ʚ♡ɞ nobody loves me the way that you love me

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Tiberius' plight had been honourable, he had told himself.

He'd struggled for so goddamn long, for what felt like more than his goddamn years — and with the way the kids were not quite kids anymore, building up their empire from the remains of his own, Tiberius had told himself he deserved some time to try and find out who he was, now. Who he might've been, had he been given the chance, and who he was without the weight of responsibility pushing down on his shoulders. 

Only, once again, his choice had been taken from him in the same goddamn strange magic that had taken him four times before, and once more Tiberius was the unwilling participant to relocation. He woke, groggy, in an unfamiliar terrain with the clear memory of having not settled there, and he suffered a grand sigh that made his molten gaze glimmer with something unknown. Something tired.

There were no witches this time, no body of a man that could turn into a wolf, and no one to sell his Soul to in order to get back to his waiting family. Olive was dead, Lana was gone, so was Bunny, and his children weren't children, living their own lives and Kuhn — Kuhn had turned. He turned on his children, on the children he had watched grow, and it had been the very thing Tiberius couldn't have ever forgiven him for.

Now, though, Tiberius blinked blearily as the unfamiliar terrain welcomed him, and his yawn came slowly, loudly, as he blinked the sleep away. He noticed almost immediately that it was goddamn fucking warm, and it filled him with a discomfort he wasn't quite used to. A man not born in the North but made for the North, his fur was thick and built for the hardier weather, and even at Gossamer he hadn't felt a warmth like this.

It made him feel sticky.

He wanted to find water, but in the end, he didn't need to look far. He'd seen plenty of stuff by now, and known that magic was real — magic had made him, in one body, and it played with him in them all. Yet he hadn't seen a goddamn leaf by the size as a goddamn boat and float down the goddamn river. He blinked slowly, his mouth agape — just where the hell had he been taken this goddamn time.

The titan was quick to recover, finding that in the end, it wasn't as strange as some things he had seen, and instead opted to venture closer to the water to see if it was cool as he needed, or warm as the sticky air around him. Cool, he found, as he lapped at the cool liquid and let it draw his attention for a few moments as he drank like a man parched. Still, he eyed the leafy boats, and found that there was something child-like in him that made him want to see if he could stand on one.

So he did.

Tiberius stood in the leaf boat as it trailed down the river, finding that this was still stranger than when he had been banging on the witches doors, demanding they take from him what they wanted so long as he could gain passage home. Unsure how long he had let himself be carried by the boat, the titan lunged back towards the soft grass, finding he preferred the solid ground to the rocking boat.

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It had been a while since he had come across someone who was a total stranger to him, and it had been just as long since he was looked at like the beast he appeared to be on the outside. Tiberius wasn't going to say he hadn't done horrible things, and that he wasn't capable of them if he had to choose to do them again — when faced with the right thing to do, or the wrong thing, and his loved ones... Tiberius would do them all over again. He would do worse, he knew.

Still, it had been some time since he had come to terms with the state of his appearance now, no longer boyish and handsome but beastly and intimidating, and it jarred him for a moment to see someone so genuinely afraid of him. She wasn't someone that he would seek to find fear in, either, from first glance. Blonde, so impossibly blonde and trembling, a vision of what beauty would be if one thought about it off the cuff, and scared.

Of him.

It wasn't his first rodeo, even if he was rusty, and Tiberius let his shoulders drop as he tried to make himself appear less big and bold in her vision. She lifted her head, still shaking like a leaf, but bolder than he might have assumed and Tiberius knew that he couldn't offer her a charming, boyish smile when one half of his face was stiff with scarring, so he settled for dropping his rump to the ground casually.

Kill her? Is that what others thought of him, when they didn't know him? Tiberius frowned, "ain't 'ere t'kill yer, darlin'. Wha' makes yer think tha'?" He knew, though. His face. His scars. Him. His stomach churned but he ignored it; if talking to her would help her appreciate the fact he wasn't here to kill her, then talk he would. Tiberius let his body droop until his belly was flat against the ground, appearing to be down on her level, as he actively ignored the sticky heat as it clung to him like a second skin.

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She looked rattled and Tiberius didn't blame her. He forgot that those he had spent so many months with were used to him, used to the way his scars cut an ugly picture across what might have been a charming face, and to her, he was a stranger. Someone who had just all but thrown themselves off of a goddamn leaf boat, and if she was like him in any way, she'd be wondering what the hell was even happening.

