#Chapter: Beyond Ragnarök

[bladesofkyber]

God of War: Ragnarök

There is much to do. Much to rebuild.

[wordsandrobots]

Had a pretty bad day so I'm going to boast about something.

I didn't mention it at the time but posting Chapter 14 of Ragnarök in G Minor on Friday took it past the previous high bar for individual Wishing on Space Hardware fic-length set by The Ares Affair (72,872 words vs 69,850). And this latest story isn't even halfway done. That'll come next week, and take the total word count for the series over 550,000 words.

(I'm hoping to land at about 555,000 because who wouldn't?)

Which is nice, and a good reminder of why, exactly, it took me half a year longer than expected to get Ragnarök finished. Because that did kind of disappoint me, but looking at it like this, it makes sense. There was a *lot* to get through to tie the overarching story together and give everybody some sort of key moment. My problem with writing fic for Iron-Blooded Orphans is that I want to write about ALL of it, and every single character, so it was probably inevitable that it wouldn't conclude with anything less then a doorstop of a fic.

Chapter 14 also marked the end of the character arc I started with the first IBO fic I wrote and I want to write a brief commentary on that. I'm planning a proper 'author's note' essay when the whole series is done, but this . . . this is something more specific.

(Behind a cut because it is talking about endgame stuff for Wishing on Space Hardware, which is already a post-canon fic for Iron-Blooded Orphans, so, yeah. Take heed and beware ye spoilers.)

I can't remember when exactly I decided one of the climaxes was going to be a three-way fight between fun-house mirror versions of the Devil of Tekkadan. Like much of WoSH, it fell out of the ever-expanding churn of ideas IBO left me with. But it's an obvious thing to do: take the legacy of the anime's protagonists and fracture it against itself for the sake of drama. Because whatever else, we are talking about a group of deeply traumatised child soldiers and there remains the potential for a lot of bad things to follow the hopeful ending of the show.

Embi is all the worst parts of Tekkadan. Violent, arrogant, selfish, reckless -- he's the vessel into whom I poured all that and more, to the point of having him actively reject the better parts. Heart-sickened by the death of his brother, the bonds of comradeship fray until he can't stand the sight of his former squad-mates, much less the miraculous returnee from the dead who catalyses the events of WoSH. At the same time, he can't stay at his worst. He struggles with new connections because they threaten to pull him from his grief. He doesn't want to move on. Embi roots himself in an old dream of being like Mikazuki, in the life of a mercenary soldier. Fighting is all he knows and beyond it lies the terrifying prospect of hope and trying. He'd have much preferred to burn up over Mars. At least that would have been a safely familiar ending.

Ordsley suffers the myth of Tekkadan, transformed by people who saw what a group of Martian children 'achieved' and wanted to surpass them. Yet the curse inflicted on him -- for he is of course a werewolf, turning with the influence of the crescent moon -- is to become unwilling legatee of Mikazuki's reality: the beast and the boy, the contradictory dreams of someone trapped by a system that sees people as raw material. For the smart young man at home on the proper side of history, it's a hell of a shock to reckon with the humanity of those condemned for their rebellion. Here, finally joining the survivors on the battlefield they once called home, the pieces click, for at least a moment. There are no easy answers in a world that offers children a choice between killing and starvation, but perhaps in the middle of the fray, it is easier to understand why they call each other friend.

Then there's Shino. The lovely, blood-thirsty himbo I thought it would be interesting to pluck from his canonical fate.

I know when I decided to shatter his prosthetic. The middle of last year, after reading writing by amputees, talking about how they are depicted, how that feeds and feeds off narratives fundamentally disconnected from their lived experiences. Still, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to speak to those experiences. The canon has sci-fi prosthetics. It's detached from the real world. It's just, the ways it also problematises them . . . the way, particularly with the addition of 598 and his cybernetic eye, that dovetails with the propaganda drive from militaries to gift high-tech limb replacements to those mangled in the course of fighting . . . I don't regret pushing myself to dip my toe in those waters.

You see, I wanted to tie together the strands of Shino's trauma. His instinctive reach for quid pro quo in his relationship with Yamagi, finally answered with the truth of everything positive he left behind on his first 'death'. His great bête noire, that failure of his last-ditch effort to save Tekkadan, coming full-circle as he's given another chance, another challenge, met this time with greater experience and maturity, and the knowledge of when not to fight. Third-best no longer, bolstered by all those who taught him what it takes to fly.

And as he gets to prove his mastery -- in ways beyond Embi's suicidal commitment and Ordsley's engineered supremacy -- he also reckons once more with that pernicious belief he is only fit to fight.

There isn't an answer, you know. Those doubts about ourselves, those demons, don't go away even when we let them go. We just learn to carry on regardless. To accept the possibility that we can live anyway, and to stop throwing the best parts of ourselves under the bus in our rush to distance ourselves from the worst.

So the arm is smashed to bits, the fate of the mobile suit pilot, the soldier, the body spent in violence. But Shino finally sees his younger self in a positive light and does what nobody else was able to for Embi: tell him it's OK to leave. Whatever it takes to be happy, even if that's a million miles away. He treats Ordsley as Ordsley, not Mika 2.0, reinforcing Ordsley's newfound balance. Above all, throughout everything, he is not alone. This final fight is spent with Eugene right at Shino's side, backing him up, trusting him. The Ryusei-Go is Tekkadan as a community, the part that truly never wilted. Because the reason Shino can have this moment of catharsis is that he is loved. So many people, building him up, giving him a future.

Everything he would do for them, unhesitatingly, and has, more times than he will ever realise.

I don't know if it's character development, exactly. Honestly, I don't know if the chapter actually encapsulates these things the way I wanted it to. I've read it too many times to see it straight any more and, even with a lovely band of readers I am privileged to have commenting, I'm doubting myself a lot these days. I don't sit well on my laurels, with the things I've completed, the word counts and the tick-marks. I worry it's still not enough. Put a fair of myself in Shino, there.

But I think it's good. I think it came out the way I wanted it to. I think it's the right thing for the story, to take a giant mecha battle, the tragic, inevitable conflict, and flip it around into an act of firefighting. I think I should be proud I got here, even if I never expected to when I first sat down at my keyboard to explain why the hot bisexual anime boy was still alive, actually.

So I'm make a note, to myself, that I did. That I should be proud. That I am, of me, for doing that.

And if you're reading this and you're going to be reading the rest of the story -- I'll just say, Shino himself is going to tell you why his vivid pink robot arm needed to be demolished by a giant sword. There'll be another, eventually (they do have a cyberneticist on speed-dial), but for now, well. You'll see.

[samieree]

Goddess of Muspelheim || GOW Ragnarök

Heimdall x OC

-> *Chapter 1*

Chapter 2 || Time to see the sun again

She might have had enough space in her cell to walk around a bit, but she had absolutely no strength to get up. She was sitting against the wall and banging her head against it. She didn't even count the time she spent in this place.

Although she could, she once realized that Odin visited her once a month on average. It was the only way she could measure the passing time, because in her cell there was no access to light at all.

If it weren't for those damn chains, she might at least light up her surroundings a bit, but oh well... She couldn't help it. Once, in this damn darkness, she even tripped over a rock.

This day or night - for she had no idea of ​​the time of day, after all - seemed to be just like any other.

However, something began to change. She stopped banging her head against the wall, hearing muffled voices from somewhere beyond the walls. She couldn't understand any of the words, but there was definitely someone near her prison, maybe even right next to her...

Again, those stupid childhood dreams came back to her, that someone would save her, get her out of this nasty place.

Stop it, it'll never happen. You stupid wench, Asgard will fall before you get out of here...

She closed her eyes, even though tears were already spilling out of them. It didn't make sense, no one would come to her aid, her whole family was dead, no need to delude herself...

She didn't even look up when she heard a noise, it must have been all in her head. She finally went crazy from this prison, that time came back to her when she had torn her own throat, screaming in helplessness, and then bursting into tears.

"Damn me..." She didn't open her eyes even hearing someone's voice she thought she recognized. It's only in your head, it's only in your head... "Amaris?"

No, it couldn't just be her imagination. She couldn't imagine that she saw flashes of sunlight, that someone grabbed her arm and crouched in front of her.

The mysterious person took her cheek gently and lifted her face up, which finally raised her gaze.

"I thought they killed you all... Say something, damn it, speak up!" She shook her by the shoulders, wanting to wake her up from the amok in which she seemed to have lost herself.

"Freya?" she finally asked quietly. Only now did she realize how long she hadn't uttered a word. "It seems to me... You... You aren't only in my mind? You are really here?"

"Yes, I'm here..." she said with little smile on her mouth. "Cut the chains, Kratos."

"Who is this? " Whoever Kratos was, he obviously came here with Freya.

"The daughter of my long-dead friends." Freya explained briefly, turning to her companion for a moment. "You're safe now, Ami, don't be afraid." She grabbed her hands, gently stroking the tops of them as if to show her support. At that time, Kratos still wary, approached pulled out the blades, with which he cut the chains binding her hands without any major problems. "Brok and Sindri will be able to get the rest of those handcuffs off by now. Come on, get up. You're free."

Free?

Will she really finally feel the sun's rays on her skin again? Her eyes are so used to the darkness, will she be able to withstand the light of day?

Will... Will she finally be able to get her revenge?

* * *

"Fuck, you look like something the cat dragged in! Where did you find her and who the fuck is she?" Brok expressed himself in his usual manner, trying to get rid of the metal surrounding the dark-haired woman's wrists.

"My name is Amaris." she murmured, wincing as the shackles on one hand finally began to release. "I'm..." she trailed off. She wanted to say that she was the daughter of the gods of Muspelheim, but remembered that her parents were dead. Now she is theoretically the goddess of Muspelheim, there is no one else who can claim that name.

"Mute?" he finished for her, removing the shackles from one wrist to the end, which almost made the girl cry out in pain. "Now you can see why they hold on so fucking tight.”

Well, after all, in order to deprive her of the ability to use her powers, the shackles had to constantly draw it from her. And to do that... They had to be under her skin.

Lots of small needles, right next to each other from the inside of the shackles, left a bleeding mark on her body, making the tattoos on her wrist almost invisible.

"Fuck..." She didn't pay so much attention to Brok's efforts any more, just stared at her hand as it began to... She was beginning to feel it. Sparks jumping between the fingers, yes, that was it.  "Haha! Brock wouldn't make it? I can do everything!" he shouted, pleased with the removal of the second shackles. Then he looked down at Amaris' hand, sparks jumping between her fingers. Immediately after, a bright glowing flame appeared above her hand. At the same time, an orange flash passed through her dark eyes. "Okay, it's all fucking clear now! You brought me a damn goddess of fire! I knew that name reminded me of something...!" he shouted, setting aside his tools.

It was... Amazing feeling. After ten years of feeling this unbearable emptiness, of being unable to use her powers at all, she was finally able to use them again. It was a damn good feeling to be able to summon fire again with the snap of her fingers, to feel its warmth on her hand.

She dropped her hand and extinguished the flame as Freya sat down beside her to bandage her bleeding wrists. But it didn't matter anymore, all that pain was nothing compared to the fact that she was free, nothing was holding her back anymore.

"With the help of these herbs, even such old wounds will heal..." Freya said, tying a bandage. She smiled softly as she looked at Ami. "What did Odin want from you, why didn't he kill you? Because I'm guessing he was the one holding you there..."

"I do not know what he wanted..." she replied with a shrug.

"Leave the girl alone now, can't you see how she looks like? An image of misery and despair. Let her wash and settle, I want to find out if it's true what was once said about the gods of Muspelheim. They look as hot as..."

"Brok." Freya interrupted him, admonishing him at the same time.

"Yeah, sure, you could use a wash... and change into some clean clothes..." said Sindri, the one most obsessed with cleanliness of all. "We'll find you something perfect to wear" he said and disappeared.

"Freya..." Amaris began softly, catching her hand. "Odin must pay for what he has done to all of us."

"We won't go to war with Asgard." Kratos said, speaking for the first time since the beginning of this whole conversation.

"You don't have to. But I won't let go that easily. My whole family slaughtered by them like animals, in front of my eyes... After spending so much time in their world, I've come to like them, even trust them... And they treated me like garbage. I won't let go until they pay me back with interest."

There was no talking about peace as long as she was alive. As soon as any opportunity arises, she will be very happy to let them all go up in smoke.

"You know what? I'd let her fuck up the whole As-fucking-gard. After ten years in the dark she deserves something from life."

"I agree." Freya supported the idea. After all, she herself had reason to take revenge on Odin.

"We weren't supposed to lead to war, to ragnarok." Kratos spoke up again, with his usual impassive voice.

"You're saying that to the goddess of fire who's fucking pissed off. You really think a glass of water will be enough to cool her ardor, huh?"

Brok got the point, it's not enough. Nothing will stop her from doing this, they'd have to kill her to stop her. Asgard will burn, and she will watch it with a smile.

Was it certain?

-> Next chapter -> general masterlist -> God of War: Ragnarök masterlist

[drstrangefictions]

What If... He Who Remains Could Send Frigg Lokidottir Home?

Chapter Two

Loki Laufeyson & Original Female Character

Word Count: 1K+

Spoilers: "Loki" Season 1; "What If...?" Season 1; "i don't want to be saved" fanwork

Basic Warnings + Trigger Warnings: Gif is related to a single line at the end because the one I really want to use is reserved for chapter 3.

AO3: Link

Master List || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Loki waltzed over to Frigg and handed her a mug full of hot (lukewarm at best) chocolate and mini-, rainbow marshmallows sprinkled on top. “This will take some getting used to, won’t it?”

She grabbed the slightly cold mug and frowned at his words. “I didn’t save you to be the hero, I saved you because I ended up being the only person to believe you. I know you, father, that play for power was an illusion. The universe may never trust you again for all we—you—know. We’re stuck here on Midgard because you and Thor caused Ragnarök…Thor is off in Norway and we’re here… so much has changed in so little time it seems.” She set the mug down on the kitchen bar and looked at Loki. “So little time for you, you went from the God of Mischief to… what? The God of Minor Inconveniences? I lived beyond time for what feels like an eternity, only to be sent home right where I was taken. I had you out there, well, the other version of you. And I was right about him, he was a liar because that’s what you all do. Lie.

“I thought… I thought I could live my youth beyond time or in his universe because he made our bond seem so real. I thought I had finally gotten the father I deserved, and when the illusion collapsed, I was left with choices. I made mine but I was afraid of it. To come home and watch you fall down the same path again and again. To watch myself fall down the path that was predetermined. For so long, all I wanted was to be part of someone’s family and I never was. I have always been a fool.” She bit her lip. “I became the monster everyone thought I was.”

Loki looked down at his own mug. “I hardly understand what you went through beyond time, and I don’t expect you to trust me. But I will do anything to make sure you get what you want. I want my daughter to be happy, even if we are stuck under the watchful eye of Tony Stark.” He glanced at her and chuckled. His smile faltered. “You didn’t have to come to this place with me, you could have gone with Thor to New Asgard.” He added quickly.

“Tony hasn’t said a single bad thing to me since Thor gave me all the credit for beheading Thanos. I think I’ll be alright here with you; I might be more concerned about you though. You’re not very good with people and you’re not very good at being, well, good.” Frigg paused. “You don’t suppose I could get away with being a bit of an inconvenience with Tony not being so mean to me now.”

“Don’t test him.” Loki sighed.

Frigg pursed her lips. “I already have, don’t worry.” She shifted her eyes toward Loki and tried to hide her smile.

“FRIGG LOKIDOTTIR!” Tony’s voice echoed from across the Avengers Compound.

“What did you do?” He swiveled on the barstool and faced her, smirking.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Peter wanted to see what Tony would look like with bright red hair, so I snuck into his room last night and lathered his hair with dye–he wouldn’t notice because he was doing one of those fancy hair masks, so his hair was already clumpy–and I removed his bathroom mirror and had Harley write a note saying that he was borrowing the mirror.”

“How long have you waited for an excuse to do that?” Loki asked.

“Far too long.” She smiled at her father. “It feels good. Besides, he has no proof that it was me. Peter, Harley, and I made sure that F.R.I.D.A.Y. understood her assignment.”

“You know I didn’t actually mean that this, between us, would take some time to get used to.” Loki watched Tony storm into the living space of the compound. “I meant about all of this–living here, living with many mortals.” He looked at Frigg with a soft, almost saddened expression.

Frigg pursed her lips. “Ah, and you just let me go on my little emotional journey because…?”

“You did this!” Tony pointed an accusatory finger at the adolescent.

“I’d love to know how you ‘know’ that I did that. What if it was one of your own children? Or worse, Sam Wilson.” Frigg spun in the barstool. “Steve’s entourage has a little thing against you.”

Tony opened his mouth, presumably to accuse her of something else. “You are slick, I’m going to check with F.R.I.D.A.Y. about this.” He stepped away. As quickly as he did so, he stepped back. “You wouldn’t know how I can remove this would you?”

“I do sell hair dye to the Avengers, give me a good reason I should help you with your hair problem, Mr. Stark?” Frigg smirked. “Ronald McDonald Red is, however, a good look for you. Have you showed Morgan yet? I thought her favorite color was red, or is that Peter’s?”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows. “Color remover and we’ll work out some details.”

Frigg nodded. “Sounds decent.”

Frigg and Loki watched Tony walk away from them, defeated.

Loki smiled at her. “You’re not going to help him, are you?”

She shook her head. “I’m just going to make him suffer by covering the bright red and dumping the closest color I have to his natural hair color all over him. So, before we were rudely interrupted, I asked you a question.”

“Ah, yes. I let you go on your little rant because that’s something you should do. You shouldn’t keep everything locked up inside. Talking is the only way to make things easier.” Loki watched her fidget as he spoke. “I know you have something against me, and I don’t always expect you to open up about all of that—."

She rubbed the palm of her hand with her thumb. “It helps you understand, doesn’t it? Just don’t expect everything all at once all the time.”

“You need time, and I have all the time in the world.” He spoke.

“I’ve had enough of that concept, truly.” She barely laughed.

Loki nodded, a little disappointed. “Sounds like you just want time to disappear altogether.”

She scoffed. “That’s not even close to what I mean. I used to believe that time was a construct of our perception and for that time literally came out of some decrepit hole like the girl from The Ring and yanked my heart out and ate it.”

He stared at her with his jaw only slightly open. “Why are you so… morbid?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got an assignment for you, by the way.”

Loki pursed his lips and exhaled harshly. “How is it that you get to boss me around? I thought that was a job for the actual Avengers.”

“I suppose it was. Past tense. Though, they are still in charge of us both, I have a little more freedom. Like I said, Thor gave me all the credit, I’ll be all right.” She clasped her hands together. “I can sense the flashback to getting your ass handed to you.”

He nodded. “It’s bound to happen again. So, what are you here with your newfound freedom and why wasn’t I aware of it?”

“I’m part of the new generation of heroes. Tony wants to retire; Clint is already retired, and we can’t find a replacement for him. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t actually understand what had happened when it did.” She looked at him and chuckled. “First things first, though, we have to make sure that we can count on you.” She slipped off of the barstool and illuminated herself in green. Her attire changed from a casual oversized black T-shirt, emerald leggings, and black combat boots to something more suited for a Young Avenger—a horned helm, an emerald trench coat lined with white fur an accented with gold and three brown belts, a long-sleeved T-shirt was covered by a bright green Asgardian leather cuirass in the pattern of a snake, golden bracers beneath the sleeves of her coat but over a pair of black fingerless gloves, black denim pants, and knee-high leather boots with an emerald sole and gold accents (she is quite the fashionista for no reason, she gets it from her father who is equally as flashy). She held her arm out and summoned Loki’s scepter. She grinned at her father and instinctively held a hand out for him.

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 61

Javelins of Light

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

It’s a completely different thing, feeling the heat and power of Ragnarök from just aside it, and watching it from afar.

When it’s close, it’s something like the blaze Veery walks through in Gronder Field. Brighter, stronger, hotter, and importantly, quicker and more merciful in that quickness, but Veery simply has no better comparison. It is the Sothis to Veery in raw power, but they both burn the same. All intense heat and searing, stinging, stirring up embers that linger and hold that burn in the very air.

From this far away it is… sublime, in the way that watching an avalanche a few mountains over can be sublime. Not good, carrying with it an echo of disbelief, and in the moment with only a vague understanding of what is even being witnessed. It is something not so immediate and thus, in a way, beyond him.

