The Ways of Women

“Now Bell.” Hestia began as she spoon fed him soup that she had quickly nipped downstairs to purchase from the bar. “We need to talk.” She said simply as she continued to help him slurp down the food. She left that statement hanging in the air for several minutes as she helped Bell finish off the bowl, before finally setting it aside on the sideboard and sitting down on the end of the bed, looking up its length to Bell.

“Bell. You left me behind. You ran off to sacrifice yourself for me. Never do that again.”

“But Goddess!” He began almost immediately. “I had to keep you safe. I owe you everything. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt!”

“But did you even think about what that would make me feel?!” She cried out, and for the first time Bell was able to make out the crystal tears that had been building in her eyes. “You are my first and only child. The one I care about more than anyone else in this world. And you abandoned me to go die. I was so terrified for you!!!”

With that she stopped holding back at all and threw herself forwards, wrapping her arms around his legs and waist and burying her face into the bedcovers over them, sobbing into the fabric. “You idiot!” She cried out even as she began to wail on him with her bunched up fists, hitting him over and over with all the **** her weak and tiny arms could bring to bear. To Bell, even as only a level 1 adventurer, they barely even felt like bugbites.

“G-goddess.” He stuttered out, his hands hovering in the air. He wanted to hug and console her and do whatever she needed of him to bring a smile back to her face. But she was a goddess. She was something so untouchable greater than him. For him to lay hands on her so casually… it was almost something blasphemous.

But seeing her crying was just too much for him to bear. Because above all else, Bell Cranel was a boy who wanted to be a Hero. And if there was one thing no hero would ever allow to happen if they could help it, it was to let a girl cry.

Slowly but steadily he leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up and against him, and he comfortingly ran his hands around in circles over the small of her back while she sniffled and sobbed into his shoulder. “Hestia. I’m fine. Everything worked out. It’s fine.”

“No it’s not Bell! It worked out this time. But what if it happens again? Would you send me away again just so you could die to keep me safe?” She held herself to him as tightly as she could, making sure her face was over his shoulder where he couldn’t see her expression.

He took a few moments before he answered. He considered lying to her, even though he knew that Gods could tell when someone lied. But even still, maybe he could pull off the impossible and be able to tell her what she wanted to hear instead of the truth. It was on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t. Even though he knew it wasn’t what she wanted, that it would hurt her. He had to tell the truth. “Yes.”

He felt her hold on him tightening, and her arms around him squeezed around his waist almost painfully. “Why?” She whispered into his shoulder. “Why would you do that? Why would you rather throw your life away than let me stand beside you?”

“It isn’t about that. You are my Goddess. If I saw you get hurt then that means I failed. I am an adventurer. It is my duty as your child to protect you.” It was a simple and matter of fact thing. He was Mortal, she was Divine. There was a world of difference between them, and Hestia was fundamentally something far greater than he was.

“You are my child.” She insisted regardless, pulling back so she could look him in the eyes and let him see the red trails down her cheeks while she tried to stare him down. “It’s my duty to protect you!”

“But you can’t. You’re not allowed to use your powers in this world. Here you are ****. And that is terrifying, because you are a goddess. You are beautiful and radiant and wondrous. You are a goddess. And I’m just a human. In the end your life is worth more than mine.”

Hestia’s face went blank, just staring at him in utter incomprehension. She didn’t seem to understand. That was alright. As a Goddess it was almost expected for her to view the world from her own perspective, from the perspective of an immortal.

“If you die, you are sent back to Tenkai. You lose everything you have here in the Mortal Realm, and everyone loses you. Not just the people who care about you now, but the people who could care about you a decade from now. Or three decades from now. If you die then the world loses.” A mournful smile spread across his lips as he prepared to bluntly share the cold reality of the situation. “If I die, then there are only three people who will notice. If I die, you can rebuild your familia. I’m… just not worth as much as you are.”

Crack!

