Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Valentine’s Day was fast approaching.

This would not be Marianne’s and Bog’s first Valentine’s, but it would be their first one together since their very first one had been when distance and circumstance had separated them. Except Marianne had noticed that Bog had started to act strangely recently, especially after she had asked him one night what he would like to do for their first Valentine’s Day together over a week ago. She had tried to bring it up again a few more times since, but each time Bog clammed up and said he needed to go to his workroom. She would watch him hurry off and close himself up in his workshop.

She was beginning to worry about him.

The early morning sun broke through the slight part in the curtains that Marianne had hung in their now shared bedroom; it was a grey looking sunlight, just barely visible through the clouds outside. Marianne laid against her husband’s chest, her arm wrapped around his waist, listening to his slow steady breathing as he slept. She smiled and nuzzled close to Bog. His skin felt warm and she enjoyed stroking her fingers through the fur along the side of his hip. It was early morning and as she turned to look out the sliver of window visible, Marianne could see a few fat flakes of snow falling. She grinned. That meant the winter wood would be gorgeous with new snow today. She wondered if Bog would be up for a ride? She’d ask him later, but right now she was hoping to catch Griselda alone.

She started to move, but Bog’s grip on her tightened. “Don’t go yet,” Bog’s sleepy voice rumbled softly. “I was dreaming about you.”

Marianne chuckled, pushing herself up on her elbow so she could look down into her husband's dark face. His eyes were still closed, but a smile graced his lips. “Oh?” She brushed her fingers along his jaw and his eyes opened a crack. “Yes, you were naked and on top of me.” He smirked, showing a hint of fang, sending her heart racing.

“Oh I was, was I?” Marianne pushed herself up, the sheets and blankets falling away from her naked body and climbed on top of her equally naked husband.

Bog grinned, his eyes opening a little more. The pale, liquid sunlight danced across her skin as he reached up to settle his clawed hands on her hips. “Yes, very similar to this, but you were rocking back and forth,” he murmured still a little sleepily, but his voice was taking on the thick, deep growl that she loved to hear, a particular tone she could hear when he wanted her.

“Oh I was…” Marianne slid down to his hips, feeling her husband’s erection. She rose up on her knees, reached down to grasp his erection, made Bog let out a deep groan of pleasure. “Did I do something like this?” she asked, stroking her hand up and down his thick length and watching with pleasure as her husband arched his head back, his horns digging into the pillows as he groaned deeply. “Yes...” he replied, his hands sliding up her torso to her breasts. She shivered with delight when he cupped her breasts, stroking his clawed thumbs over her nipples. She moaned softly in response and arched her back while she continued to stroke her hand up and down his erection.

“Marianne…” Bog groaned her name, his thumbs tracing circles around her nipples to send shudders through her body.

In response, Marianne gilded herself down on him, moaning and gasping as his erection filled her. She took a moment to adjust herself on him, shifting slightly and making Bog growl pleasantly until she was in a perfect position to begin a slow rocking. She ran her hands up his chest, then back down, bent her fingers slightly to drag her nails over his skin.

Bog ran his hands down her torso, caressed her waist, then her hips and along her thighs, his blue eyes hooded with passion as he watched her move over him. He adored the way she arched her back, reaching behind her to grasp his thighs and thrust her body forward and back. He hissed through his lips, watching the way she rode him, his erection sliding out part of the way, glistening with her fluids, then disappearing again as she thrust forward. Moaning with pleasure he ran his hands up her stomach, marveling at the silkiness of her skin, grunting and hissing as she rocked her body on him. He reached up to caress her breasts again as Marianne began to rock a little faster, harder. She dropped forward and reached up to grasp his horns, thrusting harder and harder against him until she let out a deep shuddering moan. He felt the moment she came, her body tightening around him, squeezing him, until he thought he would die of pleasure while his wife cried out his name with a rush of liquid warmth that covered his erection, her voice husky with pleasure. “Uh...uh Bog...”

He groaned and grasped her hips. “My Marianne.”

She released his horns and dropped her hands to either side of his head as she started to thrust faster, deeper; she wanted to feel him climax, wanted to feel her husband’s orgasm. She crushed his mouth with hers, her tongue sliding and twisting with his as she moved quicker. Bog wrapped his arms around her to hold her tightly, panting until he jerked and pushed up with his hips, letting out a deep, excited groan. She felt him cum, felt the burst of excitement inside her, triggering her second orgasm. They moved together, sharing the high of their pleasure followed by the slow, warm easing as Marianne collapsed against him.

Bog held her close, stroking her back while Marianne nuzzled against the side of his neck. He yawned hard, his jaw cracking.

Marianne giggled, kissing the side of his throat. “So, was that like your dream?”

“So, so much better,” he whispered, kissing her ear.

He yawned again making Marianne giggle. “Still sleepy?”

“You are a succubus,” he murmured. “You sap all my energy.”

Marianne giggled, pushing up and planting kisses all over his face until he was laughing. “It’s still early, let's clean up and go back to sleep,” she suggested.

“Mm...good idea,” he murmured, smiling peacefully and happily.

It wasn’t long before they were both dozing again, wrapped in each other's arms.

*

When Marianne woke again, she saw the light looked a little brighter. She yawned and stretched carefully, rolling away from Bog who still slept soundly. She smiled and gazed at him with a happy sigh; the love she felt for him brought tears to her eyes. She brushed her fingers along the side of his cheek, but he didn’t move or respond. This was her chance. Grinning, she knew Griselda would definitely be up by now, probably cooking breakfast.

Moving slowly and gently, Marianne slipped out from under the covers, a shiver running through her as the cool air hit her naked body. It was difficult not to rush around to get dressed, but moving too quickly would wake up her new husband and she needed some time alone, some time to speak with his mother.

*

Marianne ran her hands down the front of her dress. The outfit had been given to her by Griselda, and while it wasn’t something Marianne would have chosen for herself, she did like the dress--or as Griselda had told her, the sarafan. It was beautiful and Griselda had made it by herself. It hung long, down to her ankles, colored a dark, almost black-purple, with an off-white colored long sleeved blouse underneath. The front and edges of the dress bore intricate embroidered designs of flowers and vines in bright reds, blues, purples, and greens. She had pulled on a pair of thick cotton winter stockings along with a pair of rabbit fur-lined boots, as she quickly and quietly dressed trying not to wake her husband. She had pulled her short hair back with a band, thickly decorated with the same design of flowers that matched her dress, then swiftly stepped outside the room, pulling the heavy wooden door quietly closed before heading down the hall. She would probably change into some pants and a tunic later for going riding--if Bog wanted to go-- but she thought wearing the sarafan would be a nice gesture since Griselda had put so much work into it.

Besides, the outfit felt warm and comfortable.

The smell of potato pancakes and coffee hit Marianne almost the moment she stepped out into the hall. She smiled, her stomach rumbling as those two scents were joined by the scent of sausages just beginning to cook. Marianne let her stomach guide her to the cabin’s kitchen, smiling as the house made a small chirp of greeting. Stopping for a moment, Marianne laid her hands against the wooden walls and whispered, “Morning house.”

The house responded with another happy chirp that made Marianne giggle before she headed toward the kitchen, but she stopped short a moment later when she heard the sound of voices, one she knew, Griselda, while the other was male and a voice she had never heard before. It sounded deep, a booming voice. Frowning slightly, Marianne waited and listened.

“I don’t know Grissy, an elf? Really?” The male’s voice sounded like gravel rolling over more stone. “And one of Santa’s daughters? I can’t believe you accepted that. That boy had the pick of any female he wanted and he chose one of that fat man’s daughters?”

“She’s a wonderful young woman Kos and she loves my boy--what’s not to like about her?” Griselda answered followed by the clank of pots and pans. “So she is Santa’s eldest daughter? We’ve buried the hatchet, so to speak, and everything is good now. Stop being such an old fart. You haven’t even met the girl, you know nothing about her.”

“You’re just desperate for grandbabies,” the man’s voice scolded, but Griselda hissed.

“That may be true, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that Marianne is a perfect mate for my boy Kos. Now stop trying to cause trouble.” Marianne heard the sound of liquid being poured. “Or is that the entire reason for you visiting Kos, to cause trouble?”

The man responded only with a grunt.

Griselda’s voice softened. “I know you care for Bog like he was your own, and I understand that you worry that your own past pains color your reasoning where love is concerned Kos, but I tell you, Marianne is different. She loves Bog, deeply. They are good for each other.”

There was a moment of silence that followed, enough that Marianne was considering whether she needed to make her presence known (because no one liked a snoop) when the male voice asked. “So is it true our little sister had taken up with an elf too?”

Griselda chuckled. “It’s true and I think she is having a lot of fun too.”

The man snorted a chuckle again before adding. “Aura always was the weird one.”

“She likes the challenge. The young elf is a bit of a...” Griselda struggled to find a word to describe Roland, but finally settled on what she thought would best describe him “...a project.” Marianne decided she needed to make her presence known, and her stomach was starting to revolt against waiting any longer. She walked with a heavier step on purpose and walked into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she called out cheerfully only to stop dead in her tracks when she saw the man sitting at the table.

Griselda’s visitor was older looking, though his exact age was hard to place. He was tall, not quite as tall as Bog, but close. The man had shoulder length white hair and a white mustache and beard. While her father’s white beard was fluffy, the visitor’s facial hair was thin and hung down well past his stomach. He was thin like his beard, but Marianne sensed the power around the man. He wore a simple thick black tunic with matching breeches, knee-length black leather boots, and he wore a simple golden circlet upon his head. His features were similar to Bog’s with a long sharp nose and sharp chin and his eyes were also blue. While Bog’s eyes were a brilliant, bright blue, this man’s eyes were a dark shade of blue like a storm at sea.

“Good morning dear!” Griselda hurried over and wrapped her arms around Marianne who returned the embrace while doing her best not to stare at the man whose presence seemed to fill the entire kitchen. The man stared at Marianne with an assessing eye, making her feel very uncomfortable. “How did you sleep?”

“Oh just fine,” Marianne responded with a smile. “Bog was still sleeping pretty deeply and I didn’t want to wake him.”

“You are such a sweetheart.” Griselda patted Marianne’s cheek before turning, her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Marianne, let me introduce my older brother Koschei. Koschei, this is Marianne, Bog’s wife.”

Marianne smiled politely and curtsied while Koschei stared at her. He didn’t say anything right away, instead he continued to look her over, a frown on his thin lips, his nose slightly wrinkled. “So you are St. Nicholas’s eldest child?” he asked in his deep voice.

“Yes,” Marianne said, feeling her back stiffen and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was clear she was being judged and she didn’t like it one bit. “You’re Bog’s uncle?”

The man smiled. “Yes, I’m known as Koschei the deathless.”

“You can call him Uncle Kos,” Griselda said, guiding Marianne around her brother (who made a displeased grunting noise) to one of the chairs. “Now, would you like some coffee or tea my dear?” Griselda asked pleasantly while shooting her brother a dirty look.

“Coffee sounds wonderful. I noticed that it’s snowing again.” Marianne decided the best way to deal with Koschei was to do her best to be polite and being polite usually started with small talk; for example, about the weather.

Koschei nodded, picking up his own mug and taking a sip before he answered. “Yes, so you married my nephew.”

Griselda sighed. “Kos--now be nice.”

He gave his sister an exasperated look. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”

Griselda pursed her lips together, not believing her brother before she walked over to the stove to pour Marianne’s coffee. Marianne turned her full attention to the large man. “Yes I did.” Koschei sucked on his teeth looking her over. “You seem very...small.”

“I’m average height,” Marianne said, taking the offered cup from Griselda who shot her brother another exasperated look.

Kos said nothing for a few moments while Griselda filled a plate with sausages, potato cakes, some black bread, and thick sliced cheese. “There you go,” Griselda said pleasantly as she set the plate down in front of Marianne. “A good hearty breakfast. Do you and Bog have plans today?” she asked as she wiped her hands on the apron around her waist, glancing over at her brother. “Would you like some more Doktorskaya?”

“Yes please,” Koschei said with a smile for his sister before turning his attention back to Marianne. She felt a little self-conscious under the man’s gaze.

“I was thinking of asking him if he’d like to go riding in the winter woods.” Marianne picked up her fork and sliced into one of her pancakes. “I was hoping to get Bog to tell me what he’d like to do for Valentine’s Day, so I thought a ride would be the perfect time. That way he couldn’t avoid the topic by rushing off to his work room.”

Koschei looked up from his plate that his sister had reloaded with food for him. “Bog is avoiding discussing Valentine’s Day with you?”

Marianne frowned with a look over at Griselda before gazing back at Koschei and nodded. “Yes.”

Koschei smirked, glancing at his sister who gave him a dirty look before she turned her attention to Marianne. “Dear, you have to understand, that holiday is not a favorite of his. He’s avoided speaking about it. In the past, it’s been…”

Koschei interrupted. “Or maybe he’s realizing he’s made a mistake?”

