well, it was gone after I took my oath, but now that Kashar stripped me of my powers, it’s back.”
George’s face softens. “I’m sorry, that sounds hard to deal with.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
His eyebrows raise. “There’s such a thing called sympathy, Oscar.”
The younger man shuts up at that. He’s not particularly used to being treated with sympathy, but he supposes George has a point.
“Is that why you made the oath?” The witch asks as he’s looking through some of his other potions. “Because you were in too much pain?”
“Sort of. Partially,” Oscar responds, not really in the mood to get into the details of his past right now.
George doesn’t press on. Instead, he adds a few drops of pink liquid into Oscar’s tea. “It won’t make the pain go away. But it might numb it a bit.”

Oscar nods and sips the tea. He takes a deep breath, definitely feeling better after the witch patched him up and gave him his potions. He doesn’t feel like he deserves George’s kindness, but he’s too exhausted to question it. Instead, he mumbles another “Thank you” and keeps silently drinking his tea.

Chapter Text

Oscar spends the next 24 hours either sleeping or staring at the ceiling, wallowing in his physical pain and emotions. And whenever he sleeps, he has the same horrible, reoccurring nightmare where he’s running from Kashar, covered in his own and others’ blood. His lungs always feel like they’re about to burst when he wakes up. Or sometimes he sees this huge room, and this big purple crystal that shatters… and something horrible escaping from it. He tries to hide the nightmares, though, acting like he’s asleep again the moment George takes notice of him waking up in distress.

George asks questions, but Oscar’s answers are short and don’t give the witch much of an insight and it’s starting to frustrate him. Sure, he understands that Oscar isn’t feeling particularly well and chatty, and is going through a lot, but he’s only trying to help. Oscar doesn’t seem to understand the concept of someone helping him out of the goodness of their heart, and it’s both heartbreaking and infuriating. In the evening, George brings him some soup. Oscar mutters the usual “Thanks”.

“So, how are you feeling right now?” George asks for the hundredth time.
Oscar shrugs. “Okay.”
George looks at him for a while longer. “Look, mate. I’m really trying to help you here, but you gotta give me more than that.”
Oscar frowns, pain making the anger he’s pushed down deep resurface. “You don’t need to baby me, I’m fine,” he responds firmly.
“I’m not babying you; I’m just trying to make sure you heal from your life-threatening injuries,” George shoots back, his voice rising.
“No one asked you to do that! No one asked you to take on this burden, okay?” Oscar is borderline yelling now and tries to sit up, immediately wincing and lying back down, tears pricking at his eyes.
George takes a deep breath. He tries to do this as nicely as he can.

“Okay, shut up and listen.” Well, not the best start. He carries on anyway. “I don’t know what it takes to get it through your thick skull that not everyone hates you, but you gotta let go of that victim mentality. I’m not saying you weren’t a victim. Kashar put you through a lot and I bet I don’t know the half of it. But if you keep wallowing in your own self-hatred, that’s gonna get you absolutely fucking nowhere. I am here to help you, but you have to accept my help and work with me, not against me. So, stop lying about how you’re feeling and start telling me the truth, so you don’t let your misery kill you, yeah?”

Oscar is stunned into silence as George walks into the kitchen to get his own bowl of soup. He wants to be pissed at the witch for his brutal assessment of the situation, but… he’s right and Oscar doesn’t have any counter arguments. He eats his soup silently. George plops down on a seat close to him. He’s about to speak when Oscar interrupts him.
“Let me finish my food in peace and then we’ll talk, or I’m gonna start calling you an asshole out of pure reflex.”
George can’t help but let out a laugh at that. “You know what, that’s fair.”

They finish their soups in silence. Oscar puts his spoon down with a gentle clatter and takes a deep breath before turning his attention to George.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll stop pretending I’m okay and I’ll stop wallowing in… whatever this is. I just… it’s a lot to deal with.” His voice is quieter at this admission, almost embarrassed.
George’s face softens. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it, I was a little harsh. I’m sorry about that. I just… knew I had to get you to snap out of it somehow cause if you keep spiraling, it’ll get harder and harder to get out of that.”
“I understand that,” Oscar responds, looking at his hands.
The witch looks at him for a while, studying his face. “What is it you truly want? What kind of life do you wish to have?”
Oscar looks up. “Uhm…” He ponders the question for a moment. “A life without pain. And… one with more connection. It’s been… lonely.”
“I can imagine.”
Oscar sighs. “I wanna do something… good. Fix some of the damage I did. Help people. But… that’s not possible with Kashar around. He’s a tyrant, you know that.”