It is beyond him in that, when he feels the heat on his whiskers and sees the steaming sea rise from the ocean, he is in such a situation that, to survive, he must act. It is something that contains him. It is something with which he must take part.

When it is away from him, and he observes as a mere onlooker, that is fundamentally different. The situation allowing him the luxury of incomprehension, his mind refuses to piece each individual threat together and cannot see the broader picture for the singular moment of impact.

It is above him, beyond him, and without him in a way that makes Veery feel so small and impotent that it borders on relief.

Light flashes. A few seconds later, while Veery is just beginning to open his eyes to the sight again, a wave rolls past him, blowing back against him as if to say that he should flee and not lend one more thought to this scene.

“…Merciful goddess…” Linhardt’s voice sounds about how Veery feels. Uncomprehending to the point of simply blanking on thought altogether.

He just stares until the actual explosions have long ended. He stares and sees… ruins. At best. Fort Merceus, a place so tough to get through that it has a moniker – The Stubborn Old General, at that – is just… levelled. It’s like an avalanche comes through and buries the whole place, with all that remains being crumbling towers and fragments of buildings poking out of the dirt. Except it’s not buried, it’s just gone. Thrown every way to the winds, like nothing more than ash.

And everything is, suddenly, so quiet. It’s almost serene, how they stand there witnessing the aftermath of power rivalled only by gods. A gentle breeze catches on Veery’s hair, carrying with it the dusty air of grassland, coming from the wrong direction to tell Veery what Merceus, or what’s left of it, smells like.

(And, distantly, it is awesome in its terror. Sick satisfaction, the origin of which eludes Veery entirely, trickles faintly through his veins at the sight of such a marvelous feat of human engineering falling so swiftly.)

When Veery finally tears his eyes away to look to Linhardt, who is still staring, Veery’s first coherent thought following this Ragnarök finally hits him.

Did anyone make it out? Did anyone, anyone at all, listen to Veery and evacuate? If they did, did they have time to truly get out of there before whatever this is hit?

Hoarvug? Caub? Sadi? Claude? …Anyone?

Veery languishes there in his own doubt and disbelief until at last he hears a roar. A low, drawn-out note, the kind of roar that parents use to call to cubs who wander off. Without even thinking, he trips over himself to call back.

Sadi is alive. And there, Hoarvug’s roar joins hers. Thank goodness. At least them, if no one else, has made it out. If they’re out, Caub likely is as well. Those three, if no one else, would listen to a warning Veery gives, even if they get orders from resistance generals to stay.

And there! Wingbeats. They draw Veery’s eye to the quickly approaching, dazzlingly white wyvern.

Claude lands nearby, dismounts, and Veery tackles him in a hug.

“Woah!” Claude stumbles back from the impact, quickly steadying both himself and Veery. “Hey, what’s this for?”

“You listened,” Veery sniffs. He nuzzles into Claude. He smells like sweat and smoke but Veery doesn’t mind that in the least. He just shoves himself into Claude as best he can. “I didn’t think…”

Claude sighs gently, more felt by Veery than heard. “Of course, I listened, Veery. I trust you.”

…Right. Claude trusts him. Even now, even despite… despite abandoning Dimitri – turning away Dimitri, and so coldly closing his heart to old friends.

“Even if I didn’t know the reason,” Claude says, “I trust you.” Claude squeezes Veery tight, then loosens his hold, but Veery does not let go. Not yet. Claude just chuckles weakly and doesn’t protest. “That said, you called the retreat in time for us to avoid those… javelins of light. I assume you knew about them, Linhardt?”

“Not exactly,” Linhardt says. “I’ve been researching the Agarthans since I joined Edelgard. I knew they had some kind of super-weapon which they’ve used before, but I had no idea what it would be.”

“Alright,” Claude says. “Before I ask anything else…”

“I’m not your enemy, Claude.” Linhardt sighs wearily. “Hubert, or one of their Agarthan allies, killed Caspar before the battle even began. The timing of these javelins of light, the Death Knight knowing about them… Edelgard always intended to sacrifice us here. Myself, I could accept, but Caspar…” He shakes his head. “I am going to destroy them all. And I would very much appreciate the chance to work together with you on that. I’ll even happily inform the Bergliez troops just what Edelgard and her allies have done. Even with Caspar’s father still fighting in the Kingdom, I believe many of them would desert – follow me and join you, or flee to the Alliance to wait out the rest of the war.”

“You drive a hard bargain. But I have no interest in killing you, either, so as long as you’re not helping Edelgard anymore, you have nothing to fear from me,” Claude says. “What happened?”

“Ugh… I’d rather only say it once, if you don’t mind. Who has survived? If you can help gather any Imperial troops, I’ll speak to them and tell the whole story.”

Claude winces. With his face still buried in Claude’s chest, Veery feels the twitching recoil. “Ah…” Claude murmurs. “About that…”

Oh, no. Veery’s stomach drops. He clutches tighter onto Claude.

“Most of the resistance retreated,” Claude says. “And Veery, you heard the roars, I bet, but Caub is also fine. They were actually a great help getting everyone out quickly.”

Thank goodness. At least there’s that. At least Veery can breathe again.

“All the Deer made it out,” Claude says, “and we didn’t lose many knights – none of the big names – only a small loyalist group who didn’t follow orders. But the Empire…”

Linhardt ducks his head. “How bad is it?”

“…Not great. Better than it could be, but… not great. A lot of them did make it out. Even a lot of the injured were carried out. But preliminary estimates is that about half of your soldiers didn’t listen to the evacuation order. Most likely because it was us resistance who issued it.”

“They wouldn’t have much reason to listen to an enemy,” Linhardt admits. “Especially when that enemy is called the Master Tactician and known for schemes and has already tricked them once today.”

“…Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Claude shuffles a little nervously, still holding Veery but clearly half-heartedly. “There is one other thing. A big thing.”

Linhardt groans. “Who died?”

Suddenly, Claude’s arms around Veery tighten. “We’re starting the search for survivors, but… Dimitri and Ingrid.”

“What?” Veery gasps, pulling back only to be stopped by Claude’s strong grip. “They-”

“Dimitri refused to retreat,” Claude says. “I tried, Teach tried, Felix tried, even Ingrid tried. But we couldn’t get through to him. He called us cowards for fleeing when victory was so close, and he was still focused on Edelgard. I… Felix left with us, but Ingrid wouldn’t leave Dimitri’s side. They insisted they’d fight until the battle was over.”

That sounds about right, really. Dimitri… was getting better. He was. There was hope for him. But… Veery knew from the start that he should never have been in battle. Veery can’t honestly bring himself to be surprised that Dimitri would ignore orders, even after his moment with Loog. He was getting better, but to expect that much from him so soon in the middle of the chaos of battle would just be asking too much.

And now… he’ll never have that chance to get better.

Worse, Ingrid, who dies for what? Honor? Duty? As if any of that matters one whit when she’s dead.

And… “What about Sir Gilbert?” Annette’s father. Are they going to have to tell Annette that her father threw away his life for nothing?

“The same as Ingrid,” Claude says softly. “He refused to leave Dimitri’s side.”

Damn it! Veery has never cared much for the man, but… damn it.

“We should get back to the others,” Claude says. “I’m glad you’re safe. Both of you.”

Linhardt sighs. “I’m sorry it came to this in the first place, Claude.”

“So am I. Want a lift? It’s a short flight; my girl can handle all of us.”

Veery eyes the wyvern. She’s a beautiful creature, and Veery remembers that feeling from his dreams (and pretty much only the feeling – that dream still eludes him, no matter how often he has it – which admittedly isn’t often) of flying.

But flying under the power of his own strength and body is a lot different from hopping on the back of another predator entirely. Veery prefers his feet on solid ground. “You two can fly,” Veery says. “I’ll run.”

“It’d probably be for the best if I arrive with you,” Linhardt says. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“Excellent. Come on, Linhardt. Going to get a head start, Veery?”

Veery smiles weakly, trying to put forward some positivity, some fun, into not just his own heavy heart, but all of theirs. “You think I need it?”

“Against my girl here?” Claude pats his wyvern’s neck, grinning much more easily than Veery, though his smile does not quite reach his eyes. Not that Veery will call him out on it. “Definitely.”

Veery chuckles. “If you’re sure.” Mostly, he’s just eager to see everyone alive and well. Everyone who is alive and well, at least. So, with no more prompting, he shifts and takes off towards where Sadi’s roars came from.

He does not stop until he’s jumping bodily, without even shifting back, into Hoarvug’s eagerly awaiting arms.

(And he beats Claude there. Barely – he does end up needing that head start – but he’s back first.)

Purring loud enough to alarm the nearby soldiers, Veery nuzzles into Hoarvug, then squirms out of his arms to nuzzle Sadi, and then Caub, and then turns his attention to the Deer.

Lysithea first. Veery shifts back then, to greet her properly, and crushes her in a hug until he hears her wheeze a little. She’s smiling when he lets her go, though, so he knows he doesn’t hurt her.

Marianne practically tackles him, and he eagerly holds her in turn, and Hilda doesn’t even wait for her to let him go before jumping in on the pile, and that triggers everyone else to stop waiting for turns and join in with hugs, pats, and a chorus of thanks.

Everyone realizes that Veery’s warning is the only reason they’re all still alive. Veery is quick to correct them. It’s Linhardt’s warning, and Veery is just glad they trust him enough to listen.

But Veery’s gut twists even as they delight in each other’s life. None of the Blue Lions are around. Claude says that Felix makes it out, but Veery doesn’t see him, and the others…

Linhardt calls the Imperial troops to attention, a short distance away. The javelins of light destroying Fort Merceus effectively stops any fighting, it seems, but what remains of the Empire forces here still keep away from the bulk of the resistance forces.

With every eye on him, including the Deer and any resistance soldiers close enough to listen, Linhardt tells the story of what happened. He tells everyone where he was during the battle, where Caspar was supposed to be, how Veery and his team found him and helped tend to the wounded even though they were enemies, how Veery mentioned that Caspar was not at the gates, and what his conclusion based on that information is.

Linhardt tells the soldiers that, in simple terms, the Death Knight was not sent here on accident. He knew from the start that the Empire was never meant to win the battle here. Linhardt says that, just before the battle, Caspar figures this out, too, and confronts one of Edelgard’s close advisors about it – about sacrificing the soldiers of Fort Merceus.

Linhardt says coldly that that advisor of Edelgard’s kills Caspar in cold blood, from behind, before the battle even begins, to ensure that their plan will go off without meddlesome interference. And it would have, had Linhardt not already had his own doubts about those advisors so close to the emperor.

Linhardt explains plainly that Edelgard murdered Caspar, crippling their defenses and sentencing them to a loss here, but that she doesn’t care because this fort has always been a sacrificial pawn to her slated for destruction by those javelins of light. The plan was to destroy the resistance army, all of their leaders in one stroke, by destroying the battlefield indiscriminately. Caspar’s murder is acceptable to her because she planned from the beginning for all of them to die.

Veery expects no one to believe Linhardt’s story, especially because he was there himself for most of it and knows that there is a lot of inference going on here. But it probably says something about the troops of Bergliez, who make up the majority of the troops here, that they do not question Linhardt for even a moment. They trust him, almost implicitly, and cry their outrage at the betrayal of their lord.

Then, Linhardt gives them all a choice not unlike the one Edelgard proposes to Veery five years ago. He tells them that he plans to join the resistance and avenge Caspar. He asks them what they will do, promising that the resistance will accept them or, if they no longer wish to fight at all, they will be welcome refugees in Leicester until the fighting passes their homes and they can return safely.

Join the enemy, stay on their side of the war, or flee to safety to wait it out. The same three choices Veery has back at the start of the war. The same ones Claude and the Black Eagles have, too.

Rallying around Linhardt, the soldiers of house Bergliez who survive the javelins of light which destroy Fort Merceus make their choice. Despite other notable Bergliez lords, including Caspar’s father and older brother, the actual heir to the house, fighting elsewhere for Edelgard, Claude’s resistance gains new allies this day.

Veery searches the rubble. Ostensibly, he’s looking for any survivors, but really he’s just looking for important corpses. Feral and mad or not, Dimitri is a prince of Faerghus. Ingrid and Gilbert are knights and nobles. They need to be returned to their homeland to be buried. That’s how Faerghan funerals work, at least, according to Claude. Veery still can’t find hide nor hair of Felix, so he can’t ask someone from Faerghus itself. (Not that he would. Now is not the time for that.)

But perhaps more importantly than even that, Veery can see the unfortunate knowing in Claude’s eye and hear the delicate hinting in his voice. More importantly even than the bodies and funerals, Areadbhar, the Relic of House Blaiddyd, and Lúin, the Relic of House Galatea, need to be recovered and returned to their respective houses.

Veery wonders idly if Areadbhar has anyone to go back to. He recalls that most of – if not all – Dimitri’s family is dead. Certainly, he knows of no one still alive who bears the Crest necessary to use it. That lack of another Crest of Blaiddyd is not uncommonly brought up alongside the topic of Dimitri’s ascension to the throne of Faerghus.

It’s still unclear what will happen to the Relics once the war is over, so one without a family to claim it poses an interesting problem. Veery knows that Sadi would like the Relics purified and sent to Albinea to rest alongside the agell, but Veery thinks it makes more sense to lay them to rest in the Holy Tomb at Garreg Mach. Since they’re dragons, and likely Zanado is their original home, he’s pretty sure that if they talk it through Sadi will agree that such a course of action makes sense. Her greatest concern is that with Seteth and Flayn being the only dragons left still within society, no one remains who will tend to the tomb.

Veery thinks Seteth would definitely tend to a tomb for the rest of his absurdly long life. That’s just the kind of person he is. But, of course, Veery also doesn’t think a tomb particularly needs tending if no one is ever going to visit, and Seteth and Flayn excepted, who would bother visiting the tomb of dragons?

Well, it doesn’t particularly matter to Veery. He just plods along through the debris, looking for a sign of something other than bleak, dusty rubble.

He scents Felix before he sees him. He sees Felix before he sees Ingrid, then Gilbert, then Dimitri. The bodies are lain neatly on the ground, one next to another – clearly Felix finds them with enough time before Veery does to organize them. Gilbert’s axe, a standard-issue weapon, is nowhere to be seen. Likely, it’s with the other destroyed rubble around the place. Lúin and Areadbhar, however, are thrown unceremoniously into a pitiful little heap not far away.

“About time you got here,” Felix says, voice tight and curt, but altogether not that different from normal even as he looks down at the peaceful corpses of his allies. “Grab Areadbhar. I’m not going to test my luck carrying three of these things.”

…The Relics, of course. One, without the proper Crest, can turn a human into a Black Beast. It’s probably a good idea not to casually carry three of them around, even if one matches his Crest and it isn’t for very long.

Looking down at Areadbhar, Lúin dejectedly lying half under it, Veery is reminded of his initial, visceral, terror upon encountering the Lance of Ruin for the first time.

Like this, it’s just a morbid trinket, but to touch it, to invite it, is… horrible. The scream of that Black Beast still echoes in Veery’s heart, eclipsed now mostly by Bernadetta but undeniably still there, weighing down on him.

It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that this is supposed to be the weapon of a king.

Veery sighs gently, bending down to take hold of Areadbhar. The umbral steel of the shaft is oddly cold under Veery’s fingertips, but aside from that, carefully keeping his heart shut from the dead Crest Stone, it’s just like any other ugly, cumbersome human weapon.

He doesn’t expect the weight of it, though perhaps he should if it is the weapon of the line whose Crest famously gives them unnatural strength, but it is not so heavy that Veery struggles to lift it. He simply fits his hand into the grip, holds it vertical, and turns his attention back to Felix, trying to ignore the broad canvas of twisted bone in his grasp.

Sensing Veery’s hesitation, Felix snarls, “Go. Get that to Claude. Don’t worry about Lúin or-” he hesitates, uncharacteristically, as his eyes return to the corpses in front of him and, perhaps for the very first time Veery witnesses, his voice wavers, “or them. I’ll bring Lúin, and the boa-” a wince, just a small one, “Dimitri, he…” Felix breathes out sharply, more a huff than a sigh. “I hate this,” he mutters. “Faerghus will want its rituals. Following them will help alleviate the blow to morale this will cause. Bring Areadbhar to Claude. He’ll know what to do and help organize the recovery. No offense, but…”

“It’s human rituals,” Veery says. “I wouldn’t know to follow them. I understand. I’ll sniff out Claude for you.”

Felix sags a little. “…Thanks.” Just before Veery leaves, Felix adds, “Seteth and the professor, too, if you can. They’re the effective Church of Seiros, so… we’ll need them.”

“Understood. Be back soon.”

Veery clutches Areadbhar tightly, then turns away. Will Felix be okay? Though he grits his teeth, Veery can only come to the conclusion that Felix will have to be. And the best thing Veery can do to help him right now is what he asks for, so that’s what Veery does.

As he walks, he passes soldiers. Soldiers from both sides of the war, all working together to sift through the rubble, looking for signs that anyone at all may have survived this. People look up at him as he passes. A few offer motions of deference his way, but most just gawk in a way quite different than Veery is used to.

Veery doesn’t know if they’re looking at him, or at Areadbhar. It’s uncomfortable, regardless. Veery crawls in his fur under the attention, feeling as if he is delivering Dimitri’s actual corpse for how these people look at him.

He sniffs out Claude quickly, already knowing where their leader should be and finding him just there. Veery doesn’t need to call to him. Claude notices Veery’s arrival immediately and turns, only to stop short when he spies what Veery is holding.

“Veery…” Claude murmurs, eyes fixed on Areadbhar.

“Felix found them,” Veery says, not waiting to hear whatever pity is edging Claude’s voice. Veery is not the one who will be broken by these deaths. Honestly, Claude is closer to them than Veery is. They’re friends, yes, and Veery will mourn them, but… now is not the time to slow down. “Sir Gilbert, Ingrid, and Dimitri,” he says. “Felix is still with them, and has Lúin, too, but he asked me to bring you this.”

Claude sighs wearily, slumping just so that he looks a little older than he normally does. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll…” He reaches out, touches Areadbhar’s shaft, very nearly brushes his fingers on Veery’s, and hesitates. “Veery,” he says softly. With a quick look over his shoulders and the reassurance that they are as alone as they can be, and that no one is actively listening to them, he murmurs, “I know this isn’t the right time, but… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Veery echoes. He shakes his head. “You were a lot closer to them than me. These aren’t deaths you should be worrying about me over.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Claude says. He steps closer, ignoring Areadbhar still in Veery’s grip held off to the side, so that they are in an intimate, face-to-face moment where Veery can mostly ignore everyone and everything else around them. “When you and Lysithea provoked Dimitri and refused to join forces… I was angry, and hurt, because I guess I thought you two thought the same as I do, and so when you came to me with news of a decision I couldn’t have made myself, I just didn’t know what to say.”

Claude ducks his head. His hair falls uncharacteristically into his face. “And mostly,” he says, “I just missed Dimitri. You know, at the academy, even though we were in different houses, all of us house leaders had to do a lot of work together. We were friends, I- I almost even trusted him. It hit me worse than any of the Eagles, or even Professor Hanneman, because I hadn’t already come to terms with it. When I learned he was alive, I thought- I just knew there was little I wouldn’t do to keep it that way. I’d already mourned him once.”

Veery grabs his tail and holds it close, ears folding back. “I know,” he says. “I know you liked each other. And I knew there was no way Teach would agree with us – I shared her heart once, remember?” Veery shakes his head. “But we had to make a decision, and we didn’t think it was safe. We thought he’d… well, that he wouldn’t listen to orders, at best. That he’d actively endanger us at worst.”

Claude nods slowly, morosely. “And he did both of those things. We shouldn’t have lost as many troops as we did at Gronder – that fog hurt all of us. And even now, he…” Claude’s eyes are pulled to Areadbhar. “He wouldn’t follow orders, and that got him killed. This resistance works because even though we don’t always agree on everything, we still trust each other. Dimitri didn’t trust us. That… You were right. You were right from the start. And I knew that, I always did, it jus-”

“I know, Claude.”

