Chapter Text
Encased in her gorgeous prison of otherworldly crystal, ever silent, and ever still, the Witch Queen had waited.
She had seldom spoken except when being spoken to, and when she did it was aimed, her words like a concealed blade ready to strike, equipped with singular purpose and the exact aim. Week after week the Young Wolf and other guardians, techeuns, Mara Sov - people of all sorts had visited her in an attempt to find out what there was to find out, and fun as it was to mess with their minds, turning them against each other and planting suspicion into their heads, she had to admit: after a couple of months, being so terribly still and so terribly alone, even she allowed herself the calm, nearly welcome luxury of boredom . Though her mind was ever cunning, and her tongue ever sharp, she had to admit to herself: despite the ingenuity of her plan, it being one of the more immaculate things she had ever crafted, it came with a price of having to endure some of the longer days of solitude. And when even the young Crow was forbidden to visit her, the poor, pitiful Prince, she had lost the last of the entertainment, and had no choice but to sink into what, on lucky occasions when she could slip away from the grip of reality, resembled a brief respite in dreams.
So when she was one day stirred awake by a person entirely foreign to her, she took the opportunity to, at the very least, feast her eyes on the visitor. She wondered if her visitor knew she could perceive her as well as she did outside of her prison, because the Hunter who stepped into the great hall, Savathûn curiously observed, circled her with just as much curiosity… and for the goddess of cunning and trickery, a person plagued with curiosity was not only the easiest target to claim, but by far the most exquisite one. Still, she remained quiet and allowed the Hunter to believe she had the upper hand. Clearly convinced that Savathûn could neither see nor hear her, the Hunter came out from the safety of the semi-shadows, and approached, audibly gasping at the beauty of Savathûn’s prison, took her time to walk around her, watch her, all but directly study her.
Savathûn was not bothered by this intrusion. She welcomed this in more ways than one, in fact. There was a reason that Mara Sov’s rituals were in place, a reason why Savathûn was sealed away from the rest of the world. Mara had feared the influence of her cunning tongue and the damage it could do as much as she feared her true power... but Savathun’s true powers lay in other realms, too. The mindscape itself. The Hunter might not have known, but she was a mere touch away from communing with the Queen in ways few have, and oh, how tempting it was to taunt her into doing so. She was so close to both stealing and sharing things with her, things both terrifying and astounding in nature.
The Hunter clearly wrestled with the thought. She reached with her hand, only briefly, then thought better of it… and yet, hesitated. So palpable was the Hunter’s relentless curiosity, so obvious and pure, that even the Witch Queen herself, much to her own surprise, grew a bit curious about this fearless guardian, who seemed to show no disdain, no fear nor anger, no contempt nor hatred… just an insatiable curiosity. Savathûn could all but feel the precipice of her mind, bursting with desire to know about this elder Hive god, and all she had to do - all Savathûn wanted her to do - was to touch the crystal.
Of course, eons of existence have taught Savathûn patience beyond patience, and she lay still and silent in her prison, waiting and pondering how she would wrap this little guardian around her finger.
Finally, the Hunter resolutely pulled away but Savathûn had planned for it as swiftly and as easily as she had planned for everything else. She watched as the Hunter turned around and went, all but counted her footsteps, timed her words perfectly, and in a broken, soft, endearing whisper, she spoke:
Leaving so soon ?
The Hunter froze in place, and though she managed to keep up a calm facade, to Savathûn it was clear that she was surprised to have been caught.
I have imagined you would like to settle that frenzy in your mind, first.
“Frenzy?” The Hunter asked. Savathûn’s voice grew ever softer, understanding.
I’ve had centuries to learn from your people, and I wield experience that spans millennia. It is easy to tell you are… unfulfilled by your visit.
She could already see the Hunter’s mouth starting to shape in retort, her brow coming together in a frown. Savathûn voice gew playfully comforting.
Oh, do not feel threatened. Your visit is as welcome as a rainbow after rain.
She made room for a sorrowful sigh, her voice less mocking now, friendly.
