Blackfeather Woods nothing but the burnt edge of an unfinished history

I haven't watched it yet aahhhhhh

 

The witch strode through the tunnels of the Web, her charge, her man, trailing behind her, beckoned on her command. The feeling of power she feels from it is intoxicating. The knowledge that she had some ensnaring spell on him that pulled him back to her time and time again. Perhaps, in her lust, she had cast it, unconsciously trying to. And perhaps, it was intensified by her heat, to the point where the fire that she had ignited burned long after their parting. He lusts after her without her needing to be in estrus, and was willing enough to be permanently branded by her to atone for his sins.

She doesn't know what to do with that loyalty. It was one thing to lust for power but once power was without your own grasp, it was a matter of what to do with it now that it was there. She had him back. And she had every intention of having him stay with her. With her whispered words was declaration of possession to the world, every aspect of it. It was to his body to the spirits around her to the Gods themselves that no matter his state, broken or proud, he belonged to her. 

She enters the infirmary, gesturing for him to lay down on one of the beds of moss. She hadn't been able to manage the place in weeks, ever since her bastards had been spawned from her, but it was still tidy despite the neglect. Perhaps she was too meticulous and she didn't need all of the cleaning. Her body starts to move towards the herb store, where it gnaws at her for more poppy, but she quells the insistence to answer Atli's question.

She snorts out a bitter laugh. Vaati has made mistake after mistake in these past few months. Every folly brings us closer to ruin. She loves her son as a mother loves her child, but that does not override the anger and resentment she holds for him, for the things he has done. Potema moves to the herbstore and grabs a bit of moss and a few scraps of herbs to chew into a poultice for him. It is enough to prevent infection, the moss she soaks and uses to clean the wound and the poultice she spreads thinly over the scar, covering it with a gauze of cobwebs. She is silent the whole time, making no more comment on the state of her son or what Atli had missed while he was Gods-know-where.