Griselda smacked her brother in the shoulder. “Kos! Really! You know that Bog has had trouble with love in the past.” She turned her attention back to Marianne. “You know he’s been hurt before...Valentine’s Day has become a sore spot with him over the years, something to be avoided, ignored. He’s probably just having trouble…” She motioned with her hands trying to explain, though her son hadn’t discussed his feelings about the holiday with her in a very long time until she finally said. “...Just give him time. He’ll come around.”

Marianne glanced at Koschei before she asked Griselda, “You don’t think it’s me do you?”

Griselda looked shocked. “No! No dear. I promise it has nothing to do with you. My son has his...what’s the term?” She frowned. “Hang ups. And sometimes it’s hard for him to process change. I think he is probably more worried about what your expectations are than anything else. He loves you, he’ll want to please you.” She smiled tenderly and stepped over to give Marianne a quick hug.

“Just be patient with him, please.”

Marianne returned the hug and whispered, “I don't want anything except to be with him. I just...I was just hoping to do something special for him.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t think you love him enough,” Koschei supplied.

“Oh Kos! Will you stop trying to be so...” Griselda stood up straight while glaring at her older brother. “...so...” Once more she was struggling for a word, but finally settled. “So difficult. When you see them together, you’ll realize that they love each other.” She turned her attention back to her daughter-in-law. “Now don’t you worry. You just do whatever it is you were hoping to do for him and I’ll have a word with him. Just to make sure everything is all right, okay?”

Marianne nodded with a quick glance at Koschei. “Thank you Griselda.”

Griselda smiled and was about to tell Marianne that there was no need when they all heard the sound of hooves on the wooden floor. A few seconds later Bog appeared in the doorway with a wide smile on his face. “Good morning!” he called then blinked in surprise. “Uncle Kos?”

Koschei stood up and held his arms out wide. “Hello boy!”

The two men embraced, though it was amusing to see that Bog was indeed a good head taller than his uncle. “What are you doing here?” Bog smiled stepping back from his uncle, his hands on the older man’s shoulders. “I thought you’ve been too busy to visit?”

“Well I was busy when I got the wedding invitation. Some damnable hero decided to free that fucking Firebird from its cage again. I swear, every couple of hundred years some ass gets it in his head to steal one of that damn bird’s feathers for some princess or other. Anyway, it was setting the entire landscape on fire again and I had to go and catch the damn thing.” Koschei sighed and shook his head. “That damn bird does more damage than it’s worth. If I wasn’t so attached to that little cretin, I’d dump him in the ocean and be done with it. If these damn princesses would stop setting the quest for one of its feathers as a prize for her hand it would be a hundred times easier to keep them and the bird safe.” The old man grumbled and took his seat again.

“Well, I’m glad to see you now uncle.” Bog smiled at his uncle before hugging his mother, then turned his attention to Marianne. “Have you met my wife?” Bog asked as he gazed at Marianne with love and tenderness in his eyes. Marianne rose from her seat and stepped into her husband’s arms. He hugged her tightly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she whispered against his chest, hugging him back tightly.

“Aye, I did,” Koschei answered as Bog released Marianne. “I’ll give her this, she’s pretty enough, but you married one of Santa’s daughters?” He shook his head. “Really Bog, I thought you had more sense than that.” His uncle sighed, but Bog turned with a glare at his uncle. “I love her--sense had nothing to do with it.” He frowned as the last word left his mouth. That didn’t sound right Bog thought, but Marianne giggled and took his hand, pulling him to the chair next to her.

“I was thinking we might go for a ride today.” Marianne decided it was best to simply change the subject. “I saw it was snowing this morning--the woods will be beautiful.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Bog agreed with a smile as he reached out to brush the back of his fingers along her cheek.

*

Marianne excused herself after finishing her breakfast first so that she could change into some riding clothing. But Bog caught her hand before she left, pulling her down to his lap. Marianne giggled softly as she landed on Bog’s lap. “Wha…” she started to say, but he covered her mouth with his, kissing her passionately. The kiss wasn't a sweet kiss, like a little peck. Rather, Bog gave her a kiss that was a promise of something deeper later, a kiss that turned her insides to a storm of butterflies mixed with a fire that spread through her blood. It was a kiss that promised a repeat of their morning’s passion. He grinned when he let her go, rubbing his nose against hers once she was on her feet again.

“I’ll meet you in the stables,” he murmured, caressing the side of her neck with the tips of his claws and sending goosebumps racing across her skin.

Her cheeks red, Marianne kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t be long,” she murmured before smiling at Griselda and giving Bog’s uncle a quick nod.

She hurried back to their rooms to change clothes into something a little more comfortable for riding, a simple pair of woolen pants tucked into leather boots, a long, dark purple embroidered cotton kosovorotka, a white furred coat that hung to her knees, and a matching white furred hat along with some heavy cotton gloves the same shade of purple as her shirt. Once she was dressed for their ride, Marianne headed out to the stables to get the animals ready while Bog finished his breakfast and visited with his uncle.

Frowning slightly Marianne wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Uncle Kos. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for being protective of his nephew, but the old man seemed to dislike her more on principle than anything else, or perhaps he just didn’t like her father. Either way she had a feeling she would have to do a bit of work to get Uncle Kos to like her, but she felt was up to the task. So far, she loved all of Bog’s family, she didn’t see why a cranky uncle would be any different. She just had to find out more about him and perhaps let him know she wasn’t a shrinking violet; she would snap back if necessary.

But that was something she would worry about later. Right now her main concern was making sure that Bog knew this Valentine’s was going to be different because she was deeply and forever in love with him and she wanted to make sure he knew it. Whatever it took to make sure Bog felt safe and happy was worth doing she thought with a smile, absently touching her wedding ring as she headed outside. She stopped on the porch long enough to give the house an affectionate pat before hopping down the steps.

She was halfway to the stables, humming softly when the first snowball hit her in the side of the head.

“AWW!!” Marianne gasped in surprise. Droplets of ice cold water found their way down her collar. She spun around just as another snowball flew in her direction, this one missing her head completely, but hitting the toes of her boots instead. She heard snickering and caught sight of Thang and Stuff running around the side of a tree like a couple of kids.

Grinning with narrowed eyes, Marianne scooped up some snow and hurried after the two goblins. She was pretty sure she was walking into a trap because she didn’t see Brutus anywhere, but the goblins didn’t know who they were messing with. She was Santa’s daughter and she knew how to throw a snowball with the best of them.

*

Bog speared two sausages at once with his fork and stuck them into his mouth with a satisfied groan of pleasure, finishing off his second plate in record time. He’d always had a huge appetite, but since he’d married Marianne his evenings were quite vigorous and he had a larger appetite in the mornings than usual--every morning he thought with a blush--and this morning had increased his appetite ten-fold. As Bog chewed he glanced at his uncle across the table.

His uncle frowned, scooping some caviar onto a slice of bread. He’d remained mostly silent, talking to his sister about a few things at home while Bog ate.

“So, are you happy?” he asked Bog, taking a bite of the bread and caviar as he looked across the table at his nephew. He couldn’t help but smile a little. Bog had grown into a huge man, his horns were breathtaking and the boy had quite the presence, reminded him a great deal of Bog’s father--his best friend--growing up. He smiled a little at the memory before taking another bite of his bread and fish eggs. He wanted to make sure Bog was happy, felt like it was his responsibility since his best friend couldn’t be here to watch over his son. And then there was the issue of love. He’d had his own problems with faithless women in the past. His heart had been broken more than once, and the last thing he wanted was for Bog to find himself in a marriage in which the woman didn’t love him after all. Koschei understood all too well the pain that Bog had suffered in the past--women could be evil and fickle. He frowned at the memory of his own failed love affairs, and at what he knew of Bog’s past pain, before quickly pushing those thoughts aside to focus on the problem at hand.

Bog frowned, confused by the question. “Yes, very. Why do you ask?”

Koschei took another bite of his bread and fish eggs, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed before speaking..“Just wanted to make sure you made the right decision. That girl says you are acting odd about the coming of Eros day.”

Bog blushed looking down at his plate. “It’s nothing.”

“So you say, but…” Koschei glanced at his sister who glared back at him.

“Kos leave it,” she warned.

The big man shrugged. “I’m only looking after my nephew.”

“Uncle.” Bog looked up and smiled. “I love her. I’m happy, and I don’t need one day to tell her that.”

Kos shrugged. “If you say so…”

Bog’s eyes glittered as he growled at his uncle, “I say so.” He took several more bites of food, eating quickly and clearly his plate before he stood. “I’ll speak with you later Uncle, but right now I’m going for a ride with my wife.” Bog looked agitated as he left the kitchen.

Koschei watched him go, then turned around to see his little sister glaring at him. Griselda narrowed her eyes. “You better not be up to something Kos.”

Koschei only smiled. “I would never dream of it.”

*

Bog wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and headed out onto the porch, stopping to rub the railing, made the house chirp pleasantly. Smiling, Bog hopped down and headed in the direction of the stables when a snowball hit him square in the middle of his chest followed by several giggles. He looked up and grinned, his fangs showing brightly when he saw his wife duck behind a tree. He heard more snickering and leaned around the corner of the nesting house to see Stuff, Thang, and Brutus, all three of them trying to hide behind one tree.

“Now, who on earth is throwing snowballs at the great and mighty Krampus?” Bog said in a booming voice that caused more snickering to bubble from around the trees. He crouched down and quickly made six snowballs, easily balancing the well-formed cold weapons in the crook of his left arm. “If you wish to challenge me, show yourselves!”

As the last word left his lips, several snowballs came flying at Bog from behind the goblins’ tree. Bog expertly danced out of the way and threw his own snowballs in response. He nailed Thang instantly, the snowball hitting the short goblin in the face and sending him flying backwards a into a bank of snow where the little goblin disappeared. His next snowball caught a laughing and fleeing Stuff in the back and his final throw struck Brutus in the chest. The big goblin simply looked down at the snowball before he grinned and hurried behind another tree coming out a few seconds later, holding a snowball as big as Stuff.

“Oh no!” Bog laughed dashing for the safety of a tree and ducked behind it (though his tail stuck out from around the tree) just as the snowball hit the tree, showering Bog in snow.

Marianne laughed as she came out from her hiding place. “Okay I think we need to call an end to the fight now--goblins win.”

There was a cheer from the three of them with Thang yelling. “Hot cocoa with marshmallows for everyone!!” The three rushed off for the house, leaving Bog and Marianne alone.

Marianne giggled and hurried over to rescue her husband who nailed her with a snowball for her troubles, right in the chin. “Eep!” Marianne yelped, then mockingly glared at Bog before she gathered up some snow and threw it at him.

Laughing, the two of them threw snowballs at each other, chasing each other around trees while heading toward the stables until finally Bog charged Marianne, lifted her off her feet, and dropped them both into a snowbank near the side of the stables. Marianne squealed as Bog rolled off of her and flopped into the snow.

Giggling, Marianne moved her arms and legs in the snow, gazing up into the sky where more large, fluffy flakes of snow drifted down slowly over them. She glanced over to watch her husband as he mirrored her, moving his arms in the snow, while his horns were covered in snow, his cloak spread out behind him. There were flakes stuck to his hair making him glitter.

Sighing, Marianne rolled over, quickly rose to her feet and straddled her husband. Bog smiled up at her, his fangs showing just a little in that way that she found so alluring. Dropping down on her elbows Marianne brushed some bits of snow from his face, then lightly brushed her lips against his mouth. Bog smiled and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and kissed her. She melted into his kiss, her lips and tongue moving slowly, tenderly, making his blood turn hot. She ground against him as Bog’s hands slid down her body to cup her rear, pressing her down against him while she ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair, then slowly along his horns. For a moment the snow and cold was forgotten as Bog’s kiss burned through her making her think seriously about returning to their room.

But after a few more moments of intense kissing, Marianne pulled back to gaze into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I love you, did you know that?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Bog smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek with the tips of his claws. “I do. Do you know I love you?” he asked, real concern in his blue eyes.

“Yes Bog, yes,” Marianne said with a nod. She brushed her lips against his warm soft mouth, smiled when his tongue flicked out to brush hers.

Sighing, she rubbed her nose against his. “I don't think your uncle likes me much.”

Bog chuckled. “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t like most people as a rule, but he’ll love you once he gets to know you. He’s a good man, prickly like me, but he stepped up and took my father’s place to help me. He’s a bit overprotective, but I think once he warms up to you, you’ll both like each other.”

“I hope so,” she whispered and then covered his face in kisses making Bog laugh, a rich sound she would never tire of hearing. “Let’s go for a ride. It won’t be too much longer before Imp won’t be able to carry me.” She pushed up to stand, but Bog grabbed her around the waist, climbed to his feet while tossing his wife over his shoulder. “Well then, why are you being so slow?” Bog asked with a laugh while he carried her to the stable with Marianne laughing and protesting cheerfully over his shoulder.

*

Duraþrór and Imp were in their shared stable, the two animals had their heads resting against each other affectionately. Imp was just over two months pregnant with twins (Grielda had been able to use her magic to determine that the reindeer was carrying twins.) When the two animals saw Bog and Marianne they both stomped their hooves in excitement.

