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faveficarchive · 5 years

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I, Conqueror: Part 2

By SwordnQuil

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: The best Conqueror tale I’ve ever read, this story follows a similar line to Remember Nothing (No violence alt-universe Xena). Gabrielle wakes up to find herself in a universe where Xena has conquered Greece, Callisto is her right-hand, and the world trembles at her feet. Can she set to rights this world turned upside-down?

Karreleus sidestepped a massive swing from Potus’ blade, then came back with one of his own, narrowly missing the other man’s head with the tip of his sword. "Come on, you sissy. My mother fights better than you do!"

Breathing heavily, the young man adjusted his grip on the sweat-slick hilt of his sword, trying to ready himself for another attack. "I’m trying, Karreleus! I told you I was a farmer!"

"You’re a soldier now, boy. And you’d better start acting like one before the Conqueror herself lops off your head for ya."

Paling, Potus gulped, then nodded, his dark eyes determined. "I’m ready."

"Yer not holdin’ a plow, fer Zeus’ sake! Stand with your feet further apart. Like this!" The old campaigner demonstrated and Potus mimicked his stance.

"Better?"

"Not by much, it ain’t. Alright now, hold up yer blade like that. Steady. Ready? Here it comes."

Potus’ eyes widened in shock as he managed to deflect the blow. A slow grin covered his face. Unfortunately, his amazement blinded him to the fact that the sword was returning for a repeat performance.

His own sword flying from his hand, the young man felt the bite of steel as it sliced through his armor and deep into his chest. Looking at Karreleus in dumb amazement, Potus fell to his knees, then pitched forward onto the ground.

"Aw fer the love of Zeus. Get up, boy!" The older man toed Potus over onto his back, then winced as his blood bloomed from the gaping wound in his flesh. "Damn me to Tartarus. Potus, what’d you go and do a thing like that for?"

"I..."

Gabrielle, who’d caught the very end of the exercise from her place behind a conveniently placed bolder, chose that moment to step into the spotlight, running over to the downed man and clamping her hand over the rent in his flesh.

"Get back with the other cooks, woman!" Karreleus shouted, trying to drag the determined bard away. "This man needs a healer, not a nursemaid."

"I am a healer," Gabrielle replied, "and this man is going to die if we can’t stop the bleeding right now."

"But..."

Another soldier, drawn by the commotion, wandered onto the scene, his hands full of half-repaired armor. Reaching up, Gabrielle plucked the needle and gut from his hand, mumbling a quick ‘thank you’ to the stunned man. Then she looked back up at Karreleus. "Do you have any alcohol?"

The older man concentrated on moving his slack jaw. "We...the Conqueror don’t let us keep none here," he said, finally.

"I got some right here, honey," a third soldier chimed in, removing a dirty flask from his leathers.

"You’re gonna get yer head taken off for that one, Pentres."

"What the Conqueror don’t know won’t hurt her none, Karreleus. Hey, sweetie pie, how’s about you an’ me sharin’ a belt behind the supply tent?" he asked, waving the flask in what he thought was a seductive manner.

"Another time, perhaps," the bard replied, swiping the flask from his dirty fingers. She looked down at her wide-eyed patient. "This is going to hurt a bit, Potus."

"Are...are you an angel?"

Gabrielle grinned. "No. Just a friend. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and this will be over before you know it, alright?"

The young man nodded, worship evident in his eyes.

The bard cum healer colored slightly, then uncapped the flask and poured a liberal dose directly over the hemorrhaging cut.

Potus screamed, then passed out.

"Makes my job easier," she said unnecessarily. Reaching into her bag, she brought out a clean cloth that she and Xena used for bandages and dabbed at the wound, cleaning the worst of the blood off. "It’s not as bad as it looks. A few stitches and he’ll have a nice scar to brag about to his friends."

The soldiers looked on in amazement as Gabrielle deftly repaired the gaping wound, her stitches tiny and precise. Smiling in satisfaction, the bard leaned back on her heels, wiping her bloody hands on the rag. Then she looked up at the soldiers crowding around her. "If you boys would be good enough to point me in the direction of your healing tent, we can get this man into a decent bed and bandaged up properly." She flashed them all her most charming smile.

And found herself suddenly surrounded by almost half a camp of eager volunteers.

Oh, Xena, if you could see me now.

*******

The Conqueror, up before the dawn, was seated at her map table and pouring over battle plans when a knock sounded at the door to her chambers.

A nod to her interior guard, and the door was opened. Another soldier stepped across the threshold, bowing deeply. "Callisto asks an audience with you, Majesty."

Leaning against the back of her chair, Xena rubbed the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Show her in."

The guard bowed again. "As you wish, Majesty."

He disappeared for a moment, then reappeared, a coyly grinning Callisto in tow.

"Good morning, my sweet!" Callisto cried out in her typical singsong voice. "And such a glorious morning it is, wouldn’t you agree?"

Xena eyed her Second briefly before returning her attention to the map on the table. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed both guards, who bowed and exited the room silently.

Callisto closed the final distance between them, parking one hip on the corner of the large table and pulling Xena’s dagger from its place within the heart of Rome. She pouted, staring into the Conqueror’s glossy black hair. "Looks like someone had a very boring night last night."

Xena glanced up again. "Looks like you more than made up for that."

Callisto stretched, cat-like, proudly displaying the myriad of tiny bruises that dotted her shoulders, neck and upper chest. "I like to think of it as a sacred duty, my love. After all, someone needs to have fun here. And since it obviously isn’t going to be you..." Flipping the dagger in her hand, she proceeded to clean her short nails with it.

Xena returned to her study of the battle plans.

Seeing that the Conqueror wasn’t rising to the bait, Callisto sighed, and, coming to her feet, walked over to the window, staring out over the fields of soldiers beginning a new day. She turned back to the woman who was singularly uninterested in the sight. "Oh come on, Xena! It’s such a beautiful day! The sun is shining..." Trailing off, she cocked her head. "You do remember what the ‘sun’ is, don’t you, darling? It’s that big yellow thing that hangs in the sky and makes us sweat?"

Xena shot Callisto another withering look. "I assume you have a reason for interrupting my work?"

Callisto snorted, flipping the knife casually in her hand. "If you can call looking over the same boring plans for the thousandth time work."

"I can."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"You tell me."

With an overly dramatic sigh, Callisto returned to the desk, perching her hip once again upon one corner. "You need to get out more," she comment in a mock-serious tone, tracing one of the map’s lines with the point of her procured dagger. "And I know just the thing!"

"And that would be," Xena drawled, batting the knife’s edge away with the side of her hand.

"A surprise inspection!" the blonde cried out gleefully. "I think the troops are getting a little lax."

Without raising her head, Xena’s eyes lanced through her second in command. "And the fault for that would lie..."

Callisto pouted. "Just a figure of speech, my darling. I’m sure they’re up and ready to do your bidding at a second’s notice. But it would do the men so much good to see their gallant leader striding among them, poised for action." She cocked her head, staring into the icy blue eyes while twirling the point of the knife around on her finger. "Wouldn’t do for them to start thinking you’ve lost it, now would it."

The blonde’s insides curled as a dark smile bloomed upon the Conqueror’s lips. Before she could even think to move, Callisto was relieved of her knife and caught up in a neck hold, her back pressed against the hard body and soft breasts of her captor.

"Lost it, huh?" Xena purred into Callisto’s ear. "Does it feel like I’ve ‘lost it’ to you?"