Claude sighs. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t trust you. No, I’m- I’m sorry I acted like I didn’t trust you. Honestly, part of me wanted to believe it wasn’t that big of a deal. I thought, you know me. You know that I was just upset about Dimitri, not at your decision, and that I was busy with the army and…” He shakes his head. “But that’s not an excuse. When your pals, Sadi and Hoarvug, during the battle at Gronder Field… You’ve only ever acted like that towards me when you were hurt. When you couldn’t defend yourself. Even then, that was before you decided to trust me. When Sadi and Hoarvug stepped in and wouldn’t let me or Teach get close… I know you didn’t ask them to do that, but I also know that they’re both a lot more clued into your feelings than I am. You were weak and they protected you. From me. And I’m not offended. They were right to. They only let close the people you trusted. I just… I guess I was just pretending not to notice that I wasn’t one of those people anymore.”

Veery would like nothing more than to protest, to say that he does trust Claude. As far as humans are concerned, Veery does trust him. Only perhaps Caub is on the same level. Maybe Lysithea.

And yet, when Veery closes his eyes, when he hears echoes of old lessons unlearned and sees the terrible silhouette of a friend in the flames of Gronder Hill, he can’t deny that he doubts. He cannot say with a hundred percent certainty that, given the situation, the scale and the importance, the number of people who will be impacted by the resolution of this war, that Claude would not willingly, or even reluctantly, sacrifice Veery to those ends.

“And I hate that, Veery. You’re my brother. I never wanted to lose you like that.”

This, at least, Veery can answer honestly. “You haven’t lost me, Claude.” Claude lifts his eyes, some light returning to them. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Claude chuckles weakly, finally smiling. “That you are. And I don’t say nearly enough just how much I appreciate that you are. There’s not a lot you can count on in this world, so knowing that I can count on you is… really important to me.”

It’s important to Veery, too. Even if Veery doesn’t completely believe in it. Even if it hurts. Even if it buzzes around and leaves him hollow, cold, and short of breath, it’s important. And Veery treasures it dearly.

Almost without thinking, Veery reaches out to touch Claude’s uncovered skin – the easiest access being his cheek and jawline – and even though he knows Claude won’t feel anything, he opens his heart to him regardless.

Despite everything, it’s still strange to Veery that hearts must be shared by humans with only words. He doesn’t know if that makes connections between those hearts more fragile, more precious, or both, but it is most definitely strange.

But Veery really wishes he could find the words to share with Claude his heart in this moment. He does not want to shy away from the pain of this schism between them. He believes it’s important that Claude know that Veery still struggles with trust, and that that is why this hurts him so much. He wants Claude to understand – to really understand – Veery’s faith. That resolve, that will, to follow through not despite or in spite of doubt, but alongside it.

That bending away, that allowing writhing doubt to slither in, does not mean anything between them will break. Veery is not so naïve nor so paranoid anymore that something as small as this disagreement will break any bond of his.

And it is in this moment, when Veery opens his heart completely to Claude, while Claude spills his own heart to Veery, that something miraculous happens.

Or, as Veery will remember later, after realizing that Claude himself brings up just this exact possibility years ago in a letter while they were still on different continents, something completely predictable happens.

It is faint, tentative, and distant, but Veery feels another heart just brushing against his. Like the tender stroke of fur against his, not rubbing together but passing by, only close enough for both their bulks to make up for the space still between them.

The logical part of Veery’s brain, which is still scanning their surroundings and noting everything around them, realizes that Failnaught, strung on Claude’s back, glows. The rest of Veery feels something close to abject terror fading away into relief.

Not his own heart and soul, but Claude’s. Veery can feel it, however far it may be, that same scared little cub that Veery is. Scared of being left alone, of not having anyone to rely on, to talk to, to care about. Scared that one mistake will turn everyone he loves against him and force him to fight for his life against lives he desperately does not wish to lose.

Veery imagines the situations are somewhat different, and he doesn’t pretend to understand just what that situation is for Claude, but the marks it leaves on Claude’s soul resonate quite closely with Veery’s own.

The moment is just that, a small fraction of a second where their souls undeniably touch, but even though Claude doesn’t pull away, and even though neither of them shut tight the doors of their hearts, Veery can’t reach him for any longer than that. It feels as if that passing brush of fur simply moves on without concern.

Idly, the logical part of his brain notes that the Crest Stone of Riegan must have some part to play in this phenomenon, and that if it is not so easy even with that, then something more is at play. Veery suspects it has to do with… trust and openness.

Claude looks, wide-eyed, at Veery, mouth agape as he processes what just happened. “Veery, was that…”

Veery smiles widely and nods. Knowing Claude can shift from important intimate moment to scientific curiosity just as easily as Veery, he says, “It was faint. Distant. But not all that different from sharing with Professor Byleth. I guess it is possible so long as you have a Crest. Maybe you need the Crest Stone, too. Failnaught glowed.”

“It did?” Claude glances back to his bow sticking up over his shoulder. “Maybe…” He shakes his head, then returns his attention to Veery. As they look into each other’s eyes, there is a new tenderness there in Claude’s. It’s… almost cautious, but also bolder than ever. “So that’s how you’ve been all this time…” he breathes. “With something like that as a possibility, I think I understand why you don’t trust humans. It’s amazing you can trust anyone without confirming… no, it doesn’t matter. Listen, Veery. I just…” He laughs disbelievingly. “I just felt your trust in me. I felt the state of your soul. I… I felt your doubt, too, and your faith, and I…” A deep breath, then, with a glance to the people still moving around them, a surprise by switching suddenly to Albinean. “I hope that you felt mine. Because I have never in my life been certain about someone being completely on my side, and I desperately cannot lose this with you now.”

It’s remarkable how similar they are. Veery honestly does not expect in the slightest this fear and doubt from Claude of all people. Even so, Claude hardly needs to say that, but it’s a human habit to share through words. He may not – probably doesn’t – even realize that Veery feels all of this already from that small brush against his soul.

Veery smiles, purrs, and gently bumps his head against Claude’s, nuzzling. Claude gets the idea. Words aren’t necessary.

They’re okay. Maybe better than ever. And though he’s loath to bring the mood down again, Veery is reminded constantly of what they must still do by the lance still in his hand. “Come on,” Veery says gently, nudging Claude back into Leader Man Mode. “Felix is still waiting on you.”

Claude’s countenance reflects the reluctant tightness in Veery’s heart. How much they wish they could afford to simply enjoy that moment. Alas, war takes even the small joys.

They both have a lot of work to do yet, but they can do that work with slightly lighter hearts than before. And especially now, when war refuses to give an inch, when it does as it is wont to do and makes life worse and never better, the smallest of moments of making themselves better means the world.

Teach takes Areadbhar. Despite talking through things with Claude, Teach is still awkward around Veery, but it’s a little easier to deal with now. She takes Areadbhar and Veery returns to Felix long enough to confirm that he’s not going to be particularly useful here before stealing off away from the bustle.

It should come as no surprise that Hoarvug finds him almost immediately.

“My Veery,” Hoarvug purrs, unflinchingly claiming his place wrapped tightly around Veery, “I heard the madman is dead.”

“Dimitri, yes,” Veery sighs. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Hoarvug and Sadi, but they can both feel his heart as their own. Especially Hoarvug. “I should probably be more upset over it than I am. Honestly, I’m just relieved that the only ones from our side who died are the ones who chose it themselves.”

“Not even you can help someone who does not wish to be helped,” Hoarvug murmurs. “The pegasus rider, I spoke briefly with her. To die was what she believed was her duty.”

Veery can’t help but wrinkle his nose. “I’ll never understand that.”

Hoarvug just chuckles. “I would hope not. I will eagerly face a challenge I know outpaces me, but I will never fight intending to lay down my life. Those who place honors on death only romanticize the meaningless. The real honor comes from facing death and surviving regardless.”

Veery only hums. He doesn’t entirely agree, of course, but their differing opinions on that matter are well known and no source of contention worth lingering on.

Hoarvug shifts, resting his head on Veery’s shoulder as he hugs him from behind, but carrying a certain weight that Veery doesn’t often see with him. “My Veery,” Hoarvug says after a long pause, “what was it that destroyed this place?”

Oh, how to answer that question? “We’ve been calling them ‘javelins of light’ because of what it looked like,” Veery says. “Linhardt believes it was a weapon developed by Agartha.”

“Agartha?” Hoarvug echoes lowly. “Who are they again?”

“Edelgard’s allies. The ones we’ve met so far have been sort of comically evil.” There is little point in going into detail with Hoarvug. Not because he won’t understand, but because he just won’t care beyond the basics.

 “Why ally with someone like that?”

Veery snorts. “Stupidity? Desperation? Lysithea and I think she’s been manipulated – or indoctrinated, I suppose. Not that it matters.”

Hoarvug hums. “No, it matters not. What matters is the power that they possess.” With a huff, he says, “I wonder what Walhart would think were he to see that. Overwhelming strength…”

He shakes his head. “I have borne witness to feats of power beyond mortal ken,” Hoarvug says. “Magic and the unknown, all those dangers which lie beyond flesh and bone. The stuff of legends; the power of gods. I have even witnessed words cut more thoroughly than claws. And I once believed that power was the most important thing in this world.

“But the hare does not submit merely because it cannot hope to overpower the cat. Neither will I submit to the gods, power be damned. I asked you not long ago to give me direction, and you told me to find my own way. This is my answer. All those who rightfully thrust their overwhelming power unto the world… just because they have the strength to change and control the world, does not mean that they can change and control me. And they never will, for my chosen path bends to no will but my own.”

Hoarvug purrs, nuzzling into Veery. “My path will be determined by my heart in the present moment. I have no need for more.”

Veery purrs too, and smiles, and he thinks that Hoarvug’s answer is a good one.

[mellowchen0813]

Choices (Beelzebub X Qin Shi Huang)

Record of Ragnarök

Beelzebub X Qin Shi Huang

Title: Choices (Part 5 / ??)

Written by: Hastings_Lex (Twitter: @ hastings_lex)

Translated by: Mellow (Twitter: @ mellowchen0813)

Word count: 1559 words

(Mellow: Some Gore + Violence, and a tiny bit of NSFW??)

“This post is written before Qin make his official appearance in Chapter 55”

Warning: Slight Heteromorphic Play

(Since one of them is a Demon aka Lord of the Flies)

OOC | Bugs | parasitic description | some bloody scene | some misconceptions

Viewer’s Description is Advised

Setting:

I added some sociopath related symptoms into both Beelzebub and Qin’s characteristics. Since Qin hasn’t made his formal appearance in the manga, most of his character was built according to Chinese History.

And in conclusion, as a sociopath myself, I can reasonably suspect that Qin is a crazy man.

If you are interested in finding out what is “High-Functioning Sociopath” is, feel free to do a small research on it, people with this illness couldn’t live long.

Beelzebub was known as the “Lord of the Flies” or “Prince of Demons”,

So, flies, maggots and diseases should be his Legend Noumenon.

(No wonder he appeared as a crazy researcher)

Flies are one of the largest groups of insects and have a huge variety of characteristics. Nonetheless, flies are very sensitive to the scent around them, which is a good tool to find a suitable food source that can be miles away from them.

To make sure the partner is pregnant with his child ONLY, the male fly will put a plug in the female’s body after sexual intercourse, so that no other competitors would be able to breed and pregnant the female fly.

Do you know some of the flies have rather big sperms??

So…hehe

If you are fine with the setting above, enjoy~

He didn't know where he was until someone knocked on his door.

Recently, a human came to Hell, emitting a fragrant and sweet aroma like a ripened fruit. Black short hair, a confident smile like the rising sun and a healthy and tall physique. His existence makes the demons drool, all of them want to bite open his firm flesh and suck his blood and rape his body and soul. But whenever they want to bite him down, the demons would hesitate and retreat because within that human’s bones gives off their King’s aroma. All the demons thought he was the precious food kept by the King until one day…

Their King took the human to the throne, lowered his head, and swore allegiance to the human. The demons were clamouring, frustrated, and unwilling to surrender under a human. The demons felt humiliated, and their King has brought shame to the pride of being a demon. But that human sitting on the throne just smiled calmly, watching a group of trash fooling around through the tulle wrapped around his eyes.

Then he opened his mouth and said:

“Ying Zheng, that’s my name, I will be your emperor from now on. Let’s have a good time together.”

The demons wanted to tear up that human’s face that smiled with great confidence and arrogance, but Beelzebub stood right beside the human. Everything seems calm, but the demons' perception of power and danger tells them that there is this invisible boundary between them and the human. Fear is beyond the control of intellect and profession, and now their intellects remind them: Crossing that line will be a disaster that even they can't handle.

So, the demons gave in. Hell is the place that where power says everything. Only the strongest of all are qualified to make decisions here. Even if their King wants to submit to a human, they can only be obedient about it. The demons thought that human is just their King's moment of whim, like a puppet to play with, until the human kills countless demons that tried to attack him and asks their King to clean up the mess.

Beelzebub walked across the hall with a bloody head. The twisted face on the head fully expressed pain and fear before his death. With his firm steps walking to the throne, the demon’s blood dripped and dyed a path full of black flowers. Every step seemed to stomp on the hearts of the demons. They watched in horror as the once King presented the head of the demon aristocracy to the human on the throne. Kneeling respectfully in front of Ying Zheng, like a docile watchdog.

"It's all taken care of, my king"

Ying Zheng received the decapitated head from Beelzebub. He was surprised to find that the head in his hand was warm. At Beelzebub's hint, the emperor showed his interest by inserting his middle and index fingers with finger-cots worn together into the mouth of the head. He rummaged deeply to dig something and then pulled out a 15 cm long, greyish black, creeping creature that looked like a leech.

It twists and turns between Ying Zheng’s, then opens its mouth and reveals 4-5 slender tentacles, stretching its body towards the wet and dark broken head, showing its urge to return to the dissipated head. The head’s eyes twitched and trembled slightly: More look-alike tentacles poked out from the gap between the eyes, trying to pull their partner back to their warm nest.

"Well done, this is so interesting." Ying Zheng exclaimed like a child and released his hand to let them reunite as they wished.

The demons who witnessed all this finally realized that the king was being serious. The human has successfully controlled Beelzebub, who should have been their King. The demons who learned this fact were shocked at first, but they soon felt excited about the human’s power and mysterious aura, which came to proportional to his fragrance and temptation. Since he controlled Beelzebub, then they are willing to offer their loyalty to this human.

Demons' hatred towards Ying Zheng turns into curiosity and respect, and some turn into admiration. In Hell, power is everything: The stronger the existence, the more it will attract the pursuit and curiosity of demons. Therefore, some demons tried to climb onto the emperor's bed.

……

It was a beautiful succubus, wearing a boldly tailored, pure white lace dress that sets off her perfect figure, her deep-set facial features and bloody-red hair make her ivory skin more delicate and whiter. Her tone was lazy, and her eyes were full of lure and lust. She boldly put his hands around Ying Zheng's neck right in front of Beelzebub and gently knead the human’s pierced ear. The beautiful and soft body clings to the emperor, sits in his arms, and the flexible tail with peach heart spikes rolled around and lightly rubbed his calf. Her cheek intimately touched on Ying Zheng's neck and printed a red kiss.

"My king, would you like to spend a good night with me?"

Beelzebub, who stood on the side, said nothing. But Ying Zheng, who sat on the throne, smiled with a cold sweat. The succubus sitting on his body was seductive enough: Her soft eyes, tempting aroma and soft figure tickled the human’s heart. Recalling that he had savoured all kinds of beauties, even though it was pure venting of lust, he thought of what he had experienced in Hell, he had to pull off the succubus’s delicate wrist that has been fumbling on his body and retreat from her temptation.

"Very attractive invitation, lady."

Although it's a pity. But if he wished to sit "safely" in this throne…

"But I'm sorry, I have a permanent partner, please leave."

He can only turn down the offer, for the sake of his butt and hip.

But this euphemistic method doesn’t work in Hell. As soon as he finished speaking, the succubus sitting in his arms kissed him. She stuck out her tongue, drew a circle on his mouth and licked his sensitive upper jaw, which surprised the emperor's eyes behind the tulle. Although he has seen all kinds of women, he has never seen such a persistent woman after being rejected. For the first time, Ying Zheng was shocked by cultural differences in Hell, and let the succubus take the lead. It was not until she touched his tulle that regained his consciousness and create a distance between each other.

"Miss, you have to stop immediately when others say no. Only that makes a good bedmate." He was almost killed.

"But you reacted." The succubus in his arms rubbed Ying Zheng's bulging lower body with her beautiful bubble butt. The painted nails climbed onto the emperor's plump and thick chest and kneaded it. The taste just now was good. It was as thick and strong as liquor. She hasn’t met such a delicious human for a long time. She doesn't want to give up so easily.

Ying Zheng pulled away from her hands and said impatiently, "Sometimes a person’s need is different from the body's response. Please get down."

He was going to be killed. He felt that his upbringing and patience as a leader are about to be exhausted.

The succubus wanted to say something, but suddenly a cold pressure wrapped around her neck. Beelzebub, who had stood at the side with an expressionless face, watched her impatiently and frowned, his strength tightened, causing her to have difficulties breathing. She rolled down from the emperor and fell to the ground and struggled while pinching her neck.

"I know she's annoying, but you still have to be nice." Ying Zheng hint Beelzebub to stop, then a strong force pulled the succubus in front of him out of their sight, and there was a clear sound of things falling and wailing outside the door.

"Phew... Is Hell this permissive?" The human collapsed on the chair helplessly and asked in the direction of the succubus being thrown out. In the main hall? In a place like this where he holds morning assembly on Earth? Ying Zheng’s knowledge has widened again.

"No matter what kind of demons, they follow their desires. Thus they are also very sensitive to desires around them." Beelzebub put his hand on the emperor's shoulder and slowly wiped off the kiss left by the succubus, leaving a faint bright red mark.

"Feeling regretful?"

"... to be honest..." the place touched by his cold hand emits a slight heat all over the body.

"A little bit." Can't blame him. Generally, when a man meets a beauty, although they are not humans, under such direct courtship, there is no way a man can deny his sense of superiority from the bottom of his heart.

"If you don't act decisively in this matter, there will be a lot of trouble." Beelzebub put his hands on the armrest of the throne. Approaching the emperor in his seat, "The demons can smell the desire."

"A demon just like you?" the Demon in front of him needs some actual comfort. So, Ying Zheng lifted his arm and wrapped it around Beelzebub's neck and pressed the Demon’s face against his neck. He leaned his head, kissed the Demon’s neck, and said:

"If this mark bothers you, clean it up for me."

Next Chapter: Part 6

[justinewt]

Infinity War - MARVEL Rewrite Chapter Twelve

[MARVEL REWRITE-MASTERLIST]  -  [THE INFINITY SAGA]

Previous chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Thanos stroke again. After the destruction of their homeworld, the Asgardian didn’t have any second to rest. Thanos went after them and left a massacre in his path but this was only the beginning of his madness. He would stop at nothing in order to collect all six infinity stones and kill off half the population on Earth, but this, the Avengers were not going to let that happen without a fight. He didn’t know who he was facing and, in truth, they didn’t know either.

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: Infinity war spoilers, mention of events from previous chapters/movies, angst, some fluff, loss, grief, there is cultural APPRECIATION not to mistake with cultural appropriation please, fights, violence, killings, mention of a massacre, THANOS, the big purple guy “very purple” - Tom Hiddleston, war, no time for jokes and sarcasm in this chapter lol

Space, early/mid 2018

Frainn walked up to the window, her father by her side. There was a calming and peaceful silence hanging in the air around them as they both observed the beauty of the infinity of the universe. The billions of stars sending the light of their deaths to their eyes, in this ship.

“I hope you can meet him in person when we get to Earth.” Her hopes for the future involving her father and her lover were met by silence. A heavy one, for some reason. She frowned and looked around, and found herself floating in space. She widened her mouth but she couldn’t breath. She wanted to scream but no sound would come out of her throat. She was in an endless nothingness but there was this suffocating feeling that made her uneasy, beyond just uncomfortable. Her lungs were empty of air and she felt her body getting covered with a thin layer of ice due to the cold of space, but the thing was, it hurt. It shouldn’t. She could handle negative temperatures, why did it feel so much worse than it should ? She felt her eyeballs froze suddenly and she closed her eyes shut. Screams made her open her eyes with a start.