Bell found himself looking at the wall of the room, his cheek stinging. Slowly he turned his head to look back at Hestia, her hand still outstretched. “Don’t you dare say that.” She spoke like her throat was a desert, and that the very act of speaking those words physically hurt her. “Don’t you dare. You’re not allowed to die Bell. Not ever. Not Ever!”

“I- I can’t do that Goddess.”

“Why not? Why can you try the impossible for Wallenwhatchamacalit but not for me?” The anger and hurt that filled her reddened eyes was almost frightening to Bell, and he froze in place unable to speak or move. “Well it doesn’t matter. As your Goddess I am officially ordering you to never talk like that again! And you are going to be more cautious in the Dungeon. I won’t let you leave me behind Bell. I won’t!”

She ended her small rant panting maniacally, her hair a complete mess from how ruffled it had been as she slung her head from side to side while she shouted her demands, and her face was twisted into a look of triumph, but one that couldn’t have been more obviously fake and **** if she had tried to make it so. As she knelt on his bed, towering over him, with a huge smile on her face, never before had he seen his Goddess looking so fragile.

“I-” He swallowed. He did so again. Why did his throat feel so dry? “I promise.”

The porcelain doll that was his Goddess right now slowly collapsed in on herself, thankfully free of cracks. He’d said the right thing. That was good. He breathed a sigh of relief, though that was abolished a moment later when Hestia slunk off of his bed and to the door.

“Wait.” He called out and she stopped, facing away from him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see if there is anyone who can help me take you home.” She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him, and gave him the most reassuring smile she could mustre right now. It wasn’t good. “Just trust your Goddess, alright Bell?”

“I do.” He wasn’t exactly lying. Hestia had his absolute faith in her. He just wasn’t sure if faith and trust in a person were the same thing.

“Then enjoy that soft bed while you can. We’ll be going home soon.”

With that Hestia left the room, taking the time to carefully pull the door too instead of letting it slam or click closed behind her. And Bell was left to his thoughts.

Hestia needed him. He didn’t know why, but for some reason she needed him for more reasons than just that he was the only member of her familia at present. That felt wrong to him. A Goddess shouldn’t care so much about a mortal. It wasn’t right.

But then she wasn’t the only one. The Goddess from the other day, the one he’d never gotten the name of. She’d acted… obsessed with him, for the lack of a better word. It was absurd beyond measure.

But that it would happen not once but twice… was there something about him? Was there something wrong with him that made Goddesses feel about him in ways that were inappropriate for goddesses to feel.

But why would there be? He wasn’t special. He wasn’t on par with an upper class adventurer like Aiz Wallenstein, or any of the other adventurers in Loki and Freya familia. He just tried his best. He had his drive to carry him through the dungeon, where they had skill and experience. And one day far in the future, when he hoped he had finally reached their level, maybe his drive would be able to take him beyond that threshold. But for now that was a dream. Just a dream.

Hestia soon returned with Ryuu in tow, and Bell was rather embarrassed by the fact that the ex adventurer maid swept him up into a bridal carry like he was some sort of damsel in distress, and proceeded to cradle him against her chest like some sort of child all the way across town as she carried him to the church where he and Hestia lived. It was embarrassing every step of the way, even if Ryuu was as gentle and graceful as you would expect of a noble elf.

When they finally reached the church, under Hestia’s direction he was carried all the way down the stairs and Ryuu even put him to bed, tucking him in with the skill of a mother, though he doubted Ryuu had ever had children just based on her figure. He was blushing bright red when she actually kissed him on the forehead before leaving, leaving him looking like a tomato instead of a person.

It was barely day one of his enforced bed rest, and Bell was already beginning to get antsy to get out.

“Just look Ottar. Look at how beautiful he is!” The Goddess Freya cried out as she looked down upon the city of Orario from her personal room high up within the tower of Babel. From here she could overlook the entire city, and, with her gifts and abilities, even further down into the depths of the Dungeon, allowing her to observe everything that transpired. So long as she was looking, nothing could escape her sight. And right now her eyes were transfixed on one soul in particular.