Marianne laughed softly as her husband put her back on her feet and she rushed over the animals. Imp huffed happily and moved to greet Marianne.

“Good morning girl, ready for a ride today?” she asked, rubbing Imp’s nose. Imp pawed with one of her front hooves excitedly, making Marianne laugh again. “Thought you might be!”

Bog smiled reaching over to run his hand over Duraþrór’s dark nose. “Morning,” he said pleasantly before pulling the gate open to allow the animals to walk out.

While the animals greeted Marianne, Bog went over and grabbed a couple of warm blankets, tossed one over Duraþrór and another over Imp while Marianne gently slipped the bridle over Imp’s nose.

“Ready for a run, old boy?” Bog asked the stag who snuffled and nodded his large antlered head up and down in response. Chuckling, Bog glanced at Marianne who was already on Imp’s back the reindeer clawing her hooves into the straw, ready to get going.

Marianne grinned with a look over at her husband. “Race you to the old oak.”

Bog gracefully leapt onto Duraþrór’s back. “Oh, you’re on!”

Marianne didn’t wait for her husband, but turned Imp and the two raced out of the barn.

“Cheater!” Bog called out and Duraþrór gave chase with Bog laughing merrily.

*

After helping his sister clean up after breakfast, Koschei told his sister that he needed to walk to work off her excellent breakfast. She had laughed and told him to be careful, but he just scoffed at the suggestion.

He headed quickly into the woods, a plan forming in his head. He wanted to test Marianne’s and Bog’s relationship, wanted to test the girl’s supposed love for his nephew and there was only one way he could think to go about it. It was a technique he had used multiple times in the past, sometimes on request. Other times when he was summoned by a relative who didn’t believe the love was true between two people. Usually, he dealt with princes, princesses, or knights, but he supposed that Santa’s daughter was fairly close to a princess.

He smiled and headed off on foot into the winter woods, his plan coming together.

*

They arrived at the large ancient oak, Marianne losing to Bog by mere seconds.

She chuckled as she and Imp circled the tree. “I don’t think it was a fair race. I mean, Imp is pregnant and all…” She smiled mischievously at her husband.

Bog humpfed. “Oh is that why you cheated and took off first? Or went under those trees knocking the branches to dump snow on me and Duraþrór, to even the odds?” he asked with a grin and a lifted dark brow.

Marianne giggled coming up beside her husband. “All is fair in love and war.”

Bog leaned over and pulled her close, his hand going round to gently cup the back of her head. “Oh, is it my wife?” he asked with a smirk, his blue eyes dancing.

“Oh, it is my husband,” Marianne said in a whisper just before Bog kissed her, a soft and tender, yet passionate kiss. She fell into his kiss smiling against his lips, happiness welling up inside her.

Bog released her with a smile and brushed his nose against hers.

“Bog?” Marianne asked softly. “Do you think we could talk about Valentine’s Day...I just wanted...”

Bog frowned, interrupting her. “Ah...Marianne...I...ah.”

“Your mother explained to me a little…” she began, but Bog shook his head looking like he wanted to run away from the conversation. “...I just want to do something special since this will be…”

“Wait here,” he said, interrupting her again. He turned Duraþrór toward the deeper part of the woods.

“Why?” she asked with a frown.

“I want to get something for you,” Bog said softly. “It’s not far, just...just wait a moment, okay?”

Pressing her lips together, knowing he was trying to change the subject, Marianne finally sighed giving her husband a smile. “All right, I’ll wait here.”

He smiled at her and blew her a kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned and Marianne watched as Bog and Duraþrór disappeared among the trees, their dark forms quickly mixing with the shadows.

*

Bog frowned slightly. He wanted to make Valentine’s Day special for Marianne. She not only deserved it for her own sake, but he loved her so very much. He wanted her to know how much she meant to him--though thinking about the day still made him feel slightly ill. He had sworn off love and all it’s trappings for so long that thinking about the one day of the year that celebrated love still made him feel tense. It wasn’t her, it wasn’t Marianne at all. It was all him, but he was working to create something beautiful for her, something he hoped expressed his love for her. He guessed part of his issue might be that he was scared of disappointing his wife, scared that whatever he did for Valentine’s Day would never be enough, that he wasn’t enough for such a wonderful person...

Bog squeezed his eyes shut and dismissed his dark thoughts to focus on what he had come out here to get. He hadn’t told her a lie just to get out of the conversation, he did want to get something for her, something to show her.

He just had to find it. The flower he was looking for was rare, and white as the snow with a tiny pink center shaped like a heart. It had many names from zimaserce to Eros’s Heart. The tiny star shaped flower only bloomed two weeks before Valentine’s Day and one week after the holiday. Maybe he could say with the flower what he couldn’t find the words to say about the day itself.

*

Marianne sighed and smiled as she looked up, watching the snowflakes fall lazily from the grey sky that she could see through the thick, snow covered branches. She reached up to cover her mouth and nose with her gloved hands, blowing to create a warm puff of air when she heard something strange. She couldn’t quite figure out what she had heard, turning toward the other side of the wood where she thought she heard the sound.

Something dark moved among the trees, but she knew it wasn’t Bog.

*

Bog smiled when he found the flowers blooming in patches around the base of a dead myrtle tree. He dropped down from Duraþrór’s back and carefully picked one of the flowers before swinging himself back up onto Duraþrór back.

He hoped Marianne would love the flower.

*

When he returned to where he had left his wife Bog’s lips were spread in a wide grin. “Marianne...this is what I wanted to bring...you...” His words trailed off as he looked around. Imp was there, the reindeer looking upset and nervous, immediately racing over to rub her nose against her mate’s, but Marianne was nowhere to be seen.

“Marianne?” Bog moved around, looking for her, but he saw no sign of her, and as he looked he found no tracks, only those of Imp and Duraþrór. He saw no footprints, nothing to indicate where Marianne had gone.

It was as if she had simply vanished.

Bog roared into the cold air, panic beginning to strain his voice. “MARIANNE!!”

Chapter Text

Marianne woke slowly. She was in that strange middle state between waking and sleep in which she wasn’t quite aware of herself or her surroundings. Confusion was the first thing that hit her because she couldn’t remember where she was or how she had gotten here or even what she had been doing just before she fell asleep. Just as the confusion was beginning to turn into panic, her brain finally caught up to the rest of her body and her eyes flew open.

Her head was killing her with a thundering headache that enveloped the entire top of her head and made her eyes feel dry and sticky. She remembered sitting on Imp’s back when a winter wind began to kick up, blowing snow around her until she couldn’t see a thing. Imp became agitated, neighing, stomping her feet, wanting to run, but Marianne had held her steady. The magic in the wind was like an itch across her skin; someone was whipping up the cold winter wind around them. She remembered seeing a shadow, then a blast of magic hit her. The last thing she recalled with any clarity was being, knocked off Imp’s back and the wind picking her up.

Sometime between being knocked off her reindeer and the magical wind catching her, she’d been knocked unconscious.

When Marianne’s eyes flew open, it took her a moment to adjust. Only a little bit of dim, flickering light shone in the room she was in--which had to be candlelight because of the flickering she assumed but who knew, she could be wrong. She was acutely aware of the cold, that the room was made of stone, large, and that she wasn’t alone.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The voice sounded deep and gruff, but Marianne knew exactly who the voice belonged to--Bog’s Uncle Koschei. She heard the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor. She gradually pushed herself up and looked around with narrowed eyes.

The room had must once have been a throne room; she saw a large, once beautiful throne sitting upon a stone dais. The throne looked as if it had been made of gold and ivory, with intricate carvings, but the gold and ivory were covered in grime and who knew what else, but time had not been kind to the throne. As her gaze slowly roamed around the dusty room, Marianne could see moss on the walls, along with years’ worth of cobwebs. The light she had seen came from a couple of thick, tall black candles that sat in black stone candleholders. She could see a hint of decoration on the candleholders, but it was difficult to determine because of the many years’ worth of wax melted along their sides that nearly enveloped the stone holders. Above her she could see a dull and dirty crystal chandelier that might have been beautiful once, but now was so caked with dust and black smoke that any beauty it once possessed had faded. Every corner of the room had cobwebs hanging in them obscuring the windows that held stained glass, too smudged with grime and webbing to show clearly the images trapped within the glass. And near the throne Marianne saw the worn and faded remnants of what might once have been beautiful tapestry, but the colors had faded to a dull grey, made dim by dirt, time, and neglect. The air of the room even smelled old, as if the air had only recently been disturbed.

Everything about the room said that it hadn’t been used in a very long time.

Her gaze finally settled on Koschei, who was bent over by a large stone fireplace, his fur trimmed cape wrapped tight around his form. He was attempting to start a fire from the sound of matches being struck, but since no fire started, he was clearly not having an easy time of it.

Marianne slowly got to her feet, not sure what was going on or what she should do. She decided to err on the side of caution.

“Do you want help with that?” she asked, her voice gentle. She had no idea why she was here or what was going on, but until Bog’s uncle threatened her, she was going to act as friendly as she could. Maybe this was all some sort of mistake? A Claus was supposed to assume the best before assuming the worst.

Koschei turned to look at her over his shoulder, the heavy fur standing up on his cape nearly hiding his expression. His eyes under his bushy eyebrows were unreadable, but the older fey stepped aside. Marianne moved slowly over to the fireplace. Her head was throbbing, but not so much she couldn’t act. Whatever magic he had hit her with to knock her unconscious hadn’t been deadly, just had an annoying after effect.

Glancing sideways at the elder fey, Marianne checked the wood in the fireplace to make sure it was dry before reaching over to pluck a long match from the wooden bowl that contained several others, all of them covered in cobwebs. She found a small, dwindling pile of kindling, also nearly white with webbing, but with years of experience, Marianne quickly had a nice warm fire roaring happily in the fireplace.

Koschei frowned slightly, staring at the fire, but after a bit he sighed. “Would you like some tea? Maybe some coffee?”

Marianne glared at the older fey. “What I would like is to know why I’m here.” She folded her arms over her chest mostly because what she wanted to do was punch him, but she had promised herself that she was going to be nice.

“I suggest we discuss that over some tea or coffee,” Koschei offered, turning away from the fire to walk over to the throne. He dusted the seat off before he sat, draping himself in a manner that Marianne found familiar. Bog liked to drape himself over chairs, partly because of his huge size, and partly because he simply couldn’t help but take over an entire room with his presence.

“I’d be afraid to drink any tea or coffee you had in here.” Marianne looked around pointedly at the dust, webbing, and grime.

Koschei winced slightly. “I haven’t used this place in a long time, it’s true.”

“What is this place exactly?” Marianne asked, putting her cold hand (her gloves were missing) out to the fire to warm them.

“Well...how much do you know about me?” Koschei asked, leaning his cheek on his fist as he watched her.

“Not much actually. I’ve heard the name…” She bowed her head slightly toward him. “But other than that…” She gave a small shrug.

Koschei grumbled, rolling his eyes. “How soon everyone forgets…” Taking a deep breath Koschei sat up a little straighter. “This is my testing castle. In my prime I would be called upon to perform a duty, usually by a king whose daughter was about to marry. Sometimes a princess would call me and other times it would be a prince--either way I was called upon to perform a service.”

Koschei rubbed the back of his neck in another gesture that Marianne found familiar. “It was usually a test of true love. I would take one half of the lovers, and the other half had to find them and rescue them. If their love was true, they would be reunited. If not, well…” He shrugged.

Marianne wrinkled her nose and scowled. “That is not a test of true love! That’s more of a...I don’t know...a fitness test! A test of fighting skill.”

“Well...yes, but it was a different time, you see.” He gestured at the room around them. “As you can see, I’m not called on anymore.” He sighed. “I suppose if I was still working, I would have to diversify.” He chuckled softly. “Maybe I could teach an online class on love.”

Marianne rolled her eyes, walking over to sit down on one of the cold steps leading up to the throne. “So is that why I’m here?”

Koschei looked down at her and nodded.

“Let me ask you this uncle…” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone, not that she was trying very hard. “What makes you such an expert on true love? Have you ever been married?”

Koschei looked down at Marianne, his mouth opening, then closing, then opening again.

“Well...”

*

Bog pushed Duraþrór probably harder than he should have, especially with a pregnant Imp in tow, but he needed to get home after having searched as much of the wood as he could before he began to lose daylight. He hated to put Imp through the search and the race home, but he couldn’t let her find her way back alone in her condition in a woodland unfamiliar to her, but he’d make sure the goblins took good care of her when they returned.

His first stop was the stable to drop off both animals. He hollered for the goblins, his voice ringing through the cold evening air. Once the goblins were in the stables and he’d given instructions, Bog rushed to the house.

The house chirped in distress, sensing Bog’s fear and worry as he jumped the steps and rushed through the door.

“MOTHER!!!” Bog’s voice caused the house to shudder in response.

Griselda yelled back. “Well it’s about time you two came back, it's getting dark and you both missed lunch.”