Let us tear down the unnecessary walls of animosity between us: you came here for your curiosity. Satiate mine, and I shall satiate yours. For a moment or two, let us pretend that it’s amiability in the air rather than tension, shall we?
The Hunter hesitated. She wasn’t stupid, Savathûn observed, and for what it was worth, she appreciated it. A guardian both curious and clever, who didn’t immediately wish Savathûn’s demise, was a rare toy. And then finally, the Hunter gave in.
“I don't know much... but I’ve been hearing all kinds of things about you.” The Hunter said, all but breathless. “About who you are. The things you’ve done.” She paused. “The things you can do.”
Oh? I sense no ill will, despite my… troubled history. Savathûn laughed, and she didn’t miss the way the Hunter flinched at the sound of it.
“You caught my interest.” The Hunter admitted, and for the first time, Savathûn sensed something like playfulness in her voice.
So I’ve gathered. Savathûn hummed thoughtfully, as if weighing her words, even though her words were long since prepared. But even a god has to wonder what someone like you might find so interesting to begin with. I’m not just any god, after all.
“One might argue you aren’t one at all.” The Hunter offered, quite boldly too. Had she tried to rattle her? It was a brave effort, if a completely pointless one.
One easily might. These days, even gods are toppled, their heads counted and collected like sparkling pebbles in the misted shallows. Which, I suppose, currently makes me the prettiest one of them all, doesn't it?
The Hunter grinned at her humour. “I admit, I hardly did the necessary research… but when I heard that the Vanguard had trapped the Witch Queen herself, I was mostly curious about how such a thing happens in the first place.”
Surely, you’re aware of the deal I struck with the Queen?
“I am.” The Hunter stepped gingerly closer. “I’m just not buying it.”
As you should not. I am not known as the God of Cunning and Lies in vain. Trusting me is foolishness. Not trusting me is the status quo. On the whole other hand, sneaking in here, to provide me with some chit-chat , and to satiate what is merely an aimless thought, there was an obvious smile to the Witch Queen’s voice, I am not certain whether I should deem it an insanity or an honor of its own kind.
“Hmm.” The Hunter seemed to think about her own motives for a second. “Call it a reckless indulgence.”
Yours, or mine?
“Mine, surely. Yours? Time will tell.”
Savathûn laughed, this time heartily. The Hunter was so adorable in her naivete and cockiness that it would legitimately have made her smile if she could. She had not expected someone like her. The Young Wolf, Mara Sov, Saint-14, Crow… none of them entered nor left this room with anything better than a frown, let alone a smile. Yet here was this Hunter, proverbially poking at the sleeping dragon and smiling as she did it.
Someone moved in the far back of the chamber, and the Hunter looked behind her, mumbled something.
Flee while you can . You were lucky to sneak in here at all.
“Luck and I happen to be on good terms.”
Oh? Let’s make a game out of it then. Succeed in visiting me again soon, and I’ll have something for you.
The Hunter was clearly torn. Whatever the reason for her hesitation, Savathûn knew it would become less important. With a calculated tone and in a soft whisper, she landed the final blow, asking:
Indulge me… Little Hunter ?
The look that washed over the Hunter next was something foreign and distant. A certain sort of excited fear, something positive and elated and fueled with adrenaline. What was it? The Witch Queen found herself to be just as curious.
Until then, Little Hunter. Savathûn greeted as the Hunter slipped away.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
Savathûn wondered only briefly what it was that she forgot about. It didn’t take her long to recall the intrepid guardian who was supposed to see her, one of these days, and it became hard to keep track of time by herself. She would not have forgotten, not usually… But truth be told, it was not up to her. This was the test of the Hunter’s nerve. Savathûn knew she would want to come back, knew she would at the very least stop before entering the chamber… The question was only whether she would once again enter to commune with her.
So when Savathûn saw a slim shadow slipping in, she found herself very much craving the opportunity to play for a little longer. It got ever so boring around here.
I am surprised! Savathûn lied. You made it back after all.
“Hm! Don’t underestimate me from the start.” The Hunter huffed. “You barely know me.”