“Hear me and rejoice.” She gritted her teeth, wincing as she tried to sit up but her whole body was hurting so bad, she just let out a moan of pain and rolled her head to the side to look around. It looked like they were in the middle of ruins, with fire and wounded people everywhere. Then it hit her. They had been attacked by Thanos’ ship. Her breath quickened, her heartbeat was faster than ever. She was scared. “You have had the priviledge of being save by the Great Titan.”

“Heimdall…” She articulated, rolling on her chest, looking at the gate keeper. He was hurting too, holding his side with his hand. He gave her a look, hearing her call out to him but he didn't have the strength to respond right now. She wasn’t really expecting a reply anyway.

“You may think this is suffering.” Thanos' minion kept talking as he strode over the dead bodies of the Asgardians that got killed during the attack. It was a tragic view. They had successfully ran from the Ragnarök but they forgot the one threat Loki hadn’t gotten rid off. The man who used him, tortured him and tried to make him his slave. She stared at the giant in the golden armor with rage in her cold eyes, a storm brewing in her irises. “No. It is salvation. Universal scales tip toward balance because of your sacrifice. Smile.” She gasped when she heard a blade swished as another of Thanos’ fanatics stabed a survivor. Frainn remained on the floor, not knowing what to do, as her gaze followed the cockroach walking around the place and her eyes fell on Loki. He was his back to her while the man, or thing or whatever, approached him. “For even in death, you have become Children of Thanos.”

“I know what it’s like to lose.” Thanos turned around and faced Loki from where the giant stood. Frainn kept herself from letting a cry out when she saw Thor, lying at the latter’s feet. She saw him moving so he wasn’t dead, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him and her father. Thanos had once again ruined everything good that could have happened to her and her father. She was so angry and full of rage, her body felt like an intense fire on its own, which was ironic given . “To feel so desperately that you’re right… yet to fail, nonetheless.” He grabbed Thor by the top of his chest’s armor, lifted him from the floor and  walked closer to Loki while his minions surrounded him. “It’s frightening. Turns the legs to jelly. But I ask you, to what end ? Dread it, run from it… destiny arrives all the same. And now it’s here. Or should I say… I am.”

“Uncle.” She mumbled as the giant grabbed the God of Thunder’s head, blood shining on his lower lips, and he clenched his fist. A purple stone lit and glowed intensely on a gauntlet he wore. The Power Stone.

“You talk to much.” Thor articulated, choking on his own mouth that filled his mouth.

“The Tesseract.” Thanos ignored the Asgardian, staring at Loki. “Or your brother’s head. I assume you have a preference.”

“Oh, I do.” He calmly said, his head high on his shoulders. “Kill away.” Frainn gasped, leaning on her forearms, watching as Thanos brought the infinity stone to Thor’s temple making him go through an unbearable pain, groaning and yelling.

“Stop this.” Frainn begged, coughing from the sore pain it put her throat through.

“All right, stop !” Loki yelled, his whole face contracting. Frainn sighed, letting her forehead fall to the floor, taking a deep breath.

“We don’t have the Tesseract. It was destroyed on Asgard." Thor said with difficulty but given the way Loki tilted his head and looked at his brother said a different story. He stretched out his arm, turning his hand to the ceiling and let the cosmic cube, the Space Stone, appear in between his fingers. “You really are the worst brother.”

“I assure you, brother, daughter…” He took a few steps to the giant staring glancing at Thor. He looked at Frainn from the corner of his eyes and turned his face to Thanos. “the sun will shine on us again.”

“Your optimism is misplaced, Asgardian.”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not Asgardian.” He stretched his neck to the Giant, looking up at him. “And for another… we have a Hulk.”

The Hulk’s roar rose behind Thanos and Loki let the Tesseract fall to the floor, throwing himself at his brother and making him roll to the side while the green beast that Banner turned into was attacking Thanos, roaring fiercely. The purple guy turned his hands, grabbing Hulk’s wrists and forced him off of him before punching him in the jaw. Every next move the Hulk made were countered by Thanos and, lifting him above his head, he slammed him on the floor, knocking Banner uncounscious. Frainn swallowed harshly. They were all going to die by the hands of this big maniac and it was all Odin’s fault. If what happened in 2011 hadn’t happened, Thanos would have never went after them and nothing that happened to their people right now, would have occured, at least not this way. She clenched her jaw, closing her hands into fists, tears falling down her face. She raised her head when she heard something clatter on the floor and saw Thor standing next to Thanos. Frainn let a cry out when the giant kicked the god in the chest and threw him away. Thor, Heimdall and Frainn exchanged a desperate look as the blonde god got restrained in pieces of metal bent by the telkenist of Thanos’ band. The cockroach that told them some bullshit when she came back to her senses a moment ago. Deep within, she wished she hadn’t woken up.

“Allfathers,” Frainn frowned, glancing at the gate keeper mumbling and tightening his grip on the handle of his sword.. “let the dark magic flow through me one last… time…”

“No !” Frainn widened her mouth when she and the Hulk were both caught in the Bifrost, opened by the Asgardian. She got dragged in it despite trying to cling onto whatever her hands could get themselves on. She didn’t want to leave her father there. She hadn’t understand that the look she exchanged with her uncle and Heimdall was about getting her and Banner out of this mess. She would never have asked the gate keeper to do that because she would now have to go on not knowing if they all died at the hand of the mad Titan or if she would see any of them again. She despised having to wait, especially having to wait to discover whether or not her loved ones were dead. She grunted, wincing when she crashed on something hard. She coughed, and gritted her teeth as she tried to get up. She looked around and realized she was in the middle of a huge field, in a crater covered with a layer of ice. She stood up and recognized where she was. Wakanda. She recognized the lush forest surrounding the place, and if she was indeed in Wakanda, it meant that Bucky was nearby but before she could take just one step out of the crater, she was met by the blade of a spear put to her throat.

“Stand down, Okoye.” She knew who this voice belonged to. King T’Challa. The man walked up to her, his hands joined in his back and the Dora Milaje reluctantly took her blade off of Frainn’s skin.

“Uh, sorry about this.” Frainn looked back at the hole she made when landing and then turned to the king. He nodded, apparently not too concerned about it.

“This is fine, my friend.”

“Why did you come here ?” Okoye asked right away, standing proud next to her spear. A couple other Dora Milaje where nearby watching the three of them talking.

“Something bad is coming. The others are gonna come to see you here soon, you better be ready.” She stated, sighing.

“What is coming ? What others ?” Okoye inquired.

“Thanos is coming.” She generated a clone of the mad titan beside her to show them who they were going to face. Even though it was pure magic, the Wakandans were used to high technology and no one seemed too surprised when seeing her do that. “And he is coming for us all.”

Frainn walked by T’Challa and Okoye’s sides, all three followed by the Dora Milaje as they walked to a small hut further in the field where Frainn abruptly landed just an instant ago. She was nervous to see Bucky after what seemed like an eternity without seeing him. She didn’t apprehend but it felt somehow unreal that she would soon stand in front of him after she thought she was gonna die on that ship, in space, far from her friends and her lover, despite being with her family, who was most likely dead by now. They had probably joined her adoptive grandparents and her mother home. She couldn’t breakdown now anyway, she had to keep it together in front of these people. She and Steve had confided Bucky to them so they would free him from what Hydra did to him so she trusted them, but she wasn’t comfortable enough to let herself cry her eyes out. It would definitely be awkward, on top of that.

“The Kingsguard and the rest of the Dora Milaje has been alerted.” Okoye told her kind as she walked.

“And the Border Tribe ?” He asked.

“Those that are left.”

“Send word to the Jabari as well. M’Baku likes a good fight.” She replied to him in Xhosa, another language of the region and as she had the Allspeak, Frainn understood but didn’t dwell on it and kept walking with them. She smiled slightly at the thought that Bucky would definitely be surprised to see her there and it eased her stress.

“And what of this one ?” Okoye asked, talking about Bucky.

“This one may be tired of war. But the White Wolf has rested long enough.” The White Wolf. She would sure remember the words of King T’Challa and this nickname he gave her lover. Frainn stared ahead of them. Around the small house, were a few animals walking around the place. In this tiny farm was Bucky, throwing bags to someone else and a couple children sitting on a tree nearby. Once they reached him, a Wakandan fighter went to put a rectangle case on a bale of straw and walked away. Bucky took a few steps to it and looked up to the king. A gleam passed in his eyes when he saw Frainn standing near them but he didn't come to her immediately and looked again at the contents of the box. A shiny vibranium-made arm.

“Where’s the fight ?” There was exhaustion in his voice. The poor man had never had any rest forever since World War 2 and being abducted by Hydra was the turning point. He could have died there in the snow but he wasn’t lucky and got one of the worse outcomes possible out of anything that could have happened to him.

“On its way.” T’Challa replied, not liking having to tell the traumatized soldier that he would have to get back to work. He then looked at the Goddess and pointed at the vibranium arm in the case with his hand, palm turned to the sky, inviting her to go to Bucky to discover the new limb with him. She walked to him, slowly, and slid her fingers beneath the rare metal. The touch instantly reminded her of Steve’s shield, made of vibranium as well. She had the flashback of the day Peggy shot right at it when he showed her the shield. She lifted the arm from its case and turned to Bucky who took off the scarf hiding the amputated shoulder and she fitted it in. He observed his new biceps, forearm and hand, wingling his fingers like it wasn’t real. The Wakandan fighter took the box and left with the Dora Milaje and the king, who decided to leave the two lovers a moment before Bucky came inside and got ready for the fight. Even Frainn had to get ready, she would fight too despite not looking forward to it at all.

“Did Steve had the occasion to visit you in the past two years ?”

“He’s still on the run so, no.” He shrugged it off.

“I’m pretty sure we’ll see him here in no time. I don’t know where Banner landed but wherever it was, I know he did the same as me and seeked the others to warn them.” She sighed, nodding at her words. “I wonder when this all will be over.”

“War never ends, we both know it.” He said, overwhelmed by the weight of his words. He was used to war, fights, shootings but no one wanted for it to start over again and again and again. It had to know a break.

Frainn joined her hands to her waist, trying to contain the smile that raised the corners of her lips upon seeing the Quinjet land a few dozen feet in front of them. She walked by Bucky’s side as they approached the Avengers coming out of the jet. Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Sam and Banner met King T’Challa and the Dora Milaje behind him. They greeted each other and the Wakandans turned around to lead the team of superheroes back inside.

“How we looking ?” Natashed inquired, a concerned frown digging lines in between her light eyebrows. Her hair were way different than what Frainn remembered, bleached and cut square to her jaw. It suited her as well as her original flaming red hair.

“You will have my Kingsguard,” T’Challa started to explain. “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man with an almost thousand-years-old Norse Goddess.” Bucky added, a smirk on his face. He looked beyong good in his outfit made for him with his shoulders-lenght hair. Steve had a bright smile that grew on his face and hugged his old buddy, patting each other in the back.

“How you been, Buck ?”

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world.” Steve then looked at Frainn and hugged her as well. She rested her chin on his shoulder and held her friend tight. She had missed him so much it was a relief to see her best friend safe and sound, and in one piece.

“I missed you, brother.” She sighed, briefly closing her arms as she took a deep breath, holding him. He felt she was troubled by something by the way she addressed him. Calling him brother wasn’t what sounded strange, but the heavyness in her voice was. But right now wasn’t a time for emotions and therapy talking, they had to prepare for war. He took a step back and looked her up and down, with a smile still on his face.

“New outfit ?”

“Oh I have my usual suit beneath, just, uh, Shuri wanted me to try on a traditional Wakandan tunique and it’s definitely really nice and comfortable to wear.” She said, stroking the embroidered indigo-dyed fabric with gilding at the center that opened down at the beginning of the thighs, revealing the pants of her suit and her pair of shoes. They eventually went inside, walking after Wanda and Vision to join Shuri in her lab. Vision went to lie down on a table and the king’s sister scanned him with a device installed in the big pearls of the bracelet at her wrist and turned her palm to the ceiling. There was the hologram of the infinity stone on Vision’s forehead. The Mind Stone, which Thanos surely wanted for the fancy collection on his gauntlet. Wakanda was really advanced in terms of technology and despite not needing it because she had her magic, Frainn still found it quite impressive. When she thought about humans and techonology, she couldn’t help but remember the time she kind of ruined Howard Stark’s show with his wheelless flying car thing.

“Whoa.” Banner looked at her hand, readjusting his eyeglasses on his nose.

“The structure is polymorphic.”

“Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially.”

“Why didn’t you just reprogram the synaspes to work collectively ?” She wondered, with a smirk. From the table, Vision passed his gaze from Shuri to the scientist.

“Because we didn’t think of it.” He replied with an awkward smile.

“I’m sure you did your best.” The royal engineer taunted.

“Can you do it ?” Wanda asked with a soft voice. She had clearly bonded with the Infinity stone bearer, given how involved she was in the whole process.

“Yes, but there are more than two trillions neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures. It will take time, brother.” She looked at T’Challa, concerned it might fail in the end.

“How long ?” Steve inquired, his hands resting at his suit’s belt. Frainn glanced at her friend and gave a look to the Wakandan princess, arms crossed, waiting to know how long they would have to fight off Thanos’ army.

“As long as you can give me.”

“We’ll hold them off.” Frainn declared, exchanging a nod with Wanda. Suddenly, an alarm went off and everyone looked up.

“Something’s entered the atmosphere.” Okoye stated, staring at the hologram of globe generated by the very same bracelet Shuri had.

“Hey, Cap,” Sam called out to Steve over the intercoms from in front the building they were all in with Vision. “we got a situation here.” Frainn abruptly turned her head to the windows to look outside when an explosion made the wholde city shake. Something had crashed on the defensive shield that protected them. Other ships landed around the place in a thick gray smoke ruining the peaceful beauty of the Wakanda, burning down bits of the surrounding lush forest. The massacre had already started. In a line near the high bay windows, everyone watched what was happening and Frainn, Steve and king T'Challa exchanged a serious and concerned look. Fight was close, and so was this war.

“It’s too late.” Vision exclamed, sitting up on the table. “We need to destroy the stone now.”

“Vision, get your ass back on the table.” Natasha cut him off before approaching the latter.

“As Frainn said,” T’Challa spoke up. “we will hold them off.”

“Wanda, as soon as that stone’s out of his head… you blow it to hell.” Steve urged the young woman.

“I will.”

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defenses.” T’Challa ordered. They had no time left to waste. The enemy was right here on Wakandan territory. He briefly turned to Steve and Frainn and pointed at the blonde soldier near the window. “And get this man a shield.”

“Lost your shield ?” Frainn asked her war partner as they quickly walked out.

“Tony has it.” He simply replied, staring ahead of him. She nodded, acknowledging the answer and she grabbed the stick at her belt beneath the tunique and extended her spear to its full dizzying lenght, sunrays reflecting on the sharp blade at the top. She tightened her grip as she boarded one of the ships stationed there, getting on the same one as her Midgardian brother. She felt a knot in her stomach, an uncomfortable warmth growing inside of her. She was nervous. She feared what the outcome of all this would be. Whether or not her family had died in space, she couldn’t die, not now. She had to live and fight, if not for all the people at risk in this battle, for her lover and her best friend. She gazed in the sky, briefly watching Sam and Bruce fly above them. Sam had this pair of wings she had seen him use when they fought Tony over the Sokovia Accords’ disagreement and Bruce was in a suit as big as the Hulk which looked like it had been build by Tony himself with his own suit’s colors, red and gold.

“How we looking, Bruce ?” Natasha spoke over the coms from another ship.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it.” He flew right above their heads, going from a lying position to a standing one as he landed, yelping of excitement inside the suit. “Wow ! This is amazing, man. It’s like being the Hulk without actually–” Frainn smirked upon seeing him trip over a rock and fall face first on the grass. A cloud of dust rose aroundhim when he crashed, digging the dirt with his huge metal fists. It took him a second to get back on his feet. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“I’ve got two heat signatures breaking through the tree line.” Rhodey said, flying in his own suit. Everyone then slid off the ships, spears in hands and all the Wakandan fighters went in position. Frainn and Steve were in the middle of all of them, standing in a line just as when they were looking out of the windows, except now, there was no glass separating them from the bad guys they would have to beat up. King T’Challa arrived at the Avengers’ side in his Black Panther suit. The Jabari men around them chanted fiercely. There was such a peculiar atmosphere on this battlefield, way different from any war any of them had fought and they all had fought many.

“Thank you for standing with us.” T’Challa greeted a war chief from another Wakandan clan. T’Challa then motioned to Steve, Natasha and Frainn to come along to the limit of the dome, where the two intruders were standing, not happy that they were kept out by it, surely already trying to figure out a way to get in.

“Do not do anything just now, Frainn.” T’Challa whispered, keeping his face to the enemy. She knew why he told her that. They were two of the Thanos’ fighters she encountered in space, before Heimdall brought her and Banner to Earth. They had murdered her people and she was hurt and angry and wanted them dead. All of them.

“Where’s your other friend ?” Natasha taunted.

“You will pay for his life with yours.” She glanced at every four of them, pausing her eyes on Frainn for a second before frowning. “Thanos will have that stone.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve retorted.

“You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.” T’Challa warned, with a calm and stong voice.

“We have blood to spare. The blue blood of the traitor’s offspring will be spilled as well.” She threatened through her gritted teeth, giving the goddess a death stare before grunting, rising her sword high in the air. A loud rumbling made the trees and the earth shake as the three immense ships of Thanos’ army behind the two rose from the ground. Frainn didn’t look away, it would be a sign of weakness. She looked at the blue-haired warrior dead in the eyes and walked near the dome.

“Your blood will be the one to stain the earth, and I don’t care about its color.” She spat out before turning around, walking back to Bucky before the three others. He glanced at her but didn’t say nothing since she remained silent as Steve, Natasha and T’Challa came back.

“They surrender ?” He asked Steve.

“Not exactly.”

“Yibambe !” T’Challa shouted before being imitated by every single warrior fighting with him today. Yibambe. A Xhosa war cry that meant “Hold off”, or even “Hold Fast”. All the people of Wakanda yelled it at the top of their lungs, with strength and fierceness.

“What the hell ?” Bucky mumbled upon seeing a horde of what looked like horses rush through the trees. To be honest they were running so fast it was hard to see what they really were but in the end it didn’t matter, at least for now, because they still had to pass through the defensive shield that was the dome and it wasn’t going to be easy for them.

“Looks like we pissed her off.”

“I don’t think she needed our help.” Frainn said, glancing at Natasha. The aliens, horses or whatever, bumped into the dome, their arms going through and getting cut off by it. They crawled at the border like insects and it was awfully disgusting to watch from afar.

“They’re killing themselves.” Okoye stated, with dread in her voice. Some of them succeeded to get inside the safe zone and the warriors shouted something and unabled tech shields to protect the ranks. Steve, Frainn and Bucky, alongside T’Challa and Okoye were standing behind a line of shields, staring ahead at the creatures that trespassed on the Wakandan lands. T’Challa shouted an order in Xhosa and fighters in the ranks behind them shot at the monsters and so did Banner and Bucky with their gunfire. Frainn could have used her wind manipulation power but with Sam and Rhodey flying around the things on the ground, attacking them, it wasn't safe but the time to display the extent of her godly powers would come and the ones standing in her way would regret it. Drones thrown at the monsters by Sam exploded and they ran around, their ass on fire but didn’t seem to care. It put some of them down but they kept getting through. Frainn narrowed her eyes and followed the crowd’s movement as they all ran to the sides of the dome.

“Cap,” Banner addressed the Avenger. “if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

“Then we better keep ‘em in front of us.”

“How do we do that ?” Okoye inquired.

“We open the barrier.” T’Challa replied.

“Do that,” Frainn nodded. “I’m gonna keep them from going too far on the sides.”

“How are you gonna do that ?” Bucky asked, genuinely curiouse and his question got answered pretty quickly when Frainn stretched out her arms, putting tension through her fingers and she let her skin turn blue as thick walls of ice emerged to each side of the dome. They ran into it, falling over. T’Challa took care of asking for the barrier to be deactivated while Frainn held them back. The Ice Witch then slammed her palms one against the other and the ice crumbled, enshroding and crushing the monsters who hadn’t turned around.

“Impressive.” Bucky nodded.

“And you haven’t seen anything, my dear.” She teased, spacing her hands from each other and keeping the monsters from getting loose by redirecting the strong winds blowing the leaves of the trees of the surrounding forest. She held it, waiting.