“Then we’ll just have to get rid of him.”
George’s blunt and simple suggestion causes Oscar to laugh – and then wince because it aggravated the cuts on his chest. “Yeah, right. Just ‘get rid’ of Kashar. I’m sure that’s gonna be a piece of cake.”
“I know it’s not easy,” George says, noticing his discomfort and handing him a potion out of reflex. Oscar doesn’t argue against it and just takes it, nodding gratefully.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Oscar responds after drinking the potion. “How would we possibly get rid of him? I don’t even have powers anymore.”
“I do,” George says. “Somewhat.”
“Somewhat?”
The witch shrugs. “I can do some spells. Many of them are more… nature and healing-based. But some of it is useful in combat.”
“I don’t doubt that you’re powerful,” Oscar says, “I mean your potions are impressive… but even the best fighter couldn’t defeat Kashar. He’s a god.”
“Even gods must have their weaknesses.” He pauses. “I know someone who might be able to help us. An elder witch. She knows everything about anything. She might not be able to give us the answer to our problem, but she can give us somewhere to start.”
Oscar looks up, surprised by George’s drive. “You mean it? You’d wanna help get rid of Kashar?”
George nods. “Everyone is suffering because of him. It was by your hand or through him directly. Having you on our side is good. You know him, you know how he thinks and acts.”

Oscar exhales deeply. “So, where is that witch?”
“About a day’s walk away. But we’ll wait. You have to rest first, really recover from your injuries. Then we’ll make our way and figure things out.”
Oscar looks at the man’s face for a while, really taking in his features for the first time. His eyes are bright blue, his skin slightly tan, and his lashes offensively long. His light brown curls frame his face beautifully, a nice contrast to his sharp cheekbones.
“Thank you,” he says, “Not only for patching me up, but for working with me, despite what I’ve done. You’re a man of honor.”
George smiles back genuinely. “You’re welcome. We’ll figure this out, I’m sure of it.”

Chapter Text

A week goes by. George takes care of Oscar’s wounds every day and the paladin feels worlds better now. They set off on their journey one early morning, carrying food and water – and of course some potions that George has packed very carefully. They’re on their way to visit Ilara – the elder witch George had mentioned that might be able to help them defeat Kashar. Oscar and George spent some more time talking these past days and actually get along surprisingly well. George even makes Oscar laugh on the odd occasion, which isn’t the easiest task given what the paladin has recently been through.

As they venture through the quiet woods on foot, Oscar decides to push on a question he’s asked before, but never really got a satisfying answer out of the witch.
“So… how come you’ve decided to patch me up?” He asks.
George raises his eyebrows. “You’ve asked me that question like five times already.”
“And I’m asking again. I know you’re not telling me the whole truth.”
The witch sighs and rolls his eyes. “Okay. I’ll make you a deal. I will tell you the whole reason if you tell me more about your life. And I don’t mean your hobbies or food preferences, I mean what brought you to the point where your only way out was an oath with a god. What do you say?”
Oscar frowns at that. That’s not exactly what he wanted. “Okay, fine,” he agrees begrudgingly.
“And you go first,” George adds, earning an annoyed whine from Oscar.
“You’re a dick,” he mumbles, “Okay. Uhm. Let me think about where to start.”

George doesn’t rush him. He keeps walking next to him silently, giving him the time and space to gather his thoughts.
“My childhood was pretty normal,” Oscar starts softly. “I was an only child. Just me and my parents. When I was thirteen, the pain started. My parents took care of me as much as they could. They were bakers. When I was fifteen, our town got raided. My mom hid me in a secret basement. When I came back out, the whole town was gone. Everyone was killed.”
George watches Oscar’s expression darken, his body stiffening up as he recounts his trauma. “So, it was just me… and I took what I found from our village and went out to find a new home. They left the horses alive. Fae became my only friend. I went from town to town, but never really settled anywhere. I never really found a place to call home. For almost four years, I lived as a nomad, doing jobs where I could get some gold. And the pain…” He lets out a bitter scoff. “The pain just made my life worse. I didn’t have any means to get any kind of pain relief. The constant traveling aggravated it more.”
George doesn’t interrupt. He just listens, his face solemn and serious.
“And then one day I stumbled into this area. Desperate, aching… I was at the end of my rope. So, I begged for anyone to help me, to take my pain away. That’s when Kashar showed up.”

“So, he took advantage of your desperation and vulnerability to get you to make an oath. He picked you cause you were an easy target for him.”
Oscar doesn’t respond to that.
“I’m sorry,” George adds, “You got dealt a shitty hand.”
“Yeah,” Oscar mumbles. “Your turn.”
George doesn’t argue against it, Oscar’s discomfort in sharing this story evident.
“Alright. I’m a man of my word.” He takes a deep breath. “I understand you better than you could imagine. I’m an orphan too.”
Oscar looks up surprised, his attention on George’s face as the witch tells his own story.
“But my parents died much earlier. I was raised by my grandmother. She was a witch too. Taught me everything I know. To help those in need, but to never let them take advantage of you. To see beyond people’s first impressions, their reputation, but without putting yourself in danger. She was very wise. She passed away two years ago. I wish I had more time with her… there’s so much I could’ve learned from her.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Oscar says quietly.
“Thank you. Anyway, she… she always believed in the good in people. That often, we just don’t know people’s story, their sorrows… and that when we treat them with kindness and a pure heart, we can help almost everyone. I’ve been trying to keep practicing that. So, when I saw you on the side of the street, it was obvious I was gonna help you.”
Oscar looks impressed. “Your grandmother sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She was, yeah. She also taught me that animals have a very good intuition. Your horse, Fae, she went to come get me. It showed me that you treat her well, that she trusts you. That counts for something as well.”