“Y-yes Lady F-Freya.” The humongous Boaz. He was such a good boy, obediently going along with her quest to acquire her latest love, without a speck of jealousy in his soul. She could see that just as clearly as she could see the Purity of Bell’s own soul. Her eyes saw the soul of everyone she came across, and thus the truth of who they were was unveiled to her.

That was what brought her gaze to Bell over and over again. Every soul had colour. Every soul was tinted with the personality and emotion and past deeds of the person it belonged to. There were souls as black as pitch, souls so foul she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose in disgust just looking at them. There were souls white with purity, chastity and naivety, whose souls were like little fluttering candles that were slowly snuffed out as the sheer existence of the world changed them. There were beautiful, wonderful rainbows of colour that were like true treasures in the world, and each of their unique shades made her desire them, to keep them, to hold them, to possess them.

But Bell was oh so much more than that. From what time she had spent with him, she might have thought his soul would be pure white. His every answer and word has aligned with that view of him. Just a naive little child stumbling through life, not quite understanding the ways of the world yet, and unknowing of the many horrors it held. But his soul was different. It was an intriguing mystery to her. Oh it wasn’t like it was unheard of for people to have a facade, a false image of themselves that they projected outward for the world to see. It was rare that truly horrible and despicable people acted as such before the crowds, far easier to pretend to be nice and good.

But their soul always showed the truth of them. The Soul couldn’t lie.

Bell’s soul wasn’t white. It was clear. It was in fact completely transparent. When her eyes fell upon the boy, it was like she was looking at a silhouette, or someone who was invisible. His soul was a brilliant ghost.

She always struggled to put words to what that might represent. To think of what a transparent soul said about a person. Sincerity perhaps? Purity? There was some truth to all of the descriptors she could think to put to it, but none of them ever felt quite right, never felt like they fully encapsulated the entirety of what his soul shone with. And perhaps that was part of it? She was trying to put a single label to the boy, trying to categorise him, to put him in a box.

Why should he? Bell Cranel was a unique entity. Separate from all the rest of the masses. She had looked onto this world for millennia, and her sight had never truly witnessed anything unique. There were rare sights, colours and combinations that popped up so terribly infrequently that when they appeared she couldn’t help but snatch them up, to preserve them and make sure that they lasted for as long as possible. It was a point of slight shame to her that she had been **** to let Ainz Wallenstein remain within Loki’s grasp, having discovered her golden radiance only after the other Goddess had claimed her as her own.

But that was okay. The rumours about her were right and she often did doggedly pursue those that caught her attention, she could admit to that. She had a hunger and a thirst for the rare, the interesting and the beautiful, and so far it had never led her wrong. Not with Allen, not with the Gullivers, with Mia, with Ottar or with any of the other members of her Familia. And not, she thought, with Bell Cranel.

He was just so brilliant. She sighed to herself as she laid her head down in her hands, elbows on the end of her bed. She almost wanted to kick her legs behind her like some schoolgirl thinking about her crush, but Ottar currently had those locked around his waist, and it wouldn’t do to deprive him of such.

“I love him Ottar. I love him so much. I just want to grab hold of him and hug him to my chest and keep him there forever!” She explained to her Familia Captain, not even looking at the man currently ravaging her, just continuing to look out the window and far beyond down into the city where the one she believed to be her one true love resided. “There is just something about his soul that soothes me. If I had him, I don’t think I would ever want another again.”

“Then I shall bring him to you My Lady.” Ottar said dutifully even while his huge Boaz dick once again pushed against her divine cervix, only to be repelled by the godly barrier. “Anything you desire I shall give to you.”

