NOVEL WEB Chapter 6: Apprentice
Merlin TV Universe, Willowbrook Village
Time: Month 12, Day 4
Current Celestial Points: 0
Celestial Points Gathered (This Year): 1000/1000
Monthly Roll: 1/1
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Several days passed in the village of Willowbrook. Amara sat at Martha's workbench, watching the seamstress's fingers guide fabric through her sewing machine. The rhythmic clicking reminded her of her children's language, though far less complex.
"You're a natural at this," Martha said, glancing up from her work. She gestured at the simple dress Amara had helped stitch yesterday. "Your hands are steady, and you have an eye for detail."
Amara inspected her human fingers. They felt clumsy compared to her true form's precise limbs, but she was learning to use them. "The work is... satisfying."
Martha set aside her current project - a farmer's torn jacket. She turned to face Amara fully. "I've been meaning to speak with you about something."
Amara kept her face neutral, the way she'd observed humans do when unsure. Her true form would have twitched its front legs.
"Your memories haven't returned," Martha continued. "And winter's coming. I thought perhaps..." She smoothed her apron. "You could stay here. Learn the trade. Thomas and I have plenty of room."
Thomas, who had been pretending to organize thread spools nearby, perked up visibly.
"You would teach me to make clothing?" Amara asked. The offer was perfect - exactly what she needed to study humans more closely.
"Of course! Every village needs a seamstress, and I'm not getting any younger." Martha smiled warmly. "Besides, you've picked up the basics so quickly already."
Amara thought of her children waiting in the forest. They were patient hunters, like her. They would understand the need to learn everything about their prey.
"I would like that," she said softly.
Thomas knocked over a basket of buttons in his excitement. He scrambled to pick them up, face reddening. "It'll be nice having you here," he mumbled toward the floor. "I mean, for mother's sake. The help, and all."
Martha shot her son a knowing look. "Thomas, dear, why don't you fetch more firewood? The evening's getting cold."
Once Thomas left, Martha leaned closer to Amara. "He's a good boy. A bit shy around pretty girls, but he has a kind heart."
Amara nodded, remembering how Thomas brought her extra blankets each night, claiming the autumn air was getting colder. She didn't feel temperature the way humans did, but she accepted them to maintain her cover.
"Now then," Martha picked up a length of wool. "Let me show you how to properly measure and cut fabric. We have orders to fill before the harvest festival."
Amara watched Martha's movements thoroughly, memorizing each cut and fold. The wool felt rough against her fingertips - she missed the sensitivity of her true form's sensory hairs.
"Always cut along the grain," Martha explained, guiding Amara's hands. "See how the threads run? Follow them."
The door creaked open as Thomas returned with an armful of firewood. He paused to watch them work, a small smile on his face.
"Mother makes the finest clothes in three villages," he said proudly. "People come from miles around for her work."
Martha waved off the praise. "They come because I'm the only seamstress who'll adjust their clothes when they get fat from too much ale."
Amara tilted her head at their interaction. Humans often spoke untruths to each other, but with no malice behind them. She was learning to recognize these social behaviors - the gentle teasing, the false modesty.
Days passed. Amara learned to thread needles, to measure and pin fabric. She discovered humans had different measurements for men and women's clothing, different styles for different occasions. The complexity was interesting.
Thomas brought her cups of water throughout the day, claiming she needed to stay refreshed. He would linger nearby, asking questions about what she was learning, telling her stories about village life.
One morning, as autumn dyed the trees in red and gold, Thomas approached her workbench. "Would you like to walk through the village? The weather's nice."
Martha looked up from her mending. "That's a fine idea. Amara's been cooped up inside too long. Show her around properly."
Amara set aside the shirt she was working on. A chance to observe more humans up close would be valuable. "Yes, I would like that."
They left the house, and Amara looked around curiously. Farmers brought in late harvests, children chased each other between market stalls, women gathered at the well to trade gossip. Thomas stayed close to Amara's side, pointing out different buildings and people.
"That's the blacksmith's shop - old Will makes the best horseshoes in the region. And over there's the tavern where Sarah works..."
A young man with sandy hair stepped into their path. His eyes fixed on Amara immediately.
"Well now, who's this lovely creature?" He smiled widely. "I'm James. I don't believe we've met."
Thomas stepped slightly in front of Amara. "She's staying with us. Still recovering from an attack by bandits."
"Is she now?" James moved closer. "Maybe she'd like some company besides yours, Tom? I know all the best spots around the village."
"She's not interested," Thomas said firmly. "And you know your reputation with girls, James. Stay away from her."
James held up his hands in mock surrender. "No need to be hostile. Just being friendly." He winked at Amara before walking away.
Thomas watched him go, jaw clenched. "Sorry about him. James thinks himself irresistible to women."