“On my signal.” He said, one finger on his earpiece. He let his arm fall to his body and shouted an order to the shield holders lined up before them. They stood up, deactivating their shields. He walked through two of them and stood in front of the army, facing the dome. “Wakanda forever !”

As everyone rushed ahead, Frainn unleashed the winds, taking back her spear which she had put in the ground while she used her powers and ran among them. The adrenaline that flowed through her gave her the feeling to be stronger than ever among those mighty warriors. She had a profound respect for the Wakandan, all clans, even though she didn’t know them all very well. The energy and toughness of their culture made its unique beauty. Asgard was all royalty and gold, ruling over the rest of the Nine Realms. Jotunheim was cold and dull, with the same frozen landscape for miles on ends. The interesting thing with the realm of Midgard was its breathtaking diversity when it came to places, landscapes, people and cultures. There was always something to learn from humans all over the world. What not to do, and what you could do. It amazed the Goddess, to say the least.

“Now !” T’Challa yelled while he ran and suddenly, the barrier split in its center and opened, not all the way but enough to let the monsters in. Frainn’s attempt at keeping them in front of the army had worked and they all ran in their direction. Steve, T'Challa and Frainn sprinted away from the mass of soldiers. As the king and the soldier were already running excessively fast, Frainn overtook them. Her feet touching the ground with their tips so quickly she was giving the impression that she was going to fly away. Arriving near the river, Frainn twisted her wrist, her fingers to the body of water and froze it, getting the six-legged aliens stuck in place. Steve and T’Challa jumped on them and Frainn stayed on the ground, stabbing them in the head with her spear. She eventually released the ice trap because she couldn’t focus on it anymore but it didn’t matter, it had given them a little ahead, leaving time for all the fighters to arrive. Rhodey fired from above, putting down some of the monstrosities on the ground but something struck him, sending him face first in the dirt. Frainn turned around because of the impact and ran to T’Challa that was being dragged around by two aliens. She threw her spear at one of them and pierced both of their awful heads. She pulled her dear weapon out and T’Challa and her nodded at each other, getting back to the fight.

The Goddess narrowed her eyes when an intense and blinding light hit the ground. When a large hammer ran through with electicity was thrown in the aliens’ way, she knew who had come down to join them and the light faded away, revealing three figures on the field. Her uncle, who she was eager to see again, with a sort of raccoon on his shoulder and a tree walking beside them. She frowned, wondering who the two with him were. The hammer had freed Steve and Banner from the assailants that were pinning them down and like Frainn, the other Avengers had stopped to look.

“You guys are so screwed now !” Banner opened the head of the suit, laughing. Frainn turned to her relative, taking a few steps toward him but one look was enough for her heart to shatter to pieces. She blinked, staring at her uncle and breathed out. The whole world around her seemed to be in slowmotion. She could hear the fast beating of her heart echoing in her head. She turned around, as slowly as the pace at which she saw everyone else moving around her, feeling dizzy. Her father was never coming back to her. She was never seeing him ever again until she would die and go to Valhalla or wherever he had went. He died because of Thanos. There was no doubting that. Her features slowly tensed up, her jaw clenching, her teeth pressing on each other to the point where it hurt until suddenly, she ran along Thor, letting out the loudest and most rageful scream one had ever heard. With her ice and wid bending powers and Thor’s electricity manipulation, they wiped out an awful lot of those beasts. They then stood for a second in the middle of the burned grass. She didn’t even look at her uncle and walked away, to numb her with each hit she gave with her spear, yelling. She didn’t think anymore, all she did was fight. She didn’t even bother to look when huge wheels pierced through the opening in the barrier and T’Challa ordered everyone to fall back. Thor came to her in a hurry and dragged her away from this new threat. The God went back to kicking some monsters’ faces and she looked up when the wheels were lifted from the ground and thrown back down at the aliens surrounding her, Natasha and Okoye on the battlefield, digging trenches in the ground as they slid. Wanda did this. Her powers where really impressive as well.

“Guys, we got a Vision situation here.” Sam said over the coms before being pinned down by one of Thanos’ minions after he threw himself at the falcon.

“Somebody get to Vision !” Steve ordered. Banner, Wanda and Frainn answered in the affirmative and as the scientist headed towards the forest down Shuri’s laboratory window, Frainn ran in the same direction but teleported herself into the laboratory.

“Shuri’s down. Banner’s on Vision, I’m taking care of her.” Frainn stated for T’Challa to know. “Are you okay ?”

“I’m fine.” She nodded as the Goddess helped her up on a chair.

“Guys ! Vision needs backup, now !” Banner called out to his teammates over the radio as he fought in the forest. Frainn looked at the broken window.

“Go.” Shuri urged the latter. Frainn ran through the opening left by the window. She rotated her arms in the air as she fell and landed in a roll on the ground. She stretched out her arm to catch her spear and had barely the time to straighten up she was already pinned down by one of Thanos' bootlicker. She grunted, struggling against him. She had rarely met people with a strength that could match Asgardian’s, let alone a mixed Asgardian-Jotun person like herself. She exhaled when he got kicked off of her by Steve. He gave her a hand and she grabbed it, standing up.

“Take him outta here !” Steve told Frainn and she didn’t waste any time dwelling on her thoughts, she rushed at the infinity stone bearer and passed his arm over her shoulders and tried to walk away with him while Steve fought against the other guy whose name no one cared. Frainn looked back and saw Steve in the same position as she was in a moment ago, struggling against him.

“Can you stand on your own ?” She asked, in a hurry. He nodded and she let him lean on a tree, rushing back to her old friend, swingling her fingers around the handle of her spear as she approached before stabbing the asshole in the back.

“I thought I told you to go.”

“We don’t trade lives, Captain.” Vision’s voice rose from behind the goddess. He had followed her here despite hardly standing on his feet. They helped Vision sit near a trunk and went to look at the battlefield from the trees. Frainn felt the change in the breeze. She stretched her fingers and breathed out as the wind howled in the branches, blowing on the leaves.

“It’s him.” She said, with a calm face.

“Everyone,” Steve brought his hand to his earpiece. “on my position. We have incoming.”

“I want him dead. He killed my father.” Frainn hissed through her clenched teeth. Steve glanced at her.

“We won’t let him get away. I promise.” She gave him a look, wanting to believe him but she feared that even if they didn’t let him get away with this, if he got all the stones, some of them wouldn’t be here to witness whether or not the righteous captain had held his promise. They turned around, joined by Banner and Natasha, lining up to keep him from getting to Wanda and Vision just behind them.

“Cap. That’s him.” Banner stated.

“Eyes up. Stay sharp.” He ordered as he sprinted to the mad titan. He effortlessly got rid of Banner and Steve with the power of the stones he already had, throwing them out of his way without even stopping walking, letting them fall heavily on the dirt. He came to face Frainn, still in her frost giant form, fists clenched, staring at him with a burning hatred in her clear eyes.

“What a waste, your powers would have been useful if you fought for me.” He frowned slightly since she didn’t move an inch. “Your neck will crack, just as your father’s did, so get out of my way.” He ordered, with a straight face. He didn’t need to raise his voice to be intimaditing and he knew that but she didn’t move, her feet firmly planted on the ground. She tried to attack him and he froze her in place, walking toward her. She couldn’t move, no matter how bad she tried. He picked her up and she couldn’t even struggle. She could only look at him in the eyes. Even the muscles of her face weren’t responding. He started to tighten his grasp around her neck and she gagged. From his hand wearing the gauntlet, he threw away king T’Challa when he jumped at Thanos and tried to help Frainn. She started to feel dizzy, running out of air when he let her go, throwing her to the side to parry Rhodey’s gunfire. She choked for air, crawling away. She tried to get up but as Thanos tried to get every single one of her partners down, the earth tremble beneath her and she lost balance, falling on her back. She brought a trembling hand to her bruised neck, feeling like even the sligthly touch would make it break like glass. It hurt so much, she had never felt such a pain before. She breathed out, resting her palm on her skin and because she had no strength left right now, she watched Steve struggle against Thanos, holding his gauntlet with both his hands and weakly gasped when he punched her friend in the face, and kept walking. They failed to keep him from getting to the stone. They failed Vision. They failed Wanda and they failed the whole universe.

She crawled to her spear and stood up with difficulty but managed to get on her feet, using her mighty weapon to help her. She turned around and tried to follow Bucky as he stepped to Steve and Thor until she suddenly felt a sharp coldness run through her limbs.

“Steve ?” Bucky called out to their best friend and he and the god of thunder looked at them and there was suddenly nothing left where they stood, but brown dust falling down to the ground like dead leaves falling from a tree in winter.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (03/02/2022) by Andrea

Taglist: @cathrin2405​ @kika64

[jrrtolkiennerd]

Fate Vs. Choice in Tolkien

One of the more interest concepts in Tolkien’s writings approach the issue of a fate/destiny vs. agency/choice, and what prevails in a modern mythology. Often in older classical mythologies there are foretold and unavoidable outcomes. i.e. Ragnarök will occur no matter what. Tolkien definitely incorporates this line of thinking into his storytelling, especially in the Silmarillion’s First Age, where because of the presence of Morgoth and the other Valar/Maiar and Elves in Middle-earth there is a more “mythological” feel to the story. Case in point:

Now Fingolfin, King of the North, and High King of the Noldor, seeing that his people were become numerous and strong, and that the Men allied to them were many and valiant, pondered once more an assault upon Angband; for he knew that they lived in danger while the circle of the siege was incomplete, and Morgoth was free to labour in his deep mines, devising what evils none could foretell ere he should reveal them. This counsel was wise according to the measure of his knowledge; for the Noldor did not yet comprehend the fullness of the power of Morgoth, nor understand that their unaided war upon him was without final hope, whether they hasted or delayed.

- Chapter 18 - “Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin,” The Silmarillion

In other words, the War of the Jewels ends how it was always going to end, most of the Noldor die with their kingdoms in ruin and nothing can alter that. Perhaps due to the circumstances of unwisely opposing a literal god with no other direct divine support, perhaps due to the Curse of Mandos uttered against them before they reached Middle-earth:

Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.

- Chapter 9, “Of the Flight of the Noldor,” The Silmarillion A counter to these points though is that they are the result of choices. Opposing Morgoth unaided was always a bad idea unlikely to produce a final victory or a reclamation of the Silmarils, and yet the Noldor chose to do so. Killing (and kinslaying) the Teleri was going to provoke a strong reaction against the Noldor by the Valar, and yet the Noldor chose to do so. So then, are the mythic fated consequences of the Elves in the First Age the result of the Elves being fated to lose, or unwittingly choosing to lose? - I would argue that Tolkien considers circumstance more important than a simple fate vs. choice dynamic. The impact you have depends on the circumstance you are born into and the circumstance you choose to make for yourself.  When Frodo bemoans his circumstances in FotR and the hot water he finds himself in after learning he’s inherited a horcrux evil Ring of Power, Gandalf famously advises him that “All you have to decide is what do to with the time that is given to you.” And Frodo does decide. Ultimately, his most consequential decision is to the spare the life of Gollum out of pity. That decision inevitably leads to Gollum’s treachery of Frodo, but also Frodo’s (and everyone’s) own salvation. It allows Gollum to live long enough to steal the Ring back, which just happens to be inside Mt. Doom (or more properly translated, Mt. Fate).

'Precious, precious, precious!' Gollum cried. 'My Precious! O my Precious!' And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell.

Tolkien called this moment a “eucatastrophe,” the sudden turning of loss and defeat into triumph and victory. And it is presented as a moment that does not happen randomly but not automatically either.  Gandalf hints in Fellowship that there is indeed an influence on the world guiding things where they need to be:

Behind [Bilbo finding the Ring] there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.'

Something (we might read Ilúvatar i.e. ”[Men] too in their time shall find that all that they do redounds at the end only to the glory of my work,” or the Valar) is influencing events in the world to end up as thus, but that’s not enough to achieve the right outcome. That still requires action to take advantage of the right circumstances. - In my view, Gandalf essentially lays out Tolkien’s vision of how fate and choice come into the lives of his characters. Frodo’s circumstance sets him up to make choices that will lead to the Ring being destroyed and the world being saved. But, those choices aren’t made for him, and they don’t come without consequences. Frodo is physically and spiritually marred for the rest of his time in Middle-earth even though he arguably made the best of his circumstances. And for Tolkien, that was and is an acceptable price.

[cxmetery-gates]

DEFYING THE ODDS - LOKI LAUFEYSON

CHAPTER ONE: THE ARRIVAL

SUMMARY: Odin is faced with uncertainty surrounding a young woman who fell from the heavens and has no memory of where she came from. WORD COUNT: 4k NOTES: Make sure you read the prologue! Soooo there is a lot of Norse mythology going to be tied into this series! My information will be coming from “The Viking Spirit” by Daniel McCoy and his website Norse Mythology for Smart People. Thank you all for reading!! WARNINGS: none that I know of!

MASTERLIST

FROM THE CHAOS AND VOID of Ginnungagap came the beginning of everything. Where silence and darkness once existed, the beginning saw the creation of the giant Ymir from the fires of Muspelheim and the ice from Nifelheim, and from him, the Aesir were born. The universe was given a breath of life. It was said that all that will ever be was formed in the great beginning, the seeds of all life would sprout and flourish the cosmos until Ragnarök returned the universe back into the dark and silent abyss.

But so it seemed the void had one last creation.

As if falling from the darkness of Ginnungagap itself, a mysterious figure clad in obsidian armor fell from the cosmos, landing on the home of the Aesir: Asgard. It did not take a healer to note the height should have killed anyone, perhaps to the degree in which there would be no body to find. However, after washing upon the shore where Asgard's fiercest and strongest knights waited, they were all but surprised to find the being was a young woman.

Now, on the ninth day of her comatose state, Odin once again finds himself at the girl's bedside. While it is unclear when or if she will wake, the ruler of the Aesir still found himself in the hospital at least once a day. After all, the young woman's arrival was the hottest topic throughout Yggdrasil, the cosmic nexus of the Nine Realms.

No conclusion had been made yet and all the citizens across Yggdrasil who had heard the story were begging the Allfather for answers. Many already had their opinions laid out, arguing that she was a sign of the cosmos planning something great. However, many were on the side that she forebodes the coming of the end. There were assumptions that the empty black hole that opened in Asgard's sky was the darkness itself, teasing the arrival of Ragnarök. Either interpretation was a well enough argument in its own right, but they all faced the same dilemma: no one knew anything. Waiting was all anyone could do as the young woman lies on a cot with a steady breath and flushed cheeks.

"She's in perfect condition," the head nurse disclosed to Odin, her eyes wide in contemplation. When the Einherjar Guards first carried her to the medic bay, the girl appeared dead, the color drained from her face and her lips a soft blue hue. There were spots of dried blood on her armor and on the inside from where the sea did not rub away hard enough. "The only mark on her body is an old scar. There is nothing proving she fell at all. Not even a scratch." Odin hoped the crimson stains were not a bad omen.

Royal advisors were tasked to search all records pointing towards a prophecy or another occurrence of someone falling from the heavens and coming out unscathed in the process. Nine days and eight nights later, no answers were found. Odin hoped to find a vision from his father and father before him from their resting places in Valhalla, but there was nothing but silence from the gods. Odin even scoped guidance from Mimir, but the head merely told the Allfather time will reveal all secrets. The only option left was speculation, and that was not enough to calm an entire system of realms.

To attempt to quench the cries, a pair of spellbound chains loop around the girl's wrists and to the sides of the cot. Good intentions or not, the Allfather would not put his realm at risk by judging a book by its cover.

The Allfather sits and reads from his youngest son's book. A book of magical adventures, the history of the Aesir, and possible tellings of the Norns. When he was a young boy, his father gave him the same book and even after reading cover-to-cover more times than the number of stars in the sky, Odin still digs into every detail he comes across. The god swears that he has heard a story of a girl falling from the sky once before⁠— and he remembers what occurred after. But, as if the universe wanted to tease the Allfather, there was nothing he could find. Despite the dead ends, Odin is determined and would stop at nothing in his search for answers.

Unfortunately, it seemed not even the cost of Odin's eye would grant him knowledge this time.

With a sigh, Odin closes the book and places it on the bedside table. The thud was strong enough to wake a sleeping giant, and yet, the girl did not move. Not even a flinch.

"I should have guessed I would find you here."

The feminine voice from behind Odin is soft, easing his tightly wound nerves and racing questions. He barely looks over his shoulder as her hand comes to rest upon his arm, offering a squeeze that the Allfather relaxes into. "It is a king's duty to ensure the safety of his realm."

A smile reveals itself on the queen's lips. Frigga leans down to speak closer to her husband. "It is a king's duty to attend his sons' lessons that he promised."

Odin feels his head loll backwards slightly. With all the wonderment and questions, the promise to practice sword sparring with his sons slipped his mind. A great part of him feels upset with himself as he pictures his two sons waiting for nothing. "There is always tomorrow," the Allfather replies.

"Yes, there is," Frigga agrees, slinking her hand down to intertwine her fingers with his. "Come. Supper will grow cold if we wait any longer. Your boys miss you."

The Allfather lets his stare rest upon the girl's face. Her features are light but matured with dark hair and lashes to match. The curve of her nose speaks for innocence, but the cut of her jaw screams the opposite. Odin remembers the scar the nurse had mentioned. Letting his eye wander to the cracked skin right below her collarbone from where it peeks out beyond her temporary linen dress, Odin wonders how she became the bearer to such a mark. Despite not seeing the old wound in its entirety, he believed the head nurse when she proclaimed the falling entity was not some girl, but a warrior. No ordinary girl earns a scar like that from an accident (or falls from the sky, for that matter). Glancing over to the mighty and intimidating sword and the ensemble of armor, Odin has no reason to argue.

Another day and night, another weight added to the situation. By the fifth day, Odin began to grow anxious and, as his wife tugs on his hand for the second time now, approaching the ninth night, he feels nothing but frustration. Part of him thinks the girl will never wake, left for eternity as a mysterious sleeping beauty.

With a nod, Odin rises to his feet, Frigga sending a loving gaze as their arms interlock. The couple barely takes two steps before Odin spots the medic who was pausing her movements to bow. "Send word if she wakes."

The nurse's eyes flash to the girl then to the Allfather. Her mouth suddenly hangs open and she makes a double take. "I do not think I will need to send a messenger, Allfather..."

Turning their heads, Odin and Frigga find their guest with her eyes fluttering open.

Odin turns to Frigga to speak, but she beats him with words and a nod. "I will explain to Thor and Loki, then return. Stay; food may be brought up later." Squeezing her hand reassuringly, Frigga then departs from the medical bay, a look of apprehension very clear on her features.

The girl says nothing as she looks at the old man clad in golden fabric. When her eyes meet his, surprised to find the man has one eye socket covered with a thin piece of golden metal— and almost reaches up to see if she had only one like the man before her— all she does is swallow. She then notices the cuffs attached to her wrists. Her eyes become wide, wild with emotions she has never felt before. In an instant, she finds panic soaring through her veins, a new feeling she isn't quite fond of.

"Would you like me to fetch a guard?" the nurse asks.

Studying the girl, Odin decides to shake his head. "I think I will be alright. But perhaps the guards standing outside should be alerted, just in case."

The nurse nods her head, sends the girl on the cot one last look, then parts down the hall, walking with a purpose until she exits. Waiting for the taps of footsteps to disappear, Odin remains standing at the girl's bedside. When he concludes they are alone, Odin allows his body to fully turn, finding his chair a few feet away. Slowly and cautiously, he grips the back and brings it closer, then lowers himself into the seat. The girl grips the thin sheets, wrists growing irritated from the metal bindings.

"What is your name, dear?" Odin asks with his tone laced in amiability. He hopes not to spook her with his booming voice or his golden eye patch.

Her dark eyes dart from examining his face to the room in which she finds herself. Odin takes notice that her eyes are closer to a pitch black than brown. He isn't sure whether to be unsettled or intrigued.

The young woman takes in the room, noting everything from the floor panel to the texture of her sheets. She makes the deduction that she is in a hospital, seeing a cabinet lined with jars of ointment and utensils and lines of empty, identical cots. The girl has barely a moment to remember how and why she finds herself in such a place when her eyes flicker back to the man. The older man before her reigns superiority, for he bears golden textiles, intricate designs bedded into the front and large pads on his shoulders that deem attention. A king, she decides. The old man who might possibly be a ruler is offering her a moment to gather her thoughts, no pressure to answer quickly. A small feeling of gratitude enters her thoughts. She could have woken up in a place much, much worse.