They continue their journey in silence – but it feels different to before, lighter. There’s a new connection, an unspoken trust and comfort that’s been formed after the two have shared their pasts with each other. Evening dawns as they reach the hut of the elder witch. Oscar takes a step back, allowing George to take the lead in this situation. The elder witch is tall and lanky, her grey hair braided yet still reaching past her waist. She studies the two men for a moment before letting them in wordlessly. Oscar and Geroge exchange glances but follow anyway. George has met her before and knows she’s a woman of few words.

“Ilara,” George says, “we ask for your help.”
“That much is obvious,” the witch says, handing them both a cup of tea and sitting down. “Tell me more.”
George starts explaining the situation, but Ilara’s eyes are on Oscar the whole time. The paladin feels small, scrutinized by her gaze.
“Kashar’s right hand man,” she says once George has recapped everything. “Your reputation proceeds you. And now… you’re no longer working for the god. Simply an ordinary man…”
Oscar looks back at her and nods, not sure what to respond to that.
Ilara nods as well, taking a sip of her tea. She sets the mug down with a gentle clatter.
“Kashar has one big weak point he doesn’t want people to know about. He, like every deity, has an anchor.”
“An anchor?” George asks.
“Yes. An artifact that contains a big part of his powers, hidden away in a temple. If that was destroyed, he’d be considerably easier to kill.”
“Where do we find that temple?” Oscar asks, his heartbeat speeding up at the thought that they might actually have a chance, no matter how slim it is.
“I can give you a map.” Ilara gets up and rummages through a drawer before handing a rolled-up paper to Oscar. He takes it with a nod.
“What can we give you in return?”
She waves her hand. “Kashar is like the plague. I appreciate that someone is getting rid of him- or at least attempting to. You’ll do the world a favor.” She pauses and looks at Oscar, her eyes boring into his. “You’re better off without him. You’ll find more forgiveness than you think.”
The words hit Oscar harder than he expected. He nods and says a quiet thank you.

They spend the night there and make their way back home the next morning.

Chapter Text

A couple days later, they’re on their way to find the temple – this time, they’re riding on horses to save some time. Oscar is tense and quiet, mostly staring ahead and thinking about what awaits them. When they arrive at the location, they tie their horses to a tree. At the X on the map, they find what looks like an entrance to a mine. They exchange a glance.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Oscar asks. “I can go myself.”
George shakes his head. “I’m not letting you to this yourself. This isn’t just for you. This is for the people suffering at Kashar’s hand. And you don’t need to carry this burden alone.”
Oscar gives him a nod and a slight smile, George’s words cutting deeper than expected. This isn’t just for you. Not just.

They light a torch and head down the stairs. For the first ten minutes, they follow the path, around many corners and down even more stairs. As the path opens up into a bigger room, George puts his hand out, gently stopping Oscar.
“Something feels off,” he whispers.
Oscar looks around, lighting the area with the torch. “There,” he says quietly. “Tripwire. Good catch. We have to be on guard.”
They carefully step over the tripwire and continue their journey, looking around the room to find out where to go next.
“There’s no door,” Oscar mutters.
“I think we have to trigger a mechanism somewhere. Or it’s something magical.”
“Well, you’re the magic expert,” Oscar retorts.
“Doesn’t mean I just know everything.
“Yeah, yeah.”
Oscar steps up to a wall with patterns made of different animals. They feel… familiar. Like he’s seen them in his dreams before. He furrows his brows, studying it for a while.
“Found something?” George asks.
“I’ve seen this before. Not sure where.”
George looks at the animals for a while. “The animals could correspond to the letter they start with.”
“I think so too,” Oscar agrees. “We just need to know what to spell… But I think I have an idea…”
Oscar presses his finger down on one square at a time. Lion. Armadillo. Wolf. Iguana. Snake. Rabbit. Elk. Armadillo. Snake. Octopus. Nightingale. George follows his every movement, whispering the sentence when it’s done. “Law is reason.” The moment Oscar touches the last square, a strange rumbling echoes through the room.
“Well done,” George murmurs. Oscar just smiles and nods, too anxious to really appreciate the praise.

They find the new path that’s opened and keep walking. Another ten minutes later, the path has gotten significantly narrower. Oscar continues as before, but George is hesitant, slower. Oscar takes notice of that.
“Something wrong?”
“Hm, what?” George asks, and Oscar is caught off guard by the undertones of fear and panic in the witch’s voice. He stops walking and looks at his face, noticing how pale he is.
“What’s wrong?”
George doesn’t respond right away, trying to think of a good way to phrase it without coming off like a coward. “I don’t… Uh. I don’t do that well with tight spaces. At all.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Oscar shakes his head. “Don’t be. Uhm, just stay behind me, okay? We can move as slowly as you need. Just… keep breathing and keep talking to me – about anything. Keep your mind busy.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah.” George exhales deeply. “Uhm…” He can’t seem to think of a single thing to talk about.
“Tell me about your potions. What kind of ingredients do you need to gather?”
It comes surprisingly naturally to Oscar to help George through this. He keeps up the conversation, reminding him to breathe every now and then. He feels an overwhelming urge to make sure he’s okay, to give back some of what he did for him when he was injured. He realizes he’s grown quite fond of George in these days they’ve spent together.