It’s nothing we can’t fix. Savathûn purred, and the Hunter freezed on the spot. Oh? Do not look at me with such- what was the human phrase… ‘Deer in the headlights’ expression. I have done nothing to deserve it. Well... not yet anyway.
“Well, I made it!” Hunter challenged. “You said you'd have something for me.”
Indeed. You expressed such curiosity about me. I must admit I harbor something akin to it for one such as you.
Savathûn paused, deliberately, before offering:
I could give you a prime experience of who I am, should you want one. The choice is yours.
Savathûn didn’t explicitly say it. They both knew the implications, both knew touching the crystal was necessary, and she would be a fool to try and talk the Hunter into it: rather, she was here to give her the wonderful illusion of choice.
As far as Savathûn was concerned, the choice was already made.
The Hunter moved closer ever so slowly, breath held in her chest. Savathûn could tell that she knew this was a terrible idea, easily one of the dumbest things she would ever do yet unable to stop now. After all, the terrible idea, Savathûn thought to herself, was coming here to begin with. Ultimately… weren’t all the terrible ideas always the most entertaining ones?
The Hunter extended her hand, touched the icy surface of the crystal, and opened her mind to the Witch Queen’s influence.
The Hunter would only ever see what the Witch Queen allowed, of course, and Savathûn gladly fed her answers as well as questions: a useless snippet of her past, probably already buried somewhere in their Archives, lost to time. A secret she overheard Mara’s techeuns discussing, known to the Awoken, but lost on the Vanguard. An answer to the question of Hive’s biology, one that sparks curiosity, but worthless in the grand scheme of things. Words and images someone as curious as the Hunter might find interesting for their own sake, clues to nothing in particular. And while the Hunter was drinking it in, Savathûn allowed herself to quietly and briefly peruse the corridors of the Hunter’s mind. She saw a calm, level-headed soul. A soul with a healthy dose of skepticism, and a sturdy head on their shoulders. She saw that spark of curiosity that brought the Hunter here in the first place, and then, beyond it-
Where Savathûn expected to find a morbid sort of curiosity for the Hive, or a plan to topple her, just about anything akin to what all the other Guardians had hidden in their own thoughts, Savathûn found a strange, unexpected kind of… affinity . Not just for the Hive in general… but especially for the Witch Queen. It was a surprise as sweet as a childhood memory, and she had to restrain from chuckling at the Hunter’s unusual predicament of having such a clever head, and yet harbouring such an unwise affection.
By the time the Hunter pulled away, she definitely was in on a few of Savathûn’s harmless secrets, snippets of knowledge and tidbits of Hive mysteries… but Savathûn had a feeling she was the one who came out with the upper hand.
“Whoah.” The Hunter gasped, overwhelmed with the smidgen of what Savathûn allowed her to see, but more than that, perhaps, surprised by the fact nothing bad happened to her. And then-
“ Ahh! Your mind makes a decent respite from my prison. I thank you, Little Hunter.”
The Hunter flinched, the voice of the Witch Queen suddenly echoing very clearly in her own head alone. Suddenly it was less like talking to a crystalline statue, and more like talking to a spirit, in ways that were difficult to explain. Though she could not see her in any way, shape or form, it was almost as if the Witch Queen was right there before her, almost as if she could see the flippant wave of her clawed hand, or the amused look in her eyes as she spoke. Almost as if there was no prison between them at all.
Almost.
“You- what did you do?
“Do you not like my little trick?" Savathûn chuckled. “Worry not, my little Hunter. It is nothing I will make you regret… unless of course, you make me. Consider it a payment - one curious mind for the other.” She let the silence stand for a moment, her words a warning, a threat and a condition, all at the same time. “But you’re smarter than that. Tell me: is your curiosity satiated? Have the holes in your knowledge been fulfilled? More importantly… Do you want to know more? It’s alright if you do. I would welcome it in fact because, you see…”
The Hunter stared. Savathûn could almost hear her heart race, waited for an appropriate moment, and delivered the line that, she knew, would make the Hunter her own.
“ You intrigue me .” She whispered softly into the Hunter’s head, and chuckled without voice when the Hunter turned and left in a rush, unable to handle the novelty of everything that took place. But that was alright: she would return.