After her examination, she looks back to the man's eye. A tongue pokes from out of her mouth and wets her dry lips before answering. "My name is Valdis Starborn."

Valdis Starborn, Odin considers. How entirely fitting. A strange name for an equally strange girl. In all his years, he has never met another Aesir with such a name, however it tastes familiar. A spark of recognition exists, but Odin finds no such idea as to why. "Valdis, do you know how you got here?"

The girl looks down in thought, brows pinching together. A roar of cries, a heated pain, and then nothing. As soon as the images flashed before her eyes, they were gone like the wind carrying smoke. Valdis reaches for the blips of memory to return, but all she's left with is confusion and emptiness. Nothing. She remembers nothing.

Valdis shakes her head slowly. "No, I do not." She swallows a lump in her throat realizing she does not know how she got to this room, nor anything else. Valdis searches through her thoughts to find her head void of any memory. "I do not know how or why I am here, but I also do not know where I come from. I fear my memories are... Gone."

Odin raises his chin, studying her puzzled expression. Not the answer he was hoping for, but at least she had a name. It was something among the sea of questions. "Do you know where you are?"

"No," Valdis answers quietly. "But, if I had to make a guess, somewhere nice. I expected a dungeon as my welcoming."

A slight twitch to the lips meets Odin as Valdis smiles sheepishly. "This is Asgard, the home of the Aesir and peacekeepers to the galaxy, and I am Odin, the Allfather. It is my duty to maintain balance in the cosmos, which includes sorting out the mysteries that the universe creates, such as yourself."

Valdis's eyebrows pinch. "Allfather?" She ponders out loud. Odin watches the girl carefully as her dark eyes leave him only to focus downwards, head tipped slightly in thought. "Allfather..."

"You speak as if something is coming back to you."

Looking back up, Valdis says, "'Allfather' sounds familiar. I feel like I have heard it before, but..." Her voice trails into silence, unable to locate the words or memories that have sparked some kind of recognition.

"Perhaps a sign that your memory will return," Odin hopes, eyeing her suspiciously.

The sound of heeled shoes on marble reaches both sets of ears, and Odin stands, turning to find Frigga coming to his side. Her smile is kind and warm, maintaining itself when she takes careful steps towards the young woman on the bed. Valdis cannot help but mirror the gentle expression.

"Valdis," Odin addresses, his arm outstretched towards her before angling to direct her attention to the new presence. "I am honored to introduce you to my wife and queen of Asgard, Frigga."

Memorizing the girl's name, Frigga passes in front of her husband. "How are you, dear girl?" Frigga asks, taking another step before lowering down to sit on the bed at Valdis's feet. "You fell from so high. We've all been worried about your health."

"'We?'" Valdis questions. Her heart spikes as she wonders what Frigga speaks of. With her memory wiped, it comes to Valdis's attention that not only does she not know where she came from or why she is on Asgard, but she is just as clueless as to how she ended up in a hospital in the first place. "Wait... I fell?"

Frigga's smile falters some, now understanding the downturn of Odin's expression. "Do you not remember?"

Valdis shakes her head, a new wave of rose-colored embarrassment coating her pale cheeks.

Only nodding once, Frigga does not let her worried sentiment show itself so clearly. Instead, the queen looks to her husband, continuing her words. "I hope my husband has not frightened you, little star. He has a habit." With this comment, the queen sends a wink to Valdis, who feels herself smiling.

Valdis notes that while the Allfather seems wise and just with a headstrong, powerful ambiance, the queen radiates a sunny glow, a tenderness that touches all. There is a balance to their chemistry, easily evening out what tension Valdis had in her thoughts. "No, the Allfather has been kind, my queen."

"You may call me Frigga, sweet one." The queen lets herself think for barely a second before letting her words play out loud. "Would you allow me to try something, Valdis? I would like to see if I can help with your lost memories."

Barely a pause ensues before Valdis lets out short exhale that sounds like a laugh. "It's not like I have much to lose at this point, do I?" It appears it was Valdis's turn to encourage a smile.

Lifting both her hands, Frigga extends her arms out towards Valdis. With no other warning, the queen cups Valdis's jaw gently. Before the young woman could react, a warm heat penetrates her skin and a faint, golden glow could be seen from under her eye. Valdis did nothing but stare questioningly at the woman before her. As quick as the touch was, Frigga withdrew her hands, sending a stare to her husband.

"Nothing," Odin remarks but with conviction in his tone.

Standing, Frigga speaks to Odin. "Seiðr did not work. Either a stronger force is baring all of us or she truly has no memory."

Valdis listens idly, knowing this is when her fate will be decided. She isn't sure where she would go or what she would do if the rulers before her were to cast her out. Maybe they would keep her locked away in the dungeons with criminals. Or maybe they'd send her somewhere else, somewhere less lavish than Asgard and cruel to oddities such as herself. No matter the case, Valdis only knows what has happened since she opened her eyes minutes ago, nothing more. She is not aware of any other realm, nor king, nor law. If Odin did not trust her, Valdis would have no fathomable idea what to do. The king must realize this, especially after what his queen just told him. Valdis still sticks out for hope, so much so that she feels as though she is pushing her pleas into the king and queen's minds.

"She has nowhere to go, Odin," Frigga continues, sending Valdis a small, tight-lipped smile before her eyes widen, quickly turning back to her husband. "Allow me to take her under my wing. Perhaps we can work to uncover her memories with time."

Odin takes a long look to his wife before focusing his attention back on Valdis, a hopeful look upon her face. It would not be the first time Frigga would become a mother to a child she did not conceive, but Odin cannot help but feel vastly more concerned this time around. No one knows who or what Valdis is, not even the girl herself, allegedly.

"She will be no trouble," Frigga insists. The queen glances over to Valdis. "Will she?"

Valdis was quick to shake her head. "No, of course not, my lady. I want to uncover the truth as much as you do."

The dungeons would be too dangerous for a woman like her and the cot she lies on will be needed eventually. Frigga is a powerful sorceress, one of the most talented the Aesir have ever come across, if not the best of them all. No one has deceived her yet, and this fact was set to stay for eternity. Such a creature as Valdis would not have the powers to break this record, but the preexisting confusion shrouding Odin's mind remains. Perhaps she can best his wife, or perhaps not. There would be rules to be made and there would be concern around Valdis's mystery, but what better sorceress to delve into the mysterious fallen entity?

Odin straightens his back as he turns from the yearnful eyes of Frigga, setting his stern gaze upon the girl in bed. Her eyes shone of the same buoyancy as Frigga. "You may not be safe here," Odin says, his voice steady and heavy with urgency. "Asgard is home to the best warriors, but that does not guarantee your safety. If you are running, they will find you eventually, and I will not risk my people if you show not to be as innocent as you seem."

Valdis nods. "I do not think anyone is after me, Allfather."

"But you do not know that for sure."

Valdis swallows. "Yes."

Odin lets out a long breath, sending his gaze to rest upon Frigga. His wife's stare is still set upon him with a plea, a loving care that Odin fell for millennia ago. There is no bone in Frigga's body that would allow her to turn away someone in need. It's what makes her a wonderful queen, a perfect soulmate to her sagacious husband. He knows that keeping the girl would possibly become a path for trouble. There will be others like Frigga who are interested in Valdis, but many may not have as innocent intentions.

With his chin poised, Odin turns to Valdis, taking several steps forwards until he is right beside the girl. For a moment, both Frigga and Vadis fear the worst. "You will temporarily live in the guests' wing and will be accompanied by a pair of guards everywhere you go. If your memory returns by the next moon, you shall have the option to leave. If you are still without your past, I would encourage you to stay."

It seemed as though the universe let out a sigh of relief as Odin spoke. From the corner of her eye, Valdis could spot Frigga wearing a gracious grin.

"However," Odin continued. "If there is any sign that you come with dark intentions or you do anything to harm this realm or the next, you will be imprisoned for the rest of eternity. Is this clear?"

There is no hesitation as Valdis nods her head. "Yes, Allfather."

"Good." With a simple wave of his hand, the two cuffs around Valdis's wrists unlock, the rounded pieces once rubbing against her skin now clicking backwards in on itself until the golden bands and chain disappear entirely.

"Come, Valdis," Frigga says, her hands holding out for the dark-haired girl to take. "We will head to your temporary quarters until a permanent one has been arranged." Holding her arms out, Frigga helps Valdis rise to her feet, her stature and built fully shown. She stands just a few inches shorter than the queen, but something about her shoulders and straight spine makes Frigga look small in comparison. Opposite to Valdis's meek disposition, the exterior of her shell is strong and battle-ready. This does not pass by Odin, his observant eye catching every movement made.

Frigga helps Valdis into a robe as Odin turns away. He eyes the armor on the table, as well as the bladed sword, staring in awe at the craftsmanship. If Odin had to make a guess, not even the skilled dwarves of Nidavellir could have fashioned such beautiful designs. In fact, the Allfather has never come across the kind in all his thousands of years. The designs are fluid yet sharp, demanding and large yet smooth and delicate, the points and edges telling all to beware while enticing enough to desire a closer look. The sword was no different, the steel and obsidian mashing together tastefully. Unlike any sword he has seen, the hilt extends out and up, several smaller blades pointed in the direction of an enemy. There was nothing but peril that radiates from the ensemble, and yet, Odin could not help but gape in admiration. How odd such a timid creature would be the owner of such an array of danger-exuding armor?

So many questions raised in Odin's mind at the examination, and it seemed as though more were raised with each day. In the nine days since her arrival, all one could do was question. The Allfather believes he is not the only one who finds himself in the realm of curiosity. No doubt there were others who were just as interested in the girl who fell from space, perhaps some having the answers Odin desperately craves. And some may just do anything to have Valdis Starborn.

"Valdis," Odin calls, shifting his eye from her armor to the two women taking their leave. Both look in his direction fluidly. Valdis stands with wide eyes, ready for what he may aim at her. As if she has been here before. "The way you arrived on Asgard is no ordinary occurrence. There are talks of you wielding a power strong enough to rip Yggdrasil apart, or worse. Many will want to meet you, and many will want to use you. Keep this in mind; it may save your life."

The girl who fell from the cosmos offers a single nod before allowing Frigga to escort her out of the room, leaving Odin to his thoughts. Undoubtedly, there would be more questions to be raised in the next few days, but perhaps Mimir's answer would be met. The vibrations of primordial fire and ice that created all seemed to have fashioned something not yet seen before and it was up to the Allfather to unravel questions into answers. A blessing, a curse, or something the universe was not ready for, all anyone could do now was wait.

Time will eventually give Odin his answers. However, part of him fears what those will be.

[literary-spirit]

Lessons of Devotion

Chapter 6

Bonnie spent the next several days restoring Rollo's former keep. By the end of the fifth day, she moved in and Queen Aslaug gifted her with a new bed, a table, two chairs, and a large barrel to use for baths. Bjorn gave her bulks of silks, linen, furs, and leather material to fashion a wardrobe that would range from great hall feasts to raiding next spring. For that task, her magic did the bulk of the work. In no time, she had several dresses fashioned after wears she'd seen on the hit television shows Reign, Last Kingdom, and Merlin. She even threw in some retro fits from her time period. For her raiding gear, she went straight Valkyrie from Thor Ragnarök.

She stared down at the leather black raiding outfit she wore, frustrated she couldn't see the gear on her in its entirety. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder to see if she could catch a glimpse of her butt. "Damn, wish I had the full-length mirror from home," she mumbled to herself.

Seconds later the mirror materialized in front of her. Her bottom lip kissed the floor. Although the emergence of her mirror from thin air stunned her, the reflection which stared back at her shocked the southern fried shit out of her. Instead of her sassy twenty-seven-year-old self-staring back at her, she was staring at her scared of her own shadow eighteen-year-old senior in high school self. The self who died before she even had the chance to graduate. How? Why? She rubbed a hand over her face, unable to believe the lie her reflection attempted to tell.

A knock sounded at the door and she hurried to cover the mirror with a few bulks of stray fabric. When she turned to answer the knock, Bjorn walked in followed by Torvi and the boys. Bjorn carried a chest, while Torvi held a battle ax and a sheathed sword.

"Bonnie, you fashioned your raider's wear?" Torvi placed the weapons on the table and hurried over to spin her around. "It's made so well, you're barely able to see the stitching. Look, how the chainmail overlays the length of her arms and bosom area. Bonnie you have to make me one. Wait until Lagertha sights this."

As Torvi continued fawning over the raiding outfit, Guthrum rushed over and wound himself around one of Bonnie's legs. Hali, not to be left out, toddled over with his arms raised. Bjorn, who had since place the chest on the table next to the weapons, watched her with a complacent expression locked tight on his face. Conflict, however, incinerated his eyes until they glowed brighter and bluer than a Brazilian sky. One could only imagine the battle which waged inside his head.

"Of course, I'll make one for you," she said as she leaned down to scoop Hali into her arms.

The intensity in Bjorn's eyes doubled, when his gaze traveled over her and Hali, "You'll have to wait until after you give birth to done the garb."

"It's enough to know I'll have it when time comes," Torvi insisted, standing back to stare down the length of Bonnie once more before turning to her husband.

"Bonsie, will you come before slumber to finish the saga about the street rat, and the Jinn?" Guthrum questioned.

Bonnie squatted with Hali still in her arms pecking away at her cheek, "Yes, and if we finish early we can start on a new one."

"Alright," Bjorn said, snapping from whatever mental deliberation he wrestled with to the point of distraction, "help your mother ready the keep for Lagertha's visit on the morrow. We'll fish in the harbor once you've finished."

Torvi and Bjorn exchanged a stare that screamed a thousand words without whispering one. Torvi glanced away first to regard her with warm eyes that put cups of cocoa and comfortable furry slippers to shame, "Will we see you at second meal? Queen Aslaug does enjoy squandering a great amount of your time." She finished with an eyeroll.

"I'll be there," Bonnie smiled, handing Hali back to Torvi.

With that assurance, Torvi nodded and ushered the children from the keep. After the door to the keep closed, Bonnie's gaze moved to Bjorn. He still watched her with eyes that burned her in a place she couldn't even begin to try and soothe. "What troubles you, my protector?"

"You," he straightened from his lean on the wall. With deliberate purpose he crossed the room. "You trouble me. So does your voice that I hear even when you're not near... and your eyes that forces me to misuse time because I'm occupied staring into the trees to find their likeness in hue... but let me not misremember your mouth! For how can I misremember your mouth which tempts and mocks me just so of the point of madness...your hair, in which my hands long to fist themselves...your scent, which intoxicates and besots me until I'm no better than the village drunkard." He paused to lift her onto the table. After cupping her face in his hands he continued, "Everything about you troubles me." He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to her lips. "And it troubles me that I'm troubled by you. It troubles me that I can't merely make you my concubine because my heart refuses to recognize you as anything other than my wife...my future queen." He kissed her again, this time slipping his tongue between her lips. The taste of him ripped a moan from the bottom of her throat. Without any real thought behind the action, her arms snaked around his neck. "Marry me, Mystical One."

In that moment all she wanted to do was drown in him. To become overwhelmed by the absolute epicness of him. And if she was just a woman and him just a man with a heart equal in measure to the demigod who stood before her, then to him she would submit. Goddess, help her, she'd become his wife and carry a minivan full of children for him. Alas, she wasn't just a woman and he wasn't just a man. They both had roles to roll with and it was too early in the game to allow emotions to get in the way of them achieving the victory history had already saw fit to deny him.

"I'm sorry, Bjorn," she leaned back from his grasp, "I can't."

Several emotions filtered across his face, but the one of pain is the one which stuck with her. "Why? I know you would be my second wife, but you have to know you'd always be first in my heart."

"There's someone else, Bjorn," she said, figuring there was no better time than the present to make Klaus' place in her life known. "There's someone I left behind, who's waiting for me back in my land."

"And he holds your affections?" He backed away from the cradle of her legs. "Even now?"

"He's my family," she said, barely above a whisper.

Bjorn scoffed, before spinning around to stalk toward the door. Opening it, he paused, "Whomever he is, he doesn't deserve you. Anyone who could misplace one as rare and precious as you, doesn't merit the treasure the gods have gifted him." With that said, he left.

Bonnie's eyes closed, and there in silence she allowed the salty liquid droplets of pain to slip freely down her face.

****

"Mother said Bjorn has spoken to her of his plans to marry, Bonnie," Hvitserk said to Ubbe's back as he followed him through the forest.

Ubbe remained silent. He already knew of his older brother's plans to marry his Mystic One. Anyone with sight could bear witness to how taken he was with the girl. Odin's eye, they all were. Her beauty and exoticness was unique to any other in Kattegat. Hel truth be heralded, anyone in all of Norway. Yet, her physical appeal only attracted one's attention, it was everything else about her which intrigued. The whole of her is what provoked many topics of conversations at the long table and had every ear trained on what she would possibly say next.

"Well, she will not have him," Ivar said, while gripping the sides of the wooden plank on which they dragged him. "She will have none of you. You all see the way she gazes upon me, hmm?"

It was true. Whenever in Ivar's presence, she couldn't keep her verdant pigmented eyes from meeting his. The strangest thing. One would think she didn't even see him as a cripple, but instead as an unbroken man who was capable of being her provider and protector.

Sigurd scoffed. "Have you ever even been with a woman, Ivar?"

"Sorry, Little Brother," Hvitserk laughed, leaning down to ruffle Ivar's hair, "Nestled between those dark thighs is my home and I do mean to return to the comforting heat of her hearth."

They reached the edge of the forest which gave way to the cove. Hvitserk was about to pull Ivar out but something with in the falls of the water snared his awareness. He raised a hand to signal for Hvitserk to halt. The shadow in the water moved into view and their collective breaths caught. There in all her bared radiance stood the matter of their debate. Her body was beyond perfection. Even through all the froth lathered over her golden bronzed skin, he could tell her tempting frame was crafted by and for Odin. For what mere mortal man would be worthy of a woman such as her?

"I don't understand?" Ivar mumbled. They turned to see there little brother gawking at the overexaggerated man stand towering in his lap. Fear glistened Ivar's already too blue gaze, "What is happening?"

"What don't you understand?" Sigurd frowned, barely tearing his eyes away from a now rinsed clean Bonnie. "Is that your first one?"

"Looks like you're not quite so boneless after all, Little Brother," Hvitserk said, reaching down to squeeze Ivar's shoulder.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ubbe's mouth as he returned his gaze to Bonnie. She now stood on the rocks near the waterfall rubbing a liquid substance of sorts into her skin which made her rare hue glisten in the sunlight. Unable to resist her any longer, he left the cover of the trees.

"Ubbe!" he heard Hvitserk hiss.

"Where's he going?" Sigurd panicked.

"Where do you think?" Ivar answered.

****

Bonnie stood in front of the waterfall, dipping her head back. She allowed the supernaturally heated water to rinse the homemade co-wash from her head. With the pads of her fingers, she gave her scalp a deep massage. Her eyes slipped closed. Mm, she needed this after how things went down with Bjorn. No matter her feelings, she couldn't afford to lose focus.

Ansel's warning growl from the bank alerted her to be on guard. Her eyes snapped open and collided with a bottomless sky-blue gaze. Ubbe towered before her bared tanned, hard, ripped and cut the hell up with godlike precision. For a full minute they remained struck in awe of the other. Unable to take her eyes off of him, she backed away. Once she bumped into the large rock holding her belongings, she squatted to retrieve her shower scrub and a scrap of linen from her basket.

When she reclaimed her spot in front of him, she commenced to bathing him. She started with his face, and then worked her way down to his solid shoulders. There, she kneaded the rigid muscles into pliable submission. After she relieved the tension in his neck she moved on to the firm hills of his chest. With ease, she glided the rag over the dipped crevices of his abdomen. She lifted her gaze to stare in his eyes as she attempted to wrap the linen scrap around all eight inches of him. Which was no easy task since the girth of him was almost the size of her ankle in width. Once secured in her grasp, she gave him a few firm tugs that earned her a long-drawn-out moan and a couple of grunts.

"Don't marry Bjorn," he demanded in a hoarse broken whisper.

She gave him another massage infused pull, "I wasn't planning to."

"Good," He leaned down and captured her upturned mouth with his.