So he afforded her more grace than he might've before, 'cause this entire place was strange and she was so small, compared to him, and looked as if she didn't know what it might be to feel the cutting stain of teeth or claw on her skin. Whether or not that true, he didn't know, 'cause this might not even be a body she knew, but she was allowed more grace. 

Really, Tiberius thought she looked a bit offended, amongst her trembling fear, that he was even there. The titan was nearly amused, if not for the genuine look of concern that was written upon her face. She was analysing him, he thought, with the way he watched her cycle through small expressions and the flare of her nose and almost childishly, Tiberius thought fine, he would catalogue her. Immediately when he let himself, he noted the way honey and lemon invaded his senses, and something else he didn't know, and he nearly laughed at the way it all made sense. She looked how she would smell, he decided.

Then, she surprised him, with the way her voice sounded like it meant what it was saying, only she didn't get all the way before she cut herself off. She knew when men do, and that caused his frown to deepen. He looked at then, trying to look past the pretty blonde fur, and wondered if he was far too blind to see what lingered beneath the surface.

Rattled once again, but seemingly for different reasons, she shrunk back in shock, he thought, and demanded of him his actions. Tiberius kicked out his hind legs so that they splayed out on the grass behind him and casually, the titan crossed his forelegs across each other and dipped his scruffy chin down onto scarred legs.

"Layin'," he said casually, "whaddya doin'?" Tiberius retorted as he eyed her, huffing and puffing as she tried to catch her breath. She knew what men do, she said, but Tiberius wasn't the kind of man she had met before, if that was of any indication that she couldn't even understand him trying to appear not intimidating or worthy of her fear.

He rolled his shoulders as he glanced at her, tucking his mangled cheek against his leg so that less of it could be seen by her, and hopefully, she might feel a bit less inclined to tremble.

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He wanted to know what was whirling around in that brain of hers. It was clear that she was in an inner battle with herself, if anything for the silence that stretched over them, and really, Tiberius didn't mind. He wasn't always a great conversationalist, and he wasn't so thick to think that laying down was going to wash away her fear entirely. As if hiding part of his face would suddenly make a huge difference, 'cause she'd already seen it, but he'd hoped it might help her at least somewhat.

Still, he let himself focus on trying to ignore the sticky air as it clung to his thick fur and he, for a moment, missed the North. He missed Gossamer above all, but the North had become quite special to him, in the end. Nothing Northern was here, no, quite the fuckin' opposite. Heat that was nearly oppressive and the scent of honey and lemon assaulting his nose, only it wasn't an assault if he found himself sniffing to catch another whiff, and really, Tiberius knew no matter what he did, he couldn't shift the way he hated to see her so scared of him.

She wasn't his enemy, or someone he wanted to intimidate, and yet it happened so easily. Would she have been, had she known him all that time ago, before half of his face was torn asunder? 

Tiberius frowned, recalling the way Lana had to bring him back from the brink, the way he'd floundered over wondering if Olive would still love him with half a face, and had been terrified for his children to see him.

That had been a while ago, and yet now, he was faced with someone who was scared all the same.

His throat bobbed against his leg as he swallowed, opting to casually watch her as she went through all the different emotions she felt in that moment. Blonde ears flattened and he trailed the movements before trailing back to her face, her scrunching nose, and her opened mouth as sounds so small left her. He wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't something that told him what he was trying to do, was working.

Then she was up. On her feet, unsteady and sudden, and Tiberius found himself blinking in surprise. He didn't flinch up or away, instead remaining where he was. Whatever she was up to, Tiberius was perhaps half cocky and half confident in his abilities that if she tried anything untoward, he'd be able to ward her off, and if this was an entirely curious thing, well, she was the one who needed reassuring. Not him.

It was a surprise, in a way, yet he shouldn't have been given her earlier slight temper. She was a bit fiery, and Tiberius' molten gaze twinkled with something akin to approval at the way she threw attitude at him. He didn't mind her being fiery, but didn't want her to be fiery 'cause she was scared. He wanted her fiery 'cause she knew he wouldn't do anything in return. "Not layin'," he agreed in a rumble, tilting his cheek against his leg as he watched her.

