Merlin TV Universe, Willowbrook Village
Time: Year 1, Month 1, Day 5
Current Celestial Points: 150
Celestial Points Gathered (This Year): 150/1000
Monthly Roll: 0/1
---
[ 140 Celestial Points Gained. Total: 150 ]
Two weeks after that night with Thomas, Amara stood in Martha's bedroom as the older woman made final adjustments to her wedding dress. The cream-colored wool felt soft against her skin, though she missed the sensitivity of her true form's sensory hairs.
"Hold still, dear," Martha murmured around a mouthful of pins. She knelt at Amara's feet, carefully marking the hem. "We want everything perfect for tomorrow."
Amara stared at her reflection in the small mirror propped against the wall. The dress was simple but well-made, with tiny embroidered flowers along the neckline - Martha's special touch. Her black hair fell loose past her shoulders, and her dark eyes seemed larger than usual.
"Thomas won't be able to take his eyes off you," Martha said, sitting back on her heels. She wiped sweat from her brow with her sleeve. "Though I daresay he already can't."
That was true enough. Thomas had been almost insufferable these past weeks, constantly seeking her out for mating. The human shell responded eagerly each time, but Amara found the frequency tiresome when she was left bedridden the entire time.
"You're very quiet today," Martha mentioned, rising slowly to her feet. Her knees cracked with the movement. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"
Amara considered how a human bride should act. "A little," she said softly, lowering her eyes.
Martha patted her cheek. "That's natural, dear. I was terrified on my wedding day. Could barely eat breakfast." She smoothed the fabric across Amara's shoulders. "But once you're standing before Father Michael with Thomas, everything else falls away."
The door creaked open and Thomas poked his head in. Martha immediately shooed him back.
"Out! You can't see the dress before tomorrow - it's bad luck!"
Thomas laughed, holding up his hands. "Sorry, Mother. I'll go back to chopping wood." He winked at Amara before leaving.
Martha shook her head, but smiled fondly. "That boy... Now, where was I? Ah yes - when Father Michael asks for your vows..."
Amara's thoughts drifted to her children in the forest. They brought her cooked meat now, understanding her need to maintain appearances. Some had even learned to butcher prey the way humans did, making it easier for her to eat without suspicion.
"Amara? Are you listening?"
"Yes," Amara blinked, focusing on Martha again. "I promise to love, honor, and obey."
"Good girl." Martha patted her cheek. "You'll make Thomas very happy. And soon we'll have a little one to spoil..."
Amara placed a hand on her stomach, where a child might be growing. She still couldn't tell - this human body's signals were confusing.
"I hope so," she said softly, because that's what a human woman would say.
Later that afternoon, Amara walked to the village well where Sarah worked. The tavern girl had become a frequent companion over the past weeks, teaching her about human customs and gossip.
"There's my favorite bride-to-be!" Sarah called out, wisps of flame-colored hair clinging to her flushed face as she lifted a bucket from the well. "Come help me carry these inside."
Amara grabbed two buckets, following Sarah into the tavern's kitchen. The cook barely glanced up from kneading bread dough as they entered.
"Martha's done wonders with that dress," Sarah mentioned, pouring water into large pots. "I saw you through the window earlier. The embroidery looks beautiful."
"She worked very hard on it." Amara mimicked the way other women smiled when discussing things they liked.
"And how's Thomas handling the wait?" Sarah wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Still sneaking into your room every night?"
Amara tilted her head. "He comes to mate frequently."
Sarah nearly dropped her bucket, sputtering with laughter. "Gods, Amara! You can't just say things like that!" She wiped tears from her eyes. "But I suppose that's why you're getting married so quickly, isn't it?"
"Martha wants grandchildren," Amara stated simply.
"Don't we all know it." Sarah grinned. "She's been telling everyone who'll listen about the baby you'll be carrying after the marriage."
The kitchen door creaked open and James slipped inside. He smiled when he saw Amara.
"Ladies," he nodded to them both. "Sarah, your father needs help with some rowdy customers."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "There's always rowdy customers." She hurried out, leaving Amara alone with James.
"You look lovely today," James moved closer, reaching out to touch Amara's hair. "That color brings out your eyes."
Amara remembered Martha's lessons about being alone with men, but she wasn't sure what to do. Running away would draw attention. Staying still seemed safer - like waiting in a web.
She lowered her eyes as James approached, the way Martha had taught her. Her fingers twisted in her skirts, mimicking the nervous gestures she'd seen other village women make.