"You were angry," Amara observed. "Your heart rate increased."
Thomas blushed. "I just... I know what he's like. He's not a good person to get involved with."
They walked to the edge of the village, where an old oak tree provided shade. Thomas sat on a fallen log, patting the space beside him. Amara sat down carefully, still not entirely comfortable with how human bodies bent.
"Do you remember anything?" Thomas asked softly. "About your life before?"
Amara shook her head. She had prepared for this question. "Sometimes I dream of darkness. Of moving through shadows. But nothing clear."
"Maybe that's for the best. If bandits hurt you..." Thomas clenched his fists. "At least you're safe now."
Back at the house that evening, Martha pulled Amara aside while Thomas was out feeding the chickens.
"Come sit with me, dear." Martha gestured to the chairs by the hearth. "We need to have a proper talk, woman to woman."
Amara sat down, watching Martha's face. The older woman seemed concerned about something.
"I've heard how James looked at you today," Martha began. "And other young men in the village. You're a beautiful young woman, and that can be dangerous without proper guidance." She patted Amara's knee. "Since you can't remember your upbringing, I feel responsible for teaching you how a proper woman should behave."
Amara nodded. This would be valuable information for blending in.
"First, you must never be alone with a man who isn't family. It's not proper, and it leads to gossip." Martha smoothed her skirts. "When men speak to you, keep your eyes lowered. Be modest in your responses. Short answers are best - men don't like women who talk too much."
"I understand," Amara said quietly, copying Martha's posture.
"Good. Now, a woman's place is in the home. We serve our fathers until marriage, then our husbands. The man is the head of the household - he makes the decisions, handles the money, deals with outside matters." Martha's voice grew firmer. "A good wife keeps a clean home, prepares meals, raises children, and most importantly - obeys her husband without question."
Amara thought of her colony, where her daughters made their own decisions about hunting and breeding. How strange these human customs seemed, entirely the opposite of how her own species lived.
"When you marry - and you will need to marry, dear - you must submit to your husband's authority. Even if you disagree with him, you must never argue or contradict him in public." Martha sighed. "It's not always easy, but that's a woman's duty."
She continued speaking about proper behavior - how to walk (small steps, never rushing), how to eat (tiny bites, lips closed), how to dress (modestly, nothing too revealing).
"You've noticed Thomas watching you," Martha said delicately. "He's a good boy. Hard-working, gentle. He'll make some lucky woman a fine husband."
Amara remembered Thomas's protective stance against James. "He seems... different from other males."
"He takes after his father, God rest his soul." Martha smiled sadly. "A kind man who never raised his voice or hand to me. Thomas will treat his wife the same way."
The lesson went on. Martha explained how women should never laugh too loudly, never speak unless spoken to in formal settings, never show anger or strong emotions.
"Men don't like shrewish women," Martha warned. "A good wife is calm, quiet, and agreeable. She makes her husband's life peaceful and comfortable."
Amara nodded. These rules would help her move unnoticed among humans. Already she was learning to copy their restricted movements, their carefully controlled expressions.
"Remember," Martha concluded, "your reputation is everything. One mistake can ruin your chances for a good marriage. Be careful who you speak to, how you behave. The village watches everything."
"Think about what I've said," she whispered. "Especially about Thomas. A woman in your situation needs protection, and he would be a good match."
Amara watched Martha walk away, considering everything she'd learned. Humans had such rigid rules about breeding pairs. So different from her children, who chose mates based on strength and superior traits.
Still, she would follow these customs. She needed to maintain her disguise, to learn more about human society. And Thomas... he could be useful.
The weeks passed steadily. Amara learned to sew buttons and repair torn clothing, while observing how Thomas grew more confident around her. He no longer stammered when speaking to her, and his touches lingered - a hand on her shoulder, fingers brushing as he passed her thread.
She remembered to act appropriately shy, lowering her eyes and letting a blush color her cheeks. Martha beamed whenever she saw these interactions.
A month slipped by. The harvest ended, and winter's chill crept into the village. Thomas insisted on bringing Amara extra blankets and warm drinks, hovering over her like a protective mate. She found his behavior amusing - so different from the simple, efficient mating habits of her kind.
"You shouldn't work so late," Thomas said one evening, watching her finish hemming a dress. "Your hands must be tired."
"I don't tire easily," Amara responded, then remembered humans were supposed to be weak. "But you're right."
He took the dress from her hands, setting it aside. "Come with me. I want to show you something."
Amara followed him outside. The moon hung full and bright above the village, reminding her of nights spent waiting in her webs for foolish prey to get trapped. She pushed the thought away, focusing on acting human.
Thomas led her to the old oak tree where they often sat. He seemed nervous, wiping his palms on his trousers.