Near to dizzy from the scent and feel of the Conqueror’s essence surrounding her, Callisto’s usual assortment of biting quips dried up in her mouth. She swallowed, determined to show the taller woman none of the fear and desire she was feeling from her suddenly changed, and charged, circumstances.

"I asked you a question, Callisto."

And if I could remember just what it was, I’d be sure to answer you, my sweet.

"Don’t think for a second that I’m so enamored of your ‘service’ to me that I would hesitate to snap your pretty little neck, Callisto. You live only because I allow it. You breathe because it pleases me. You’d do well to remember that."

Callisto kept even her thoughts deliberately silent, lest the Conqueror divine their meaning simply from breathing in her very air.

"So tell me, Callisto," Xena said conversationally, tightening her grip a fraction before releasing her captive and flinging her the length of the room, then flinging her dagger so it pierced the wooden door just a hair above the blonde’s head, "are we having fun yet?"

From her place on the floor, Callisto shot the Conqueror a look filled with murderous venom.

Xena threw back her head and laughed, then turned to the room’s other door. "Ling Li! Niamey!"

The two body servants came into the room quickly, kneeling at the foot of the Conqueror. "Yes, Majesty?"

"Prepare my leathers and armor." She looked back at Callisto, white teeth glinting in the torchlight. "I have an army to inspect."

*******

With twin grunts, two soldiers heaved Potus’ unconscious body onto the crude cot which stood within the confines of the healer’s tent, then wiped their blood-stained hands off on the legs of their pants.

A tall, slat-thin man with Asian features and long gray hair tied back in a braid that reached well past his waist, stepped up to the bed, peering down at the injured boy. "Who is responsible for this?"

Karreleus stepped forward. "He forgot to hold his guard and I cut him. ‘Twasn’t meant."

"And the repair?"

Clearing her throat, Gabrielle stepped forward. "Um...that would be me."

The tall man looked from the young woman, down to the boy, then back again. He smiled slightly. "Very impressive. Where did you learn the skill?"

"A...friend...taught me."

"Then you are well blessed to have such knowledgeable friends. The Conqueror would have use for you both in her service."

Gabrielle rubbed at the back of her neck, thinking quickly,. "Um...well, my friend...she’s not from around here."

Dark eyes looked, not so trustingly, down upon her. "Pity. The more soldiers that land upon our shores, the more we few healers are stretched thin among them."

"I’d be happy to help. If you think you could use me, that is."

The man’s distrust became more apparent. "It is rare for a woman to know of the healing arts. More rare, still, for her to be a part of an army. Is there something you are hiding? Are you an escaped slave?"

He grabbed her arms, looking for caste-brands, and Gabrielle allowed the examination, determined to give the man no reason to mistrust her. "No," she assured him. "I’m not...from around here either." She thought more quickly still. A place sprang into mind. "I’m from an island north of Gaul. Britannia. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?" She hoped not. The name came to her from a brief discussion she and Xena had shared one evening. If he started asking questions, she was lost.

The man smiled slightly. "That explains your coloring. Though you speak the Greek tongue like a native."

Gabrielle smiled. "Yeah, well I’ve had years of practice."

After a long moment, the healer nodded, releasing her arm. "Then you are welcomed. I am Tao Feng, Chief Healer in the Conqueror’s army. And you are?"

For a long moment, the bard considered compounding her lies. But then she realized that trust would be poorly gained upon such a formidable untruth. Callisto was bound to find about her sooner or later, anyway. She sighed without really appearing to. "I’m Gabrielle. Pleased to meet you, Tao Feng."

The healer bowed. "The pleasure is mine, Gabrielle." He looked back down at the young boy just brought in. "You stitch with the skill of a Master. Do you also know of herbs and proper wound care techniques?"

The bard’s grin widened. "Yeah. You could say I’ve done it a time or two in my life."

Tao Feng made a careful inspection of the young woman’s body, noting the obvious muscularity and the athletic way she carried herself. A suspicion began to bloom in his brain, but he quashed it ruthlessly. "Have you been in a lot of battles?" he asked instead.

Gabrielle nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A few, yes. My friend...she was a warrior. I spent a good deal of time sewing her up after one fight or another."

"Where is your friend now?"

"She’s..she...died." The truth of that statement hit her, causing tears to once again prick at her eyes. She looked down at the ground, trying to keep the misery from overwhelming her. I miss you, Xena.

The healer laid a compassionate hand on her wrist. "I am sorry for your loss. It sounds like your friend meant a great deal to you."

"She meant everything to me."

Looking into the startling vehemence present in the deep green eyes, Tao Feng could do nothing but nod.

Wanting—needing—to break the tension, Gabrielle looked around the room at the six other men who claimed the cots. "Can you tell me about these men?"

Smiling slightly, Tao Feng gestured to the cots. "Minor injuries, for the most part. I’ve given them sedatives to speed the healing process. All except for this one." Walking over to the largest man in the tent, the healer pulled back the fur covering, exposing a leg very near to being gangrenous. "He broke it falling from a horse. I’ve tried very hard to save the leg, but it doesn’t look like I am going to be able to. Still, I shall keep trying until all hope is lost."

"That’s very admirable."

"And very foolhardy," Tao Feng said, putting the blanket back over the discolored and swollen leg. "For an army healer. But I was trained in the court of Lao Ma, and so can do no less."

Gabrielle cocked her head. "Lao Ma?"

"A very great and wise woman. A mentor, of sorts, to the Conqueror. Or at least she was, at one time. She now rules Chin under the Conqueror’s guidance. It seems the teacher has become the student once again."

"Excuse me for saying so, Tao Feng, but this Lao Ma doesn’t sound like a very great or wise woman if she allows someone like the Conqueror to rule her country, especially from so far away."

Tao Feng held a finger over his own lips. "Words like those are best kept within the safety of your thoughts, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle blanched, realizing, too late, the gravity of her error. Her eyes swept the tent, picturing listening ears and wagging tongues. "Forgive me. I meant no offense."

After a long moment, Tao Feng winked. "No apologies necessary. As for your comment regarding Lao Ma’s wisdom...it is said that there is more than one way to tame a wild beast."

The bard looked back at him, her eyes sorrowful and deadly serious. "And what if the beast is too strong to be tamed?"

The healer’s return glance was one filled with compassion. "Then you must suffer the lesser of two evils. Let it free to do as it wills, or sacrifice it for the good of the masses."

Gabrielle’s eyes lowered to the floor, her heart heavy. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"It is not the time to speak of such things, Gabrielle. Taming beasts is a job best left to those with wisdom greater than ours. Let us instead concentrate on our own small parts to play in this drama, yes?"

When the bard finally nodded, Tao Feng smiled. "You are a strong one. I can sense that." He turned. "Bandages are in this basket. Herbs are there. Other supplies over there. I shall entrust these men into your tender care. If you have need of anything at all, ask the nearest soldier to fetch me."

"I...can do that. Thank you, Tao Feng."

The older man bowed deeply. "Thank you, Gabrielle."

With a final smile, he ducked out of the tent.

Then he ducked back in again, his seamed face tense. "The Conqueror comes. We must wake the men."

"What?"

"She comes. The men must be awakened and sent back to their units. Quickly. We have very little time." Tao Feng started toward the nearest injured soldier.

"Wait. These men are injured. Why must we wake them up? What’s going on?"

Suppressing a sigh, the healer turned to face Gabrielle. "If these men are found within this tent, they will be executed. The Conqueror has no use for injured soldiers in her army. If they cannot fight, they will die."