Bog heard his mother’s voice from the kitchen. A moment later, he rushed into the room, bursting in with a breathless gasp. “Marianne’s missing! You have to help me find her!” Griselda, who was stirring something that smelled delicious in a pot on her oven, turned to look at her son, confused. “What?”

Bog swiftly explained what had happened, his mother’s expression becoming more and more dour. When he was finished, Griselda growled. “That’s why your uncle hasn’t returned...I thought maybe he’d decided to go home.” She shook her head and muttered under her breath. “That idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” Bog was panting, one hand lifted and pressed against the doorframe. From his tone and expression, Griselda could see panic was starting to get the better of him.

His mother grabbed his arm, hauling him over to a chair where she made him sit. She hurried over to the oven and picked up the kettle, filled a mug, and rushed back to put the mug between her son’s large hands, which she felt trembled slightly.

“Drink that.”

Bog did as he was told, taking a large gulp of the hot drink (nearly spitting it out again because it was too hot), but he swallowed the bitter black coffee. Griselda shook her head at her son.

“You really should learn to cool things off before you shove them in your mouth.”

Bog gave his mother a sour look. “So why would my uncle have Marianne?”

“Do you remember the stories I used to tell you about your uncle testing lovers?” Griselda asked, her hands on her hips as she gazed at her son.

Bog nodded. “Yes, and you also told me how much he didn’t like the idea of love, that he didn’t really believe in it.”

“Indeed.” She nodded. “He doesn’t. Like you, Koschei never had luck with love in his own life and so he never had faith in love for others.” She sighed, reaching up to run her hands through her frizzy hair, causing large curls to come free of the bun she had her hair in. “This has to be one of his old true love tests…”

“True love test?” Bog blinked slowly as if he didn’t understand what his mother had said.

She nodded again. “It has to be. He separates the lovers and one must fight through to his castle to find the other. If the lover succeeds, then true love wins--if they don’t...then it was never true love.”

“Well that’s just stupid,” Bog growled, showing his fangs.

“Agreed. He hasn’t done the test in centuries, not since that sort of thing went out of fashion, but that’s the only reason I can think of that he would take her,” Griselda muttered. Bog, his voice strained, asked her, “But what if it wasn’t him?”

“Oh, it was him sweetheart, trust your mother.” She started to walk out of the kitchen. “Wait here--I have a couple of things you need to take with you.”

Bog frowned and watched his mother go before taking a sip of the now cooler coffee. He was going to kill his fucking uncle for this, but then Bog’s mother returned carrying a sword. (Actually, she was dragging the sword. It was huge, and for a human the sword would be considered a claymore, but for Bog the sword would simply be a broadsword that he could wield with one hand.) In the witch’s other hand, she held a little leather sack. Bog’s eyes opened a little wider in surprise. He didn’t really think he would have to kill his uncle...he didn’t think he could do that...Unless the old fool’d hurt Marianne, but Bog didn’t think his Uncle Koschei was that type of person...at least not anymore.

“All right, this is your father’s sword.” Griselda groaned a little, dragging the sword to her son before she dropped the leather sheathed sword for him to catch after he hastily put the mug aside. Slowly, Bog pulled the sword out of its leather sheath. The sword’s blade was long and dangerous looking. The hilt featured gold inlay and ivory mounting, while the design that swirled around the hilt looked like flowering vines. “In case you don’t recall, its named Grimmrvang and this…” She held out the leather pouch to drop it into Bog’s palm after he reshealthed the sword. “That is a magical arrowhead.”

Bog opened the bag and dropped the contents into his palm. The arrowhead like the sword’s hilt, made of gold and ivory, but the very tip was broken off. “You can use it twice in a day--usually--to show you the direction to the castle that your uncle used to use for these trials of his. Simply think of where you want to go, drop the arrowhead onto the ground, and it will point you to the castle. The place is probably overgrown by now and overflowing with all sorts of vermin.” She shook her head with a mutter, “I don’t know what the man was thinking...he should have just married that poor rusalka Galina and stopped being such a fool.” She sighed and rubbed her fingers under her eyes. “Well, let me pack you some food and you can get going.”

“You don’t think I’m going to have to…” Bog frowned, looking down at the sword, his sentence left unfinished. His heart and blood turned to ice at the thought that he might have to hurt his uncle.

“No dear, I don’t.” She smiled and reached out to touch her son’s shoulder before gesturing at the sword. “That is for whatever is living in that abandoned castle of his. Your Uncle Koschei isn’t going to hurt Marianne--unless he bores her to death--and he doesn’t want to hurt you. He thinks he is helping, old fool that he is.” She smiled at her son and lightly touched his cheek. “Now let me pack you some food just in case this takes a while.”

“How far away is this place?” Bog stood and slung the sword belt over his head and under his arm so that the blade laid across his back, over his cape.

“Further than here and shorter than there,” Griselda said with a smile that made Bog press his lips together in annoyance.

Relatives, he thought with displeasure.

*

Marianne sniffed the cup while looking at the brown liquid inside. It smelled all right, like typical black tea. She had added sugar, which Koschei had claimed was preserved by magic (and it had looked fresh even if the bowl the sugar had been in had been covered in a thick layer of dust and old webbing), but there was no milk or cream in the castle. Not a surprise. Marianne hesitantly took a sip, but both the tea and the sugar tasted just fine.

Koschei smirked at her, watching her sip the tea. “See? Told you so.”

Marianne looked over at him from where she sat on one of the throne’s steps. “So...I’m not sure I understand how this test is supposed to work. I mean, aren't I the one you have doubts about, not Bog, so shouldn’t I be the one fighting my way through the castle to him?”

Koschei frowned looking into his tea as he gently stirred the liquid inside by rotating the cup gently. “I suppose, but...Look, I make the rules.” He straightened his back proudly, but his shoulders sagged a little a moment later. “I also wanted time to speak to you, about your feelings toward my nephew.”

Sipping her tea, Marianne glared at her uncle-in-law. “I love him, that’s why I married him. Why are you so against that?”

“Because you are Santa’s daughter and my family all know how he feels about us,” Koschei growled at her, but Marianne wasn’t the least bit scared of him as she replied with a snap.

“I admit, my father can be very stubborn, but he came around. He was at our wedding, you know. He and Bog have even spent some time together, just the two of them. My father is excited for grandchildren. So whatever imaginary problem you see there has already been taken care of.” Marianne glared hard at the older fey before taking another sip of her tea. Koschei continued to frown while chewing on his bottom lip before he said softly in his baritone voice, “Bog has had the same trouble with love in the past that I have. He’s been hurt.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if you understand how badly a heart can be hurt, but I don’t want Bog to wake up one morning only to find that your love was false.” There was no threat in his voice, but rather just sad resignation.

“Griselda told me. She said that was part of the reason he’s acting the way he is about Valentine’s Day.” Marianne sighed softly and found that she couldn’t really be too angry at Bog’s uncle when his motivation was only to protect Bog’s heart. “I was hoping for a chance to show him differently, that he had nothing to fear, nothing to be worried about. My heart will never turn false, will never turn away from my husband. I can’t imagine my life without Bog.” She smiled as she looked over at Koschei, but tears formed in the corners of her eyes as the feelings she held for Bog welled up, threatening to overwhelm her. “I don’t need one day to express my love for him, I’ll need our entire life times to even come close to expressing how I feel about him. He is more than just the man I love: he is my friend, my confidant, he is so deeply a part of me that I know I would not survive without him. We are too intertwined to be just two separate people anymore.” She blinked and the tears rolled down at her cheeks even as she was smiling. “I’ll never be able to tell Bog how much I love him because there are not enough words, not enough ways that I can express my feeling.”

She shrugged, smiling gently and looking back at the tea in her cup. “I love him. I just wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with him. I didn’t want or expect him to do anything special. I…” She sniffed on a tiny laugh. “I would be just as happy lying in bed all day...” She blushed, pressing her lips together for a few seconds before she spoke again.

Koschei stared at her, his eyes wide before he whispered. “I am a fool aren’t I?”

Marianne looked over at him, a questioning frown on her lips.

Shaking his head, Koschei sighed. “I was in love once, deeply, madly in love, but…” He looked away from her, his voice soft with memory. “I couldn’t trust her. She was a rusalka, I know it was in her nature to lure young men, but I thought because I loved her, that we loved each other it would be...different.” His voice broke and he looked away from Marianne. “She betrayed my love, my hopes…” He swallowed hard. “Since then, I have seen the many false faces of love in the people I’ve tested…”

“But haven’t you seen real love too?” Marianne asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yes, I suppose so...but more often than not love has shown itself to be too fragile and failed. True love is a rare thing Marianne, very rare.” Koschei’s deep voice trailed off.

*

Bog brought Duraþrór slowly back down to the ground, having chased the arrowhead over the winter wood and through fields of ice and over waves of stone, traveling through sunlight and night dark until he finally arrived at the foot of a great mountain just as the sun was setting. As Bog looked up, he could see at the very top of the mountain sat the castle, a vast stone structure hidden in shadows with several onion domed towers that tapered into smooth points to stab at the sky (though even from here Bog could see that some of the points had broken off and toppled over the passage of time.) At one time the castle might have been painted, with colorful combinations of colors, but the years had worn those colors away, leaving only hints that he could see in the fading light. Bog saw the vast walls surrounding the innermost structure of the castle and the hint of a large gate.

Duraþrór stamped his hooved feet as Bog surveyed what he could of the castle before turning his attention to the bottom of the mountain. He hopped off of Duraþrór and walked over to pick up the arrowhead where it lay, pointing at the mountain, his tail whipping back and forth with agitation. The area surrounding the mountain and castle was a large evergreen forest. There was snow here as well, but unlike the winter wood the snow here was melting in places, though the air reaminded chilly.

Tucking the arrowhead back into the leather pouch his mother had given him that Bog had tied to the belt around his waist, Bog looked around, surveying the immediate area. The forest grew thick, the trees creating heavy shadows and he could hear things moving in those shadows. He could sense something in the darkness watching him. Bog growled at the shadows, his eyes narrowing.

“This is a stupid test,” Bog muttered, turning his back on the shadows (if they wanted a fight they could come to him and get it) to look back up the mountain. He thought he could see hints of a path or a trail leading upward through the trees.

He glanced back at Duraþrór. “Think you can make that climb?” he asked the stag. “I mean, we could use the path, but it's going to take a while. Still, if you don’t think you can make that climb we might have to…”

Duraþrór looked insulted at Bog’s question, huffed and pawed at the ground. Bog chuckled. “Okay, okay, sorry. Just don’t want you to exhaust yourself, the trip here was longer than I thought it would be.”

Once more Duraþrór glared at Bog like he was the biggest idiot on the planet. Chuckling, Bog came back and mounted the stag. “Well, to the gate then.”

*

At the top of the mountain, the castle loomed large and dark. The entire stone structure had a presence about it, reminding Bog a great deal of a large spider. The front of the castle was protected by a wide, natural stream that acted as a sort of moat. Bog wasn’t sure where the water was coming from, but it moved quickly and he could hear the distant sound of a waterfall. By the time Bog and Duraþrór arrived at the gate at the top of the castle, it was clear that Duraþrór was exhausted. Sliding off carefully, Bog frowned, rubbing the stag’s neck. “I want you to stay out here and rest. I can go into the castle by myself.”

Duraþrór huffed and snorted in irritation, but Bog only smiled and gave the stag a comforting few strokes along his neck. “You would be more trouble to me in your weakened state; it's best you stay here.” Bog smiled encouragingly, but Duraþrór clearly wasn’t happy. The stag didn’t protest, however, too tired to fight with Bog. Instead, the big stag wandered over to a patch of green grass that was poking through the melting snow and began to gaze.

Giving the animal one last pat on the side, Bog turned back to the castle and slowly approached the water. He saw a bridge leading to the doors, but it was broken. The middle section of the bridge was completely gone, though Bog tilted his head and estimated with certainty he could jump the gap. He could see the large double wooden doors on the other side and a mechanism near the bottom on the right for opening the doors.

Walking along the bank, Bog looked into the swiftly moving water. It was fairly clear but not so much that he could see the bottom. Water, rivers, ponds were always dangerous. Who knew what sort of fey creature might be lurking under the surface waiting to snag someone.

Walking a few more steps, Bog started to turn and head back to the bridge when he saw something swim swiftly past him underneath the water’s surface.

Bog paused, his hand reaching behind him for the sword, though he didn’t draw it. Instead he waited and continued to walk along the bank looking into the water. It might have simply been a trick of the light, but…

A moment later, he detected a shift in the water. Bog yanked his sword out just as the head of a pretty woman emerged. At first he only saw the top of her head, her hair black like the inkiest of water, her skin pale, and her eyes were large and a deep blue grey. Her head popped up for a moment showing him a pretty, delicate face before disappearing again only to reemerge, the eyes and the top of her head the only thing he could see.

“Rusalka…” Bog hissed, his grip on the sword hilt tightening.

He’d never actually seen a rusalka before, but Bog had heard about them from stories his mother told. These female water spirits were fond of luring victims to their banks, then drowning young men within their waters.