And then the path gets even tighter. George stops abruptly. Oscar sheathes his sword and turns to him, holding out his hand to hold.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, “We’ll look out for each other. We’ll get out of here. But we need to keep going.”
George stares at him for a moment before he takes his hand, their fingers lacing together. Both of them don’t move for a second, feeling a lot more at this simple touch than either of them expected. Neither of them dares to say anything about it. But they don’t pull away. They keep their hands intertwined as they walk through the narrow path. After what feels like an eternity, the path opens up and they step out into a big, round room with high ceilings. A shimmering purple light emerges from the center. On a platform, there’s a big, purple crystal with purple smoke inside of it.
And then it dawns on Oscar. He’s seen this room before.
“Oh no,” he mumbles.
“What?” George asks – and then realizes they’re still holding hands. He lets go, trying to act normal about it.
“I’ve seen this place before. In my dreams. The exact room, and the crystal and… I’ve seen it shatter…”
“What happens when you break it?”
“There’s some sort of… shadow creature in it that attacks you and… almost latches onto you. It’s both liquid and gas… Very strange.”
George furrows his brows. “How do we defeat it?”
“I don’t know. I always woke up in the middle of the fight.”
“But… we need to break it, don’t we? It’s our only chance,” George says.
“It’s our only chance,” Oscar confirms.

They both look at the crystal and then back at each other. Oscar unsheathes his sword and puts down the torch. George takes a deep breath before picking up the crystal, a tingling coursing through his fingers at the touch.
“Ready?” He asks.
Oscar raises his sword. “Ready.”
George raises the crystal high and lets it drop, shards shattering everywhere as a horrifying scream escapes the smoke that comes from it.

Oscar and George immediately take a couple steps back, trying to get a proper look at the monster that just escaped the crystal. Oscar grips his sword tightly, adrenaline pumping through his veins. George raises his arms, a turquoise glow emerging from them as he seems to be charging up some sort of attack. The smoke figure builds up into a dragon shape, and – just as Oscar described – it looks like a mix of liquid and gas, moving around strangely, almost eerily. Its tendrils shoot at the two men who start dodging them and fighting back. Oscar is fighting with his sword – he might have lost his powers, but he still has the skills Kashar taught him over the years – but his attacks don’t really seem to do anything. His sword either gets stuck in some sort of goo, or it phases through the tendril – it’s not the same for each of them. George’s magical attacks also aren’t doing proper damage, just enraging the monster more.

“How do we kill this bloody thing?” Oscar yells over, out of breath.
“I have no idea!” George yells back. “Can we even kill it?”
Oscar gets back on his feet after being knocked down. “Maybe we just need to survive and get out.”
George narrowly dodges another attack. “Get out how? The door shut behind us!”
Oscar looks over. He didn’t even notice. “Shit. Uhh. I don’t know!”

They continue fighting back and forth as George suddenly gets grabbed by a tendril, held in place as another, smaller tendril starts wrapping around his throat. Oscar runs over, panicking, trying to think of a way to make the monster stop as his own attacks have been utterly useless so far. George is trying to get out of the tendril, eyes wide as he’s being strangled slowly. They’re running out of time.
“Hey, asshole!” Oscar yells at the monster. “You are just as pathetic as Kashar. Not even giving us a chance, huh? You are embarrassing, and no one respects you- and you are insignificant. Your existence serves no purpose to anyone.”
The tendrils abruptly let go of George who gasps for air, stumbling back. The monster turns to Oscar and roars. The paladin almost laughs. Kashar’s pride will be his downfall – but he doesn’t have much time to be happy about that. A tendril shoots at him at high speed, hitting him in the face and knocking him down. George reacts quickly and runs to help him up before the tendrils can wrap around him too.

“A door opened when you yelled at it,” George says breathlessly, his hand still grabbing on to Oscar’s. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Oscar nods, a bit dazed from the hit he just took, but the adrenaline makes him push through.
They run towards the new door, dodging more attacks. George rips the door open, pulling Oscar with him, and then slams it behind them.

Chapter Text

They stumble out onto the forest floor, both falling to their knees, catching their breaths. For a moment, all they hear are the soft sounds of the forest, their own labored breaths – and a soft neigh behind them. They turn around to see that they’re back where they left their horses. There’s no door behind them.
“What the hell,” George mutters.
Oscar just lies down, still dizzy. George notices blood running down the paladin’s face and kneels next to him.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly. “Take it easy. I got you.”
“It’s fine, I’ve had worse,” Oscar mumbles.
George shakes his head and chuckles. “I’m well aware of that. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
He gently cleans the wound and mutters a quick spell to heal it – when he lifts his hand off Oscar’s forehead, the injury is almost completely gone. Minor things like that are quite easy for him to treat with a spell.
“There. Better?” George’s voice is much gentler than usual. He already tends to have a soft spot for people who have gone through tough times, but after Oscar helped him through his panic earlier, he feels a deeper connection to him.
“Yeah,” Oscar breathes. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” He stands up and helps Oscar up.

