Haley Thistle
patreon
Dullahan Boyfriend: Curran (special preview)
🕑 Added 2021-05-15 21:00:02 +0000 UTCSeveral years ago, your husband had been murdered. He was sacrificed by his own kin, his old coven. You were so immobilized by grief and all you could do was take care of your daughter, Daisy. You relied heavily on your own coven, who helped take care of you and tried to mend the wounds this loss caused. Unfortunately, anger took hold of you, and in a moment of weakness you let it power and move you.
Beyond your home there was an old graveyard. You had played there as a child, collected herbs from graves, even planted a garden amongst the tombstones. It was a quiet and lovely place that you and your coven respected. But your anger was stronger, and you sought out the grave you desired. You unearthed the grave, tossing aside the sacred earth and throwing away the lid of the coffin, seizing the skull from inside.
You enchanted the skull and placed gold coins in the mouth. You then buried it under the roots of an oak tree and waited for night to fall. You waited in the dark for him, knowing he would come to ask for his head back. You heard hoofbeats in the distance, slowly approaching you as you stood to greet him. The dullahan arrived before you, dismounting his steed and extended out his hand for his skull.
“It will be returned to you, but first you must do something for me,” you said sternly.
The dullahan moaned and smoke billowed from the headless neck. “I knew it would not be so easy. What are your terms, witch?” His arms crossed in defiance.
You stiffen your jaw, letting the anger still in your blood flow. “I want you to destroy the coven that killed my husband. Once they are gone, you can have your head back.”
He chuckled and smoothed his fingers along his neck. “So, that’s why you chose me. A sacrifice to avenge a sacrifice.”
“I chose you because of reputation, Mr. O’Hart. The fact you suffered the same fate as my husband was merely a bonus.” You stepped closer to him. “With each proven kill I’ll grant you a favor. Do this timely and I will grant you a wish along with your head.”
“Curran,” he corrected you. “I am no mister. I am barely a being.” His shoulders shifted so one leaned more forward. “What is timely to you?”
You lifted three fingers into the air. “Three years. Have them all gone by then.”
He breathed and smoke billowed more thickly from his neck. “This husband of yours must have been really something.”
“You have your task, Curran. That is all you need to know.”
Curran then seized your hand. “Then we shall seal it.” Using a small dagger he pricked your middle finger. He then smeared the blood along his neck which formed a black collar with a golden lock. He then released your hand and a gold chain formed around your wrist.
“I’ll be seeing you again, witch.” He rubbed at the collar around his neck. “Hopefully soon.” He returned back to his horse and they vanished off into the dark night.
You did not see him for months after that on the eve of your daughter’s second birthday. You were up late wrapping gifts and you happened to spot him outside your window. You went outside and met him on your porch.
“Good evening, Ms. Witch.” Curran bowed, smoke streaming with his neck. “I have brought to you, your first object of proof.” He handed you a pair of cufflinks made from gold teeth. “Such ugly things, but they were the least offensive of what he wore.”
“You took them based on taste?”
Curran shrugged. “I had it in life, why would it go away?” He then looked inside your door. “May I come in.”
“Of course,” you lead him inside. “Make yourself comfortable if you wish. I’m sure you’ve had quite the journey.”
Curran breathed in deeply then spotted the cupcakes and presents on the table. “Am I interrupting.”
“No. Daisy is in bed, and I am simply getting ready for her birthday tomorrow.”
Curran took a seat at the table, curling pink, metallic ribbon around his thick finger. “How old?”
You placed the cufflinks into a box sitting on the mantle. “She’ll be three.”
“I see,” he breathed. “Well, do I still get my favor?”
You went back to wrapping a birthday present. “Of course, Curran. What is it you’d like for your first?”
Curran cracked his knuckles, turning his palms outwards to bend the fingers. There you see old sigils tattooed to his palms. You know them, but they’re so faded you could barely read them. Something about them reminded you of your husband.
“I would like a bed to sleep in. I can’t recall the last one I slept in, and I’ve barely rested at all since you took my head.”
“That’s fine. I’ll go and sleep with Daisy tonight. She’ll like that anyways.” You set the wrapped gift aside.
Curran clapped his hands together. “Good! Now, do you play chess?”
“Not in a long while. But I still know my stuff.” You smiled at him. “I’ll have to unearth my set if that’s what you’d like.”
Curran chuckled, his smoke coming out much thicker. “I would, very much.”
You find the old set in the hidden cupboard under the floor. You set it up and Curran eagerly sat down to begin a match.
“This was always my favorite part of the day,” Curran said. “Playing with my father each night before we went to bed.”
“You’re quite good,” you remarked.
“Not as good as my father,” Curren sighed, making his next move. “You’re not too shabby, Ms. Witch.”
You gave him a look and carefully assessed your next move. This would come to be his regular request. He’d ask for a game of chess and then to spend the night in a bed. In the beginning he would usually leave by dawn. But as time passed, he spent a few days around your home. He visited his own grave, spent time with the ghosts of the cemetery. He even taught Daisy to play chess.