Bog and the rusalka stared at each other until finally she rose up enough that her face was fully visible. “Is Koschei back?” she asked in a soft, watery sounding voice.

Bog blinked, a little taken aback by the question. “Ah...yes.”

She rose up a little more; now her shoulders were showing and she was smiling, showing off a mouthful of tiny, but sharp needle-like teeth. She looked like a young woman of barely twenty years, but her features were too sharp, and her teeth too pointy for her to pass for anything except fey.

“He is?! Really?!” She clapped her hands. “It's been so long…”

“You know my uncle?” Bog asked in surprise.

The rusalka laughed and nodded. “Oh yes, yes I know him...I’ve been waiting so long for him…”

Bog felt even more confused than he had just a moment earlier. “How do you know my uncle? I mean, do you have some sort of agreement with him?”

The rusalka laughed, the sound somehow like raindrops on water, and swam to the bank. Bog backed away from the water’s edge, but she didn't make a grab for him. All she did was fold her hands against the moss and grass, resting her chin on her hands as she looked up at Bog. “I can see him in your features...your uncle you say?”

Bog nodded again and the rusalka frowned. “How long has he been gone?”

Bog opened his mouth, but realized she was speaking to herself. “I lose track of time when I’m in the water so much…” She looked back to Bog and frowned softly. “He didn’t come back for me did he?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about?” Bog slid his sword back into his sheath. “He kidnapped my wife in some misguided venture for us to prove our love--at least that’s what my mother thinks. But, no rusalka was mentioned.”

The rusalka sniffed and Bog noted her expression wasn’t just sad, but devastated. “I’ve been waiting for him for so long…” She put her head down against her hands and started to cry.

Blinking slowly Bog rubbed the back of his neck. This was not at all what he had been expecting.

“Ah, can I ask why you want to see my uncle so badly?”

The rusalka looked up, her expression one of deep sorrow and regret. “Because I love him.”

“Oh? Uh, what?” Bog shook his head to clear it. Had he heard her correctly? Did she love his uncle??

“You love him?” he asked in astonishment, but she nodded, her eyes bright. “Oh yes, I’ve always loved him, though...I’m not sure why he stopped coming to see me. I thought he loved me too.”

When she sighed, Bog heard a deep sadness in that simple expression. Her eyes were getting a far away look before she spoke again. “Who are you?”

“I’m Bog, I’m the Krampus,” Bog explained gently. He detected no danger from her and felt none of the compulsions that his mother had warned him to watch for, so he thought, why not be honest with her?

“Oh!” She smiled putting her hand out. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard all about you! Didn’t you just get married?”

Bog only hesitated a moment before he stepped near to the water and took her hand. It was small and wet, but he could feel her strength in her grip. She didn’t try to yank him into the water, but simply shook his hand and her smile was pleasant, even with the sharp teeth. Besides, he thought with a mental shrug, who was he to judge on appearances? “Ah, yes, at Christmas.” Bog blushed a little, releasing her hand.

“So you say Koschei kidnapped your wife--why on earth would he do that?” she asked. “You’re his blood, why would he want to test your love like he did the others? Did you call him?”

Bog shook his great horned head. “No, I didn’t call him. I don't know why. My mother said he’d had trouble with love in the past and…”

The rusalka gasped and her expression looked stricken. “He thinks I don’t love him??” Tears began to form at the corner of her eyes and run down her already wet cheeks. “Maybe that’s why he stopped coming to see me…”

“Well, I don’t know if it was you, but…” Bog began, but the rusalka pushed herself up and climbed out of the water. At the same moment she stepped onto the shore, the water on her body formed into a long, white and grey gown that clung to her like wet cloth and pooled around her bare feet. “I just need to carry this with me…” She dropped down to her knees by the river and reached into the water with both arms to slowly pull out what looked like a long wet veil made from flowering rushes and moss. She held the veil up for a moment and Bog saw that water flowed from the garment continuously. She whipped it around and attached the veil to the back of her head, covering her hair before she turned and smiled. “Must keep my hair wet while I’m out of the water…” She said this with a matter-of-fact tone before she walked over to Bog.

“I’m coming with you because something happened that caused Koschei to stop seeing me...to doubt my love for him.” She put her hands to her chest, pressing them between her breasts as if her chest hurt. “I have to let him know my feelings have never wavered.” Her voice sounded soft, and broke on her pain.

Bog frowned as he studied the fey woman. She seemed serious, serious enough to leave the safety of her watery home. Perhaps there was something there after all. “What’s your name?” he asked with a small smile, his own fangs just visible to the rusalka.

The rusalka smiled back at him, blinking back the tears from her eyes. “Galina.”

“Well Galina, you are welcome to come with me.” Bog smiled before turning his attention to the doors and the broken bridge. “Do you know what’s on the other side?”

Galina turned to look at the castle and only now did her expression show that she had no idea of the state of the castle. “Oh, it has been a long time hasn’t it?” She shook her head sadly before she continued. “Koschei kept a few monsters here in the beginning. Some were pets, some were just wild things he would catch to test the lovers. I know after a while it upset him when the monsters would get killed so he made some golems to take their place.” Galina bit her bottom lip in thought. “I know the castle is haunted by the spirits of those whose love wasn’t true, but beyond that I have no idea how long it’s been...anything could be in there now.” She turned to Bog and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” He shook his head. “That’s more than I knew before.” Bog set off to cross the bridge to the large doors, easily jumping over the broken gap. He landed, his hooves making a loud clatter against the stone. Galina flowed over. The only sound she made was the wet sound of water splashing against stone. She hurried over to stand by Bog as he worked the gears, which were difficult, having rusted over time. He strained, his muscles bulging with the effort, but then the gears suddenly snapped and the doors were flung open, both of them cringing when one of the doors swung too quickly. The ancient bolts that held it had rusted long ago, snapped, and the door fell, crashing to the floor inside.

Bog rolled his eyes. “Great. Well, now anything inside knows we’re here…”

*

Marianne jumped to her feet as a loud booming sound echoed through the castle. Koschei looked up and toward the sound with a grin. “I'm going to guess that Bog’s arrived.”

Marianne set her cup dwn. “What’s in this castle?”

Koschei frowned in thought. “There’re ghosts of the dead.” He looked at Marianne and shrugged one shoulder. “...those who failed my test. Let’s see. I think some snivelings moved in while I was gone, nothing for Bog to worry about. Other than that...I’m not sure. This place has been abandoned for many years. Things, monsters, creatures have moved in, I am sure.”

“So you have no idea what's in here? There could be something truly horrible in here and you were just planning on letting Bog fight his way through without knowing what he could be fighting!?” Marianne was yelling now.

Koschei grimaced. “Ah, well he is the Krampus. There is very little that boy couldn’t handle…”

“You really didn’t think this plan or yours through at all did you?!” Marianne snarled, her anger boiling over. “This entire plan is stupid! We have to go help!”

Koschei frowned, realizing just how dumb his plan was. Santa’s daughter was correct. He hadn’t thought beyond testing their love, hadn’t considered that Bog might actually get hurt and how, if there was nothing here to hurt his nephew, there was no real test. Oh, he was a stupid old man sometimes.

Koschei rose to his feet. “You’re right...I’m sorry. Follow me.”

He turned and hurried out of the room, Marianne racing after him, her anger mixed with fear. There could be anything in this old abandoned castle, all sorts of horrible things could have turned this into their home. Granted, it could be that nothing lived here now, but Marianne somehow doubted that this place wouldn’t have attracted something terrible.

Koschei led her through several stones hallways, some so filled with cobwebs that they had to claw their way through them (the cobwebs also made Marianne start to think about the things that could be lurking in here--things with too many legs and large bulbous eyes.)

They took a set of stairs up into what felt to Marianne like a tower until they arrived at a door made of gold, just barely visible under the layers of webbing. Koschei moved swiftly, tearing the webbing away to reveal more of the gold door, decorated with carvings of swords and hammers along with the large beautiful image of the firebird.

Koschei held his hands up and closed his eyes, began to chant softly under his breath. Marianne felt the swell of magical power in the hall, the air growing colder. The edges of the door began to glow softly with a soft white light, building with brightness as Koschei spoke quicker, then just as Marianne felt the swell of power increase, she stepped back and shielded her face. Instead of an explosion (which by the growth of magical power she was half-expecting) the door simply popped open.

Grinning, Koschei stood aside and gestured. “Welcome to one of my armories.”

Marianne cautiously stepped past him into a wide room and saw the walls were decorated with weapons, all the way up to the ceiling. From swords to daggers, to bows, and hammers, and spears. In rows through the middle of the room stood armor stands holding sets of armor of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There were racks holding even more weapons, along with shields of various types. She also noted chests, some piled on top of each other filled with who knew what, but there were enough weapons and armor in this single room to outfit an army.

Koschei grinned proudly. “Pick whatever you want. All curses have been broken, so you don’t have to worry about anything like that.” He held up a finger as he said, “Though do be careful of any blade that has a light purple or green glow to it--probably poisoned.”

Marianne watched as Koschei walked into the room, heading straight to a rack that held several hammers. He pulled down largest hammer Marianne had ever seen from the rack and held it up, testing its weight. The silver warhammer glowed with blood red runes the moment Koschei touched it and lifted it into the air. He swung it once and Marianne snapped her hands up to her ears as the hammer shrieked with a roar she could feel in her bones.

Koschei turned to grin at her. “I call her Narrenmӧrder. It’s been a long time, but I think I still know how to swing her.” He smirked and Marianne watched as the older fey moved like he was centuries younger, the hammer swinging around him like a dance partner in his hands. The hammer’s roar as it moved through the air made Marianne shiver, and she was more than happy when he stopped swinging it.

“Now, hurry--pick something…” Koschei encouraged her as he strapped the hammer to his back with sturdy leather straps he took from a bench.

Marianne looked around with wide eyes. There were so many weapons, so many to choose from, but after a few more moments of walking through the armory, Marianne saw her weapon. On a stand, alone, separate from the other blades, rested a saber. The blade was slightly curved, etched with intricate patterns of leaves and vines all done in gold. The hilt of the sword ended in an intricately carved flower, the petals of which had small inlays of amethyst. It was, Marianne thought with a little intake of air, a beautiful blade.

Marianne picked the saber up and instantly she felt as if the sword had always belonged to her. It felt right in her hands, perfectly balanced. She closed her eyes and began to swing the sword, moving it in smooth graceful slices through the air, circling it around her body with ease. She moved with it, dancing with the blade much like Koschei had danced with his hammer, though with more grace and fluidity to her movements. The blade made only a whisper of sound as it cut through the air.

When she stopped and opened her eyes, the amethyst stones were glowing.

“That’s the Hada-Zahrat.” He smiled at her. “A perfect blade for my nephew’s wife.”

Marianne smiled at him, then turned and headed for the door, gripping her new sword’s hilt tight in her hand. “We need to hurry...”

Koschei chuckled as he watched Marianne walk with purpose out of the room. “I can see why the boy fell for her…” he muttered as he hurried after her.

*

Bog and Galina made their way into the main courtyard of the castle. Bog had pulled his sword, his eyes adjusting to the darkness easily. It was clear the castle had been long ago abandoned by his uncle, but it was also clear that something was here, several somethings if he saw the signs correctly. His keen sense of smell picked up the foul scent of feces and urine--some old, some fresh--as well as the scent of damp fur, old and new blood, death, and something else, something musky, sharp...

Dangerous.

Galina shivered as she looked around slowly. “This place looks and seems awful.”

Bog nodded and muttered. “Agreed. Going to have several words with my uncle when this is over. And not just about abducting my wife...”

Galina frowned, looking confused. She turned her head, lifted her nose up, and sniffed. “I smell water…”

“Water?” Bog looked around. The flagstones--some broken and shattered--that made up the floor of the courtyard, looked dry to him, but she pointed down a hall hidden in darkness to their left. “That way…”

Bog shrugged and headed the way the rusalka had pointed. After walking a half-dozen paces he started to pick up on the smell of water, old water, stagnant, and something else...

The both came into a large room with a high arching ceiling. There were other halls leading off this main room, one going forward, two others heading to the left, and one to the right. In the middle of the room rested a large body of water, like a well, surrounded by moss and lilies.

“That’s odd,” Bog muttered, starting to step toward the stone well in the middle of the room as the sudden need for water overcame him, his mouth and throat dry. The need to drink felt so strong he couldn’t resist it. He took another step toward the well when Galina grabbed his arm, her grip cold, wet, and firm. “Don’t!”

Then he heard it, a sound like the deep gurgle of water from way below, hollow and wet. The sound was followed by a stench so foul that Bog coughed, bringing his arm up just as a large mottled red and brown head began to emerge from the rancid well...

Chapter Text

The thing that pulled itself out of the center well was huge, at least twice the width of a rhino while coming up to Bog’s shoulder in height. The creature was covered in slimy green and blue scales with a wide mouth that looked as if it almost split the head in half. The smell that accompanied the creature wafted over them, strong enough to make Bog want to gag. The scent was a combination of stagnant water, rotting vegetation mixed with rotting meat, old blood, and a sharp fishy scent.