"But that’s..." Gabrielle’s voice trailed off as she remembered. Remembered her own encounter with a Xena changed by the threat of the Horde against an Athenian outpost. Remembered Xena’s own orders to withhold food and water from the most injured of the men. Remembered her further orders to get those able to fight out of bed and back to their posts.

This is war, Gabrielle. What were you expecting? Glamour?

There are no good choices, only lesser degrees of evil.

What are we gonna do, Xena?

Do? We’re gonna kill ‘em all!

You know hatred, but you’ve never given into it. You don’t know how much I love...that.

"Oh, Xena," she whispered, eyes bright with tears, "who’s there to stop you this time?"

Tao Feng straightened, then looked at the young woman curiously. "Excuse me?"

Gabrielle flushed. "It’s...nothing." She breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. "Tell me what to do."

Reaching into one of the sacks, Tao Feng came up with several herb bundles, which he proceeded to break apart, crush between his fingers, and place in a large bowl. Then he added a generous amount of water from one skin, stirring the concoction thoroughly.

"What’s that?" Gabrielle asked, face screwed in reaction to the bitter scent of the brew.

"A mixture of pain killers and stimulants. Normally, a dangerous combination. But I fear we have very little choice at the moment. Wake the men and feed it to them. I will call in some soldiers to escort their fellows back to the lines. Then I must make my way to the other tents in the camp. Can you handle this alone?"

After a moment, the bard accepted the bowl, nodding. "It’s not something I’d prefer to be doing, but if there isn’t any alternative..."

"There is none. As I have said, either they leave this tent, or they die."

"Then I’ll do what needs to be done."

Tao Feng smiled. "Your friend was very wise for putting her trust in you, Gabrielle of Britannia. Good luck to you." With a final bow, he was gone from the tent.

Sighing and tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, Gabrielle went to wake the first of the men.

*******

The Conqueror sat erect upon her chestnut stallion looking every inch the leader she was, her black hair and deep purple cape blowing loose in the fitful gusts of wind. Callisto rode off to her left and Marcus, with three of the Royal Guard in tow, trailed them both on the right.

The Commander of her army, Dagnine, trotted up to the group, his weapons and armor hastily donned. He saluted her with a clenched fist to his chest. "Majesty!"

She nodded slightly. "Dagnine."

Perplexed with the sudden and unexpected company, the General looked at the others in the group. Receiving no answers, save for a truly evil smile on the lips of Callisto, he looked back at the Conqueror. "How may I assist you today, Majesty?"

Xena merely looked at him.

Dagnine looked back, resisting the urge to fidget.

Callisto, under no such constraints, finally leaned forward in her saddle. "The Conqueror wants to inspect her troops, you moron. Did you think she just felt like taking a stroll along the grounds?"

"Oh. Ohhhhhhh. The troops! Of course!"

"A few blocks short of a castle, isn’t he," Callisto said, sotto voce. "Poor darling."

Shooting Callisto a glare, Dagnine wheeled his horse around and started back toward the massive army standing before him.

The Conqueror kneed her horse into a quick canter and soon passed the hapless General with hardly a glance. Callisto had been after her for years to replace Dagnine. Xena suspected it was because he couldn’t be bought. The Conqueror had in her possession the only prize Dagnine ever lusted after—the Ixion Stone. Furthermore, the soldier knew she had it, though not where she kept it.

It was an obsession that would keep him in her service until she either took his life or gave him his prize.

The first option was far more likely.

He had proven his loyalty by defending her against what he thought to be an attack by Borias. And if he wasn’t the brightest candle in the chandelier, he was an excellent fighter; strong and skilled with a variety of different weapons.

Nothing more was really needed, for the Conqueror herself always led her armies into battle. That was something that those who did not know her did not expect. The ruler of half the world didn’t just don weapons and armor and go trotting off into bloody battles for sport.

Unless that ruler was Xena. Who, alone, was better than any fifty in her army, or any other’s for that matter. When riding at the head of an army, the Conqueror inspired her troops. And that type of inspiration couldn’t be bought while sitting on a throne, no matter how many dinars one had to spend.

With an expressionless face and a regal carriage, the Conqueror nudged her horse to a stop before the first squadron of soldiers, all standing ramrod straight, their faces blank as their leader’s.

Rows upon rows of archers and pikesmen, swordsmen and catapulters, mace-wielders and standard-bearers, horsemen and siege-engine infantry, stood at a statue’s attention before the impassive gaze of the Conqueror.

Hundreds of pennants, each bearing the colors and crest of the Keeper of Greece, snapped smartly to and fro in the ever freshening breeze. It was the only sound that could be heard on the grounds.

Xena’s arctic eyes swept over the field of warriors, keeping the fierce pride in her heart from showing on her face. These were her men, bought and paid for with the blood of their brethren, brought to heel by her might and majesty, owing their lives, their very breath, to her alone.

Her serenity was rudely interrupted as Dagnine brought his panting horse to a stop before her. He, too, surveyed the spectacle before him, his own face shining with pride. "As expected, Majesty. Your army is ready to die at your command."

Xena turned her head slowly, capturing his gaze with her own. "They’d just better be ready to kill at my command, Dagnine. Dying is a gift I leave to my enemies."

The General paled. "Of...of course, Majesty. That is what I meant to say."

Behind them both, Callisto snorted.

With a soft noise, the Conqueror descended into the ranks of her troops.

********

"She’s almost here," Karreleus whispered to the young man at his left, his own arm wrapped tightly about the lad’s waist. "Can you stand by yerself?"

"I...I’m not sure." Potus was white-faced and trembling, as much from the pain as the fact that the Conqueror of Greece was no more than fifty feet away from him and heading his way.

"You’d better get sure pretty quick, boy. Cause standin’ ain’t gonna be an option anymore if you ain’t."

"Lemme go then," Potus hissed.

The older soldier did as he was asked, just managing to catch Potus as the young man slumped down toward the ground the minute his supporting arm was removed. "Tartarus blasted piece of..." His words trailed off as a very familiar horse suddenly filled his vision. He straightened as if struck by lightening, somehow managing to bring Potus up with him as well.

"M...M...Majesty."

"Karreleus."

The Conqueror’s deep, husky voice burred through the old campaigner’s senses, jamming his spine even straighter as a hot flush swept down from his face and up from the toes of his boots to meet somewhere in the middle of his belly.

Having the Conqueror remember one’s name was both a blessing and a curse.

For the life of him, Karreleus couldn’t figure out which one it was in this case.

"I know the Conqueror wants her men to support one another, but this is taking it a bit too far, don’t you think?" Callisto asked, eyeing the two men and grinning evilly.

In pure reflex, Karreleus pulled his arm away as if burnt, leaving Potus to sink, or swim, on his own.

The younger man slumped again, but managed to catch himself before pitching forward onto the ground. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he slowly pulled himself up to stand as straight as he could manage, with, in truth, wasn’t very straight at all.

Callisto pouted at the display. "The poor dear’s hurt! I’ve got just the cure for that."

Reaching back, the blonde unsheathed her sword and swung it in a deadly arc which headed directly for the swaying man’s neck.

Potus closed his eyes and prayed to the gods, hoping that his death wouldn’t be too painful.

Cat-quick, another length of bladed steel met Callisto’s sword, blocking the killing blow and forcing the weapon away from the young man’s exposed neck.