“What the hell was that thing?” George asks as the two are riding back home.
Oscar is glad they don’t have to walk back, the exhaustion and pain from the fight mixing with the chronic pain now. “I’m not sure. A weird manifestation of a part of Kashar’s powers, I guess.”
“How did you know insulting it would work?”
“I didn’t,” Oscar admits, “But… I know Kashar. I know what makes him angry, I know that he thinks he’s unbeatable, better than everyone else. I know I needed to hurt its pride.” He pauses and chuckles. “I didn’t think it’d be that easy, though.”
George can’t help but smile. “It might have something to do with the fact that it’s coming from you. Even though the oath is broken, there’s always gonna be a connection between you and Kashar. You were supposed to be obedient, bow to him, worship him as your savior – so wounding his pride like that might’ve been more effective.”
“That’s an interesting thought,” Oscar muses.

They continue their journey in silence for a while. Oscar is lost in his thoughts, feeling a spark of hope for the first time in a while.
“What’s on your mind?” George asks.
Oscar can tell that the witch’s voice has been softer towards him recently, almost tender, and it’s kind of endearing. “I’m just… thinking about the future. About what life could be if we actually figure this out and kill Kashar.”
“What would you want your life to look like?” George asks. “If you could choose.”
Oscar thinks about that for a moment, his brown eyes watching the clouds. “Well, if I could have anything, I’d get rid of my pain for good. But realistically… I think I just want a simple, quiet life, you know? One where I can manage my pain and live rather than just survive. And… as I told you before, what I want most is connection. A community. Loneliness really gets to you.”
George’s chest tightens at the pure sadness in Oscar’s voice. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be on your own for so long, only to be used by a god and then discarded again.”
“I don’t recommend it,” Oscar jokes with a slight smile, and George chuckles. “What about you, are you happy with your life?”
“You know, I think I am,” George responds. “I mean, I have my own space, but I get to venture out to town to sell my wares so I can see people whenever I want.”
“Do you like living alone?” Oscar asks curiously.
“I do,” George answers, “But it’s not like I’d hate having someone else around.” He hesitates before deciding to make an offer. “And I definitely wouldn’t mind having you around until you figure out what you want to do.”
Oscar looks over, surprised and, honestly, moved by this offer. “You mean that?”
George nods. “Yeah. I mean… we’re friends now, aren’t we? I patched you up, you helped me in the temple… we’ve got a bond now.”
Oscar smiles genuinely. “Thank you. I… it’s been a while since I’ve had a genuine connection with anyone, so… I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”

Oscar doesn’t tell George that he thinks it’s very likely he won’t survive the fight against Kashar. The moment feels too… meaningful, too soft, to ruin it with gritty realism. George returns the smile, a tender sparkle in his eyes. He replays the events of the temple in his head, the way Oscar didn’t hesitate to help him. There was no teasing for his fear, no comments, no questions, no hesitation – just support. It tells him everything he needs to know about what kind of person Oscar is. He might’ve made mistakes and gotten himself into difficult situations, but deep down, he’s a good person – someone who deserves a second chance in life.

The goal to defeat Kashar is bigger than their personal goals and dreams. It’s about everyone who’s affected by his tyranny, anyone who might fall victim to his cruelty. But yet, when George looks at Oscar’s tired, yet kind brown eyes, he feels a personal motivation to get rid of the god for good – for Oscar. As revenge, as a new beginning for the paladin, for the two of them as friends, companions. He throws a glance over at him every now and then as they’re riding back and can’t help but admire his beauty. His light brown locks, his pretty face sprinkled with beauty marks and freckles, his rosy cheeks. His chest tightens with a new feeling, an emotion that’s strange and unknown for the witch, but not unpleasant. He’s never really felt drawn to someone else in such a way, and it’s… fascinating. He makes a mental note to do a tarot reading when he’s home, to figure out what all this could mean…

Chapter Text

George stares at the card facing him. It had basically flown out of the deck at him. The Lovers. How cliché. He wants to be mad at it and ignore it, but his heart flutters at the implication. He exhales softly as he puts his deck of cards away. They got back from their journey last night and decided they’re gonna take a few days off before seeking out Kashar to fight him. They need to be properly rested and prepared. George starts working on potions and tinctures while Oscar is telling him everything he knows about Kashar and his history. George starts teaching him some witchcraft: Basic spells, potions, and similar things.