Savathûn would make sure of it.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
Imprisoned though she was, Savathûn now had an opportunity to, at the very least, relish in a change of surroundings. She could not do much in this state, yet merely being tethered on the precipice of the Hunter’s mind was already a freeing feeling. Not a mindscape as grand and beautiful, nor as complex and grounding as she would usually be able to build… but a mindscape outside of this prison, all the same, of her own.
Or rather, of their own.
From here, she could observe the distant intricacies of the Hunter’s mind. None of it tangible nor reachable by her, and yet Savathûn didn’t need much to glean what she needed. The Hunter was as impressive as she expected, and just as helplessly full of a strangely grandiose impression Savathûn had left on her.
It was… kind of endearing.
Though Savathûn had wanted to whisper a couple of things to her, subtle encouragement to come back, visit her again, she had realized it would not be necessary. The Hunter was already dead set on seeing her again and again and again. Sure, Savathûn could have dug up more, predicted every detail of her, known her better than the Hunter knew herself only from what she could perceive here on this edge of the Hunter’s mind… but for once in her life, she was looking forward to being surprised by someone like this interesting woman, who held perhaps only a smidgen of trepidation and an unprecedented amount of affection for her. Someone who, simply put, was not a threat.
So Savathûn didn’t dig further, and instead only encouraged the Hunter to dream of her, where she would tease her, taunt her, and amuse her. Knowing how much the Hunter would appreciate it, made her imprisonment a little less boring.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
“... I, I’m back.”
As Savathûn knew she would be. Still, she made a show of how much she welcomed the Hunter’s return.
“Though I’m used to solitude, your presence is refreshing! Come, then. Let’s pretend for a little while longer that we are not destined to meet in battle.”
The Hunter approached and sat a safe distance away, and for a moment, Savathûn wondered if she was foolish enough to think this distance would somehow make her safer… but then she realized the Hunter sat down far enough for a very simple reason - to be able to look at her. All of her. Even as cocooned and entrapped as she was. She had to admit, though the Hunter was but a plaything to kill the time with until her plan came to fruition, her fondness for the Hive was sweet in an innocent sort of way Savathûn had long since outgrown.
“I dreamed of you last night.” The Hunter said without any warning, and Savathûn laughed. Not because it surprised her but because the Hunter would bring it up at all.
“Did you, now? I hope I adequately entertained you.”
The Hunter laughed, for the first time since Savathûn had known her.
“You told me riddles.”
Savathûn’s mind instantly went back into the past, where she would play the same game with her siblings. It was eons ago, yet the memory flashed before her as if it happened yesterday. Though she influenced the Hunter's dreams subtly, she did not expect them to be so blatantly relatable to herself as well. "How fun!” She cooed, and for a change, it was something sincere. “How did you fare in this game?”
“Not bad! It took a while, but I answered all of them.”
Savathûn sensed the smugness in the Hunter’s voice. “Interesting. Do you think you could gain such results if I tried to riddle you here and now?”
“... Maybe.”
So the Hunter had returned with a purpose! Savathûn had not felt so mischievously childish in eons. She had to admit, for a moment she missed it. But the feeling hurt too much, and she cast it aside as easily as she would any other at any point in time. “Well then. It requires some… language barriers being crossed, but I am sure your simple language will suffice Let's see...”
Hunter scooted over closer to the statue, with her head in her hands. Savathûn thought about it for a moment, deciding to give the Hunter a boost of confidence with a relaxing start.
“ Whether it’s a sight you cannot see,
or a thing you cannot touch,
should it pass your mouth and tongue,
it shall perish from being as such .”
It was one of the easiest and earliest of Savathûn’s creations to test the wit of her friends and siblings when they were at their youngest, and it only proved to still be so when Hunter, after mere seconds, guessed:
“A secret!”
“Impressive!” Savathûn flattered.
“Typical that a hive god would be all about secrets.” The Hunter teased. Savathûn loved the unrelenting display of utterly poorly based confidence. “I have one for you too.” The Hunter bragged further.