"You know," James spoke softly, moving closer. "It's tradition for a bride to receive well-wishes from everyone in the village before her wedding."
Amara kept her gaze down. "Martha didn't mention that."
"Oh?" James reached out, lifting her chin with one finger. "But you wouldn't remember customs, would you? With your memories gone and all..."
Amara blinked at him. Her heart beat faster, but not from fear. These bodies responded so strangely to touch.
"What kind of well-wishes?" she asked, voice quiet.
James smiled. "A kiss for luck. To ensure a happy marriage." His thumb brushed across her lower lip. "It would be terribly unlucky to refuse."
She hadn’t known that, but Amara needed to learn human customs. And Martha had said to be agreeable...
James leaned in, pressing his mouth against hers. The kiss was different from Thomas's - harder, more demanding. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer.
Amara allowed it. Her skin tingled pleasantly, much like when Thomas kissed her. Interesting how these bodies reacted the same way to different males.
James pulled back after a moment, looking pleased with himself. "There. Now you'll have good fortune in your marriage." He winked and walked away, whistling.
Amara touched her lips, puzzled. Humans had such odd rituals around mating.
Sarah burst back into the kitchen, face flushed from dealing with customers. "Sorry about that! Some farmers got into an argument over sheep prices." She grabbed another bucket. "Now, where were we? Oh yes - the wedding! Have you decided how to wear your hair?"
"Martha wants it braided with flowers," Amara said, following Sarah to the well again.
"Perfect! We can gather some late blooms from the meadow tomorrow morning." Sarah hauled up more water. "And don't worry if you feel nervous. Just remember to smile and nod when Father Michael speaks."
Amara helped Sarah carry the water back to the tavern, listening to her chatter about wedding preparations. The day passed quickly, and soon Martha was hurrying her home to rest before the ceremony.
"A bride needs her sleep," Martha insisted, shooing her toward bed.
Amara lay awake in the darkness, counting heartbeats like she used to count prey struggling in her webs.
Martha woke her early, before the roosters started crowing. "Up you get, dear. We have so much to do!"
Sarah arrived with an armful of white flowers, already dressed in her best gown. Together, they helped Amara into her wedding dress while Martha fussed over every detail.
"Hold still," Sarah whispered, weaving flowers into Amara's braided hair. "These little ones keep slipping."
Martha dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "You look beautiful, dear. Just beautiful."
Amara studied her reflection. The cream-colored wool dress fit perfectly now, flowing down to her ankles. White flowers crowned her dark hair, and her cheeks looked pink from all the attention.
"Remember what I taught you," Martha straightened Amara's skirts one last time. "Eyes down, speak softly, and-"
"Let Thomas lead," Amara finished. She'd memorized all the rules.
The small church filled with villagers. Amara waited outside while Martha arranged her dress and veil. She could smell the nervous sweat on the humans around her, hear their excited whispers.
"Ready?" Martha squeezed her hand.
Amara nodded, keeping her eyes lowered. The church doors opened, and she walked inside with small, measured steps.
Wooden benches creaked as people turned to watch her. The stone floor felt cold through her thin shoes. Candles flickered in wall sconces, filling the air with the scent of beeswax.
Thomas stood at the altar, wearing his best clothes. His face brightened when he saw her. Will the blacksmith stood beside him as his witness, both men cleaned up and freshly shaved.
Father Michael waited with his hands clasped, wearing simple brown robes. The old priest's eyes were kind as Amara approached.
"Dearly beloved," he began in a clear voice. "We gather here today..."
Amara focused on breathing slowly, the way humans did when trying to stay calm. The veil Martha had arranged tickled her cheeks. She wanted to brush it away but remembered she should stand still.
Thomas took her hand when Father Michael instructed. His palm felt warm and slightly damp. She remembered to squeeze back gently, the way she'd seen other women do.
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"Do you, Thomas, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." Thomas smiled at her, his voice steady and sure.
"And do you, Amara, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do." She kept her voice soft, just as Martha had practiced with her.
The rings were simple bands of iron that Will had made as a wedding gift. Thomas slipped one onto her finger with trembling hands. She put the other on his finger more smoothly.
"I now pronounce you man and wife." Father Michael raised his hands in blessing. "You may kiss the bride."
Thomas lifted her veil carefully. His kiss was gentle, mindful of their audience. The villagers clapped and cheered.
Martha rushed forward to embrace them both, tears streaming down her face. "My children," she kept saying. "My beautiful children."