"Put it away, Callisto," the Conqueror growled, not even bothering to look at her Second.

"Oh, Xena. Must you always take the fun out of everything?"

Pointedly ignoring the woman, Xena brought her own sword forward, its sharp blade easily parting Potus’ hastily mended shirt to expose the dull white bandage beneath. A split second later, the bandage was also history, leaving the man’s stitched chest exposed to her view.

"How did this happen?"

Potus gulped. "I...tripped...Majesty."

"He’s lying, Xena! Let me kill him for you. Please?"

The young man bit back a shriek of pain as the cool steel of the Conqueror’s sword played across the stitches of his wound.

"And do you trip often?"

"No, Majesty," he managed to get out from between clenched teeth.

"Xe-na..."

"You wouldn’t, by any chance, be lying to me, would you?" Xena subtly increased the pressure of her sword against Potus’ thick chest.

"No, Majesty!!!" He couldn’t help the scream that came out, but though his legs buckled, he managed to stay on his feet, sweat liberally coating his face and exposed chest.

Smiling slightly, Xena removed her sword. "I may have use for a man who can hold to his story under...adverse...conditions. Report to the Captain of my Royal Guard. Perhaps he can cure you of your unfortunate clumsiness."

To the end of his life, Potus never knew which god gave him the strength to execute a bow that day, but every day thereafter, he prayed to each and every one in gratitude for their timely gift.

Before anyone could say that they even saw the Conqueror’s hand move, a whining noise was heard and Pentres was on his back, his dead eyes open to the blinding sun and half of a chakram sticking out of his lifeless chest.

Callisto’s delighted laughter pierced the still air.

"Tell me, Karreleus," Xena said conversationally, "is there a reason why my edict banning alcohol in camp seems to have been ignored by the men in your squadron?"

Swallowing hard, Karreleus bowed his head, looking down at his boots. "No reason, Majesty."

Callisto leaned forward in her saddle once again, cupping her hand to one ear. "Do speak up, you old goat. I don’t think the Conqueror heard you signing your own death warrant. I know I didn’t."

Karreleus’ head snapped up as his bearing straightened. "I said, ‘No reason, Majesty’."

The blonde woman grinned. "That’s what I thought you said, dear." Straightening, she turned to Xena. "Can I at least kill this one?"

The remote look returned to the Conqueror’s eyes and, with a flick of her hand, she continued on down the lines of her troops.

Behind her, Callisto shrieked in triumph.

*******

Gabrielle knelt next to the deeply unconscious soldier, gently stroking his fine, black hair. In her soft, beautiful voice, she told him tales of the Xena she knew, the one who had changed into a force for the greater good through a timely intervention with a great hero.

She didn’t use her lover’s name, however. That was a risk she was, at that point, unwilling to take.

Regardless, they were her best stories, filled with inspiration and examples of how love and the simple desire to do good could overcome the darkest forces of evil.

The man, of course, didn’t respond, but the sound of her own voice kept Gabrielle from imagining what horrors lurked outside of the healer’s tent, where ominous silence reigned.

She stopped speaking a short while later, to cool the parched dryness from her throat with some water from a skin. It was then that she heard the sound of horses, coming closer before stopping directly in front of the tent. The waterskin dropped unnoticed from her hand as she wiped the droplets from her lips, her heart pounding in a curious mixture of anticipation and abject terror.

She could feel Xena’s presence through the fabric of the tent. Could almost smell her on the breeze; that combination of horse and sweat and leather so evocative to her senses. She gripped the cot where the soldier lay, her hand white-knuckled with tension.

The annoyed wicker of a horse, the settling of armor, the soft whoosh of a tent flap opening, and she was there, all bright armor and weapons and surreal magnetism.

Gabrielle’s throat was suddenly dry again as she stared upwards, her gaze captured by the clear blue eyes she had spent a virtual lifetime staring into, only to now find a stranger looking back. Her heart increased its rhythm as her stomach twisted inside her.

It was one thing to merely imagine meeting this woman whose cold, remote exterior completely overshadowed any evidence of the warm, caring, compassionate person Gabrielle knew lay hidden far beneath.

It was quite another to stand face to face with the contradictions themselves, seeing the differences and the sameness as if from the very pinnacle of Mount Olympus itself, though skewed in some very fundamental way.

She felt herself grow dizzy, but fought it off with a great strength of will that she’d nurtured over the years.

Entering the cool dimness of the tent, Xena’s glance fell upon a small, golden-haired woman crouched by the side of an occupied cot. Her beautiful jade eyes caught and held the Conqueror’s, searching.

Xena picked the woman for an Amazon at first glance, easily spotting the fluid muscularity beneath the concealment of her peasant clothing. Strangely enough, however, she didn’t feel the spark of anger that usually accompanied the meeting of an Amazon warrior.

Instead, the Conqueror caught something good and open and gentle in the frank, unblinking gaze.

If her heart had been less successfully buried beneath entire mountain ranges of black hatred, she would have seen it for what it truly was.

Love.

Gabrielle felt herself pulled to her feet by the power of Xena’s close presence. She stood before her lover-turned-stranger stolidly, determined not to let her fear get the best of her.

Seeing that she would have to be the one to break the impasse, the bard allowed a smile to break forth across her face. "Um, hello." She stopped for a moment, having no idea how this Xena desired to be addressed. "I guess you’re wondering who I am and why I’m here."

The Conqueror’s face remained impassive. If she was offended by the woman’s lack of an honorific, she didn’t show it.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. "Well, in case you were—wondering, that is—my name is," she swallowed, "Gabrielle. I’m a healer."

An eyebrow rose.

"I really am," the bard hastened to explain. "I happened to be wandering by when a young man was injured in camp. I stitched him up and Tao Feng, your healer, signed me up." She finished the last with a bright smile.

Which faded quickly as the Conqueror’s sword found itself just under the bard’s chin.

So great was her trust in Xena, however, that she didn’t even blink; instead keeping her eyes steady upon the narrowed blue of her tormentor.

"Don’t dig your grave deeper by continuing your lies to me, Amazon. Your swift death can become a very slow one in a heartbeat."

"There’s no need to kill me," Gabrielle replied, using the most soothing voice she could manage under the somewhat less than perfect circumstances. "I haven’t done anything wrong."

"You managed to infiltrate an armed camp filled with several thousand soldiers."

Gabrielle flushed slightly. "Well, there is that." She forgot herself for a second and grinned up at the woman who was, and was not, her partner. "What did you think of my technique? First class spy material?"

The sword pressed closer against the tender flesh of her neck, causing her to remember quickly.

"That was a joke."

The Conqueror only just managed to keep her utter bewilderment from showing on her face as she regarded Gabrielle. That a woman, seeming no more than a girl in reality, could stand with her neck pressed against the tip of her sword while smiling and telling jokes like she was talking to her dearest friend and not the Conqueror of Greece was perplexing in the extreme. Was she a simple idiot, or more clever than the foxes which sometimes ran across the Conqueror’s lands?

One look into the woman’s bright green eyes quashed the first possibility quite effectively. They were brimming with intelligence and a cheerful, though gentle, fire that left Xena, a woman used to such intelligence being used as a weapon against her, feeling even more perplexed.

It wasn’t a state she found herself comfortable being in.

Reading the subtle movements in the Conqueror’s body that told her she was quickly running out of time, Gabrielle kicked her story into high gear. "It’s kind of hard to infiltrate a camp when the soldiers invite you in," she started off. "And they did invite me. In a manner of speaking."