“Oh? You dare challenge me? As bold as you are reckless, Little Hunter.” Savathûn laughed, though her laughter was purposeful rather than sincere - she quickly noticed the Hunter reacting to the sound of it, and relished in the fact it had such a potent effect on her. “Alright then. Let’s hear it.”
The Hunter gathered her composure, and cleared her throat.
“ A sun of gold in sea of white,
in the place of eternal night,
but if the night should crack apart,
so too will the sun and sea depart .”
It took Savathûn no more than a few moments to guess, but she would be foolish to ruin the Hunter’s fun so quickly. Plus, she had to admit, it was a well worded riddle, and if she were a human she might not have thought of the solution so quickly.
“An egg. Of the terrestrial kind, more precisely.”
“Whoah! I didn’t think you’d know something that was so- uh…”
“Pertaining to humans? To Earth?” Savathûn laughed. “My little Hunter, I’ve lived lives upon lives. Do not think I haven't learned from each and every one of them.”
“W-well, I have an even better one!”
“So eager! Do not rush. We have time, and I must admit, this game amuses me: I would like to tell you a few more of my riddles, too.”
The Hunter fell quiet, clearly captivated by Savathûn’s engagement, clearly not aware of being spun around Savathûn’s little finger. Savathûn thought for a spell, letting the Hunter cook in her own restlessness.
“ An imitation of a life,
yet an absence of being at its core.
A beautiful illusion and an straightforward lie,
to see something where there’s nothing more .”
That got the Hunter’s brain in a conundrum, and it came as no surprise. It was perhaps a bit too abstract and though it was an answer obvious to Savathûn, it might’ve been obtuse to someone else. Still, the Hunter came through after a while.
“A… statue?”
“... Well done.” Savathûn praised. “I did not think you would have it in you.”
The Hunter, who already seemed restless enough in the presence of the Witch Queen, couldn’t help the pinkness in her cheeks.
“My turn.” The Hunter said, distracting herself. Savathûn patiently waited as the Hunter wracked her brain for a good one.
“ I speak through air, but I’m no bird nor cloud,
I sing to speak, but I’m not as melodious nor loud.
I move to sing, but move in one place alone,
with all my siblings, I speak, I sing, I move, I’m blown .”
Savathûn had to admit it was a complex one. She initially couldn't decide whether the riddle’s scope was too broad or too specific, and she was tempted to use the tether of Hunter’s mind to know what she knew. But, where was the fun in that?
Finally, just as the Hunter’s face grew hopeful, Savathûn let out a long sigh, and answered.
“Reeds. Reeds in the wind. A sound easily comparable to a song. It is a lovingly crafted one. I have to admit I have long since been involved in a stakeless game of words. If you should ever meet the author of that one, give them the Witch Queen’s regards.”
The Hunter blushed even further, and Savathûn knew why - it was likely the Hunter who had thought of the riddle, not that Savathûn was going to miss the chance to flatter her in such a way.
“Thank you.” The Hunter finally meekly said, and Savathûn feigned her surprise.
“I should have known your sharpness would extend even to things like these. But can you keep up, Little Hunter? Something tells me the next one will be beyond your scope.”
The Hunter’s shyness took a step back. “Lay it on me, then.”
Inwardly, Savathûn grinned.
“ A sea of stars under two moons,
or a valley of flowers under a hill:
no matter what you compare it to,
these tiny dots are charming still. ”
The Hunter squinted her eyes. It was definitely too subtle of a riddle to be able to guess quickly but she was not going to give up so easily. A few of the immediate thoughts went through her mind - specks of sand, space dust, pollen in the wind - all of it with its own form of beauty, but none of it outright ‘charming’ nor difficult to guess.
After a couple of long minutes, the Hunter had to admit she was at a loss.
“I suppose it was too much to hope to outmatch the god of cunning.” She gave in. Savathûn chuckled.
“Giving up? I suppose the advantage is mine: I had a feeling you would never be able to guess something of such personal nature.
Personal? The Hunter looked up, intrigued. Was the answer to this riddle something new and interesting? Would the Witch Queen release another snippet of Hive secrets to her? Her eyes glistened, as she waited with baited breath for the answer.