Sarah hugged Amara next, then more villagers came to offer congratulations. Amara remembered to smile and thank them quietly, the way a proper wife should.
The celebration moved to the tavern, where Martha had arranged a small feast. Fresh bread and cheese filled wooden platters. Someone brought out cups of ale.
"To the happy couple!" Will raised his cup. Everyone drank.
Thomas kept one arm around Amara's waist as they accepted more well-wishes. She noticed James watching from across the room but didn't meet his eyes.
"Are you happy?" Thomas whispered in her ear.
Amara considered the question. The human shell felt warm and content. "Yes," she answered.
Three months slipped by like water through a stream. Winter settled over Willowbrook, bringing short days and long nights. Amara adjusted to married life, learning to cook meals and keep house the way Martha taught her.
Every morning, she walked to the edge of the village to collect eggs from the chicken coop. The hens no longer scattered when she approached - they'd grown used to her presence. On her way back, she would stop at a hidden spot where her children left carefully prepared meat.
The villagers noticed her growing belly with approval. Martha beamed whenever she saw Amara, already planning for the baby's arrival.
"You're carrying high," Martha observed one morning as Amara helped her mend clothes. "That means a boy, mark my words."
Amara smoothed a hand over the small bump beneath her dress. The pregnancy felt strange - so different from laying egg sacs. But the human shell seemed designed for it, changing slowly to accommodate new life.
"Have you felt it move yet?" Sarah asked during one of her visits. She brought fresh bread from the tavern, claiming pregnant women needed extra food.
"Not yet," Amara replied, breaking off a piece of warm bread.
Thomas proved to be a gentle husband. He never raised his voice or demanded anything unreasonable. Each morning before leaving for the forge, he kissed her forehead and told her to rest if she felt tired.
"Will says I worry too much," he admitted one evening, rubbing her feet by the fire. "But I want everything perfect for you and the baby."
Amara watched the flames flicker, remembering the thousand Celestial Points she'd gathered over the last three months.
"You're a good husband," she told Thomas, because that's what wives said to caring mates.
[ 850 Celestial Points Gained. Total: 1000 ]
Martha hurried into the room carrying a basket of yarn. "Time to start knitting for the little one! Every baby needs proper blankets."
She settled into her chair and began teaching Amara to knit. The needles felt awkward at first, but Amara's fingers soon learned the movements.
"My mother taught me this way," Martha explained, guiding Amara's hands. "And her mother before her. Family traditions matter."
Amara nodded along to Martha's words, focusing on the knitting needles. The repetitive motions reminded her of web-spinning, but she pushed that thought aside.
"I need to rest," she muttered after a while, setting down the half-finished blanket.
Martha immediately stood up. "Of course, dear. You must take care of yourself now." She helped Amara to her feet. "Go lie down. I'll bring you some tea."
Once in her room, Amara sat on the bed and closed her eyes. The power she'd gathered over these months demanded to be used. She reached into that space between moments, where possibilities waited.
[Major Boon – Generic D&D 5e] – Costs 500CP, 1000CP available to spend.
You can have one Major Boon for this. This could be proficiency in everything, immunity to all forms of a type of damage, or similar. “Boon of the Stormborn” is an example of a Major Boon.
BOON OF IMMORTALITY
Time's grasp can no longer claim you. Your body ceases to age, and the natural course of time leaves you untouched. Death by old age becomes impossible for you.
BOON OF ENERGY INVESTMENT
You attune to the fundamental energies of the universe. You can transmute fire, thunder, lightning, and cold into another of those types at will. You become completely impervious to one of these forces, and your body takes on physical traits of your chosen element. Your mere presence intensifies natural energies around you, causing nearby elements to become more dramatic and volatile.
BOON OF THE STORMBORN
The fury of storms flows through your veins, rendering you completely immune to both lightning and thunder. At will, you can unleash a devastating wave of thunderous force without any preparation or ritual.
BOON OF THE FIRE SOUL
The essence of flame becomes one with your being, making you completely immune to fire in all its forms. You can summon and direct a fan of searing flames from your hands at will, without any preparation or ritual.
BOON OF SKILL PROFICIENCY
You become proficient in all possible skills and areas of expertise within D&D. There is no discipline or craft that you cannot perform with the skill of a seasoned expert.
BOON OF IRRESISTIBLE OFFENSE
Your attacks become so potent that no creature's resistances can diminish their effect. You pierce through any such protection as if it weren't there. Immunities not included.