“Oh I know you will Ottar. You are wonderful that way.” And this time she did turn back to look at him, to grace him with her smile. She arched her back towards him slightly, and the huge man eagerly moved to make her more comfortable, looping his arms forwards and around her waist, lifting her off of the bed and holding her vertical against his chest. She was so slight to him, he could break her like a twig if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t. He was a good boy like that. “You are never jealous. Never clingy. That is why you are my favorite Ottar. Not because you are the strongest, but because you understand me. Tell me again those words.”

Ottar shivered with arousal, and almost immediately leaned forwards, lowering his mouth to the soft flesh of his Goddess’ nape and beginning to kiss and nip along her collarbone and up her neck. The entire time he did so, one of Freya’s arms reached back over her head and began to stroke the side of his face delicately, the feeling of her fingernails dancing over his much rougher skin making the feeling of excitement running through him now only redouble in size. “You are~” He whispered to her between kisses. “The wind. Your love is everywhere, and brushes over everyone and everything. It is boundless and unending. To be jealous of you for loving another would be akin to hating the wind for blowing.”

“Hmm.” Freya moaned out, feeling very satisfied indeed as her favoured servant spoke to her so devotedly. She shuddered and came atop his mighty bitchbreaker, her insides clamping down hard onto his shaft, but he did not come himself. He knew better than to do so. “I am the wind, and Bell has stirred me up into a Hurricane.”

“I need more Ottar. I cannot hold back any longer. One little fight and he already shines brighter than before, but it is barely enough to even wet my appetite. We must arrange something. A trial for him worthy of evolving into legend. I want to watch him level up.” She practically purred that last sentence, punctuating it by stroking Ottar’s cheek, and her strongest child shuddered again with desire. “You can arrange that can’t you Ottar? Find something strong, and then make it stronger. Something that he cannot fail to face, and against which he will refuse to fail.”

“Y-your will be done.” He said, gulping for breath now as he fought the urge to erupt within his Goddess and sully her without her express permission.

“Take your Prize Ottar. You more than deserve it.” Freya stated simply.

Ottar’s hands moved with a frenzy, surging to his Goddess’ hips and grabbing hold of them so tightly that onlookers might almost have feared he would crush her within his hands, but using that mighty grip he yanked his Goddess up along the log that was his cock, until his tip was just barely concealed within her lower lips, and then with a single stroke dragged her down his length, slamming home against and breaking through her cervix and burying himself within her womb, whereupon he unleashed a torrent of his seed, the thick and sticky fluid wandering impotently within trying to impregnate an egg that wasn’t there, and would refuse them even if it was.

“Mmmm.” Freya hummed as she was flooded with warmth, treating it more like it she had just taken a bite of a particularly delicious cake rather than just been railed by the strongest male in the city. Ottar crouched for her, stooping his humongous frame so that his Goddess’ legs reached the floor, and the woman stepped smoothly off of his cock, the dominant pillar flapping out of her along with a large glob of its discharged seed.

Freya didn’t pay that any mind at all as she walked out towards her balcony, nor did she pay any attention as Ottar began to clean the room and himself, making sure everything was as close to Freya’s own perfection as was possible. He would leave to accomplish her task once he was done.

Freya strode out to her balcony confidently and paying no heed to her nakedness at all. Her pristine ivory skin showed no sign of the **** Ottar’s handling of her body had wrought, her breasts as perky and appetising as ever. There was a light wind today, and it ruffled through her long and lustrous silver locks, emphasising her beauty, even though there were none there to see it.

A smile graced her lips as she reached the edge of the balcony and looked downwards, piercing eyes immediately searching out that one figure that she so desperately desired, and it was a thing that showed clear as day the heady longing and base desire that consumed her soul, all in relation to one young boy. There was not a god alive who had seen this side of Freya, who had seen her so unveiled. And it was such a potent look that it was possible it might even overturn her natural charm for a few moments, such was the intensity of her desire for this one person.

“Show me more Bell. Show me everything and more. By the time you are mine, you will be a greater soul than any god. And you will be mine for all eternity.”