Savathûn’s voice echoed so close in her head, and the Hunter could all but see Savathûn, feel her as if she were not imprisoned, but right there in font of her… leaning cloeer, her face inches away, her mouth opening, and whispering the answer…
“ Freckles .”
The Hunter’s hand automatically went up to touch her face, and she blushed a rich crimson when she caught onto the compliment. Or was it a compliment? Savathûn didn’t follow up her answer with much else, and the poor Hunter was left to her own hopeful mind, and her sudden burst of excitement felt like the sweetest drops of dew Savathûn would scramble to feast on back when she was young, when she carried a different name, and when she allowed ridiculous things like these to excite her.
Savathûn shook off the ruminations, and once again shut her heart out of sharing in the Hunter’s excitement. Instead, she settled for the amused recognition of the Hunter’s affection.
“I-” The Hunter started, and paused, clearly flustered. Savathûn allowed the Hunter to once more enjoy the sound of her laughter.
“Do not fret, Little Hunter. It is unbecoming for such graceful beauty.”
The compliment being too much for the Hunter, she mumbled her way into silence.
“Have you no more riddles for me? Disappointing.” Savathûn cooed, and the mere thought of having disappointed the Witch Queen seemed to have stirred the Hunter back into action.
“One more!” The Hunter gasped, having remembered how to breathe. “I have one more.”
They both fell silent, and the Hunter stared breathlessly at the gorgeous prison that was the Witch Queen, feeling, now knowing that even in this prison of hers, Savathûn had more power than she had ever thought possible. Savathûn too seemed to have noticed the Hunter’s realization.
“In over your head, Little Hunter?”
Despite the crimson in her face, and the uncertainty in her mind, the Hunter locked eyes with Savathûn - almost as if she knew exactly where to look - and spoke.
“ You can steal this from me, but you can’t hold it.
I can hold it, but I can’t give it to you.
It will be the last thing I’ll ever hold,
and once I’m gone, it will be gone with me.”
Savathûn looked down at the Hunter long and hard. Harder still, when she realized she would not be able to answer this. She thought of all the items and spells, and the abilities of Guardians, and the emotions they went through, all the human things, and all the human thoughts, and still- still, somehow, this eluded her. Though she expected the Hunter to keep the best and most difficult for the last, she did not expect to have any trouble guessing it. A minute passed, a painful minute, and Savathûn was wise enough to admit that the answer was not within her grasp.
“Well?” The Hunter prodded.
Savathûn, though feeling the sting of a battle lost, was graceful in her defeat.
“Alas. You outwit me on this day. It will be a tantalizing story to tell.” And yet, the Hunter seemed to fret again. Savathûn grew curious, more curious than she usually allowed herself to be. “Well, Hunter? Will you not grace me with the answer?”
The Hunter opened and closed their mouth, seemingly unable to speak it out loud.
“ Hunter .” Savathûn purred, and her purr was a threat and an invitation. The Hunter stepped forward, as if hypnotized, and almost touched the crystal again… but then, stepped back, and with a smirk that gave off way more confidence than she in reality had, the Hunter said:
“I’ll let you think about it.”
Savathûn had long since learned how not to laugh out loud. She barely suppressed the surprised chuckle. She would always forget the simplicity and stupidity of human emotion. And yet, how she enjoyed it. Yet, how she craved -
No. The Witch Queen does not crave a thing. Especially not this. What is this, to begin with? Whatever it might be,
she does not want it.
Savathûn let go of these things the silly riddle game had caused in her just as swiftly, and having recovered from such an unexpected surprise, she answered to the Hunter’s taunt with a simple string of words that she knew would send Hunter shyly scampering away. She answered just as they both saw the door to the room opening, knowing the Hunter would have to leave, and knowing she would leave with these words stuck in her mind.
“Oh, you’ll tell me yourself… my sweet little Hunter.”
The Hunter fled. But that was alright.
Savathûn knew where and how to find her.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
When the Hunter dreamed that night, she didn’t quite dream alone.
