A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 16

Guts ran as fast as he could towards the writhing mass. He bashed them with his sword but none of them flinched. One eventually pinned him down. “Quit it, you maniac. We’ll be done with him soon, then you’ll get to go home.”

Casca fell to her knees. There was nothing she could do but watch.

The ground retreated and the water returned. The demons were gone. Guts rushed forward. They left his head untouched. The rest of him was gone completely but his face remained the same as it always was. Guts took the head in his arms and kissed the dead lips for the last time. They were warm. He pulled back and Griffith’s eyes opened. His pupils were cat-like slits and he opened and closed his mouth as if trying to speak even though he had no lungs to move air over his vocal chords.

“He’s still alive!”

“How on earth is he still alive?!” Guts had finally gone crazy. That was it, he was finally going to snap and kill them all.

“Look!” He held the head aloft. He was moving. It wasn’t clear if he was still lucid but he was moving. A skeletal horse and rider crashed onto the water next to Guts. An elderly woman rode double with the knight.

Flora briefly appraised the situation. Head still alive, no new god hand, minor injuries on the other two, she’d have to work quickly. “Young man, do you know a good smith?”

Guts knew by now to just go with it. “Yes, his name is Godot. I can show you where he lives”

“Young lady, are you safe to walk?

"Yes, I think so. It’s just the arm.” The skull knight pulled Guts and Griffith’s head onto the horse.

“Tell the others Guts and Flora went to Godot the smith’s. Pray we aren’t too late.”

Griffith felt as if he were floating. He couldn’t hear or see anything or feel the presence of his body. It was just an empty blackness. If this was the afterlife he had earned, it wasn’t terrible all things considered. It felt like his most peaceful dreams. He felt something on the edge of his consciousness. “What do you want to look like?” Well that was a silly question. He wanted to look like himself! His half lucid mind supplied an image to the voice. That should clear things up!

“Well I’m reasonably sure the boy has lost it in there, but can you craft something like this?” Flora allowed the image to pass to the old smith.

“I can build it, certainly. Though I’m still confused on how this is supposed to help the poor lad.” This was way above Godot’s pay grade, but Guts did say the old woman was a witch. He didn’t much feel like getting cursed today. The disembodied head on his work bench didn’t seem like a good sign.

“That’s all you need to do. Once the body is done, I’ll be able to imbue it with life and stick the head on top of it.” Godot would be lying if he said the idea of taking on such an ambitious project didn’t excite him a little bit.

“Alright. Suppose we should get to work then.”

Guts waited outside Godot’s cottage. It had been days since he’d brought Griffith and the sound of hammers never ceased. He’d been awake the whole time, unable to sleep with worry. He was sure he was starting to see things. Colored lights flitted through the bushes and he thought he occasionally heard snatches of quiet conversation. Godot walked out of the forge wiping his hands. Guts jumped to his feet. “Is he alright?”

“Aye he is. Though he’s asleep now. Your rates are going up after this you know.” Guts collapsed onto the ground. “Guts! You alright?” Godot knelt down. His chest rose and fell slowly and evenly. He’d fallen asleep.

Griffith stirred in a small bed covered in rough sheets. A glint of polished metal caught his eye. Somebody put his armor back on him? That was funny. For some reason everything seemed a little funny to him right now. Like that time he ate a strange mushroom. He didn’t remember eating anything strange. The last thing he remembered was… oh god. It all came flooding back. He remembered his body being torn apart. He remembered every sensation, every new and horrible agony. He should’ve been just a head right now. No, he should’ve been dead! Yet, his body felt just as it should. He lifted an arm under the blanket. It responded perfectly, with no delay. He closed his fist. The fingers moved gracefully at his command. He steeled himself and ripped off the sheets.

They hadn’t put his armor back on. He remembered that voice, “what do you look like?” Apparently half dead Griffith thought he was shredded. Fully awake Griffith thought he had grossly exaggerated but he wasn’t exactly complaining. The metal bent and sprung back at his touch as flesh should. It was warmer than it should be, as if he were running a fever, and almost completely smooth. His chest rose and fell with his breath and he could feel a heartbeat somewhere in his chest. So it at least mimicked the normal functioning of a living body then.

His hands were clawed. He didn’t know why that wasn’t the first thing he noticed. His metal nails tapered into sharp points about an inch long. Might be hard to get work done like this. They retracted unconsciously. He brought them out to their full length and retracted them experimentally. Interesting. Griffith poked his stomach with his index claw. He felt a small pinprick of pain, but no blood rose from the metal. There was now a small scratch on the surface, no, on his skin. He idly wondered what would happen if he applied any force behind that. Perhaps against an opponent in full plate? The sound of metal tearing metal really was awful to listen to.