True to form, the bard’s words wove their magic around Xena, pulling in the most feared and dangerous woman in the world. "Go on."

"It’s like I said. I was walking along the very edge of your camp when I saw a young man meet his fate at the wrong end of a sword. It was an accident, but when I saw that the other soldiers were just standing around staring at him, well I just couldn’t walk away."

"So you helped."

Gabrielle grinned. "That’s right! Of course, Karreleus didn’t want me there at first. Thought I was a cook or something. But when I grabbed some thread and started stitching the man up, I guess I convinced him pretty quickly. He led me to this tent, where I met Tao Feng, and the rest is history."

"Karreleus, so, the young man with the repaired chest wound. Your work?"

"Yes."

After a moment, Xena nodded and lowered her sword. "Impressive."

The corners of the bard’s eyes crinkled as her smile broadened in reflexive happiness. "Thanks!"

The sword came up again. "You still haven’t explained why an Amazon of such obvious and needed skills is ‘conveniently’ found wandering so close to my camp."

Forgive me, Artemis. "I’m not an Amazon."

The corner of her mouth curling into a smirk, Xena used her weapon to slice through the bard’s simple peasant blouse, parting it down the middle. Then she used the tip of her sword to slip the damaged material off of Gabrielle’s shoulders. "Your body speaks a truth your tongue denies," she countered, her eyes lingering on the exposed, muscled abdomen and arms before coming to rest on the young woman’s generous breasts and remaining there for several heartbeats.

Gabrielle resisted the urge to cover herself, instead standing proudly before the Conqueror’s inspection. "Not every strong woman in the world is an Amazon," she returned, staring pointedly at Xena.

Xena’s eyes narrowed once again. There was more to the woman’s seemingly innocent and logical words than was evident at first blush. Just how much more, the Conqueror didn’t know, and that made her just the smallest bit uneasy. "Perhaps," she said, keeping her sword steady. "But many are."

"I’m not one of them."

"And I am supposed to believe this story based on what? Your word?"

"It’d do for a start, yes."

Xena snorted. "Then you take me for a fool."

"Hardly, Xena. You may be many things, but a fool isn’t one of them."

The sword came up to Gabrielle’s neck again. "Very few have called me by my given name and lived to tell the tale."

The bard lifted her chin. "Than I’m happy to be counted among the favored."

"You presume a great deal, Amazon," the Conqueror snarled.

The bard sighed. "Are we back to this again? I told you, I’m not an Amazon. I’m just a woman who happened to be in the right place at the right time and was able to help someone who needed the skills I could provide. There’s no sinister motive here. I’m not a spy and I’m not a killer. In fact," her eyes blazed with pride, "I’ve never taken a life. And I don’t intend on starting now."

Xena stared down at the young woman from her position of dominance, looking deep into Gabrielle’s eyes and trying to divine her thoughts, her motivations. She appeared an open scroll, ripe for the plucking. But weren’t those the very stories which had so much more written between the lines than could be read at first glance?

The bard’s gaze was guileless, and that made Xena, a woman who had spent nearly half her life sniffing out falsehoods lest they cost her her life, acutely wary.

But at the same time, she, beyond all bounds of good sense, found herself believing the woman. If, on nothing else, the seemingly outlandish statement that she had never taken a life.

Lowering her sword and switching it to her left hand, the Conqueror stepped forward, closing the small space between them, and used her right hand to cup Gabrielle’s chin, her callused thumb playing over the silken softness of the other woman’s lips. "Who are you?" she asked, softly, near to being lost in the warmth and softness of the face in her hand.

Xena’s gesture wasn’t cruel; nor was it loving. But Gabrielle couldn’t keep her body from responding to the caress, it being something her Xena had done on occasions too numerous to count. She swallowed hard to prevent her natural reaction of sinking into the touch as she had so many times before. "I’d like to be a friend," she murmured finally against the gentle pressure of Xena’s finger.

"I have no need for friends," the Conqueror replied, her thumb still traveling back and forth against the smaller woman’s full lips.

"Maybe not, but I’d like to be one anyway."

Gabrielle stiffened as the sound of booted feet hitting the ground came through the thin fabric of the tent. Callisto’s sing-song voice followed quickly behind. "Xena, dear, are you defiling corpses in there? We have an inspection to resume, in case you’d forgotten."

Xena continued to stare into Gabrielle’s eyes as her thumb played almost absently against the younger woman’s mouth. "Gather Marcus and his men and go back to the castle. I’ll meet you there shortly."

The bard stiffened further as a slim hand appeared through a seam, grabbing the fabric as if to part the flaps. "Oh goody! Now I know you’re doing something fun," Callisto said.

"Get back to the castle, Callisto."

The hand stayed where it was for a long moment before it was finally removed. A deep sigh followed. "Fine. Be that way. I suppose I’ll just have to make some corpses of my own to have fun with."

Then she was gone, leaving Gabrielle to breathe more or less freely again. She looked up, but the cold remoteness had returned to Xena’s eyes, turning her into the Conqueror once again.

Dropping her hand from the bard’s face, Xena turned to look at the lone remaining soldier still deeply unconscious on his cot. She took in the high color to the otherwise pale face and the sheen of sweat liberally coating his half-clothed body. With the point of her sword, she lifted the heavy fur covering, sparing little more than a glance to the grossly infected leg before lowering the fur once again.

"Tao Feng thinks his leg can be saved," Gabrielle chanced to say.

"Tao Feng fools only himself."

"How do you know?"

Xena looked back at her briefly. "Because I do." Turning away again, the Conqueror hefted her sword, ready to drive it through the downed man’s heart.

Knowing she didn’t have the speed or strength needed to halt the blow, Gabrielle did the only thing she could. She flung herself over the soldier and screamed.

Miraculously, Xena was able to stop herself a mere hairsbreadth away from skewering two bodies where only one had lain before. Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. Reaching down, she grabbed the back of Gabrielle’s torn blouse and pulled the smaller woman away, shaking her as one would a rag doll. "What are you doing?!"

"You can’t kill this man."

The Conqueror released her prize, tossing her toward the center of the tent. "Watch me."

"No!"

Lowering her sword again, Xena did a slow turn back toward the woman who was just scrambling back up to her feet. "No?"

"What has he done that deserves an execution?"

"He is of no use to me."

"Because he can’t fight?" Gabrielle asked, incredulity coloring her tones.

"Exactly."

The bard stepped as close to the Conqueror as she felt she could. "Xena, this is a man, not a broken sword."

"He is a warrior who cannot fight. To me, a liability."

Gabrielle’s eyes grew both angry and sad. "And what about his family? Is he a ‘liability’ to them too?"

Xena didn’t hesitate. "Yes."

"I don’t believe you."

"I don’t recall asking for your belief. Or your permission." The Conqueror pushed Gabrielle away again, though this time, more gently. Then she hefted her sword, grasped the pommel in both hands, and thrust downward in a smooth stroke, piercing the soldier’s heart and killing him instantly.

"By the gods," Gabrielle breathed, repulsed beyond comprehension at the act she had just witnessed.

After wiping the blood from her sword, Xena reached under the furs and yanked the soldier’s coin purse from beneath the mattress. Turning, she tossed the purse, heavily laden with dinars, to the bard. "Find a runner and see that this gets to his family. Tell them he died with honor. Then see to it that he receives a proper burial."

Gabrielle looked from the purse up into the emotionless eyes of the Conqueror of Greece, her own eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Did you even know his name?"