Bog backed up as the creature flopped onto the floor bringing with it more stale, foul, rancid water that started to bleed out from from its body like blood, pooling around it on the floor. The monster opened it mouth wide, showing a mottled grey tongue surrounded by razor sharp teeth, some almost as long as Bog’s forearm. The sound that came from it was a sort of gargling howl that rattled the walls, sending motes of dust sprinkling down on them from the rafters above. Bog narrowed his eyes when he saw the long, barbed tongue that lashed out when the beast opened its mouth. There was a tall green fin that ran up the spine of the creature, snapping up when the monster roared.

Galina hissed, stepping back and crouching, her eyes wide. Bog glanced sideways at her as Galine’s teeth elongated and her nails turned into claws.

“Nice to see you’re armed,” Bog said matter-of-factly. Galina glanced sideways at him and gave him a toothy smile.

The monster didn’t seem to have any eyes that Bog could discern, but it certainly knew they were there as it moved its head toward the sound of Bog’s voice. The creature let out another wet roar and started to move toward them in the same way a giant walrus would, moving surprisingly fast for something that big and ungainly.

“Fuck,” Bog muttered, holding his sword at the ready.

*

Marianne stopped in mid-jog down another stone hall. She had no idea where she was or where she was going, but she assumed Uncle Koschei would stop her from going in the wrong direction (or at least she hoped he would) her eyes going wide. “What was that?”

Koschei frowned, tilting his head to the side. “Well, I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

The look Marianne gave Bog’s uncle would have burned the hair off a bear. She curled her lip and hurried, hoping she was going in the right direction.

*

The creature lunged at Bog, its tongue whipping out, searching for prey. The barbed weapon looked both deadly and venomous as thick green liquid oozed from it. Dancing out of the way of the lashing tongue, his hooves clicking against the stone floor and his tail whipping with his own agitation, Bog twisted around. He moved swiftly and gracefully for a man of his size, and slashed at the long, barbed tongue with his sword. The blade nicked the creature's tongue, cutting a long, deep slash in the side of the thick muscle.

The pain caused the monster to make a strange whine and immediately retract its tongue before it moved toward Bog again. Its movements were still surprisingly quick, but the creature seemed only slightly more cautious as it lunged forward, snapping its jaws at him. For being something that looked more aquatic than amphibious, the creatures moved swiftly on land, rushing toward Bog. Moving quickly, jumping out of the way, Bog avoided the monster's snapping jaws, but when the creature twisted its body around at the last second, swinging its thick, finned tail at him, Bog almost didn’t move swiftly enough.

The creature drove Bog back into a corner before he realized what was happening. When the monster twisted, Bog only had a second to decide what to do. He jumped and threw himself to the side, hitting the side of the wall with his hooves, running along it for a split second as the tail swing at him, covering the spot Bog had been only moments ago.

Bog’s rush along the wall caused the monster’s tail to miss him, but it was still close. When Bog jumped over the tail and hit the wall, the very top of the fin caught him. The points of the fin hel tiny curved spikes that cut across the thick muscle and fur of Bog’s left thigh. He hissed in pain. The cut was shallow, but stung like a son-of-a-bitch.

Landing behind the monster with a hard clatter of his hooves across the stone floor and a bit of a slide since the stone floor was becoming slick with the oozing water, Bog thrust his sword out with one hand. He buried his blade deep into the thickest part of the creature’s tail and backside. The beast let out a bellow, a gurgling sound of pain as Bog yanked his blade free.

Just as it started to whip around toward Bog again, Galina--who had run to the other side of the room--rushed forward and took a swipe at the monster’s eyeless face with her clawed hands, snarling as she did. The creature turned its attention to her.

Letting out a startled yelp, Galina ducked as the monster opened its mouth. The spiked tongue missed her by little more than a hair’s breadth. She took off, running to the other side of the room, the monster giving wobbling chase, its tongue shooting out like a monstrous chameleon as it tried to catch and swallow Galina.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bog chanted to himself as he gave chase. He jumped with a roar to land on the creature’s back, burying his blade deep into the monster’s flesh even as the sharp spikes along its fin caught and pulled at him, creating little bloody wounds along his arms and legs. Bog ignored the pain and twisted his blade in the creature's back, gripping the hilt of his blade with both hands. The monster let out a howl of rage and pain, twisting its head around to snap its jaws at Bog trying to dislodge what had just hurt it so badly. Moving one way and then the other, trying to avoid the snapping jaw, Bog yanked his blade out. Dark blue-black blood came spurting out with the weapon, smearing across Bog’s arms and face. He lifted the weapon ready to plunge it once more into the monster when the tongue lashed out and caught Bog in the chest.

The Krampus roared as the spiked tongue caught his flesh and yanked him off of its back and toward the creature’s mouth.

*

The sounds of a fight echoed through the castle’s dusty, web choked halls. It was impossible to determine where the sounds were coming from; the echos were muted and seemed to be coming from all directions, at least from Marianne’s perspective. She stopped again at another intersection. This damn castle was a maze with halls and rooms leading into dead ends or more empty halls and chambers.

It didn’t help matters that Koschei had only now informed her that he couldn’t be much help in navigating the labyrinth of halls and rooms, primarily because the labyrinth changed over time. He’d told her the castle would remain the same until a new person entered through the front gate. Once someone entered that way (unless it was him of course), the magic would take hold, making the layout different, thus making it so no one could navigate their way through the castle and make a map to be used in the future. The enchantment would make sure that Koschei himself could always get where he was going, but since he didn’t know where Bog was in the castle, he couldn’t exactly know where he was going in order to find his nephew.

Marianne had never wanted to hit someone as much as she wanted to hit Bog’s uncle, she felt very un-Clauslike at the moment because violence felt like it was the best answer to her problem at the moment.

At least the castle wasn’t working actively against them by changing while they were in it.

Glancing back at Koschei for a clue as to which way to go, only to have the old man shrug (she was going to knock his block off the first chance she got Marianne promised herself.) She snarled and turned back to the intersection. Her mind told her to go right, but her heart was pulling her to the left.

Marianne decided to follow her heart.

The hall they moved along was decorated with several old paintings, some showing Koschei when he was younger. The man had been quite handsome in his younger days, Marianne thought idly, and she could definitely see some of his features in Bog. She also saw a painting of Griselda, young and beautiful with a tall man beside her. His horns were thick and black, his fur dark, and his features sharp, just like his son.

Stopping mid-march, Marianne turned to look more fully at the painting.

“That’s my sister and Bog’s father.” Koschei’s voice broke just a little before he cleared his throat and continued. “They were very much in love,” he added softly.

“Did you make him go through this for your sister?” Marianne asked, turning to look at the older man.

Koschei smirked. “I did, or at least I tried to. He…” He pointed at the image of Bog’s father. “Killed my favorite Bugbear while my sister threatened to tear my castle down around my ears and turn me into dragon shit.” He grinned sheepishly. “She was planning on feeding me to a dragon.”

“I doubt that...but it’s not a bad idea,” Marianne added with a smirk of her own.

Koschei chuckled. “Anyway, they were wonderful together.”

“What happened?” Marianne asked softly as they continued along the hall.

Koschei shook his head. “No time for a story like that. Come on, we need to find my nephew before he finds something bigger than him.”

“Let’s hope we don’t find anything bigger than us.” Marianne chuckled grimly as they walked swiftly down the hall (though she caught sight of paintings of Aura and one of a small, tiny horned little boy with huge blue eyes who was all arms and legs. Marianne resisted the urge to grab the painting and take it with her, though only barely.)

They traveled quickly down the hall and turned at a curve which continued left. The hall didn't end in a dead end, but there were three doors--two on the right, one on the left. All three were made of sturdy wood and all three looked simple. Marianne saw no arcane writing, no symbols of any kind, nothing to give any indication that they were anything but normal wooden doors.

Marianne glanced at Koschei. “Any thoughts?”

“Be careful,” he answered holding his hammer at the ready.

Marianne wrinkled her nose at him, but she picked the last door on the right, her hand on the plain metal knob. Marianne muttered, “‘Be careful,’ says the man who brought us here.”

She pushed the door open and stepped through with Koschei close behind her.

The stone walled room beyond was lit by a strange purple glow around the tops of the walls, along with several ancient, thick black candles that sat around the room either on the floor or held in ancient metal candlestick holders barely visible through the years of wax residue. There was no furniture in the room, but there were skeletons, or at least pieces of skeletons, and not all of them animals. The bones were littered throughout the room in various states of age, some brown and some with bits of dried leathery skin still attached. Along the right side wall was a large carving in the stone of the wall that took up the entire space, and there was webbing so thick in the corners of the room, or hanging from the ceiling that they almost looked like sacks. Marianne couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if something dark might be in the strange webbing sacks. Shuddering she turned away, didn’t want to know what was in there.

She continued to look around the room, ready to step back out and try another door when something to the left caught her eye in the dim lighting. It was hard to tell through the cobwebs and dust, but hidden by layers and layers of webbing looked to be a door--or a rectangular shadow--but she was sure it had to be a door. Marianne didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that was a door they needed to get through too.

The room smelled musty with dust and age, but there was another scent she could detect under the smell of age and dust. The smell was sweet, but the rotten kind of sweet, the sort that had an underlying muskiness and sourness.

The sound then she heard made her eardrums vibrate. She winced and stumbled back, had started to screw her eyes closed when she caught movement at the corner of her eye.

Gasping in shock, Marianne saw something the size of a large rat, but it wasn’t a dog at all. It looked like a spider...thing. The creature that came at her had eight legs, but with large wasp-like wings that looked to be covered in a thin membrane almost like skin. The body was segmented, as were the bristled legs. Its were large and glowed red in the dim light that revealed its shiny black and brown body.

The sound was coming from that creature Marianne realized just as the horrible call was repeated throughout the room, echoing off the walls.

As if the shriek of one attracted the others, several dozen of the creatures began to drop down from the ceiling. Marianne let out a scream, a battle cry of fear and rage--fear she would not make it to her husband and rage at this creature that was trying to stop her from getting to him.

Koschei roared and brought up his hammer. “Bukavac!!”

Marianne slashed out with her sword, missing the creature the first time, but as she ducked and spun around, her blade tip sliced through the creature's wings. It let out a horrible sound as it hit the floor with Marianne rushing over to pin it through the abdomen a heartbeat later.

“What are they?” she yelled, ducking under the attack of another creature, then gasping in sudden pain as one of the creatures ducked low just as she leaned way, as the pincers at the end of two of its legs ripped across her shoulder. The pain felt shocking, but as she took a quick glance at the wound, she could see it was superficial--even with some of the bristles from the monster's legs sticking in the wound.

“They’re Bukavac! Horrible little demonic creatures that suck the blood out of anything it can catch. They usually inhabit swamps, I’ve no idea how or why they are here…” Koschei’s hammer made a deep hum that blocked out the noises of the monsters (at least temporarily) as the old man swung the weapon through the air, splattering at least two of the creatures even as another stuck him in the back, driving it’s stinger in. Bog’s uncle let out a cry of pain and anger, turned and grabbed the flying pest out of the air to squash it with his hand.

Marianne spun around, killed one of the bugs with a swipe of her sword, but four more of the creatures buzzed and hovered around her. She ducked and dodged, but the another struck her; the impact made Marianne stagger and scream as the monster stung her in the fleshy part of her shoulder. She screamed in pain yanking the creature off her just like Koschei had done, but instead of the stinger coming with the monster, it broke off. The creature’s stinger ripped free in a gush of blood and gore even as Marianne screamed again, crushing the monster’s body with her hand, then threw it to the floor. She stomped on at the same time she swiped her sword through the air, slicing through a pair of the beasts and fending off the others.

She looked over at the door (she hoped it was a door) at the far left and yelled. “Koschei, get to the door!”

Marianne took off at a run, blindly swinging her sword to keep the creatures off of her, her eyes on the shadow of a door.

Koschei looked back over his shoulder at Marianne with a quizzical expression only to see her running across the room with several more of the Bukavac zipping after her. Shrugging, Koschei turned and raced after Marianne. He swung his huge hammer with one hand, whipping it back and forth across his body and around his head. It was not a graceful or good fighting tactic, but right now he agreed with Marianne--getting out of the room was more important than fighting the nasty creatures.

Marianne arrived at the door and was pleased to see that it was a door rather than just a shadow. She ripped at the webbing while Koschei protected her back. The shrieking whine from the creatures’ wings seemed to become louder. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that more of the Bukavac had come out of the shadows.

“Fuck,” Marianne hissed as she grabbed the handle and prayed that the door would open.

*

Bog’s back slammed against the wall, knocking the breath painfully from his lungs. The rough stone scraped his back while the creature’s barbed tongue dug into his chest, ripping at his skin. He snarled in pain as the creature flexed its lumbering, rubbery body to lunge at him. Bog, bleeding from over a dozen small wounds, brought his word down on the monster’s tongue only to have the thick rubber muscle reflect his blade. Eyes widening in panic, he tried again, but neither slicing nor hacking made any difference. The creature yanked Bog forward again, its mouth opening wide when he heard a loud hissing sound followed by a streak of white.