His dick was gone. That sent him into a slight panic. How could he forget to ask for that even half dead?! How was he supposed to pee?! His lower half was completely flat like a porcelain doll. No, he could still feel it somewhere. Griffith was certain of it. There was a small slit in the front of his hips. He carefully worked his way inside. It was a tight fit, but oh fuck did that feel good. His cock began to poke out of the tight slit. Okay so it would remain hidden away unless it was in use. That made sense to him. It was kind of nice actually. He didn’t really care one way or the other about it until it was in use to begin with.

He tried to sit up and failed. He must not have used enough force for his new body. Metal was much heavier than flesh and bone. But that wasn’t quite right was it? He’d been able to move his arms no problem. No, it was as if he’d tried to take a step forward while standing on his cape. He sat up easily without the aid of his hands. There was something on his back.

He stood. His talons clicked on the ground as he went looking for a mirror. Talons? The shape of his feet had changed. Three long toes in the front, one in the back. He lifted one of his legs and clenched the toes. They bent into a strong grasp. He hadn’t noticed that either until he heard the noise. He would have to interrogate why no longer having conventional human anatomy felt so natural later. He needed to be able to see himself.

Griffith wasn’t able to find one in the house. He was able to see perfectly fine in the dark and easily found the sleeping forms of an old man, an old woman, and a young girl, but no mirror. He stepped out into the night air. The chill breeze was inviting on his bare skin. It was as if the world itself was welcoming him back to life. Water. He needed to find water. The world was alive with color. A rainbow of lights flitted curiously around him. They were tiny creatures human in shape wearing clothes constructed from parts of flowers and plants or none at all. Elves! He’d always thought they were fairy tales.

“Excuse me,” he asked politely, “would you kindly be able to direct me towards the nearest source of water? I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with this area and am quite lost.”

“He can see us!!!” A small pink one almost fell out of the air in surprise.

“Of course he can see us!” A little blue one crossed his arms. “Humans aren’t dumb. They can see us if they really want to.” He put a hand to his chin and flitted around Griffith. “I’m not sure if this one is a human though. Hey Mister! Are you a human?”

“I was human, but I’m not entirely sure now. That’s why I need to find water. I want to see what my reflection looks like.”

“Hm, well I don’t know how your reflection will tell you anything but I think there was a river nearby.” The elf extended his tiny hand. “The name’s Puck.”

Griffith extended a clawed finger. “My name is Griffith. It’s good to meet you, Puck.”

Puck guided him to the river, leading him by his finger. He was talking Griffith’s ear off describing the plot of some epic, but it was going in one ear and out the other. He was too enamored with the feeling of grass brushing across the thin membrane that extended down from his shoulders. He had a vague idea of what that might be. The very thought of it filled him with excitement. He tried to keep himself contained, he could be wrong after all, but he moved a little bit faster now. The water of the river moved quickly, rushing towards a nearby waterfall, but Griffith quickly found a spot where the water pooled, forming a surface still enough to gaze into. The elves crowded around him trying to see if his reflection would speak. Griffith saw the surface of his helmet reflected in their light. He felt the surface. It too was warm and he felt the touch of his own hand on his skin. He moved his hand to search under the beak and met skin. That was a relief. He liked his helmet but he wasn’t sure he’d want it to be his face. Muscles that hadn’t existed before retracted the helmet and it folded down and melded with the back of his neck. His long hair fell over his back and chest as it should, now that it was free of its confines. This was the only part of him that remained the same as before and even it had changed. His pupils were almond shaped in the light of the curious elves. He imagined in the darkness they would open back into circles, allowing more light to come in.

The membrane! He stood and felt along the edge of it, holding either end in each hand. The bones on the edges clipped easily into his arms and locked. He looked at his reflection again. It was unmistakable. He had wings! They were made of a smooth, flexible fabric that shined like silk. Delicate veins ran through the fabric and into his metal bones. He could see the blood pumping through him. It was living! He was made of living metal! “Did you figure out whether you’re human or not?” Puck asked.