One morning, they’re out in George’s garden. Oscar looks around curiously, inspecting the different herbs, his hand gently running along some rosemary so he can inhale the scent from it.
“Rosemary is one of my favorite herbs,” George explains with a smile. “Both for cooking and witchcraft – well, those do go hand in hand.”
“How so?” Oscar asks.
“Herbs are an easy way to add some magic to your meal… Just add the right herbs with the right intentions.”
Oscar looks impressed. “What does rosemary do?”
“It wards off negative energy,” George explains, “That’s why it’s planted at the gate.”
“Huh. Interesting.” He looks up and sees a black cat approach them. George notices it too.
“Oh, that’s Mina. She visits every now and then.”
Oscar kneels down and holds out his hand for the cat to sniff. After some careful consideration, she rubs her face against his hand. He smiles. “I think she likes me.”
George, who went to grab some treats, walks back outside and smiles as well. “She’s a very good judge of character. She’s known in the village for her intuition. She won’t pay any mind to anyone who she doesn’t deem a good person.”
Oscar softens more at that, gently petting the cat. “I’m honored.”

He keeps petting Mina who’s purring happily, rubbing her head against him, and starts asking George more questions about herbs and witchcraft. George thinks it’s cute how eager he is to learn and answers all his questions patiently. Oscar hangs on every word he says, staring at him with his warm, curious eyes. George has to make sure he doesn’t make eye contact for too long because he keeps stumbling over his words whenever it happens, distracted by the intensity of Oscar’s look, by the connection between them. As they’re enjoying the first rays of sunshine of the day together, the tension between them grows heavier, more meaningful.

Oscar almost stumbles as he goes to look at some flowers and George quickly reaches out to grab him. “Careful.”
“I’m okay,” Oscar replies, trying to seem casual and like he didn’t just feel electricity shoot through him at George’s touch – the blush on his cheeks betrays him.
George smiles gently. “How’s the pain today?”
“Not too bad. Like 3 out of 10. Good day.”
“Good. I’m happy to hear that.” He reaches out and ruffles Oscar’s hair – he’s never done that before, but it feels right. Natural. Oscar turns a deeper shade of red, standing back up properly.
“Maybe I’ll help you cook today,” Oscar suggests, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.
Meanwhile, George is having a hard time focusing on the conversation instead of just staring and admiring the other man. “Sure, that… that sounds nice. I, uh… got some stuff from the market yesterday. We could make chicken and, uh…” He loses his train of thought as he sees how attentively Oscar is listening, his brown eyes fixed on George. He swallows thickly. “With, uh, a honey and rosemary glaze. And then we can glaze some carrots too.”
“That sounds really nice,” Oscar says softly.
“Okay, good.” George clears his throat. “Maybe we can harvest some other vegetables for lunch as well.”

They start walking through the garden, picking vegetables and placing them in a basket. It feels incredibly domestic, and Oscar hasn’t felt this content and at peace in a very, very long time. At one point, they reach for the same tomato and their hands brush. Both of them blush, matching the color of the tomato, and all George can think of is the Lovers card he pulled. The cards don’t lie.
“Sorry,” George mutters.
“It’s alright,” Oscar responds gently, plucking the tomato and adding it to the basket. “You started this whole garden yourself?”
George shakes his head. “My grandmother helped me. But since she passed, I’ve been managing it myself. It’s a lot of work, but I enjoy it. She used to love sitting out here or planting new things, getting rid of weeds. Whenever I work out here, it feels like I’m nurturing our connection, even beyond death.”
Oscar looks up at George. “That’s a beautiful way of looking at it.”
George smiles. “Thank you. I feel her energy with me every now and then. I’ll always carry a part of her with me, whether that’s in gardening or just… any of the wisdom she’s passed on to me.”
As Oscar opens his mouth to respond, Mina, who has been sitting and watching them quietly, suddenly perks up and bolts away from the house. George furrows his brows.
“That’s… odd. She never leaves like this.”
The two men look at each other for a moment, concerned. “What do you think that means?” Oscar asks.
“I’m not sure,” George mutters, “but it can’t be anything good. Let’s head inside and-“

He gets interrupted by a loud rumble and – in an instant – the sky turns dark. Not black, no. Dark purple. Oscar’s heart drops. He knows what this means. They immediately stand up and walk out of the back gate of the garden, towards the woods, where a tall figure approaches them. George has never seen the god, and it’s a menacing view. With heavy footsteps, the deity makes his way towards them. Oscar looks at his face. He’s never seen him so angry, not even when he broke his oath. Kashar stops a few meters in front of them, glaring down at Oscar, and his voice booms out, dripping with disgust and fury.

“You idiot. You think you’re so clever, going to my temple, trying to weaken me, huh? You think you stand any chance against me? I will crush you like a bug, like I should’ve done the very first day I met you. You’ve been nothing but a nuisance, and I will do the world a favor by destroying you. And you.” He turns his attention to George. “You are naïve and absolutely idiotic for helping this man. You’ve sealed your own fate. I will crush you too. Your little magic tricks don’t hold up against a god, you will see.”