She was a complex little thing, all of her little mannerisms and the way what she felt and thought was written so plainly across every little sliver of her — he supposed, anyway, 'cause Tiberius couldn't quite see past the nerves and curiosity she wore. She stepped forward, small, yet purposeful, and Tiberius remained where he was.

His tail lay on the grass between his splayed legs, and his molten gaze watched her quietly.

He waited, breath baited, to see what she would do.

See what her fire pushed her to do, what her bravery looked like.

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A part of him waited for her to switch up, to decide that it was far too much and she wanted to escape. He couldn't blame her, not with how scared she had been when she had noticed him to begin with, and if she were to turn tail and flee, Tiberius would not blame her. Yet — she did not. Despite the way she shook, despite the way she trembled from her ears to her tail tip, she persevered. 

Hesitation may grasp her petite frame, but it did not make the final decision. She looked at him, eyes impossibly deep with both sun and sea, and moved. It was slow and it was purposeful, but it was a step closer to him. And another, and with each step he watched her unfold. Fear bled away, or perhaps it was masked, and she stood straighter.

The golden sprite moved, eating up the distance in polite, neat bites, and swallowing them whole until she was practically before him. If she inclined her leg, she might touch him, but her paws remained on the ground and she looked at him as if she were having an inner battle. Tiberius kept his mangled face angled on his leg so that he did not scare her off within seconds of her spine strengthening, and watched her curiously.

Before her he remained bowed, laid on his belly and face resting on his leg, and he let her delicate hands keep hold of the reins. It was oddly full of anticipation, as she battled and waged her inner war, and then she looked at him and he startled at the way determination lined the delicate details of her face.

"'Ello," he rumbled quietly, blinking at her to see what her next decision would be. The control was hers as she navigated the situation, and Tiberius would remain a willing participant in whatever she chose.

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He didn't know what he was expecting, and usually, the titan was pretty good at observing in situations that might be tense. But the little wolf had him on the edge of his seat as he tried to decipher what her plan was, what her goal was. He was under her scrutiny, that much was clear, with the way her two toned gaze washed over him, flittering back and forth — what she was looking for, he couldn't be sure.

Tiberius' remained where he lay, tail tip twitching against the grass as he watched her all but a huff a little breath, and his non-damaged brow quirked as he watched her. She stood near him, above him, and then demanded. Surprise coiled in his belly and flashed in his molten gaze as he eyed her; she wanted to see? His eyes glanced to her tongue as it slid against her lips — was it nerves? — before he looked back to her waiting gaze, and then clarified it for him without the need to ask.

His face. She wanted to see his face, his marred flesh, and Tiberius couldn't figure out why. She had seemed to recoil at first sight of him and it took no genius to know it was with the way he torn, marred and disfigured. Not just his face, but the ones that lined his body, too, but now the little wolf desired to see him.

She leaned in and Tiberius breathed heavily through his nose as he squinted at her. She didn't seem the type to want to laugh at his expense, not after the way she trembled, but then she said please and Tiberius was unable to disengage from the way it pooled in his belly. "Alrigh'," he said, voice rough against his throat, "as yer asked so nicely." Demanded at firs', he mused.

He watched her, molten gaze not leaving her face as he lifted his head from his leg and held his head aloft for her. Tiberius stared at her straight on, unflinching in the way he revealed to her what she desired, and despite the way he had long since come to terms with the disfigurement, it felt oddly... intimate, to have her so near and all but goddamn inspect him.

The very scarring that had sent him over the edge when it had first been healing. The scarring that had at first convinced him Olive's love would disappear at the first sight of it, fresh, red and raw. Weeping. Infected, it had been not long after. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, molten gaze blazing as he waited to see if she had got what she wanted.

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Tiberius knew better than most to not judge someone by their appearance. To the world, she likely looked like a sweet flower that trembled in the wind, and he wasn't going to say she wasn't sweet, but he wasn't going to say he didn't see the spark in her eyes. The touch of wildfire that glistened, the iron in her spine that pushed her forward to him when she could have succumbed to the tremble of her body.

She encroached, eating up the remaining space between them and Tiberius remained where he lay; bare for her to see. Each ridge of his torn face, each missing piece of flesh. She looked at him, pale eyes roving without stopping, drinking in each detail of him. He didn't see disgust; he supposed that was the main thing.