Ever after, the bard swore that the tiniest kernel of sadness entered the steel blue of Xena’s eyes, then was gone as a candle’s flame to a gentle breath. "His name was Samos. He was one of my best cavalry-men."

And without another word, the Conqueror turned and was gone, leaving a heartbroken Gabrielle behind.

*******

The breeze, cooler now with evening’s coming, blew in through the open window of the Conqueror’s study, lifting the hair from her brow and settling it back haphazardly. The scrolls before her rustled slightly and she held them down with an annoyed flick of the hand, squinting as the torches’ guttering light cast some of the words into shadow. Her body chilled with slowly drying sweat, sprung forth by a spirited sparring match with some of her Royal Guard. And, of course, Callisto, who never could turn down a chance to cross swords with Xena in any reality.

The scrolls had arrived that day, brought by courier, and were from the many spies she had in Rome and its provinces. Her quick eyes scanned the text, finding nothing unexpected in the missives.

Caesar had yet to declare himself Emperor, but the rumor was on the lips of, it seemed, every citizen in the country. The Senators were getting restless and there was some talk of a revolt, but nothing so well-staged that it reached her ears.

A dark smile spread her lips as she read of Caesar’s sending of Brutus and several legions across the sea to Gaul to quell a small uprising there. Brutus was, without a doubt, Caesar’s best general. Her enemy’s army was much weaker without him at the helm. Why Caesar would choose to send him to a far away nothing of a country while Greece stood, poised to strike, was a puzzle sure to occupy many days’ thought.

"Cocky bastard," she muttered, reaching for the next scroll in the pile.

"Who are we talking about this time?" Callisto asked from her place by the window, reclining on one of the couches and twirling a tangled lock of her hair. "No, no, let me guess." Grinning evilly, she sat up. "He’s about this tall, has an absolutely atrocious hairstyle, and enjoys putting Warrior Princesses up on crosses."

The Conqueror shot Callisto a look before returning to the scroll she was reading.

Callisto threw back her head and laughed. "Oh Xena, Xena, Xena. It’s always about Caesar, isn’t it? Caesar this. Caesar that. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you still had a little thing going for him."

Any reply Xena might have made was halted as her hyper-acute hearing picked up an unusual noise borne in on the evening’s cool breeze. Cocking her head alertly, she waited.

The sound was repeated. And then again, growing louder.

"What?" Callisto asked, well used to the expression.

The Conqueror slowly rose to her feet, then crossed the room to look out of the window. All seemed normal, but her instincts continued to raise an alarm her body couldn’t ignore.

"Trouble," she muttered, turning from the window and crossing to the large door which sealed her rooms off from prying eyes.

Callisto jumped up from the couch, clapping her hands. "Goody!"

Grabbing the handle, Xena flung the door open, her eyes lasering into those of one of her door-guards. Before she could open her mouth to speak, there was a commotion in the hall and a young, very badly out of breath runner came into her view, almost collapsing from exhaustion. "Trouble!" he gasped out, trying to bow and almost falling to the floor for his efforts.

"That’s obvious, you insignificant little worm," Callisto snarled, grabbing the runner by the front of his uniform and pulling him up so that he was inches away from her face. "What kind of trouble?"

The runner took tortured breaths, his overworked lungs near to bursting with the effort of pulling air in and letting it go.

Callisto shook him savagely. "Speak up, ingrate, or I’ll feed your little body to Cerebus myself!"

"P - P - Persians!"

Xena turned quickly, hand on the pommel of her sword. "Where."

"In the camp! Took - took over some Egyptian ships at sea! Came in through the - the harbor!"

"And the harbormaster let them through?" The man would die, quite slowly, and by her own hand, she vowed.

"No! Yes! Majesty! They were disguised as Egyptians! He didn’t know!"

"Let him go, Callisto."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde warrior dropped the gasping soldier, then shook the hand which had held him, a look of disgust on her face.

The Conqueror looked down at the runner, her eyes gone silver with anticipation. "Where are these Persians now. Exactly."

The young man finally managed to catch his breath. "Still in the Egyptian camp, Majesty. The small army from Chin came over to assist, and Dagnine said to tell you that he’s sent two squads there as well. He remains behind with the main force to watch for an attack from another direction."

"He actually said that?" Callisto remarked, shaking her head in mock amazement. "You must be mistaken. That incompetent idiot couldn’t find his way out of an outhouse if he had a map."

Bending down, Xena hauled the runner back to his feet. "Go back and tell Dagnine to stay on the alert. Under no circumstances is he to send any more troops unless he hears from me directly. Got it?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Good. Now go."

Pushing the runner back down the hall, the Conqueror turned once again to her door-guard. "Wake Marcus and have him gather his troops. We have some Persians who need a lesson taught to them."

Callisto’s delighted cackle could be heard throughout the castle.

#xena #xena warrior princess #xena/gabrielle #xena/gabrielle fanfiction #xwp #mature #femslash #fanfiction

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newhologram · 6 years

Text

Glorious purpose, sacrifice, and the god who started it all

Send a heartbeat to The void that cries through you Relive the pictures that have come to pass For now we stand alone The world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate With no more to hate

- The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning by Smashing Pumpkins (because this song is 100% about Avengers)

Been on an MCU binge to put everything under a microscope, so here’s what’s been rolling around in my brain.

Infinity War spoilers below with speculation/theories for Avengers 4 that includes A4 spoilery set leak stuff.

**SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT**

* * *

There’s a lot to talk about as far as theories as we were given some hopeful leads in IW and other films. Just to take inventory on some other speculations and fun ideas:

Shuri may have backed Vision up

Soul World: is that where Gamora is? Is that where everyone who was dusted went?

Nebula may get a meaningful role in helping to take Thanos down

Captain Marvel’s role in all this??

The possibility of Adam Warlock coming out of his cocoon

The Eternals maybe

Hawkeye/Ronin

Thor’s Stormbreaker handle being made of Groot somehow solving something

Thanos being overcome with grief in his isolation

The possibility of a major time jump in A4 to see how Earth has moved on after the snap, which may include Tony’s future with Pepper and their child. Everyone will have lived so many years with the consequences of the snap.

It also feels like each character might have to go on their own hunt for the stones, which might lead to an interesting reversal of the loss and sacrifice they faced in IW. I wonder who gets assigned to each stone and how that’ll play out for their individual character arc? There’s one stone for each original Avenger, so that’s cool to think about

Erasing versus dying. If you’ve heard anything about “the Event” that a lot of astrologers have been talking about lately, basically our reality is due for a cosmic event which splits us—leaving people behind and taking the rest into a prosperous new universe. Some will be “erased” from this existence. It’s been called the Rapture. Which is uh. Pretty interesting considering IW premiered on the actual date of the rapture prediction and how the Snap is absolutely a kind of sad superhero bad ending rapture.

Rewriting everything that we’ve seen in the past 6 years in canon

I’ve also seen some talk of theories such as “Loki is Bruce Banner in disguise”. I can see why this theory is popular because Bruce acts really weird the whole movie and seems to know things he shouldn’t. But I’m not too into it because it feels like there’s a big payoff coming with the Hulk (as in, we better get a cool shot of him bursting out of the Hulkbuster armor, like the toy).

There’s also some talk about spotting Quicksilver and even Wolverine on the set but I have nooo idea what those would even mean, not just in regards to the plot but with the whole joint custody thing Sony, Fox and Disney have been working out.