"I've been thinking," he started. "About us. About how well you fit here, with mother and me."
Amara tilted her head. "You've both been very kind."
"It's more than that." Thomas stepped closer. "These past weeks, watching you learn to sew, seeing you smile..." He reached for her hand. "I think maybe losing your memories was fate. Bringing you here, to us. To me."
Amara let him take her hand, remembering Martha's lessons about being passive and agreeable. She made her voice soft. "Maybe it was."
Thomas moved even closer. His heart beat faster - she could smell the blood rushing through him. In her true form, such prey responses would make her want to web him up. But here she remained still.
"Amara..." Thomas lifted his other hand to her cheek. "I think I'm falling in love with you."
Before she could respond, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, hesitant. Amara forced herself not to recoil at this strange human contact, reminding herself to respond appropriately.
She let her eyes flutter closed, the way she'd seen other village women do when kissed by their men. Thomas made a small sound and pulled her against his chest.
The warmth of Thomas's body seeped through her dress, and something unexpected happened. Her human form responded to the contact, sending unfamiliar sensations through her. Her lips tingled where they met his, and a genuine blush spread across her cheeks.
This wasn't part of her act. These reactions came from the body itself, and Amara found herself... enjoying them. How strange that this human shell could feel such things.
Thomas pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. "Was that... alright?"
Amara touched her lips, surprised by how they still tingled. "Yes," she whispered, and meant it.
He smiled, relief clear on his face. "I've wanted to do that for weeks."
The night air grew colder around them, but Amara barely noticed. She was too focused on these new sensations, on how her human heart beat faster when Thomas stroked her cheek.
"We should go back," Thomas whispered. "Before Mother starts wondering where we are."
Amara nodded, remembering Martha's warnings about proper behavior. But as they walked back to the house, she found herself wanting to kiss Thomas again. The desire confused her - she'd never experienced anything like it in her true form.
Thomas squeezed her hand before they went inside. His touch sent another wave of warmth through her, and Amara wondered if all humans felt this way when touched by their chosen mates.
The weeks that followed brought changes. Thomas grew bolder, stealing kisses whenever Martha looked away. He would wrap an arm around Amara's waist as she worked at the sewing table, press his lips to her neck when they walked through the village.
Martha glowed with approval. She taught Amara more intricate stitches, showing her how to make delicate embroidery and sturdy work clothes. "A good wife needs these skills," she would say with a meaningful look.
But something nagged at Amara. The power within her stirred, demanding to be fed. She needed to consume worthy prey, but couldn't risk suspicion by disappearing too long.
One morning, while Thomas helped at the blacksmith's and Martha visited a sick neighbor, Amara slipped into the forest. Her children waited in the shadows, multiple eyes gleaming.
"Great Mother," they clicked in greeting. "We've missed you."
Amara shed her human form with relief, stretching her eight legs. "I need prey. Strong prey, daily if possible. Bring me creatures at least as powerful as boars."
A rust-colored spider stepped forward, reaching into the air. Space rippled as he pulled out a silk-wrapped bundle. "We prepared for your needs, Great Mother."
Amara's mandibles clicked. She tore into the pre-digested boar meat.
"Tell me of the colony," she clicked between bites.
A grey-marked spider skittered closer. "The Mothers have produced five hundred new offspring. But we worry about sustaining such numbers. We suggest halting reproduction until we gain more power through superior bloodlines or new gifts from you."
Amara considered this as she finished her meal. Eight eyes studied the gathered spiders - each one intelligent, patient. They understood the need to build slowly, carefully.
[ 10 Celestial Points Gained. Total: 10 ]
"You speak wisely," she clicked. "Better to grow strong than to grow numerous. Hold off on new broods for now."
Her children raised their middle legs in acknowledgment. Amara resumed her human disguise, smoothing down her dress. The village waited.
She returned home just as Thomas walked through the door, smelling of smoke from the forge. He smiled when he saw her.
"I missed you," he murmured, pulling her close for another kiss.
She responded instinctively, parting her lips and letting his tongue explore her mouth. Her human disguise desired this greatly - to be touched and caressed.
Thomas pulled Amara close, molding his body against hers as their kiss deepened. His tongue traced the seam of her lips until she parted them, allowing the intimate exploration. Amara felt her cheeks blush red - strange sensations intensifying with each press of Thomas's mouth.
He walked her backwards into the house, guiding them toward the small bedroom off the main living area. Their feet tangled together clumsily until Amara's back met the wall beside the door. Thomas took her wrists, pinning them gently above her head as he trailed kisses along her jawline.
"I want you," he whispered against her skin, voice thick. "So badly..."