George and Oscar exchange one more look, knowing that this is it. There’s no turning back. And they might not live through this, but they will take on the fight anyway. Oscar searches George’s eyes, wanting to make sure he wants to be part of that fight, that this is his choice. George’s look is determined. He gives the paladin a nod. They’re doing this together now.

Chapter Text

George pushes back his sleeves and quickly summons Oscar’s sword, handing it to him. They step closer to Kashar, who laughs in their faces. “Pathetic,” he mutters. George starts the fight by shooting a spell at Kashar, but he deflects it easily. Oscar starts attacking with his sword. He might not have his powers anymore, but he’s well trained and agile – and Kashar is weakened. He can tell just by looking at him, at the smoke surrounding him, that destroying the crystal had an actual effect on his strength. Kashar creates a sword out of his purple smoke and swipes at Oscar who narrowly dodges it. The god roars, getting increasingly angry and frustrated. His strikes start becoming more aggressive, more vicious, and he hits Oscar’s arm. The paladin groans and stumbles back, blood trickling down his arm. Kashar goes for a second strike on him, but George stops him with a quick barrier spell. Oscar takes advantage of his distraction and lands a blow.

The back and forth is relentless, exhausting. The adrenaline is pushing Oscar through, but they’re both sustaining more and more injuries as Kashar is using more of his powers. The god puffs out his chest, the smoke encircling him closer, feeding him more power. He lands a heavy punch on George, who hits the floor with a loud thud and doesn’t move anymore. Oscar’s heart is in his throat – he wants to run over, make sure he’s still breathing, but Kashar stops him, slashing across his chest. Oscar lets out an agonizing cry of pain. He’s covered in blood, shaking, barely able to fight back. He drops to his knees, his chest heaving.

Kashar steps up to him and leans down to hold Oscar’s chin, forcing him to look up at him.
“Just as I thought,” he taunts. “Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. You won’t be missed when you’re gone. The world will stay the same without you.” He lets his look glide over all the blood on Oscar’s body, and chuckles. “All this blood and pain, just to die as a wannabe. You went from a nobody to my puppet, to a nobody yet again. What a shame…”
He raises his sword and reaches out to slide it across Oscar’s neck. But he gets stopped by a glowing wall that sets itself between the blade and Oscar’s skin. Kashar looks over to see George standing up, bloodied and bruised, his hands raised as he’s straining to keep the spell up. And for a moment, George and Oscar make eye contact, and the witch gives him a firm nod.

Oscar pulls back his sword and uses all his strength to drive it through Kashar’s neck. Dark purple bloods sprays in every direction. Kashar’s eyes widen, his claws gripping his neck as he chokes on his own blood. Oscar stands up and staggers away from him, staring at him.
“I might be a nobody,” he breathes, “But your death will be celebrated across the land.”
He stares into Kashar’s eyes as he takes his final breath. Then he steps up and carefully moves his body with his foot, wanting to make sure he’s actually dead. The fog starts dissipating, seemingly blowing in the wind. Oscar realizes it’s taking Kashar’s body with it. Soon, only a skeleton is left. Oscar takes a shaky breath and then stumbles over to George.

“Oscar,” George breathes out.
The paladin kneels down next to George. “Are you okay?”
George nods. “Yeah. Are you? You look… rough?”
Oscar lets out a soft, breathy laugh. “Don’t worry about me. I’m used to pain, remember?”
George rolls his eyes, groaning as he pushes himself to sit up. “You’re an idiot.”
He starts muttering healing spells under his breath, both for Oscar and himself, to heal the worst injuries.
“This one looks bad,” he comments as he looks at the cut on Oscar’s chest.
“It hurts pretty bad,” Oscar admits.
George glances up at his face before focusing on his chest again. “Let me heal it as much as I can, then I’ll get us some potions.”

A couple of minutes later, they both drink some healing potions. George gently starts cleaning the blood off Oscar’s face. They’re still outside, sitting in the grass, the sun shining down on them softly. Oscar stares at George while his face is being cleaned off. George tries to act casual about it, but it makes his heart race again.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
George’s hand rests on Oscar’s face, rubbing his cheek gently. They look at each other, the silence heavy with unspoken words and emotions.
“Oscar…” George isn’t quite sure how to express himself, the words getting stuck in his throat, but somehow, they’re faces keep moving closer. Oscar’s eyes dart down to George’s lips.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Oscar whispers, “I feel it too.”
George exhales softly, his hand still cradling the other man’s face gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on his flushed skin.

“I’d like to kiss you,” George breathes out.
Oscar smiles. “I’d like that too.”
George smiles back and leans in to close the distance between them. The kiss is soft, tentative, careful – after all, they’re both still injured and in pain. But it feels right. There’s a deep understanding and tenderness in it. George is holding Oscar’s face with both hands, making sure not to hurt him. Oscar’s hands find George’s waist. When they pull back, they put their foreheads together. They stay like this for a while, eyes closed, in their own world. A bit further away, Mina has returned and is sleeping in the sun. Birds are chirping and for the first time in many, many years, Oscar feels… okay. Despite the pain from the fight, he feels hopeful and positive and… loved. Appreciated by another person the way he has never been before. It’s a strange feeling, but so incredibly beautiful. He never wants to move away from George; stay being held by him until the end of time.
“Maybe I will stay in your hut for longer,” Oscar whispers.
George smiles. “I’m counting on it.” He presses a gentle kiss against his forehead. “Let’s get properly cleaned up and make sure our wounds are taken care of,” he adds, his voice still soft, as if worried to ruin the moment they’re having.