She dreamed of a place she had not seen before, of a white tower of a palace that was never finished, green skies that faded off into nothing, nature without life and waterfalls that spilled like sand rather than water. She dreamed of something in the making, something foreign and unknown and something that she knew she would forget by the time she woke up.
The one thing Hunter knew she wouldn’t forget was the presence of Savathûn herself, standing in one of the pools of water, and observing the Hunter, who found herself perched on the balcony of the unfinished tower. It was strange - the Hunter knew Savathûn was there, but could not perceive her properly. The image of her face kept escaping her, her exact looks kept slipping from her eyes, like staring at her from a thick fog, or murky water, or heavy rain. Perhaps it was expected that the Witch Queen would not wish to show herself fully, and yet the Hunter couldn’t help but stare at this illusion that kept obscuring Savathûn’s countenance in the most unusual way. All she could perceive were three eyes, clearly alit in the illusion.
“Don’t humans usually say it is ‘rude to stare?’”
“Sorry!” The Hunter offered, then realized that the Witch Queen was teasing her.
“Though I cannot allow you to perceive me fully, feast your eyes while you can, Little Hunter. Visits like these come with risks for both of us.”
“Why… why are you here- I mean in my- uh-”
“‘In your head’ would be how humans would describe it, I suppose. Your kind always had a knack for wildly simplifying things of paracausal nature. Consider my being here but a small reward for having outwitted me.” The Hunter smiled shyly. Savathûn recognized the thought behind the smile. “I can recognize a request too bold to be spoken. But you have sparked my curiosity before, so I will allow you to do so again. What is it?”
“Nothing big! Just… consider it an addition to my ‘reward.’ A sign of good faith!”
“You’re smarter than that, Hunter - you know you should have no good faith in my company.”
“That’s precisely why!”
Savathûn laughed. The Hunter was equal parts clever and amusing. She had rarely met such a charming combination of both.
“You possess a talent to instill curiosity in me, which is impressive, in itself. Tell me then: What is it that you could so fervently desire from me ?”
The Hunter hesitated but Savathûn didn’t miss their eyes looking at-
Savathûn raised her hand, and it was the one thing Savathûn would allow her to see. The Hunter flinched, and finally remembered to speak.
“I just wanted to know… what it feels like.”
“Only ever touched cold Hive corpses, have you?” Savathûn coldly said. The Hunter tried to mumble out an apology, and Savathûn laughed her usual mocking laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. After all, violence is our most loving currency.” She raised her hand up to the balcony, from where the Hunter could reach it.
The Hunter hesitated at first - her hand was as large as the Hunter herself was, sharp, bony and seemingly unwelcome to just about anyone but her. She gently let her hand press down against the cold surface of Savathûn’s palm. Bone, chitin? It was hard to say. What was impressive was that she felt something… stirring, almost.
Feeling invited, she pressed both her palms against the hand, and felt… felt what? What was she to call this? Not the warmth of flesh, not the rush of blood… A force . Raw, strong, as if taught and stretched throughout Savathûn’s very body and soul. A force, its beat unlike a heartbeat, its flow unlike blood, a biology so alien and different from Hunters’ own, words failed to describe it. She recalled how the Hive moved, how they stood, how much force they wielded with an uncanny ease and wondered if it was this force she could feel under her fingers that gave such strength and tension to both their bodies and their minds.
“Can you feel it, Little Hunter?” Savathûn whispered. Even her very voice seemed to be carried by this force her body was imbued with.
“If I’m being honest, I half expected not to feel anything.”
“Not all dead things are still.” Savathûn pointedly said, and the Hunter chuckled, in awe of everything she learned through such a simple touch.
“You’ve learned much from me today. It is only fair that you return my generosity the same way. Tell me: what was the answer to your riddle?”
Even through the crimson of her face, the Hunter managed a confident smile, and finally said:
“The breath from my lungs.”
The Hunter would be one of the very few to perceive such sincere laughter from the Witch Queen. The world of green skies and white towers shattered, and the Hunter was once again left to her dreams alone.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
The Hunter would keep coming back. Savathûn would keep enjoying this little respite from the boredom of her imprisonment. Inevitably, each of them brought the other something neither of them expected.