The kiss he rocked the hell out of her mind with was nothing like she believed him to be. Under all that arctic chill simmered a passion so fierce and wild she'd nearly missed the splashing of the water in the distance. She severed her lips from Ubbe's in time to see Sigurd and Hvitserk's glorious but naked form trotting over to them.

"Shit," she hissed, and broke away from Ubbe.

Snatching her basket from the rock, she disappeared behind the curtain of frothy falling water. Quickly, she put on white bikini bottoms and a matching wrap top, items she managed to displace from home in 2018. Once dressed she stepped back through the waterfall.

Hvitserk greeted her with one of his signature wide smiles. "Our turn." When he glanced down at her bikini bottoms, a frown battled back his previous good cheer, "What are those? Is that some strange fabric barrier to preserve chastity in this Mystic land of yours?"

"Why is your muff bare?" Sigurd questioned, fucking all over the boundaries of her personal space. "Have you not completely reached womanhood yet?"

"First, I'm not done with Ubbe yet, so you'll wait your turn." She began, addressing them both with her chin raised and hands planted on her hips. "Second, these or bikini bottoms and they're made for swimming, not preserving chastity, Hvitserk. Third, Sigurd, I'll have you know I'm all woman and the reason there is no hair down below is because I prefer a clean canvas down there. And Fourth," She looked over the three of them, "where's Ivar?"

"Back on the shore. He can't swim," Sigurd said, his tone dismissive.

She stepped closer to Hvitserk and Sigurd, palming each of their cheeks. "Will you both please get him and place him here on the rocks. This platform is large, flat, and stable. It should be safe enough for him over here." When they nodded their assent, she stood on tip toes and kissed them each on the corners of their mouths.

Once alone, Ubbe wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. "I apologize for my brothers' interruption. Can I come visit you at your keep after second meal?"

"Isn't that normally when you meet Margrethe in the barn?" She asked, watching as they placed Ivar on some sort of wooden raft.

He yanked her backwards through the waterfall. When they were obscured from the view of his brothers, he allowed his hands-free reign over her body. One reached up to palm her breasts, while the other slipped into her bikini bottoms. He devoured the side of her neck with open mouth kisses. His thumb grazed over her clit in persistent brushes, provoking her overheated good-good to ooze her need all over his hand. Whimpering, she silently urged him on by further parting her legs. Instead of giving into her quiet demands he kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple. The roughness of his touch had her grinding into the heel of his hand.

"I do not care to meet Margrethe in the barn this eve," he rasped next to her ear. "I'd rather greet the next rising in your bed. Now will you have me, Valkyrie?" He tried to press two fingers in her entrance, but her good girl being a tease refused admission. After a brief pause, he downgraded to one finger and she still refused to bloom. "Are you a-,"

"Where are you two?" Sigurd yelled from outside. "We need help getting Ivar off the raft and on the boulder."

"Do you think they're-," Hvitserk began.

"No," Ivar cut him off, "Bonnie's, girdles are not nigh as light as Margrethe's."

She broke free of Ubbe's hold and straightened her bottoms. After stepping back through the waterfall, she jumped from the rock into the water and swam over to the raft. Ivar searched her face, and then looked over her shoulder at Ubbe who'd just reappeared back through the froth of water. A smirk settled on his all too willing lips.

"As I said before," Ivar said to no one in particular, "Some girdles are light and others..." his dancing gaze moved to regard her, "not so much. Greetings, my love. My brothers tell me you requested my presence over on that boulder."

Her heartbeat tapped out a peculiar rhythm upon hearing Ivar refer to her as his love. "Yep, I wanna bathe you and wash your hair. Do you have any objections to me doing so?"

His brows leaped to his hairline as he shook his head, "N-no."

For the next couple of hours, Bonnie bathed, shampooed, and groomed the Lothbroks. They each seemed to bask in the attention. Especially, when she braided Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd hair in actual designs instead of the sloppy twists they usually wore. Since Ivar's hair wasn't yet long enough for braids, she trimmed it into a precision cut. By the time they made it back to Kattegat the second meal had already begun. She was late for dinner with Bjorn and Torvi. If she didn't hurry she'd miss it altogether.

"I'll see you guys later," her gaze darted to Ubbe first before moving over all of them, "I had fun, thanks for helping me to take my mind off things."

She turned to walk towards Bjorn's and Ivar grabbed her wrist. "What things?"

She squatted and kissed him on the lips. "It doesn't matter." With that, she stood and hurried away.

****

The next rising after first meal, Bjorn greeted his mother in the great hall. People who remembered her from long before as Ragnar's first wife waited in Kattegat's long house to welcome her. Although he was happy to see his mother, only half his heart cared she visited at all. Bonnie's refusal still pained him. Why would she choose another over him? Surely, he couldn't be the only one between them who harbored such affections.

"I said, how have you fared here since your return, my son?" Lagertha's voice, delivered him from the torture which was his thoughts.

"Distracted it would appear," Astrid, his mother's...Astrid said.

Bjorn waved off their observations. "I've fared well enough. Although, Floki has informed me that the fleet he's building for the Mediterranean won't be available until next spring."

"Oh," Lagertha reached up to rub his back, "I'm sorry, Bjorn."

He shrugged. "Just as well, Torvi's carrying again."

"Bjorn, this is wonderful news," Lagertha hugged him, her smile nearly splitting her face in two. "The gods have truly favored you and Torvi."

This time he felt his own smile creep into his eyes. "They do, in truth Bonnie has assured me this babe will be a girl."

"Bonnie?" Confusion snatched Lagertha's head to the far left.

"The dark woman he brought back from his last raid," Astrid enlightened, "The one he placed under his protection."

"Ah," Lagertha's pale brows shot up as she gave a slow nod. "I remember. How is she? Is she still a part of your household?"

"No, she now resides in Rollo's former keep," Bjorn answered, while tracking Ubbe's march into the hall.

"That's better for all," his mother exhaled, seeming somewhat relieved.

"No!" Bjorn snapped, dragging his attention from Ubbe. "I do not think it's better for all. I suffer-w-we suffer very much from her absence. The sooner she agrees to become my wife, then and only then will we all be the better for it."

"Your wife?!" Lagertha low hiss shrieked. "Did you leave your wits in the wetlands of Frankia? Bjorn, you know nothing of this woman!"

"You're wrong," he placed a palm at the center of his chest, "I know exactly who she is, and I know exactly where she belongs."

"And what of Torvi? Is she content with this usurper stealing her way into your lives and making a home of your marriage?" Lagertha questioned.

Bjorn folded his arms, weary of the entire discussion. He wasn't Ragnar, Torvi wasn't Lagertha, and Bonnie wasn't, Hel take her, Aslaug. "Torvi embraces the idea of Bonnie joining us in matrimony."

His mother's eyes flared. She scoffed in disbelief. "You've been bewitched. This woman has bewitched you, just as Ragnar was so many years before you. What is it about Lothbrok men that breeds witches?"

"Mother, it may be best if you rest," Bjorn said, leveling her with a glare that would make steel fold, but more than likely meant less than horse shit to Lagertha. "The journey from Hedeby to Kattegat can be exhausting." With that said, Bjorn turned and left the great hall.

Once Bjorn disappeared from sight Lagertha looked to Astrid. "Take care of her."

Astrid nodded her understanding.

****

Unable to stay inside any longer, Bonnie decided to take a walk along the shore of the fjord. Though they were on the brink of winter, the beauty of Kattegat was heart snatching.

In her own time when she traveled, she never even considered visiting Norway. Now that she found herself stranded there surrounded by its people and exquisiteness, she couldn't understand why this place never made the bucket list.

As she continued along the bank a cloaked figure sitting on a large rock staring out at the sea caught her attention. Loneliness wafted off of him in dejected waves. When she'd binged the series with Caroline Ivar was never one of her favorite characters. He reminded her too much of Klaus. Always hurting and terrifying others to distract from the obvious detail that he too was also hurt and terrified. Back then she had zero compassion to give to bullies who thought to offer reason behind their madness. At least not until Damon became her best friend and she fell face first in love with Klaus. Now after seasons of judgement from her something within urged her to offer Ivar the consideration she never did when she watched the show.

Wrapping her cloak tighter around herself she made her way over to him. Once at his side, she joined him in staring out at the clear waters of the fjord. For a while, neither of them said anything. They just existed together in a shared moment of peace.

A several more comfortable minutes of silence, Ivar spoke without turning to look at her. "I'll wager you're pondering what a cripple could possibly be considering as he gazes at waters he can never be minded to tread."

"You're considering how far you'll go," Her words brought his disbelieving blazing stare to hers, "But you don't have to worry because you'll go far, Ivar. You'll go further than you can ever think to dream or imagine." She reached inside his cloak and interlaced her fingers with his. Laying her head on his shoulder, she turned back to the fjord.

He rested his head on top of hers, "Why'd you kiss me, hmm?"

"Because I wanted to and I knew you wanted me to," she answered reveling and drowning in him all at the same time. "You bother me, Ivar. The last time a man bothered me I fell in love with him."

"You mustn't do something as foolish as to offer me your heart, my love," He cradled her hand in both of his. "I may do something as equally foolish and accept it."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to study his face. What she saw there was the strike of lightening she'd waited twenty-seven years to see. How did one come back from Nirvana and settle for the lack-lusterless of reality? The mundane of good enough. Was he the reason? Far away yipping of a dog snatched her from the brink.

"I have to go," she whispered.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. "Alright."

She pressed her mouth to his and took a minute to savor his lips. He moaned into the kiss, reluctantly she pulled away. After she gave herself a second for her world to start spinning again, she slid from the rock and darted off toward the woods. Inside the forest, Ansel barked for her to follow him. So that's what she set out to do. After a half hour of nonstop running she could no longer see Ansel. Bonnie called out to him, but only silence answered her in return. She glanced about the overhang she stood on. Everything and nothing looked familiar. Hell, she didn't know north from south. She'd do better waiting for Ansel to return for her. She walked to the edge. A view of the fjord feeding water into her cove greeted her.

A grin teased her lips. Thoughts of her bathing the boys shamed her better judgement. She would have never pulled that shit back in Mystic Falls as a senior in high school. Hell not even as a senior citizen. With thoughts of the day before still trailing across her mind she backed away from the edge. Bjorn's sacred arm ring slipped from her wrist. When she was unable to locate it among the leaves she dropped to her knees and started sifting through the brush on the ground. As soon as her hand connected with hard metal she exhaled. She didn't know what she would tell Bjorn if she'd ever loss the symbol of their vow. Quickly, she slipped the sacred arm ring back on her wrist.

When she moved to rise something hard bashed her in the head. Fingers tangled themselves in her hair as blunted nails clawed at her scalp. With unnecessary force her head was jerked backwards. A cold jagged edge of steel bit into her neck and slid from ear to ear. The sound of howling dampened her hearing as her attacker drug her by her hair to the edge of the precipice. A well-aimed kick to the center of her back sent her tumbling over the edge. Her heart stopped long before the near freezing waters of the cove embraced her.

[annes-andromeda]

Ragnarök: Asgard’s Twilight

Chapter 1: Muspelheim

N/:  Needless to say I was left unsatisfied with Thor: Ragnarok. So I’ve decided to rewrite it as a whole, to fit my Fanon Marvel series. And please, if you’re gonna disagree, be civil. I don’t want butt hurt pro Ragnarok people who can’t accept the fact that there are fans who didn’t like this film.

Tagging some people cause why not, I want opinions: @nikkoliferous, @alwida10, @schlotzshewrote, @lokiloveforever, @miskiett, @ms-cellanies, @mentallydatingahotcelebrity. 

You’re all amazing💖🥰

Across the planet of Earth, beyond the stars of the Milky Way, lies the Nine Realms: Nine kingdoms brought together by the people of Asgard, protected by the great All-Father. Painted as the world tree Yggdrasil, the Nine realms each live on their own planes.

Atop the highest level sits the golden kingdom of Asgard, home to the All-Father and the All-Mother. To the west of Mani stands the brilliant kingdom of Alfheim: a land with rivers of sweet champagne and magnificent creatures such as the beautiful merfolk, the kind and gentle Faeries, and the benevolent and loyal elves of Light. And to the east of Sol lies the kingdom of Vanaheim, where the Vanir, sister race of Asgard, practice sorcery and magic.

The middle level holds Midgard, Nidavellir, and Jotunheim: the earthly realm of mortals, the star fortress of the dwarves, and the icy home of the Frost Giants. As for the lowest level, here sits the last three realms: Svartalheim, home of the Dark elves and known as the Dark World. Niffleheim, house of the realm of Hel, ruled by the goddess of Death, Hela. And Muspelheim, inhabited by the Fire Demons, and ruled by the fire giant Surtur.

Sat upon his throne of magma and rock, the Fire Giant looked up to the hardened ceiling. A cage dangled above, holding a prisoner with golden hair and clear blue eyes, which studied the ground below him. Large chains wrapped around his person, tightly restraining him.

Thor moved his head to look around, watching as the demons stared at him hungrily, angrily. Someone had come into their home without invitation, and they wished for an explanation “This isn’t really necessary, Surtur” he spoke to the flaming King “All you must do is let me go and I will not step into Muspelheim’s walls again. Just release these chains, is all”

“Your foolery amuses me, prince of Asgard” Surtur said, voice booming through the halls. He had a form built of rock and flame, gleaming as he spoke. His crown was the centerpiece of it all, a prize any warrior would desire in their halls. As a means to show who had fallen at their sword: the terrifying and disastrous king of the Fire Realm.

“To think capturing you would be so simple. It’s almost disappointing how less of a fight you put up”

Thor chuckled darkly to himself “I must say Surtur, you have truly outdone yourself. Chaining me down and throwing me into a cell is most unbefitting of you. I would have thought that by the time I had arrived, you would’ve burned me to a crisp for all your people to watch”

“Don’t pester me with your jests, Odinson. You know well of the consequences that should befall any who dare come into my kingdom unannounced. If you were truly all mighty, then perhaps you’d think twice of testing my rage”

He signaled his subjects to bring down the cage, the chains chinking as they moved. Thor turned his head to face Surtur, careful not to make himself seem angry, as much as he were. One minute he was off looking for the Infinity stones, and ensuring that the Nine Realms were protected, the next he’s attacked by Fire Demons and imprisoned. But all through his journey, Thor kept his daily goal: watch the sacred star, Aurvandil, for his love. His Captain. His Evenlight.

“I know of your rage, Surtur” Thor raised his voice in defiance “Believe me, I am no fool. Thousands of years ago you fought my grandfather Bor, and then my father as a means to wage war against the Vanir and the Aesir. Ever since, you’ve craved a vengeance that would never come”

Surtur rose from his throne, tall and imposing “Oh, but it will. You see, a time has come within the Nine Realms. A time when the golden kingdom with be plagued by a force so great, it should be its final stand. The Eternal twilight shall befall Asgard, and I the center of its demise”

The giant leaned into the cage, pulling the chains with his large, clawed hands. He could see the warrior shift in his place slightly, which caused Surtur to smirk a bit. Glad to know that even the God of Thunder still held a smudge of fear towards him “There is nothing you nor anyone could do to stop this event. It is... inevitable”

As he said that last word, he growled it, clenching his teeth and letting the sound bounce off the walls so that all could hear it. Thor tried to remain unfazed. He had faced Surtur once, hundreds of years ago. Who’s to say that he couldn’t do it again?

Lifting his chin, Thor refused to allow Surtur the satisfaction of relishing in his fear “You know, I’ve heard of this great twilight that you speak of. My mother would sometimes tell me and my brother the legend of Ragnarök. How you’d plunge your blade, forged from the Burning Galaxy, and end Asgard as we know it”

Thor stood in his cell, stumbling a bit as Surtur held it in his hand “I can assure you that will not happen” His neck pained a bit from having to maneuver it in Surtur’s direction “I have fought adversaries who would threaten my people, and all have fallen or fled. You will be no different. Surrender your plans to destroy Asgard, and this won’t have to end in combat”

A chuckle escaped the giants lips, clearly a sign of amusement “It seems conversing with those mortals from Midgard has garnered you completely blind. There is no stopping the destruction I shall bring. You of all people should know that”

The gods eyes narrowed, staring down the giant before him “This is your last chance, Surtur. Surrender now, and your people will keep their king. Even if what you say is true, you’d be leaving Muspelheim defenseless. Surely you’d be smarter than that”

“My people are more than capable of defending themselves. Perhaps it is you who should worry about your own safety. Right now, at this very moment”

Looking down, Thor could see the fire demons closing in him, with some crawling up the pillars of rock. Their eyes seethed red as they stared him down. Moving in the chains, he lifted his hand behind his back, making sure Surtur didn’t see.

He smirked in a similar fashion to the giant, almost challenging him “Very well then. It seems that bantering isn’t your style, so I won’t bother” With his acute sense of hearing, he could discern the familiar booming sound coming from behind him. Mjölnir came rushing in and landed in Thor’s hand, as the sound of thunder echoed and groaned.

“Have at you”

With that, Thor hurdled towards Sutur, smashing his face with his hammer. The chains immediately broke free and Thor dropped alongside the prison he was kept in. He could hear the demons screeching as they lunged towards him. With each creature coming at him, Thor could hit them with Mjölnir, as each one was destroyed in a pile of rubble. Surtur had stumbled back, falling on top of his throne and crushing it in the process. He looked down and grabbed his Twilight sword, plunging it into the ground.

Beneath Thor, the floor began to crumble and split, smoke hitting his face and fire spewing from the cracks. Thor threw his hammer at the demons, all of them falling as easily as the last, until it returned to his hand. He jumped up high, and struck Mjölnir into the floor, causing the demons to fall into the cracks.

“You know,” he began “For an almost thousand year old Fire Giant, your aim is almost as terrible as your threats. How embarrassing for the God of Fire who can’t even fit in his own throne”

The sound of Surtur growling sounded all throughout the walls, as he roared in frustration at Thor “I will not have my position as King be insulted by some ignorant Asgardian cub!”

He moved behind one of the pillars as he saw that Surtur was going to strike, using his sword to create a wind of fire towards him.

“Do not play coward with me, Odinson!” Surtur roared “Face me with your mighty hammer and know what true terror looks like!”

With his sword he blasted flames towards Thor, as the latter moved away from the pillar before it collapsed. He turned towards Surtur and looked him in the eye “It is you who should cower, Surtur!” Thor said, bashing fire demons in the process “The Eternal Flame is locked away, far from you” He stopped his punches and looked to Surtur “So as long as it’s safe, you can’t touch Asgard”

Surtur clenched his teeth, his grip on his sword tightening “For now, princeling” He whistled loudly, nodding his head for something “Until then, your presence is no longer welcome”

Turning his head behind him, Thor could see a giant fire dragon, whose chains were being broken by its sheer force and strength. He groaned to himself softly “Oh crud...”

As he began to turn Mjölnir in his hand, the dragon escaped and tailed behind him. His exit made a small hole in the ceiling, which to be frank, he did not care for at the moment. What he did care for, was returning to Asgard. Lifting his hammer into the air, he awaited the Bifrost to carry him away, back home.

Nothing.

“Skurge?” Thor asked to the sky. Again, there was nothing “Skurge! Norns above, where are you?”

Before he could continue, however, the dragon erupted from the ground, roaring at Thor. He jumped into the sky, flying the opposite direction of the creature. It followed him quickly and Thor parked himself into its mouth. Dropping Mjölnir on its jaw, the dragon fell down and crashed onto the surface. Thor looked up once more, shaking his head.

“Come on, Skurge, you pig-head” He muttered. The dragon struggled under the hammers hold, clearly annoyed. Thor has the same feeling as he let out an ‘ugh’ sound, one that his mother would definitely see unbefitting of a prince. He furrowed his eyebrows and walked in place all irritated.

“I swear to all Valhalla, I am going to chuck that halfwitted dullard straight into Hel!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Such a shame Heimdall has abandoned Asgard” The new watchman Skurge said “He’s left his post and wandered off into the Nine Realms all by himself. But do not fear” he looked over to two Asgardian women, who were listening to his words “For in Heimdall’s place the great Odin has hired me, Skurge, the legendary Executioner, to see over the Bifrost”

The women giggled to themselves as Skurge flexed with the staff used to power the Bifrost. However, they stopped abruptly when they saw that the Bifrost was lighting up, their prince’s voice sounding through it.