Her breath did catch in her throat, but he could not blame her. It was gruesome, and if she hadn't seen anything like it up close, well, it was going to be a shock, wasn't it? She remained. She did not move away, did not scream, did not sneer. She remained. He looked back at her, expression clear as he watched her, giving him the time to take in the more intricate details that made up her features now that she had wanted to come up close and personal.

Sunflower eyes with a sliver of seafoam — seafoam had him faltering as he momentarily thought of Lana, but where hers were all seafoam and bright, this girls eyes were mixed, pale yet fitting with the blonde of her fur. He didn't want her disgust as much as he didn't want her pity, and Tiberius would have balked had he seen it on her delicate features.

His lip quirked against his tooth as he felt a sliver of amusement; hurt was a small word, in the end. "Aye," he nodded, "but I 'eld m'own." He hadn't laid down and taken it. He thought of Vera, the damage that they had done to each other in the end, her dishonour shattering his own moral code. He thought of the Walrus that had tried taking Olive from him. He thought of the feline that had trespassed. He thought of them all, and knew he would do it all over again.

There was no decision he could make any differently; he had made them all out of need to protect, to care for those in his charge. In his heart, for one of them. "Scars come wit' tha territory," Tiberius told her honestly, and it was quite literally in some cases, too. "I'll gladly pay wit' flesh an' blood fer my beliefs," for his family, for his responsibilities, for the right thing.

The scars that lingered inside, the ones that battered and bruised his aching heart was different. He hadn't given those freely, and they hurt far more than the ones that mangled his flesh.

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He didn't shy away from the way her eyes drank him in, observed and interrogated every inch of horrible, red, marred flesh. He would do it all again in a heart beat, he had said, and he stood by it. He would lose every part of himself if it meant protecting those within his heart. Did she know that feeling? Did she know what it meant to offer yourself at the altar so willingly?

A part of him hoped not. But the pretty weren't saved from pain, he knew that. Olive had been so pretty, silken, snow-like fur, forest green eyes. She had been pretty but pain had come for her anyway. This wolf — sunshine incarnate in golden fur and sunflower eyes wouldn't be spared either. He hated it.

He had been born for it, built for it. To withstand the storm, to be the teeth and the sword and the killing blow. It's what he was made for. What he was made up of. So he accepted his role in these worlds, accepted the way he bled for it, accepted the way he loved and lost and inwardly screamed for it.

He hoped she didn't have to.

Tiberius blinked for a moment when he heard it.

you ain't so scary up close.

She said it soft, her voice shaking in her throat and wobbling on her tongue, but he found no hint of a lie. His chuckle came, quiet in the way it rumbled from his throat and puffed out once, twice, and then died. "Naw?" Tiberius mused, "well, i'll take tha' as a win, then." He had been scary before, it would seem, but now she could see every line and bump of his flesh, she had made a different judgement.

His eyes, molten and bright, watched her. Her admission came and he wasn't surprised, it would be many peoples first thought of him and he couldn't hold it against her for what the general consensus would think, too. She had her God, not Gods, and she had been tested. His brow furrowed, mangled ear twitching. "Wha' punishments 'e given yer 'fore?" Another man, she had said, and it had been punishment. 

Tiberius' snarl lay lodged in his throat, not making its way up to be heard.

Molten depths shifted to the movement of her paw, her low hung tail, the way she was still tucked into herself. What dream was this, that he would conjure her?

The closest he had come to religion had been Olive. What would he change? Tiberius blinked at her, quiet, and thought if this was but a dream, did it matter if his truth was spoken? It would go nowhere but in his subconscious. But was this a dream? He had seen weirder realities, been part of them, so this could be one too.

"I 'ave no gods," he told her honestly, "I pray for nothin'." He paused, "ta no one." But she did. He glanced to the sky, the sticky heat still clinging to his fur and skin, and wondered how long she had, for such a loaded question. "I ain't wantin' ta change much. I take tha 'and I'm dealt," Tiberius told her, "bu' I'd give m'kids their mama back, if I could."

It was heavy in his chest.

Poison on his tongue.

Tiberius glanced back down to her from the sky, and looked at a different kind of Sunshine. "We weren't together no more, an' I couldn't save 'er. I saved 'er 'fore, bu' even I cain't control nature. Control tha way tha world goes." He'd have tried, though. He had tried, multiple times. He had protected Olive from everyone but herself, but from direct death.

What would she think of him now?

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