All of that said, I’ve been thinking about a few other threads in particular though, so that’s what I’ll be exploring here. Just speculation for fun. Let’s see where it leads.

☀ Undying Fidelity

The opening scene was really suspicious to me for many reasons. These directors are sharp and I believe there is purpose to everything we see as well as what we don’t see.

Let’s talk about my boy Loki.

He starts out pretty scared. The guy is sweating bullets.

After the Hulk engages Thanos, Loki isn’t on screen for several minutes. We don’t see him reacting or hiding or anything. I don’t trust that, especially not with the Russo bros directing it. I feel as though something is being hidden from us in this moment, distracted by the Hulk just as much as the bad guys are.

When he reappears to offer himself as a guide to Thanos, suddenly his demeanor is totally different. He seems calm, resolved even.

His choice of words is very important. The most suspicious to me are: “rightful heir to Jotunheim”, “God of Mischief”, “do hereby pledge my undying fidelity”. Loki does not want us to forget that he’s not only a Jotunn, not Asgardian by blood, but he’s a God, and a very, very cunning one. To be honest, it doesn’t feel like that last line was for Thanos at all. It honestly feels like he’s saying it to someone else—maybe himself. To his own duty in this moment. Which brings me to the next bullet point:

After that last line, dagger forming, his eyes quickly dart down. There’s a pause. A small beat there. He looks as though he’s steeling himself. That, to me, is the face of a man who very much knows he’s about to die. It’s a very Obi-Wan moment, right in front of Thor. It’s somehow even more heartbreaking if he knew it was coming, and was still so scared and small when Thanos wrapped his fist around his neck.

Loki’s a smart cookie. He may be relatively young for a god/alien but this isn’t his first rodeo. He already knows how deadly and terrifying Thanos is without the Gauntlet/stones, so what does he think he can do right now? He knows a little dagger isn’t going to win this for them and that’s precisely the point. He isn’t dumb enough to try that sincerely, which makes me believe even more that it was strategic. I have a feeling Thanos chiding him about his choice in words (”undying”) is going to come back to bite him in the ass.

Back to Loki’s words being important. When he’s first about to surrender the Tesseract earlier in the scene, he says to Thor, "I promise you, brother, the sun will shine on us again." He says it with so much purpose.

And his final words to Thanos: “You will never be a god.” Another reminder: Loki is a god. He’s survived a black hole, stabbing, Hulk-smashing, Grandmaster’s orgies, and likely more in his years. We’ve come to expect him to fake his own death by this point, though I’m still on the fence about whether this one was fake, or a necessary one he knew needed to happen, or somehow a bit of both. I wonder, only a little, where did Loki’s body go, is it just floating around with the rest of the dead?

For that matter, where the hell is Valkyrie? Is there any meaningful payoff rather than just humor for Korg calling Loki a ghost in Ragnarok? I’m not too hopeful for something like that, but it’s a thought.

Later on in the film we see Thor, another god, (barely) survive the concentrated full force of a dying star. I’m supposed to believe Loki, an incredibly gifted frost giant child trained in the arts of magic, Loki Ha Ha Duplicates of Me Everywhere Odinson, Loki I’m Right Where I Need to Be Laufeyson just has a sudden brain fart, tries to stab the Mad Titan, gets his neck snapped in front of his brother, and it’s not on purpose?

BITCH. DID. NOT. TURN. BACK. TO. BLUE.

Do I really think Loki is still alive? I don’t know. Loki is very, very dear to me but like I said, I’m on the fence. Because it seems like the deaths that happened before the snap, save for Gamora, might be permanent because we needed to feel that the stakes were high. On the other hand, again, Loki is very gifted. We’ve seen him “die” before and I still have a very hard time believing he’s fully dead and not god-level deep coma smacked down needing time to regenerate if he doesn’t just turn blue right after since his iconic look is an illusion too. His line about the sun shining on them again uses the word “us”, which could indicate a revival and reunion somehow.

But I’m cry because you know he and Thor got into a lot of trouble growing up, and big brother was always there for him. But then little brother goes through some hard stuff, falls into a black hole, gets picked up by a cult, and it all comes down to this moment now: no home to return safely to, no mother to console him after Odin’s discipline, Thor unable to save him.

♥ We Don’t Trade Lives

Before I go into A4 speculation, let’s look at how each character deals with sacrifice, just for fun:

Loki is given a choice: his brother’s life, or the Space Stone → Loki surrenders and sacrifices himself

Quill is given a choice: the love of his life, or Thanos getting closer to winning → Quill is hesitates and is unable to keep his promise of sacrificing Gamora

Gamora is given a choice: her sister, or the location of the Soul Stone → Gamora surrenders to spare Nebula

Thanos is given a choice: his favorite daughter, or the Soul Stone → Thanos sacrifices Gamora for the stone

Dr. Strange is given a choice: Tony Stark, or the Time Stone → Despite earlier warning Tony he wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice either him or Peter if it means keeping the Time Stone safe, he surrenders the stone → He sacrifices his duty, his life, and the lives of everyone else who gets dusted in order to put them on the one right path he saw out of over 14 million

Wanda is given a choice: Vision, or the Mind Stone → Her struggle with this choice starts earlier on when Vision offers to sacrifice himself to destroy the Mind Stone → Cap tells him “we don’t trade lives” → Wanda is also not willing to immediately kill him when asked → They run out of time and options, Wanda finally sacrifices Vision, which as we saw didn’t really work out the way they wanted

Our characters struggle with sacrificing something important to them in order to save the universe (remember, in the eyes of Thanos, he’s saving the universe too). Many of the characters value their loved ones above everything else and don’t want to have to make that choice. They don’t want to face the pain of a life without that person, or they don’t want another person to suffer or die painfully because of them.

Alright. Let’s talk bidness.

♛ Reframe the Future

Yeah—remember B.A.R.F.? Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing.

This has to be what Tony will use to look back at things. I see him replaying the events of the first Avengers over and over, trying to figure out how it all could’ve gone so wrong, what clues they missed, and how to fix it.

Which brings us to the question of time travel. Is this where the idea of Infinite Avengers will come in, if the multiverse is explored? I don’t have too much of a lead on that, but it’s interesting to think about. If that ends up being the title of A4 it would certainly point to that.

(Note Tony’s greying hair which supports the idea that A4 will start 5-10 years after Infinity War)

Many have speculated about the devices on their wrists in these photos, as well as the fact that while Tony and Ant-Man seem to be their present selves, others are in their old costumes from the first Avengers. Doesn’t quite answer why Cap is wearing a device, unless they recruit lots of multiversal Avengers from various timelines/realities/points in history to help? (Wouldn’t it be crazy to find out that Ant-Man has been a secret tiny time traveling Avenger the whole time?)

It’s hard to know exactly what kind of time travel shenanigans we’re dealing with. Maybe we’ll learn more when we see Ant-Man and the Wasp, since they’re going to be dealing with the quantum realm, where time doesn’t really exist. In the quantum realm, every possibility exists at the same time.

We do have some clues though.

Exhibit A: Loki in all his muzzled glory, as seen at the end of Avengers.

We know that this time travel plot would involve going back to where it all started. But what could be done, what is Tony’s play?

Exhibit B: Tony Stark in S.H.I.E.L.D. gear. More specifically—

As one of Loki’s escorts.

What we don’t see in Avengers is how everything goes down when they take Loki back into custody (after grubbing on shawarma). We don’t see the discussion about what to do with him and Thor’s decision to take Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard.