“Uh, Skurge?” One of them said, looking over to the man. He was currently busy turning the staff in his hand, which he then dropped (not surprisingly) “Is that important?” She continued. Skurge’s eyes widened as he heard Thor’s voice. Quickly, he tightened his grip on the staff and inserted it into the structures main frame.

“You girls are in for a treat”

A loud noise spurred as the Bifrost activated. Thor was carried away alongside the dragon. It roared in his direction, but it stopped in its tracks as the beam moved them faster.

With the portal open, Thor jumped out, as the dragons head was chopped clean off. Goo splattered everywhere, including on Skurge and the two women. The head stopped in front of the women and they looked in horror. They both shrieked in disgust, immediately running off to probably wash off. Skurge hurried after them, trying to convince them to stay, but they didn’t listen, instead running ever faster and farther.

“Well, look who decided to show up” he said annoyedly “Out of all the creatures in the Nine Realms, you just had to bring a dragon into Asgard and drench one of the most scared places in muck. And now my companies run off”

“Don’t try to scold me, Skurge” Thor jumped in “Just because my father has made you watchman in place of Heimdall does not mean you’ve earned my respect”

Skurge simply rolled his eyes “Better me than just leaving the Bifrost unoccupied. And I’m a warrior, not some watchman” He threw the staff midair and caught it in his hand “My victory against the Storm Giants is still spread by the people. And all who hear shall know the name-“

“-Executioner” Thor interrupted “Yes, oh how you love to remind everyone”

“Speaking of your father,” Skurge began ”He’s been expecting you since you’ve been gone for practically half a year. Said it is of the upmost importance and that I inform you upon your arrival”

With that, Thor muttered an “alright” and spun Mjölnir with his hand, flying in the direction of the golden palace to meet with his father, all the while leaving Skurge alone to man the Bifrost by himself yet again.

[bladesofkyber]

God of War: Ragnarök

Defend Your Valor Defend Your Man

[wordsandrobots]

Oh hey you're playing one of those ask games! I haven't seen them on my dash in so long. 3, 4, 17, and ..uhhh.. 23? ( the one about a super specific thing about a character that hasn't made its way into any story) Thanks ~

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

Because at some point, inevitably, it will involve going for a walk.

I do a lot of composing in my head before I start writing, especially for dialogue. And I think best on the move (which is why it wasn't great for me to switch to working from home due to COVID but that's another story). Therefore, it helps to take the occasional break and go wander about somewhere. Especially if I've hit a block and can't think what to do next.

Which is why I can occasionally be found on the bridal path near my house, having muttered conversations with myself as I try to work out pieces of a story. Because I do often literally say my character's dialogue aloud to get the feel of it, it's the best way to make sure speech sounds like something somebody would or can actually say.

Luckily, I live in a university town so I probably don't look especially unusual.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

I can't think of any off the top of my head, possibly because I put much more thought into the overall texture of a text than I do the individual words. Figuring out what sounds right for the particular character I'm writing and so on. I don't tend to have favourites, though I undoubtedly have habitual phrases.

And I don't think there are any words I hate per se (beyond ones that are in obvious bad taste). It just depends on context. That said, I've always thought 'ineluctable' sounds weird.

[Edit: I just realised another possible answer to this which is less a single word and more a class of word, namely British swear words and specifically the bit that makes me spit blood is when they get used *wrongly* in media. There is a specific cadence to swearing and it is really noticeable when writers don't understand what it is for the place they're setting something. This is obviously a general issue with writing about difference places; I just get the visceral 'that's not how it works' when people muck up UK-style profanity.]

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

The title (Ragnarök in G Minor) -- as well as being a blatant Reconguista in G reference -- is influenced by Mozart's use of G minor to convey tragedy and Bach's 'Polonase in G Minor', which is my hypothetical leitmotif for a particular character. That is to say, I thought of the blatant reference first, then discovered it was extremely justified in context.

Goibniu Base (where much of To Catch a Falling Star was set) is the same Calamity War facility shown briefly at the start of History of a Catastrophe. This can be 'seen' in one of the chapters in this next one but I don't state it outright.

'High-Horn Sweepers' was not so much a reference as me hurriedly grabbing words that approximated the form of a company name. It nevertheless functions as a composite Gundam Wing call-back and joke about what the company does.

The politics of the Martian Union, particularly the influence of the moneyed classes and those previously in positions of power under Gjallarhorn, assays some of the broad strokes of Indian history. I know far too little about the subject to make it a direct parallel (and wouldn't anyway) but that's where my mind went in thinking through how independence worked.

The Jupiter Stations are considerably larger than standard space colonies, having been upgraded and expanded with Jupiter's role as a producer and exporter of industrial raw materials. But I'm still not quite sure what they look like.

I considered describing 598 as having grown a beard, to go with picturing him growing up to look like he belongs in the Hells Angels. Alas, I wussed out.

Kudelia and Atra's marriage is long-distance for about three weeks out of every four. They manage time together via a Rube Goldberg sequence of misdirections that allow Kudelia to visit the farm unremarked and give Eugene's security team a massive work-out in the process. This is not because their marriage is a secret; it's because they refuse to put Akatsuki in the public eye. That kid is getting as near to a normal upbringing as is possible, damnit.

Martian Union military vessels all have two-part names e.g. Dawn Chorus, Bright Heart, Ice Flower. That's an actual in-universe convention and any others I introduced would follow it.

Colour-wise, Martian military mobile suits are desert camo red for ground deployment and orange for space deployment. They comprise a mix of Shidens and Hekijas supplied by Teiwaz and newer Leopards bought from Gjallarhorn. They probably have some Hloekk Grazes too but that's not come up.

There are two things I regret not finding a way to bring back as I wrap everything up: Gundam Paimon and the stun-baton Chad filched during The Ares Affair. Seriously, whatever happened to that thing?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

My version of Shino is, left to his own devices, vegetarian.

He doesn't have Yamagi's moral objection/disgust over eating meat (side-note: I love how that scene in ep. 27 implies Mikazuki dislikes the idea of eating meat from a living creature too, because that is such a beautiful character note). However, with the positioning of meat as a luxury in the Iron-Blooded Orphans setting, Shino sees it as strange and unusual and he's never found a version of it he genuinely likes. This is, of course, not especially unusual among Tekkadan. He *is* open to new culinary experiences but he's generally just more at home with vegetable dishes.

The only time this has been even remotely relevant is when he ordered the breakfast fry-up at Sampo's caf on Avalanche Under Two.

For an ask game

[samieree]

Goddess of Muspelheim || GOW Ragnarök

Heimdall x OC

-> Chapter 5

*Chapter 6 || Friends?*

It should be explained that Amaris felt most betrayed by Heimdall in her life. After all, by the end of her stay in Asgard, they were getting along really well. Of course, there were still snide remarks, but... in a friendlier way.

Anyway, even people from the outside noticed that they were such "gossip besties". Besides, despite appearances, Amaris learned a few things from Heimdall, such as those related to combat. Of course, she had to fend for herself with her fire-related abilities, but controlling them wasn't a problem away from her home world.

But to sum it up: They bonded. They really got used to each other's presence almost every day.

Even Heimdall himself had to admit that it was nice to have someone he could talk to freely, someone who said what he thought.

They sat at the tavern that day, Heimdall reading a book, and Amaris kept looking over his shoulder and reading with him, though she didn't like the content much, and she never liked philosophical gibberish anyway. Funny, she's been told she'll like this stuff when she grows up - and here she is, she's practically an adult and still doesn't understand it. Or does everyone mean a few hundred years old by growing up, not eighteen?

Her gaze wandered over to some two men who were standing in the corner on the other side of the tavern, glancing in their direction from time to time.

"Are they dishing us?" She asked, moving a little closer to Heimdall.

"Of course." He replied, turning a page in his book.

"Can I beat them up?" She asked another question, not taking her eyes off the two men.

"Have fun." He said, still busy with the book.

In fact, that was quite often the case. Amaris was going to fight some people, often causing a fight throughout the tavern, and Heimdall... He was sitting in the middle of it all, reading a book. Every now and then he would bend down when the bench passed overhead, or he would put his feet on the bench he was sitting on so as not to disturb the fighting men.

Of course, he occasionally peeked to see if Amaris hadn't accidentally gotten herself killed. Usually he didn't have to intervene, and they sat there until the girl got bored or Heimdall finished reading.

This time it was the latter possibility.

"We're leaving, kid!" He shouted, before getting up from his seat and dodging the combatants, heading for the exit. Amaris joined him after a while, running across the tables that were still in place.

After such an exciting first part of the day, they spent the second one on the wall. Amaris sat on its edge, staring down and lost in her own thoughts, while Heimdall strolled past, traditionally eating an apple.

"Do you think my parents even care about me?" The girl asked unexpectedly. This time she really surprised him, because he wasn't reading her thoughts at the moment, he was busy thinking about his own life.

"Why wouldn't they?" He answered by asking the question, continuing to walk along the edge of the wall, but this time towards her.

"They left their only child in the care of 'strangers' for almost four years. I have never been home during this time. I'm not complaining, I'm enjoying my life here, but..."

"You feel unwanted and rejected?" He finished for her before tossing the apple core somewhere over the wall, beyond the city limits. He didn't even have to read her mind to figure it out. In a way... He understood her. Understood her pretty much.

"Yes... And... You can laugh, but... Really, do they even like me?" She still didn't look at him, even when she heard him sit down next to her and stare at her intently.

She has changed a lot since she came here. Okay, she was still an annoying kid sometimes, but she'd surprisingly gained some brains in addition to her height.

Of course, part of that was due to his interesting stories, yes.

"Sometimes you can't understand your parents. You care about what they think about you, and they seem to give absolutely no care what you think about them." He replied, shrugging his shoulders. It's no secret that he spoke from experience.

After all, it is known how he always wanted his father's approval, and he never got much of it. In fact, sometimes he compared himself to Amaris, and actually... The first time he did it, was the time that his attitude towards her began to change. He stopped being mean only because it became a kind of defence mechanism for him against the evil world and lying people.

And then he saw a girl in a family situation similar to his, and it fell to him to take care of her here. It was a bit like a slap in the face from fate, he himself wasn't very well brought up, and he practically got to raise a person with similar feelings and experiences as him.

"You speak from experience?" She asked, finally looking up at his mesmerizing violet eyes.

For the first time, she had the feeling that he was speaking to her completely seriously. He wasn't mean to her, they didn't exchange gossip and biting remarks, they just talked seriously. For those few, maybe a dozen or so minutes, she felt as if she had an older brother or friend in him.

He trusted her.

"Yes." He admitted, though the word was heavy in his throat. "You'll always care about them because they're your immediate family, but don't let them define your life. After all, they don't define you, you are your own being."

It's kind of ironic that he was the one giving this advice that he didn't follow himself. He was afraid of his father, and he had to admit it even to himself. You could say that he allowed him to get into his head and now he couldn't handle it. Perhaps he would do something about it if he saw any alternative, another life, a way out of the situation.

And if he wasn't overwhelmed by other people's thoughts at times. Maybe then - and if his destiny wasn't so closely tied to Asgard - he would have found a place to live somewhere else, escaped his father's eternally appraising gaze. Escape his sometimes nasty thoughts, which he never mentioned aloud and tried to push out of his memory as quickly as possible.

Who knows, maybe in the future there will be a way, an opportunity to change his life? Perhaps he will find enough trust in himself to confide everything to his young friend?

And maybe she will change his life to better in the future?

-> Next chapter -> general masterlist -> God of War: Ragnarök masterlist

~Author's note~

Okay, but I love them and their little friendship before everything went wrong 💔 Probably one of the last/the last chapter from the past, unless you would like to know some other aspect of their relationship from those times 😊

Tags: @violet2507 @zoleea-exultant @dijanur

[saieras]

A Song of Marvel and Vengeance

Summary:

In a cataclysmic event termed 'Ragnarök', the almighty Valyrian Freehold has fallen. Two decades of chaos ensued as city states vie for control, while the self-crowned High Queen Hela, the Lady of Death, searches far and wide for her two renegade brothers...

Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea, Westeros was the same as it had always been: Divided.

King Antony Eddard Stark, the Iron Wolf, rules over the North, locked in a generations-old conflict with the River Kings of Hydrahal. After a hunting trip gone wrong, the King meets an unlikely savior in the forest, a masked child-like figure with a crude spider drawn on his tunic...

In the Vale, Prince Samwell Arryn, the Falcon of the Eyrie, sets out with his loyal friend, Ser Stefon Rodgers, to find their friend and companion, Ser Jaymes Barnes, who'd reportedly gone missing somewhere near Hydrahal...

On the Wall, there are more worrying news. Before she went missing, the legendary First Ranger, Lady Carol the Marvelous, had sent back alarming ravens regarding whispered rumors of a Night King. Lord Commander Nic Durrandon the Furious fears that this might be the Long Night that was once prophecied...

Genre: Crossover

Rating: T

Basically the MCU set in the world of ASOIAF... before the events of the books. This is a pet project so I won’t be updating frequently, but I do have a whole world planned out!

CHAPTER 1: ANTONY

The hoof falls were soft against the powdered snow.

They were both breathing fast, man and beast, white mist coming out in puffs before them, and by rights the sound should have been deafening in the silence. But here, in the Wolfswood where the First Men roamed and the Children of the Forest once made home, the gnarly branches and needle leaves had a way of swallowing all things foreign.

And that they were — amongst the sentinel trees ancient and immovable, guardians of ages past, it didn’t matter what titles one held — one was foreign.

Looking up, the sun struggled to pierce the snow-studded leaves, a wan and pitiable thing. It was afternoon, soon to be supper time — daylight for a few more hours, thank the gods — but the Wolfswood stretched for hundreds of miles, millions of acres of untouched primal darkness, and there was no saying where exactly they were.

Not for the first time that day, King Antony Eddard Stark wrapped his furs a little tighter around his shoulders and cursed himself for going along with this abominable plan.

“I hope you are very satisfied, Rhodey,” he muttered crossly as he took another futile look around. He imagined his best friend and Master-at-Arms, calling out his name in the shadowed woods, searching for him with the rest of the hunting party. For a moment it almost amused him to think how frantic everyone would be right about now, until he remembered the small size of the hunting party. He would be fortunate if they managed to cover beyond a fewscore acres by nightfall, which made the likelihood of rescue rather slim.

It had been a spectacular stroke of bad luck, really. Bad luck, the stag, the thrice-damned boar… plus the small inconvenience of Antony’s aversion to horses. Dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle, he’d always said.

Oh, he could ride them for some boring ceremonial purpose well enough, as his duties required of him; but that was atop a tame mare, on the paved paths of Winterfell, with nothing and no one daring to block his way. A spirited stallion that’d just been spooked by a boar, trudging over the tangled undergrowth, every branch or weed or bits of rock seemingly conspiring against them… that was another matter entirely.

Antony, or Tony as he was known to those close to him, had never been very… Stark. Of course he had the same dark hair, dark eyes, and stocky build of his ancestors before him, but altogether he was too soft, too quick to laugh, too eccentric. He had always preferred mechanical things and metalwork to swordplay or target practice, for one thing, and for another he was an inquisitive and avid reader, having gone through the entire library tower by the age of fifteen. He despised hunting or hawking, and preferred to spend his days relaxing amongst finer, more southron comforts — wine and women, mostly. Lord Stane had always joked that he reeked of summer — not a compliment for the heir of a family whose very words warned of winter.

Tony’s mouth pursed into a hard line. Lord Obadiah Stane, the Lord of the Dreadfort; his father’s most trusted bannerman and the sire of his future wife… if the man hadn’t tried to murder him within the halls of his hearth, committing sacrilege under the eyes of the Old Gods. He would have succeeded, too, but for a fortuitous stroke of luck and Winterfell’s head housekeeper, one Virginia Potts. Before Tony could dispense the King’s justice, however, Stane had slain his daughter — Tony’ betrothed — then stabbed himself through the heart.

Poor Valorie. She had done no wrong.

Read more on AO3/FFN!

[philosopherking1887]

Chapter preview, sponsored by United fucking Airlines

United, in classic form, fucked up my itinerary with plane repairs so that I had to rebook on a redeye 12 hours later than my original flight. So I’ve been taking advantage of my unexpected layover by drinking and writing fanfiction. I’ve written 3500 words of the next chapter of The Abyss Gazes Also. I hope to at least make it to Stuttgart in this chapter, but I keep getting bogged down in logistical details. And food. Probably shouldn’t write while hungry.

Tagging some people who have been reading: @angrymadsygin, @darklittlestories, @fuckyeahrichardiii, @iamhisgloriouspurpose, @ikoliholic, @illwynd, @lunariagold, @mastreworld, @nursejoh53, @pinknoonicorn, @raven-brings-light, @starrynightfantasies. Let me know if you do or don’t want to be tagged on updates and/or previews.

When I slept, I dreamed. It seemed that those days I could not sleep for any length of time without being beset by anxious, unsettling dreams that left me feeling scarcely more rested when I awoke than when I had gone to sleep.

This dream began with the feeling of eyes upon me. Whose eyes, I was not sure: Thanos’s, perhaps, glittering and cruel; perhaps Heimdall’s impassive golden gaze; the piercing steel-blue stare of Odin’s eye from the high seat of Hliðskjalf; or maybe it was the starless abyss in the eyes of Death herself that I felt watching me.

When I became aware of more than that, I was walking the golden halls of Asgard’s palace. They were deserted, and I knew with the certainty one only has in dreams that everyone was dead. I looked out between the great golden columns and saw neither the mountains that rise up behind the great city nor the sea that stretches out before it, but the lifeless black surface of Sanctuary, scarred with craters and overshadowed by great twisting spires of stone. I came to the massive doors of the throne room and stopped, suddenly paralyzed with fear. I did not know whom I would find upon the throne if I entered—Odin? Thanos? his Lady Death?—but I was terrified to face any of them.

Unexpectedly—for I had thought everyone was dead?—I saw Thor striding toward me, in full gleaming armor with his blood-red cloak flowing from his shoulders and Mjölnir at the ready. Fury sparked like lightning in his eyes. “Loki, what have you done?” he growled as he approached me.

I wanted to answer, but my jaws seemed to be sealed shut; I wanted to flee, but my feet seemed rooted to the ground. Thor kept coming, incandescent with his righteous anger. “Look what you have brought down upon us!” he shouted, and gestured behind him.

There had been nothing there—the halls had been empty—but now they were lined with the dead. On one side of the hallway, all the people—soldiers, nobles, servants, townspeople; men, women, and children alike—were frozen under a sheet of ice, their skin tinged blue, their eyes open in terror. On the other side, the bodies were charred beyond recognition, the metal of their armor and even their bones melted into strange twisted shapes, a grotesque echo of the spires of stone outside.

I did not do this, it was not me, I wanted to protest, but with a sudden stab of guilt I knew that I would be lying. “You have brought Ragnarök upon us, you have brought the end of all the worlds, as it was foretold,” Thor continued, half a reproach and half a lament.

I stood frozen in horror as Thor came ever closer. I expected him to raise Mjölnir and crush my skull with it, but instead he dropped the hammer and gripped my shoulder with his right hand, while with his left he drew a hidden dagger and plunged it into my side. “Look what you have done,” he growled, his fingers digging into my shoulder until their grip was as sharp and painful as the knife…

Whether it was the pain that woke me, or the sound of Barton’s knock, or the light from the hallway as he opened the door, I am not sure. “It’s been six hours, boss,” he said quietly, even gently. I felt myself being fathered again, and for some reason it irritated me. Perhaps it was because of the pain I had newly become aware of again: during the brief confrontation in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s vault, bullets had lodged in my shoulder, my arm, and my side—not deeply, of course, but enough under the skin to be annoying and painful. I had stopped feeling them amid the danger and anxiety of the previous night, but as I slept they had edged back into my consciousness.

“Thank you, Barton,” I said shortly. “Is there a healing room—an infirmary somewhere?” I wanted to extract the bullets carefully and clean the wounds before I sealed them with seiðr.

“Of course, and I’ll show you to it,” he replied, solicitous as ever. “Are you hurt? There’s a medic who can get you patched up.”

“No,” I said sharply—more sharply than I had intended; Barton seemed startled by my vehemence. As much as Midgardian medicine has improved in the last century, I did not trust some strange human bungler to know how to deal with Aesir flesh and blood. “No, I’d rather handle it myself,” I added more temperately.

“As you wish,” he said, though concern still lingered in his eerily blue eyes. “Come with me.”