Griffith laughed involuntarily. He felt clumsy with joy. “Honestly I don’t think it matters much to me anymore.” He released the latches of his wings and they fell back to his side. There was a waterfall nearby, wasn’t there? Griffith ran as fast as he could to the edge, tripping over his own feet like a newborn colt. He unfurled his wings again, letting the air fill them. They were his! He felt the connection as seamlessly as if he were born with them! Griffith sprang effortlessly off the edge and into the air. He was flying! Really flying! He cried out with joy as the night air carried him. The stars winked down at him from their thrones high above in the firmament. Welcome home Griffith!

Guts felt a chill run down his spine in Godot’s barn. Well he wasn’t sleeping anyway. Since his initial collapse, he’d remained wide awake. Guts was too worried to sleep. Then came that chill. The one that told him there was something not of this world present. It was probably best to go check it out, just in case it was something that came to finish Griffith off while he was still recovering. Before he knew it he found himself at the base of the waterfall behind Godot’s cottage. The rushing water glittered in the moonlight. Guts really ought to come visit more often. It was beautiful up here. A dark shadow passed over his head. Was that Zodd? He heard Griffith whooping somewhere above him but the echoes and the rushing water made it difficult to tell where. “Griffith!” He called out to him. He probably didn’t see the thing flying, didn’t know they were in danger yet again.

“Guts!” The shadow circled for a moment and then pulled into a dive. Guts braced himself for impact. He never should’ve given away his location. He saw a flash of silver and then it crashed into him. The force bowled him over. He closed his eyes bracing for an attack that never came. Soft, membranous, wings enveloped him. “Guts it’s me!” He slowly opened his eyes. The metal of his body met seamlessly with the remaining flesh of his neck. He was warm. Flora had explained what she intended to do, using the flow of Griffith’s energy to imbue the body with life, but Guts still hadn’t expected him to feel so alive. He could feel the thrum of his mechanical heart and the working of the bellows that replaced his lungs. Griffith’s pupils were massive in the darkness. They almost fully eclipsed the blue of his eyes, leaving only a thin ring of iris around their edges. His hair was messy and windswept from the dive. Griffith stared down at him with a child-like glee Guts hadn’t seen in years. “Are you alright? You’re awfully quiet.” He blinked and his pupils narrowed to slits before widening back out into huge disks.

“Ribs are still broken. Heavy.” Griffith scrambled off of Guts’s chest.

“Sorry! Sorry, I was just excited.” Griffith was practically vibrating.

“I can see that!” Guts laughed. He’d already been warned that Griffith would look different. The wings were a surprise, but he seemed perfectly happy. Hell, he seemed more than happy, he seemed absolutely elated. That was all he really cared about. Guts heard a click and the wings detached from Griffith’s arms and fell forming into a cape. Guts felt the material and the fabric spasmed under his fingers. It really was flesh and bone. It was artificially formed, but it still behaved exactly like it was organic tissue.

“Guts,”

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“No, it didn’t, could you… could you do that again?” He stroked the membrane of the wings. Griffith leaned into him as he did and a slit began to widen between his legs until his cock slipped out into the open air. It hadn’t sunk in yet because of his metal skin, but Griffith was completely naked wasn’t he. Guts paused his ministrations.

“Griffith, you realize you’re naked right?”

“Yes, and?”

“You aren’t uncomfortable?” Griffith was rarely comfortable being naked. Used to it, yes, but not comfortable. Nudity was a tool to make people like him, not something to revel in. His doll-like skin had been cracked like porcelain by the rough hands that had held him before. He was careful with nakedness around those he was closest to. He wanted to give but there was always the fear that they would dig their fingers into his cracks and just take. His body became completely disconnected from him. A useful object and a source of anguish, but not anything that felt like it was a part of him.

Now every inch of him was strange and new, yet far more familiar than the doll he’d been piloting around before. He was a monster, a predatory creature of the skies with a sharp beak and talons. He loved everything about it.

“Guts, I feel better than I have in years.” Griffith picked Guts up, sweeping him off his feet. He’d always wanted to do that, but never had the strength before. He didn’t know how he knew that he could do it now, but something deep inside him told him he could. He was light! Guts felt like he weighed nothing!

“Griffith, what the hell?” Guts smiled. Griffith felt like he was going to explode. He practically head butted Guts in his excitement.

Guts ran his fingers along the seam at the back of Griffith’s neck as they kissed. There wasn’t any real difference between the two aside from the lack of fine hairs on the metal. He was safe, they were both alive. When they fell asleep together that night, crowded into Godot’s small guest bed, Guts slept soundly. In his exhaustion-addled mind, it felt almost as if he held his sword in his arms.