“I’m still thinking about that honey glaze,” Oscar mutters against him, and they both laugh.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us for the rest of the day,” George responds, leaning down to kiss Oscar again, hoping the other man can feel how much he cares for him through it.

Chapter Text

George is standing in the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he’s adding turmeric to his potion, stirring slowly. He’s been perfecting this potion for months, adjusting ratios, trying to get it just right. Oscar’s feedback has been positive – it’s really helping him manage his chronic pain, but George wants to improve it even further. It’s been six months since they’ve defeated Kashar. Life has been… quiet. Soft. Peaceful. George is teaching Oscar new things about witchcraft while Oscar teaches him how to bake and fight. They’ve been partners ever since that kiss, enjoying each other’s company and helping each other as much as they can.

After a few weeks, George had convinced Oscar to go into town with him, to meet some people. The townsfolk were hesitant at first – Oscar’s reputation preceded him – and they didn’t really want anything to do with someone known for being this ruthless. But as they explained everything and returned more often, the people started warming up to Oscar. They trusted George, so they started trusting the paladin as well. Oscar started making amends, talking to people he had to punish, apologizing, offering food to make up for what he did. Most forgave him. Some didn’t, but he was expecting that. He needed to find a way to live with it either way. But word has spread that he has good intentions, that he’s half the reason why Kashar’s tyranny ended.

Some days are tough for Oscar. It’s a long process to overcome the guilt and shame, but George is willing to support him every step of the way. He’s fallen hard and fast for the other man and swore he’d take care of him – whether that’s brewing potions to help his pain or just hold him in his arms when he’s having a tough day. And Oscar gives back as much as he can, showing his love as fiercely and openly as he can. Right now, he’s out in a meadow, carefully picking some flowers to make a nice bouquet for his partner. He meant to find some herbs but got sidetracked when he found this spot. Now he’s carefully considering which colors and textures are missing from the bouquet until he’s finally satisfied with it. 30 minutes later, he enters George’s hut with a small pouch full of herbs and the bouquet.

George turns to the door and his lips curve into a soft smile as he sees the flowers. “D’you get distracted?”
Oscar grins and holds the bouquet out to him. “I did – here, for you, my love.”
George tries and fails miserably to look casual and collected, his face lighting up as he takes a closer look at the carefully crafted bouquet. It’s clear he put in effort: The colors go together well, it’s a beautiful mix of purples, lilacs, blues and pinks, along with some weeds to make it feel fuller. George immediately puts it in a vase and adds a potion to the water to make the flowers last longer. He turns back to Oscar.
“I love them. Thank you so much.” He leans in and kisses Oscar gently – and the paladin basically melts into the kiss, his hands finding George’s waist.
“I’m glad,” he murmurs back.

George lets the pain relief potion for Oscar sit for a bit. In the meantime, he tends to Oscar’s scars – specifically the one across his chest that Kashar gave him. They sit down together as George pulls out the ointment and gently applies it to the scar. Oscar sits patiently, watching his partner’s face. He’s somehow even prettier when he’s focused.
“I can feel you staring, you know,” George comments, his hands working diligently.
“I know,” Oscar responds, a lopsided smile on his face.
George smiles and rolls his eyes fondly. “It’s healing well. Shouldn’t cause problems in the long run. But it’s not gonna go away.”
“I know that,” the paladin answers, “But I don’t mind. It’s proof of the fight I had. Of the battle we’ve won together. I quite like that.”
George smiles and presses a kiss to his forehead before buttoning his shirt up again. “There we go.”
Oscar immediately pulls him against his chest, burying his face in the other’s neck. George holds him close, making Oscar relax more, basically melting against him.

“You know,” Oscar says, his voice muffled in George’s neck, “For the first time in my life I feel like I’m allowed to not be strong all the time.”
George’s smile widens. “You are. You can be anything you need to be. And you don’t have to be anything.”
“You’re turning me into a softie,” Oscar mutters.
George laughs. “Is that a promise?”
“Might as well be.”
“Good,” the witch mutters back, grasping Oscar just a tiny bit tighter.

They stay like that for a while – in their own perfect bubble where no one could bother them or harm them. They’re both well aware that life isn’t gonna be all sunshine and rainbows – it definitely hasn’t been so far. Especially Oscar has been through more than anyone ever should. But for now, they get to rest and enjoy life: They’ll bake and cook, work in the garden, create potions and spells, and learn from and about each other every single day. What a privilege it is to love someone so deeply and get to see their smile every day. And when challenges will eventually rise again? They will face them together. They make a great team, after all, the Oathbreaker paladin and the witch.