Galina darted forward. Her eyes had gone completely white, her fangs longer and her claws much longer than before. She sliced at the tongue, her claws breaking through the tongue’s thick muscle. The rusalka didn’t cut through it, but she damaged it enough to make it bleed. The monster swung Bog, using him to knock Galina way from it just before it hauled Bog closer.

Holding his sword over his head, Bog snarled in anger, and as the monster’s mouth was within range, Bog surged forward to plunge his sword into the monster’s forehead.

The monster let out a gargling shriek, yanking it’s tongue back and released Bog, who kept his hand wrapped tight around his weapon’s hilt as he tugged his sword down and out in a blast of blood as the sword ripped a hole in the monster’s head. Bog hit the floor hard enough that he felt something wrench in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, rolling away from the monster as he came up on his hooved feet, his tail whipping out behind him. He spun around to face the monster that was flopping around in pain and shaking its bleeding head back and forth.

Wounded, the monster was now simply out to kill whatever had hurt it. Rising up, the beast let out a roar and shot forward toward Bog. Slipping on the wet floor, Bog couldn’t avoid its attack as it slammed it’s bleeding head into him and lifted Bog off his feet.

Scrambling for a moment, Bog dug the clawed fingers of his free hand into the monster’s thick, slippery hide and held himself back from its broad, stinking mouth. He tossed his sword up, flipping it around and grabbed it by the hilt, the blade facing down. With a shout, Bog plunged the blade to the hilt into what he hoped was the brain of the monster while he held on with his claws and kicked his hooves at the edges of the beast’s mouth.

The monster screamed again, but this time it sounded different; the monster’s scream held too much fluid, and it was a shriek that Bog felt in his bones. The monster flailed, thrashing its body around until it finally thrashed Bog free, his claws ripping through the monster's flesh as both Bog and the sword were ripped out, tearing an even worse wound into its broad head. Bog flew through the air, hot blood spraying him as he hit the floor. He slid across the stone, scraping skin and hair along his arm and shoulder until he slammed to a stop against a wall. Galina rushed over, dropping to her knees in front of him.

“Are you alive?” she asked in her voice that held only a hint of worry before she added. “I found a way out…”

“Let’g go…” Bog groaned as he struggled to get to his feet, every inch of him hurting. He got to his feet before having to dodge and run, or be hit again as the monster thrashed around in the agony of what Bog hoped were its death throes. Galina, now looking as she had before, her claws gone and her teeth shortened to barely noticeable fangs, ran toward what looked to be a simple wooden door in a corner of the room, barely visible. Galina hit the door hard, wrapping her hands around the simple silver knob on the door.

*

Marianne yanked the door open and ran through with Koschei fast behind her. He grabbed the door and slammed it shut, squashing one of the monsters, the head popping free in a gout of blood and ichor, but Koschei was able to slam the door close. He reached up for the wooden plank, grabbed it and threw it down into position. They both heard the sounds of multiple impacts against the other side of the door.

Marianne was about to turn and yell at Bog’s uncle for not knowing what was in his damn castle when she heard a noise at the other end of the room. She blinked and wondered what new problem they would have to face.

At the other end of the room, another door opened, a door she was sure hadn’t been there only moments ago. Marianne watched in shock as a lovely woman who seemed to be dripping a constant stream of water stumbled through the doorway, followed by a bloody and beaten Bog.

“BOG!!” Marianne couldn’t stop herself from shouting with joy at the sight of her husband.

Bog looked over at her, his eyes wide; she could see his blue gaze from her position across the room. “Marianne!!” he yelled and started to move toward her even as Koschei’s eyes landed on Galina in shock.

Before Bog or Marianne could move toward each other, they all heard the sound of a groan, a loud and rumbling groan. Marianne’s and Bog’s heads both snapped around at the sound only now taking in the room in which they stood. They saw clutter everywhere. Clothing, pots, pans, bones, bits of trash, food, and even pieces of treasure--gold and silver--peaked through some of the debris and trash. The other aspect of the room that hit Marianne was the smell, the overpowering stench of body odor, filth, and rot. The last thing to grab Marianne’s attention was the large giant--what she thought at first was simply a mound of trash--who was now waking up.

The giant looked to be massive. Marianne couldn’t be sure, but if the giant stood her husband might reach to its hip, but she was doubtful of that until it stood up. The giant looked pale grey, almost the color of stone, and hairless. His eyes were a darker grey and it was wearing only a loincloth; as the giant stood to its full height--its head almost brushing the raftered ceiling--Marianne could see that it had a belt of skulls around its waist; animal, elf, and human were only a few she recognized, and worse yet, its fingers ended in curled, long claws. When the giant’s eyes opened, snapping to attention, it immediately zeroed in on the four people in the room.

Bog hissed. “Ah, fuck…”

The giant was slightly taller than Marianne originally thought as she stumbled backwards, looking up in shock, but she felt when Bog grabbed her hand as they continued to walk backwards and looking up at the giant until their backs hit the wall. Both of them turned toward the doors they’d come in only to find both wooden doors gone. Maybe the castle was fucking with them Marianne thought as the giant roared, the sound deafening. It reached over, pulling a giant, filthy mace from a pile of trash.

Bog squeezed her hand drawing Marianne’s attention. He smiled at her, his teeth stained with blood, but his eyes were heavenly blue and his smile made her heart sing.

“We got this,” he said with a grin and a wink.

Koschei and Galina (both of whom gazed at each other for a few seconds that seemed to go on forever with so many things they wanted to say), flanked Bog and Marianne. Bog’s uncle asked with a hiss, “How do we kill this?”

Bog narrowed his eyes at the giant, speaking swiftly. “I’m going to draw his attention. You…” He glanced at his uncle, but when Marianne heard Bog say he would be the distraction she opened her mouth to protest.

Bog winked at her before she could get a word out, his smile reassuring. As if to emphasize that everything was going to be work out all right, he reached out and briefly cupped her cheek. She pressed her lips together, upset, but she had to trust her husband. She clamped her mouth shut as he stroked her cheek with his thumb before returning his attention to his uncle just as the giant shook free some debris from its mace and shook itself, as if to shake off the last of its slumber and embrace rage.

He said to the older man, “You go for the knees with Galina.” (Again the two looked at each other meaningfully though neither said a word).

“Marianne, you think you can take its eyes out?” Bog asked swiftly, looking up at the giant and tightening his grip on his weapon. For a moment Marianne looked confused. Its eyes? She looked back at the giant frowning. Could she? That would mean climbing the mountain of a monster while Bog used himself as bait. But...

Smiling Marianne nodded with a look over at her husband, lips set in a firm line. Her eyes were narrowed and shining. “I can do it.”

Bog smiled at her and winked again before he whispered. “I know you can. Now get ready everyone.”

The giant roared and stepped towards the intruders into its lair while swinging its mace, forcing the four of them to leap out of the way or be smashed. Koschei and Galina ran left while Marianne readied herself to get behind the monster while Bog yelled, flailing his arms over his head as he tried to catch the giant’s attention. “Eyes here!!”

The giant, who had been looking around trying to keep all four of them within sight, snapped his head around to glare at Bog who smiled and yelled. “I bet you were a bad boy this last year weren’t you? I bet you didn’t get a visit from Santa or me did you?”

It was unclear if the giant understood what Bog was saying, but he clearly understood the tone of derision in Bog’s voice.

The giant roared and swung its weapon, forcing Bog to throw himself to the side and roll, hitting his already aching shoulder against the floor. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but he avoided the deadly weapon. The mace brought up sparks when it hit the floor next to him. Bog hissed against the pain, rolling to his feet and brought his sword up, gripping it with both hands just as the giant yanked his mace back and slammed it down against Bog’s blade just moments after he brought it up to defend himself. The spikes on the mace’s head caught against Bog’s blade, making the metal scream.

The impact vibrations that rippled up Bog’s arms and through his torso from when the weapons met made him grind his teeth as he struggled to hold the sword up against the giant’s massive strength.

The giant shoved, continuing to use its much greater size and strength against Bog, forcing his hooves to slide against the stone, grinding and causing sparks to flash as his hooves were forcefully ground against the stone as Bog fought to keep the giant’s focus on him.

Bog snarled. His fangs looked long, sharp and wicked, his blue eyes glowing brighter. “What’s the matter?” He snorted with a bigger smile. “Not used to prey that fights back?”

*

Roaring, the giant yanked the mace back, causing Bog to stumble when the intense press that had been making his arms shake with the effort of holding the giant off, suddenly vanished. Swinging the mace overhead once, then to the side, the giant moved around the room trying to catch Bog, who kept moving, dodging and rolling, refusing to stay still. The giant continued whipping the air at its feet, snarling and spitting, in clumsy attempts to hit Bog who was moving quickly, just barely avoiding the mace. But as Marianne looked over at her husband, dancing around and yelling at the giant, it was clear to her that Bog was starting to become weary as he twisted and dodged, occasionally having to deflect a blow from the much stronger giant. She saw that Bog was taking a few swipes at the monster, but only one or two landed, none of his attacks doing much damage. They needed to end this soon, she knew.

*

The monster roared and stepped forward, swinging his mace a little higher, this time catching Bog in the shoulders when he didn’t move quickly enough. The spikes cut into Bog’s shoulder, ripping through flesh before the giant flung Bog into a wall. The impact knocked the air from Bog’s lungs in a pain gush, leaving him gasping for air and in dazed pain. Bog stood up, his blue eyes flashing with defiance as he turned and gave the surprised giant a bloody smile. “Give it your best shot...shorty.”

The roar of angry frustration the giant let out shook the walls as it began swinging wildly at Bog.

*

Koschei and Galina waited, watching for a chance to move in close while not getting crushed by its huge feet. The giant’s attention was fully focused on Bog for the moment. It was killing Koschei not to go to his nephew’s rescue, watching as Bog barely dodged the monster’s weapon, but he had to trust that Bog knew what he was doing. When the giant hit Bog and knocked him out of sight--its big body in the way--Koschei knew it was time to make a move. “I’ll go for the right, you the left.” He glanced sideways at Galina who smiled sweetly up at him. “Yes…” She transformed, her eyes turning white, her fangs elongating along with her nails into claws. Koschei watched the few seconds more it took her hair to begin moving on its own as a she let out a gargling sounding hiss like she was whispering underwater. She smiled one more time at Koschei before she spun around and flung herself at the giant’s knee, slashing back and forth at blinding speed, her claws cutting deeply into the giant’s flesh, slicing through the large, thick tendons of the giant’s knee and aiming for its hamstring.

Smiling, Koschei followed, swinging his screaming hammer over his head as he ran for the giant’s other leg, building momentum so that when he swung the hammer, the impact of the metal connecting to the giant’s flesh mixed with the sound of the bone underneath snapping and filled the room with the obscene sound.

The giant let out an ear-splitting shriek of pain, dropping to one knee and swinging its mace at Koschei, who dodged out of the weapon’s path while Galina simply flowed like water out of range of the giant’s attack.

*

Marianne sucked in her bottom lip. This was it, the giant was down enough that she could do what her husband had asked. Taking off at a run, Marianne leapt and grabbed two handfuls of the giant’s loin cloth in the back and started to climb.

*

Bog saw Marianne leap at the giant. He grinned with pleasure despite the pain that wracked his body. Marianne was quite a woman he thought; brave, strong, smart, beautiful, and willing to climb up the back of a giant.

That was the moment the giant snarled and reached behind him.

He’d felt Marianne! Bog thought in a panic.

“Right here big guy, you want to focus on me, not her, focus on me, you ugly son-of-a-bitch…” Bog yelled, waving his arms, rune marked sword in hand. The wounded giant’s attention immediately snapped back to him and Bog could see the plain, murderous rage in the giant’s eyes.

“Good, focus that right here…” Bog whispered under his breath. “Focus all your attention here and let my wife kill you…”

Roaring again with frustrated rage, the giant brought the mace over head and then back down, slamming the spiky head of the weapon into the stone floor just as Bog danced back. The horned man hissed, “Whoa that was close…”

Continuing to roar and spit with rage, the giant brought his mace down several times while Bog rolled and jumped out of the way, feeling a great deal like a nimble ant at the moment. His uncle and Galina were also distracting the giant’s attention from Marianne by yelling and continuing to land deep cuts and hammer strikes onto the giant’s already wounded legs, but forcing the giant to divide his attention gave Marianne the best chance.

*

Gagging, Marianne climbed the giant swiftly, though it was hard maintain her grip on the monster (she was holding onto some of its body hair in disgust. The smell of the thing was overpowering, body odor mixed with blood, feces, and other trash made the thing’s skin oily and the smell unbearable.) The giant kept whipping its head back and forth like it was watching a tennis match, forcing Marianne to hold on for dear life as Bog and the others kept its attention away from her.

Focusing on her task, Marianne moved swiftly, but when she arrived at the back of the monster’s neck, she had an idea. Bog had said take the eyes, but that was no guarantee that such an attack would kill the giant, or even stop it. But...