BOON OF MAGIC RESISTANCE
Your very essence becomes resistant to magical forces. When faced with spells or magical effects, you possess an inherent ability to better avoid or resist their influence.
BOON OF FATE
You gain limited power over destiny itself. Once between periods of rest, you can alter the fate of any creature you can see within 60 feet, either helping or hindering their efforts in a significant way.
Amara considered each option carefully, weighing the benefits against her needs. Immortality held little appeal - she knew her kind lived for a very long time naturally. The energy boon seemed flashy but situational.
Storm and fire abilities would be useful, but too obvious. She needed subtlety while living among humans. Learning skills would come with time and practice.
Magic resistance tempted her - this world had sorcerers after all. But defense alone wouldn't help her grow stronger.
The power to change fate sounded useful, yet limited. She preferred reliability over chance.
No, what she needed was the ability to ensure her attacks would always strike true. Nothing would resist her soul-piercing webs or any future powers she gained. Even if she encountered beings with special defenses, her strength would cut through them like silk through water.
She reached for that boon, accepting it into herself. Warmth spread through her body, settling into her bones. The human shell shivered slightly.
There was another benefit to this offer as well. Any of her children that inherited it could pick their own major boon…
[ Major Boon – BOON OF IRRESISTIBLE OFFENSE acquired ]
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Amara? I brought your tea." Martha's voice came muffled through the wood.
"Come in," Amara called softly, straightening her skirts.
Martha entered carrying a steaming cup. "Here you are, dear. Chamomile with honey - good for the baby."
Amara accepted the cup, breathing in the sweet scent. "Thank you."
"How are you feeling?" Martha sat beside her on the bed. "Any sickness today?"
"No." Amara sipped the tea. "Just tired."
Martha patted her knee. "That's normal. Your body's working hard to grow that little one." She smiled warmly. "I remember when I carried Thomas. Couldn't stay awake past sunset for months."
Amara nodded. The older woman loved sharing memories and advice about pregnancy.
"I should start dinner soon," Martha stood up. "Thomas will be home from the forge soon. You rest a while longer."
A week passed, bringing strange changes to Amara's human shell. One moment she felt content, the next she wanted to cry or shout. The emotions bubbled up without warning.
"I hate these shoes!" Amara flung the offending footwear across the room. "They pinch my toes!"
Thomas ducked as a shoe sailed past his head. "I'll get you new ones," he promised quickly. "Bigger ones."
"I don't want new shoes!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I want my feet to stop hurting!"
She could have suppressed these reactions easily. The real Amara watched from somewhere deep inside, fascinated by how pregnancy altered her human disguise's behavior. These mood swings provided excellent examples of human emotional responses.
"Here, sit down." Thomas guided her to a chair. "Let me rub your feet."
"Don't touch me!" Amara pulled away. "Everything hurts when you touch me!"
Thomas stepped back, hands raised in surrender. "What can I do? Tell me how to help."
"Nothing! Go away!" She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs.
Thomas backed away toward the door, shoulders slumped. Martha watched from the kitchen doorway, shaking her head.
"Thomas, come here." Martha beckoned her son over. "We need to talk about this."
"Mother, please..." Thomas glanced nervously at Amara.
"No, you listen to me." Martha's voice grew firm. "My own mother taught me about marriage, and now I'll teach you. Being gentle is good, but a wife needs a firm hand sometimes."
Amara's sobs quieted as she listened. This was new information about human relationships.
"Look at you, tiptoeing around like a scared mouse!" Martha gestured at Thomas. "You're the head of this household now. Act like it!"
Thomas straightened his spine slightly. "But she's with child..."
"And that's exactly why she needs guidance!" Martha planted her hands on her hips. "A pregnant woman's mind wanders. She needs her husband to keep her grounded, to show her proper behavior."
Amara peeked through her fingers. Martha's voice held authority she'd never heard before.
"Your father never let me carry on like this," Martha continued. "When I grew unreasonable during my pregnancy, he'd give me a stern talking to. Sometimes a smack if I truly needed it."
Thomas looked horrified. "Father hit you?"
"Don't be dramatic. A proper correction from a husband isn't beating." Martha sighed. "It's love, boy. Structure. Protection. Without it, a wife becomes wild and unmanageable."
Amara lowered her hands. She hadn't known humans had such clear hierarchies in their mating pairs.
"Amara." Martha turned to face her. "Stand up."
Something in Martha's tone made Amara obey instantly. She rose from her chair, keeping her eyes down as she'd been taught.
"Now apologize to your husband for that disgraceful display."