Amara let her head fall back, exposing the column of her throat to Thomas's attentions. Everything felt utterly new yet somehow instinctual at the same time - as if deep within her human disguise, something recognized and craved these acts.
Thomas released her wrists only to grab her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Amara wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her through the doorway. They tumbled onto the bed in a mess of tangled limbs and grabbing hands.
…
Amara slowly opened her eyes, feeling utterly relaxed. She could feel Thomas's body curled around her from behind, arms securely wrapped around her middle.
Thomas stirred behind her, pressing a sleepy kiss to her shoulder. His hand slid across her stomach in a gentle caress. "Good morning, wife."
Amara stretched her legs, a deep sigh escaping her lips. This human disguise... it frightened her how easily she'd lost herself. In her true shape, mating was simple and practical - a means of producing stronger offspring. But these human bodies experienced everything so intensely, so differently.
She had never imagined surrendering control like that, letting pure instinct take over. The memory made her uneasy. She needed to maintain better discipline over this shell she wore.
"We should get up," Thomas whispered against her neck. "Before Mother comes looking for us."
Amara nodded, pulling away from his warmth. She tried to stand, but her legs shook violently beneath her. The floor seemed to tilt as she stumbled forward.
"Careful!" Thomas caught her before she fell, steadying her with strong arms. "Here, let me help."
He retrieved her dress, helping her slip it over her head. When she swayed again, he wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Lean on me," he whispered, guiding her toward the kitchen. "I've got you."
Martha stood at the hearth, stirring a pot of porridge. She turned as they entered, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
"Ah, done at last." She ladled breakfast into wooden bowls. "I trust you both slept well?"
"Mother..." Thomas warned, but Martha ignored him.
"I hope to hear the patter of little feet soon." She set the bowls on the table. "I'm not getting any younger, and I'd love to hold my grandchild before winter's end."
Amara knew she should be embarrassed, so she did her best to blush. The thought of giving birth in this form... would the offspring be human? Or would they take after her true nature? Would the child be powerful? She might as well find out now.
Her eyes widened as a concerning thought popped up in her mind while she sat at the table. This human shell was perfect in every way - too perfect. The reproductive system would work exactly as a human woman's should. But would the growing child transfer if she changed forms? She doubted it.
That presented difficulties. She needed to gain points by consuming the prey her children brought. But perhaps... yes, she could still eat in this form. She would need to instruct her offspring to cook the meat properly, prepare it as humans did.
Martha sat beside her, eyes bright with excitement. "Just think - in nine months we could have a little one crawling around here." She touched Amara's hand. "My Thomas was such a beautiful baby. All pink and round, with the sweetest smile."
Thomas cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. "Mother, please..."
"Oh hush." Martha waved him off. "Let me dream about my grandchild. I'll teach the little one to sew, just like I taught you." She squeezed Amara's fingers. "And you'll see - nothing compares to holding your baby for the first time. The way they curl those tiny fingers around yours..."
Amara nodded, trying to look appropriately moved. She thought of her own offspring - dozens of spiderlings hatching from silk sacs, already knowing how to hunt and kill. This would be different, right? She really hoped her child would be the same species as her, because she would kill it if it was purely human…
Martha ladled more porridge into Amara's bowl, then sat back down with a determined expression. "Now, about the wedding. We'll have it next week - we can't delay now that you're with child."
Thomas nodded in agreement, not even glancing at Amara for her opinion. "I'll speak to Father Michael today."
Amara watched them plan her future, remembering Martha's lessons about women being passive and agreeable. The humans assumed she carried a child - she wasn't certain yet. In her true form, she would know immediately if eggs were forming.
"Sarah can lend you her wedding dress," Martha continued, already making lists in her head. "We'll need to let it out a bit - you're taller than she is. And we'll need flowers, of course, though not many bloom this time of year..."
Thomas reached across the table to squeeze Amara's hand. "Don't worry about anything. Mother and I will handle all the arrangements."
Amara nodded demurely, keeping her eyes lowered as Martha had taught her. Inside, she found the situation amusing. These humans rushed to bind her to them with ceremonies and traditions, never suspecting what she really was.
"And we'll need a proper feast," Martha declared. "Nothing elaborate - we can't afford that. But bread and cheese, some meat if we can manage it. The whole village will want to celebrate."
The mention of meat made Amara think of her children waiting in the forest with pre-digested boar. She would need to be careful about feeding during pregnancy, if she truly was pregnant. Everything had to appear normal.
"Actually, I'll start on your wedding clothes today," Martha stood up, excitement making her move faster than usual. "Maybe we can use that cream-colored wool we got in trade last month. You'll look beautiful."
Thomas smiled at Amara. "You already do."
Martha began clearing the breakfast dishes, still talking about wedding plans.
Amara didn't mind. She was in no rush…