Marianne climbed up to the ear, and now the giant knew she was here for sure. The moment she grabbed a hold of the monster’s ear, its large pale eyes turned to her. It roared and reached a clawed, filthy hand for her.

Swinging backwards, she held onto the ear lobe of the monster so she could hold on while bending backwards out of the way of its grasping hand.

Marianne barely avoided its clumsy grab when Bog yelled and risked a slash at the giant’s body with his blade. “Look at me!!”

The moment the monster’s attention turned, swinging its mace to fend off the sword attack, Marianne balanced herself on the monster’s shoulder. She released her hold on the giant’s ear, her sword held with both hands. With a battle cry, Marianne shoved her sword into the giant’s ear with all her strength. This close, Marianne heard a loud pop as she buried the sword to the hilt. The pop was loud enough that she winced when her sword pierced something inside the giant’s ear followed by the giant’s head jerking back, its eyes going wide as its entire body went rigid. When the monster started to fall backwards Bog dropped his sword with a loud clatter, running forward toward the giant and yelled. “Marianne!! Jump!!”

She saw her husband, his arms out, ready to catch her. With a smile, Marianne jumped off the giant’s back...

*

The four of them sat in Koschei’s throne room as a warm fire danced in the fireplace. Bog and Marianne sat in front of the fireplace, attending to each other’s wounds, cleaning, sewing, and bandaging where necessary while Galina and Koschei sat together on the throne, Galina sewing the large puncture wound in the old man’s back.

“Where have you been?” Galina asked softly. It wasn’t a demand, only a simple question of inquiry.

“I…” He started and closed his mouth. He didn’t know what to say to her. He’d left her and never came back to her because he’d thought she had betrayed him, but now that he was face to face with her, the same intense feelings of love welled up again in Koschei’s chest. Even after all these years without seeing her, Koschei realized that he still loved the rusalka.

Galina frowned as she stitched his flesh back together. “I waited for you to come back. For many long years...” She glanced in the direction of Bog and Marianne. “...more years than I realized had passed, but I waited Koschei. I swam the river around your castle in the hopes you’d come back to me…” She sighed softly. “If you’d come to me, I could have shown you that what you believed about me was a lie. My sister wanted to cause trouble, you remember how jealous she was of us, don’t you?”

Koschei stiffened. He did remember Galina’s sister, a horrible and vindictive creature, jealous of anyone who had something she didn’t. He winced and whispered, his voice trembling with shock as he realized that he had let a lie rule his heart. “You never betrayed me did you?”

Galina shook her head. “No, I never did and I never would. I know…” She leaned her slightly damp forehead against the back of Koschei’s head, her voice soft. “I knew you had been hurt before, but I thought, I believed that my love--that our love--was different. That you knew it was different, that I was different from anyone else, but the first time my sister feeds you a lie that you wanted to believe…”

“Because I couldn’t believe a wonderful, beautiful woman like you would be in love with...me…” he said the last word softly.

Galina said nothing at first. Instead she wrapped her arms around him from behind, her head still resting against Koschei’s. “I did love you then, and I still love you now…” she whispered, tightening her hold on him. “I’d like to still have a chance to love you…”

“Even after what I did? Leaving you, thinking the worst?” Koschei’s voice broke with emotion as he reached up and laid his hands against her arms.

“I forgive you Koschei,” she assured him. “Now it’s time to forgive yourself. We can still be happy, if you’ll let yourself,” she murmured.

Slowly Koschei turned around, his arms going around Galina as he held her tight, pressing his head against her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, promising he’d never let go of her again.

*

Marianne gasped, arching while Bog held her on his lap on their bed, her fingers digging into his shoulders while his lips and wicked tongue curled around her nipple. He licked her, dragging his tongue slowly over her nipple before catching it between his lips and sucking deeply. She shuddered as he switched breasts, sucking gently again until Marianne was sure she might explode with tension. The way he caressed her nipples elicited a tickle deep in her groin, a tickle that made her want to squirm and whimper with pleasure. Bog’s claws gently caressed her back as he continued to focus on her breasts, driving her crazy with his tender, yet aggressive licks.

After another couple of moments Bog’s lips moved up her throat, one hand snaking up to her breasts where he stroked the sensitive nipple with the pad of her thumb while he sought out her lips again.

Marianne rose up and wrapped her arms around him. She kissed her husband as if she needed him to breathe, her tongue twisting and sliding in a slow dance that only caused the fire in her groin to burn hotter. He brought her up onto his lap, reaching down between them to stroke her wet opening with his erection, slowly coating himself with her fluids and causing her to whimper and hiss, her entire body sensitive to her husband’s delightful touches.

Just when she thought she couldn’t stand his teasing any longer, Bog gave her a playful feral smile and eased his erection into her. Marianne gripped his shoulders hard, lowering herself down on him before leaning back with a deep moan of pleasure as their bodies came together. Bog’s hands caressed her sides before he move a hand over to slide up between her breasts, watching the way her body bent back gracefully. He grabbed her rear and adjusted how she sat on his lap. He plunged deeper into her, hitting her at an angle that made her eyes practically cross with how good he felt. Holding onto her husband’s shoulders, Marianne began to move, arching her back while thrusting her hips, sliding up and down on her husband’s erection while staring into his gorgeous eyes. Smiling, she caressed his face, continued her slow sliding thrust or rising up on her knees, nearly to the top of his erection before sliding down again, watching the expression of pure bliss on her husband’s face.

They continued to move together, their bodies rocking into a soft rhythm until Marianne felt that tickle in her groin grow and spread. She rocked a little harder, a little faster, feeling that tantalizing tickle of his shaft deep within her body.

They were both panting as they moved, but Bog was quickly being left behind as Marianne ground and thrust a little harder, her breath catching. Bog grabbed her head in his hands, holding her face, kissed her tenderly as she ground frantically on him, her eyes fluttering. He kissed her with his eyes open and Marianne did the same, kissing him back, her breathing becoming desperate pants. She lost herself in the feeling of them joined together and in his eyes, until finally she cried out loudly.

Bog muffled her cries with his mouth as he felt the flood and the tightness around him, her body pulling at his when her orgasm hit her. He whimpered and snarled, fighting back his own pleasure so he could fully enjoy Marianne’s pleasure, watching her, feeling her, his wife, his lover, his friend.

Marianne’s eyes teared up as her love for Bog overwhelmed her, mixed with the pleasure of their love making. She squeezed his shoulders hard, as if she needed to hold onto him or be swept away, whispering to him as she held on. “I love you Bog...I love you.”

Shuddering, Bog moaned, his expression a mixture of pleasure and pain. “I love you,” he hissed between his fangs, followed by a deep moan. “Marianne…” He kissed her, a long, deep kiss that caused the last coherent thoughts to flee her mind, leaving her only able to focus on this moment, on these feelings, the wet, hot feel of their love making, the taste of his lips and the blue of his eyes. She reached up and stroked her hands over his horns before wrapping her hands around them, holding on tightly as another orgasm hit her, rippling through her like a storm. She leaned back, kept her hold on his horns and let out a cry that made Bog gasp in pleasure and climax, even as he tried to hold back.

Together they rode out their shared orgasms, riding to the dizzying peaks together, then slowly coming down, falling into the warm lazy feel of being completely and utterly spent.

*

Yawning, Marianne brought the back of her hand up to cover her mouth. She was freshly showered, her wounds healing a little faster after getting a dose of Griselda’s very bitter tasting healing medicine (which made her feel like she was a little drunk.) She had a belly full of potato pie with a side of delicious apple strudel, plus she was home, in bed, naked on the evening of Valentine’s Day with her equally naked husband beside her having just had a delicious session of sex with her husband. Everything was right in her world.

Now she was barely able to fight off falling asleep, though the occasional yelling from the cabin’s kitchen was helping to keep her awake.

Bog yawned next to her, followed by a chuckle when he heard his mother’s raised voice again followed by his uncle apologizing.

They had all returned home together, except for Galina, who had needed to return to her river. She hadn’t wanted to go back to her river to wait for his uncle’s return, she’d wanted to stay with Koschei; but after Bog had sworn an oath to make sure his uncle returned, she had agreed to wait in her river. Koschei had gone down on one knee, took Galina’s hands and promised her on his life that he would return and he would not make the same mistakes he had made in the past.

Bog and Marianne watched the two of them, could see how much Koschei's uncle was in love with Galina. They’d already lost so much time over lies and misunderstanding, both Bog and Marianne doubted anything could have kept his uncle away from his love and his second chance at happiness.

“Sounds like Griselda is a bit upset with her brother,” Marianne commented as she snuggled up against her husband, fighting off sleep for just a bit longer.

Chuckling again, Bog kissed her shoulder, his lips warm and soft. “I would not want to be on the other end of that lecture.” Bog kissed along her collarbone before pushing himself up on his elbow so he could look her more easily in the eyes as he asked. “Would you like your gift now?”

Marianne blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Your Valentine’s Day gift…” He smiled softly at her, tracing one wicked claw along the tops of her bare breasts. “Just because I was feeling a bit out of sorts about the day didn’t mean I didn’t make you a gift.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts before smiling at her again in the darkened room, lit only by two candles. “I love you Marianne and...Well...” He smiled. “Let me give you my gift.”

“Fine, but can I give you yours?” Marianne asked.

Bog sat with a grin, his eyes bright. “Of course!”

They both ducked down on their respective sides of the bed, and came back up, each having pulled something from their hiding place.

Bog held something wrapped in a bag of purple velvet while Marianne held a small red box. They both grinned at each other and traded off their packages. Marianne pulled open the velvet bag and gently pulled out the most beautiful pair of vambraces she had ever seen. They were carved from wood, but she could feel the magic on the wood, a soft, gentle hum of power that felt like a caress against her skin. The vambraces were carved with intricate patterns in the wood that looked to be painted with a bright silver. The designs that enveloped the vambraces were of leaves, Christmas trees, and simple curls of design with rows of runes running along the sides of the vambraces.

“I made them myself…” Bog said with a smile and pointed to the runes. “You can store spells within each of the runes and since they are made of magical wood, I was able to tease it into a more controlled form. Now when you need more protection, the wood will grow. It won't create a suit of magical wooden armor--it’s too small a piece for that--but it could create an entire armored arm…”

He shook his head smiling. “Sorry, I'm babbling.”

“Oh Bog, this is wonderful!! It’s so beautiful!! I love it, thank you!!’ Marianne laid the vambraces on her lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders only to feel the pull of her wounds like dull, nearly forgotten ache. She smiled, kissing her husband softly on the lips. “I love them more than you know,” she whispered and brushed her nose against his as she gazed into his eyes. “Now, open yours.” She grinned, her cheeks turning red as she sat back to watch him open her gift.

Bog opened the top of the box to find inside was a ring of gold, too big for his fingers, too small to be a necklace. Curious he gently picked the gold ring up and examined it. The ring was intricately carved with what looked to be holly leaves along with tiny rubies set into the ring to represent holly berries. “Marianne, it’s exquisite, but ah…” He looked up helplessly. “Where does it go?”

Marianne chuckled sitting up on her knees, the blankets falling away from her naked body distracting Bog as she took the ring and bent his head down before she slid the ring onto one of his horns. “There…”

She sat back, admiring the way the gold and ruby ring looked on his horn. “You should go take a look,” she urged.

Bog grinned and climbed out of bed, his nakedness distracting Marianne as her husband walked over to pick up one of the candles and strolled over to the vanity mirror in their room. He turned his head to admire the gold ring on his horn. “I love it...I never thought to wear anything so nice on my horns…” He glanced back at Marianne. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Marianne giggled with pleasure, then put her arms out. “The day isn’t over yet. I have one more gift…”

Bog smirked a little, walking back over to her. Marianne bit her bottom lip while watching her husband move, the power in his legs and hooves, the swing of his tail and the horns combined with his natural slender muscles and of course, one of her favorite parts of his body completely exposed.

“Mmm….” She giggled as Bog crawled onto the bed, and crawled on top of her, pressing her back against the pillows. “Mmm?” he repeated with a raised brow. “Does the Krampus’s wife see something she likes for Valentine’s Day?”

Giggling Marianne stroked his chest. “Listen to you saying Valentine’s Day like a pro now. No longer worried?”

Kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose, Bog nodded. “I’m not. I have you with me to remind me that I am loved and that you accept my love in return.” He brushed his lips over hers. “I have nothing to fear.”

Marianne stroked her fingers through his thick, dark hair, her fingers tracing the points of his ears. “I will love you forever Bog.”

“And I you, but I think next year I would rather do something simple, like--I don’t know. Not get out of bed all day.” Bog grinned at her. “I think fighting a giant together might have been overdoing it a bit.”

Marianne giggled and laid her head against his chest as he laid down, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Agreed, no more giant fighting on Valentine’s Day, though I think a dragon hunt might be romantic.”

Bog groaned and just sank into the bed making his wife laugh even more as she hugged him tightly. “Claus women are crazy,” he murmured.

Marianne responded with a kiss to his chest and a whisper. “That’s why you love me.”

He grunted in agreement.