"I'm sorry," Amara whispered. The words felt strange in her mouth.
"Louder," Martha commanded. "And look at him when you speak."
Amara raised her eyes to Thomas's face. "I'm sorry for my behavior."
"Thomas?" Martha prompted.
"I..." Thomas cleared his throat. "I accept your apology. But Mother is right - this can't continue."
"Good boy." Martha nodded approvingly. "Now go to your room, Amara. Think about how a proper wife should act."
Another week passed, and Amara learned more about human marriage customs. Thomas grew firmer in his decisions, following Martha's guidance. The household settled into a new routine.
The winter morning air bit at Amara's cheeks as she stood near the village boundary. She had just finished collecting meat from her children, carefully wrapped and stored away into her subspace for next year. The small bump beneath her dress felt warm under her palm.
The crunch of boots on frozen grass made Amara turn. James walked toward her, breath forming white clouds in the cold air.
"Good morning," he smiled, reaching out to brush her cheek. "What happened here?"
Amara kept her eyes lowered. "I behaved poorly. Thomas corrected me."
"Did he now?" James trailed the bruise gently. "Seems a bit harsh for a man who claims to love you."
"Martha says a good husband must guide his wife." Amara repeated the lesson she'd learned. "Structure keeps us from becoming wild."
James stepped closer. "And do you feel guided, Amara? Protected?" His hand slid down to cup her chin. "Or trapped?"
"I..." Amara hesitated. The human shell responded to his touch, but she remembered Martha's warnings about being alone with men. "I should go. Thomas will worry."
"Let him worry." James didn't release her chin. "You deserve better than a boy who hits his pregnant wife."
"He doesn't hit me," Amara corrected. "He disciplines me when needed."
"Is that what Martha told you?" James sneered. "That old woman's filled your head with nonsense. You lost your memories, so you believe whatever they say."
Amara blinked. She hadn't considered that humans might lie about their customs.
"How do you know what's nonsense?" she asked, genuinely curious.
James stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I've traveled beyond this village. I've seen how people really live." He glanced around before continuing. "Let me show you. There's an old shepherd's hut nearby where we can talk properly."
Amara considered the offer. Learning more about human customs would be valuable, and James seemed to know things Martha hadn't taught her.
"Will it take long?" she asked, mindful of her morning duties.
"Just a little while," James smiled, offering his arm. "Thomas won't even notice you're gone."
The shepherd's hut stood empty, used only during lambing season. James led her inside, closing the wooden door against the cold.
"Sit," he gestured to a rough wooden bench. "You shouldn't stand too long in your condition."
Amara sat down, watching James pace the small space. Straw crunched under his boots.
"Now," he turned to face her. "First thing you should know - no decent man strikes his wife. Not even for 'guidance' as Martha calls it."
"But Martha said-"
"Martha is stuck in the old ways," James interrupted. "She believes women are property to be controlled. But that's not how the world works anymore, not in civilized places."
Amara tilted her head. "What about being wild and unmanageable?"
James laughed softly. "Is that what you feel like? Wild?" He knelt in front of her, taking her hands. "You're the gentlest woman I've ever met, and I’d like to show you that."
…
An hour later, Amara stepped out of the shepherd's hut. The winter air felt cool against her flushed skin. James followed, adjusting his clothes with a satisfied smirk.
"Remember," he winked at her. "This stays between us. For both our sakes."
Amara nodded, watching him walk away. She ached in new places, but she'd learned more about how humans showed dominance. It was interesting that different regions had different customs.
The walk home gave her time to think. She smoothed her dress and fixed her hair, making sure she looked presentable. Martha always said a wife should be neat and tidy.
Thomas stood by the front door when she arrived, splitting logs for the fireplace. His face brightened at her approach.
"There you are! I was starting to worry." He set down his axe. "Where have you been?"
"Collecting eggs." Amara kept her voice steady. "The chickens were restless today."
Thomas stepped closer, reaching toward her neck with a frown. "What's this? Did you hurt yourself?"
Amara touched the spot where James's mouth had been. "Oh. A branch caught me while I was gathering eggs."
"Poor thing." Thomas kissed her forehead. "Be more careful next time."
She followed him inside, rubbing her sore bottom. Some men used their hands for discipline, others really preferred different methods...
Martha looked up from her knitting. "Amara! Your dress is wrinkled. That won't do at all."
"Sorry," Amara smoothed the fabric. "I'll change."
"See that you do." Martha nodded approvingly.