Sometimes, they would play the game of riddles again. Sometimes, the Hunter would merely sit and keep her company. Sometimes, Savathûn would taunt her with unreachable knowledge. Sometimes, the Hunter would tell Savathûn of the stories from the outside world. The two however, had an unspoken arrangement not to talk about whatever had pertained to the heavy reality of the situation.
Savathûn knew how hated she was. The Hunter knew how alarming her being here was. It was as Savathûn had said: their meetings were play pretend, where they could forget the awfulness of the world around them, and of themselves. Forget the terrible things Savathûn had done, and the atrocities the Guardians have committed in the name of peace. Forget about Saint, about Osiris, about everything that led up to it, and about the possible reason why it happened in the first place. Savathûn had already known the magnitude of her misdeeds. The Hunter prefered the ignorance. Playing pretend was, in the end, their favorite game to play. It was the only way any of these meetings could take place. And these meetings soon became something the Hunter looked forward to, and something Savathûn would miss once all of this was over.
So when she bid the Hunter goodbye one evening, knowing full well she would not see her again, Savathûn felt once again that familiar, unwanted thing scratching at her insides. Something like affection, yet at the same time, like a parasite. Something she would enjoy, in another life, in another place, in another time. But that life was long past her.
Still, it was a parasite she needed to get rid of. To save herself the trouble of having something unattended left behind, and to give the Hunter something to look forward to, the least she could do, Savathûn mused, was to say goodbye once the time for it came. After all, it was fun while it lasted.
˜*˜*˜*˜*˜
“Hunter.”
“Savathûn?”
The Hunter whirled about. It was but a dream of mist and fog but Savathûn’s voice had never come so clear to her.
“At this point you should be aware I am not much for sentimentalities,” Savathûn lazily said, “so you’ll forgive me if I keep this brief. I’ve come to say goodbye. As we speak, the Queen of the Reef is finalizing the ritual. I merely wanted to thank you for the fun.” She finished, a hint of sweetness to her voice. As much as she prettied her words, however, she had expected that sorrowful expression on Hunter’s voice, expecting her shoulders to sag. She did not expect that she would not like seeing it.
“Will I… ever see you again?”
Savathûn paused to think. The Hunter had assumed Savathûn would run the moment the chance presented itself, which was not a wrong thing to assume. What was surprising was the implication that the Hunter fully believed Savathûn would not only try to escape, but succeed, unscathed.
In a way, it was naive. In a way, it was touching.
Savathûn laughed. “It is likely. If we do meet again, make sure to remind me of our conversations. I might not recall my intrepid Little Hunter.”
The Hunter was clearly hurt, but Savathûn could not possibly give her any more of a hint than that. She would learn in time, anyway. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was in Traveler’s hands at this point, even though she was certain of the outcome the future would bring. The Traveler was sometimes as predictable as it was mysterious.
“Perhaps, one last riddle before I go. Just so you know there will be a chance for us to meet again.” Savathûn said, and the Hunter looked hopeful and curious for a moment. Which, Savathûn had to admit, made her pity the Hunter a little - it would be a sweet, easy little riddle, with a sweet little answer, but she felt it would leave the Hunter yearning.
Which, who knows? Might end up being a good thing.
“ It is useful in many ways.
With it, you love,
with it, you hate.
You promise and create,
you curse and challenge fate.
You can take it, lose it, and abuse it,
but of all these things, I choose,
to give it .”
The Hunter didn’t get to think about it, for not even moments later, Savathûn simply said:
“Farewell, Little Hunter.”
The Hunter didn’t get to protest nor say goodbye, for the dream ended as suddenly as a bubble burst, and she woke up. She lied still as she desperately tried to retain the lines, repeated them in her head until she made sure she knew them by heart, and then… the Hunter pondered.
It didn’t take her long to guess. And though she knew she could not trust her, the Hunter was hopeful. So for once, even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she knew she should have forgotten all of this ever happening… She decided to trust the answer to the riddle. The Hunter decided to trust the word of the Witch Queen.