Author's Note

Most of the Witch and Hero shenanigans I want to write and draw is silly genderbends (because I hadn't noticed pronouns the first time playing and love the idea of f!hero and m!witch), but have some bittersweet m!hero and f!witch.

Hero lay face-down in the dirt, battered but not bleeding. He had been there for well over an hour, the battle long finished, the monsters slain.

Witch hadn't had enough time before she had returned to stone to fell the monsters approaching from the west. From east of her, Hero had seen the staff break, but he hadn't stopped fighting long enough to watch Witch's arm hit the ground beside it. He had, however, gasped as most of her head rolled away from the rest of her.

The dirt stirred beneath his breaths as he gathered his strength. He hoisted himself onto his hands and knees, his arms straining as he lifted his head to see what was left of her. There wasn't much more than a pile of broken pieces. His heart sank as if it, too, were stone.

Breathless he mouthed, "I've failed you."

Hero sat back on his heels. He pulled off his helm and cradled it in his arms.

The nearest town was ten miles behind them, and the next forty miles ahead. As far as he had heard, there were no shortcuts across the river. He had no means to carry all of Witch's pieces, it had been hard enough to lug her around whole, and it would take him at least four hours to return to town and come back again.

Hero stood and staggered to the pile of stone. Tucking his helmet under one arm, he reached out and let his fingers graze the partially intact rim of her hat. His eyes met hers.

"What have I done?" he murmured. "What do I do?"

Hero's helm clattered against stone as he grasped with both hands at her cheeks. He lifted the piece of Witch and held it against his chest, staring absently at the rest of her.

"There has to be something," he said, "some way..."

Hero stirred to the warm lick of morning sun. Face-up. He never slept face-up.

He propped himself on his arms, though his spine ached in protest. His whole body ached - the bruises of battle, the strain of travel, his still-reddened, swollen eyes. His endeavors the previous day seemed already so distant, like it had all been a nightmare. He lay back down and glanced to Witch.

There coursed veins of mortar, seeming white against the gray stone, along her deepest cracks. She stood whole again. The wheelbarrow encrusted with excess mortar sat dutifully beside her.

Hero had spent the last of their gold on this, but had not yet tested if putting the pieces back together would be enough. He had wondered every step of the way and every piece set back into place if this was a mistake, if it was too late, if she would fall apart in the flesh if he dared to pour the blood of monsters on her now. But what if it wasn't?

The only way to be sure was to try.

He had a canteen full of monsters' blood from strays that had attacked while he had sorted the pieces. There was nothing stopping him but himself. Removing the cap from the canteen, Hero took a deep breath. His nose wrinkled at the strong scent of the canteen's contents. He held it out before him and drained it on the stone Witch. His arms fell to his sides in resignation as he waited.

The drops absorbed into the stone and disappeared altogether within it. Soft color filled the hard gray.

Witch glanced quickly about and then, finding nothing, stared expectantly at Hero.

Hero's lips pursed.

"Where is the enemy?" she asked.

"Defeated," he said. His tongue flicked between his lips as his eyes travelled the lines where the cracks had been. "Are you all right?"

"Besides the obvious, I'm fine," she muttered, shrugging dismissively.

Hero grinned bitterly.

Witch frowned and reached to cup his cheek. "Are you?"

"Do they hurt?"

"What?" Witch huffed. "Do what hurt?"

"The scars?"

"What scars?"

Hero pulled away from Witch's touch and lifted his shield to her so she could see what he saw. Unnatural scars cut through her skin, through areas even thick with bone.

"What is this?" she whispered, reaching out and grasping the shield. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I tried to put you back together, but..."

"I broke?"

"I'm sorry."

Witch took a deep breath, but said nothing. They stood in silence for several minutes - Witch studying Hero, contemplating what she now knew, and Hero struggling to hold steady the shield and biting back the tremble in his jaw. The tension grew heavier still, until at last Witch let go of the shield.

She stepped around it to plant a kiss at the corner of Hero's lips. "Thank you."

"What for?"

Witch smiled ruefully. "For not giving up on me."