So, again, what the hell is Tony’s game plan?

If he’s disguised as a guard, there could be a chance to get alone with Loki and talk to him. Tell him everything that goes down. Get him to help. Get info from him, and make sure he knows how things need to play out in order for this all to work.

I’m not sure how yet though. It seems this could somehow involve Stark making his own Infinity Gauntlet, but that’s later down the line. Where does Loki fit into the plan beyond the time travel scene? That may be all we get of him.

I’m so excited for the possibility of my two favorite characters working together or even having just once more scene together, however it plays out. Tony and Loki both smiled at each others’ jokes in A1 and I loved it. I feel like their dynamic would be so interesting to explore more. Tony totally clocked that Loki is a diva, because they’re both like that lol.

☮ Glorious Purpose

But what’s most interesting to me right now is the implication that if this is the closed loop kind of time travel, it would mean Loki has known about all this since the end of Avengers.

When the Hulk was distracting everyone, was Loki hiding behind a wall, readying himself for what he knew he needed to do next? I’ve heard talk of the possibility of a duplicate since that’s what Loki does, but would Thanos have been able to tell he was killing an illusion? He didn’t have the Soul Stone then which likely helped him tell which Strange was real later. I’ve also heard talk of a Loki switchout, but I’m not too convinced because it would involve somehow transporting another Loki there. Not so sure there would be a stealthy way to do any of that.

Did Loki die in the beginning of Infinity War fully knowing all those years that it was going to happen, that it needed to happen, in order for the sun to shine again?

Did Loki die to help save the universe?

...

If Loki knew those few weeks on Sakaar were going to be his last, do you think he was like, “Guess I better live my best life and spend my final days sipping cocktails on Grandmaster’s lap.”

My final speculation prediction REQUIREMENT from Marvel Studios is to have Avengers 4 end with a beautiful Pepperony wedding filled with superheroes. Whoever’s left, that is.

(This also means if there’s a time jump, Tony will possibly erase the present he has with Pepper and their child in order to save everyone... Should be interesting.)

In conclusion, have this whiteboard drawing I did for @spazzeon as I tried to explain all of this

#avengers #mcu #infinity war #marvel #loki #infinity war spoilers #teku #long post

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wizardsnwookies · 6 years

Text

TPR071618 - In the Serpent’s Coils

Galumak opened the door to a the smell of death and the flicker of a dozen torches in a distant chamber. A hall stretched from the back of the small open room that stood before them into a larger chamber. A clocked figure prostrated themselves before the looming stone visage of a twelve foot serpents, it’s head was that of a woman with her eyes wide and mouth agape. Fangs hung from the top row of teeth and seemed to shine with a terrible life.

“Looks like we found our necromancer.” Raam brushed a hand against one of the three wooden slab tables lined up neatly in the center of the room. Although made of new wood, they appeared older due to a dark staining. A reddish brown hue that was unmistakably dried blood.

Raam kept his voice low, eyes straight forward on the figure in the distance. “You two ready?”

No answer was offered. Instead, Galumak pulled out the shortsword he had pilfered from the assassin’s corpse. He could feel the magic pulsing through the hilt, traveling up his arm. Guiding him, allowing him to strike true. He strode boldly into the hall, followed by his companions. As they broke the threshold into the larger chamber, the figure slowly rose to his feet and turned to face them.

“You have proven quite bothersome.” The face underneath the cowl was shriveled and pale, though his eyes were bright with a youth that suggested age had nothing to do with his appearance. “Given your talents I am prepared to-”

“I’m done talking.” Raam thrust his palm forward and shot a blast of eldrich power that struck the necromacer square in the chest. Like a child’s doll being thrown against a wall, he flew backwards and struck the mighty stone alter before collapsing onto the floor with a pained groan. His eyes glared at them with a dark fury, a gravely voice muttered some magical spell and a shimmering veil appeared around him.

The air just in front of Raam’s face displaced as some dark object cut through it with tremendous speed. He was so focused upon preparing his next attack he almost missed the second projectile that followed in quick succession.

“TO YOUR RIGHT!” Lash tossed a ball of flame to the eastern wall, where shadows had collected where it met the floor. Something was growing out of the darkness, like smoke billowing from a pipe, only blacker, and thicker like ink. In the light of their flame, Lash watched as the smoke writhed into the air and collected itself, slowly taking shape to that of a ghostly figure. It had no legs that reached the ground, but it had long spindly arms with fingers like the legs of a spider. And they were reaching out towards Raam.

Forewarned by his companion, Raam through out his arm just as the smokey figure reached him. It’s hands struck his gauntlet and dissipated into smoke once more. Through the armor, Raam felt a chill that rippled through his bones, like a blast of winter. The hellfire in his blood quickly chased away the cold. Turning, he countered the creature with a blast of eldrich power that sent it hurtling towards the wall. It struck the packed earth and exploded into wisps of darkness.

Galumak pressed the tip of his blade into the invisible barrier and thrust all his might into it. It refused to budge or even bend at his might, allowing the dark priest to stand and reach for a mighty hammer left leaning at the side of the alter. The head was made of heavy stone and carved into the face of a serpent. Hefting it in one hand he dropped the veil and sent the hammer crashing into Galumak’s chest.

Pain exploded through his body, he stumbled backwards doubled over, grinding his teeth. Through strained eyes, he watched as the priest readied for another attack. He wouldn’t be given the chance. Pushing through the pain, Galumak rose and plunged the blade straight through the man’s exposed mid-section. The hammer that had been held at the ready aloft fell to the damp ground with a sickening thud. The priest fell only when Galumak withdrew his blade, eyes wide in utter shock. He had thought himself like unto god, his mortality all too evident now.

“You OK?” Lash examined Raam’s arm, where the ghost-like being had connected with him had withered the armor. It was dry and brittle, the skin underneath was even redder than usual.

“Fine, thanks for the heads-up.” He took a step towards the priest before a flash of dizziness overtook him. Suddenly he felt as though he had not slept in days, and his legs could barely hold his weight.

“You are not ‘fine.’ Here...” Lash caught him as he fell, lifting him onto their shoulders before placing a hand on his chest. The room filled with the smell of damp grass after a fresh rain, and though there were no windows, warm sunlight fell upon the Teifling. Slowly, he felt a pleasant warmth shoot through his body, strengthening his legs, and filling him with vigor.

“I have no idea what that thing was, but all it had to do was touch you to do some serious damage. Best we take a rest before pushing forward.”

“Yes...that sounds wise.”

“Galumak?” Lash turned back to find the half-orc standing in front of the 12 foot obsidian statue that loomed upon the altar. In his hands, the serpent hammer was gripped tightly though still as if some repulsive object. In one smooth arc. Galumak swung the hammer wide, striking the statue on the side of the Naga’s gaping mouth. The obsidian shattered and large chunks were sent crashing onto the floor.

Almost immediately the wooden panel behind the alter fell away, revealing a long dark hall that led into a chamber lit with a faint glowing light. The three looked at each other in confusion.

“A secret door?” Galumak examined the hammer before dropping it to the floor. “Did I do that?”

“The head, look.” Lash pointed to a clean line that ran around the neck of the statue. The head, or rather what was left of it, had been twisted on this pivot to one side. They looked back at Raam. “Still thinking we rest first?”

“Yes. We take nothing to chance down here. Remember, it’s not just our lives we forfeit if we fail.”

Both Galumak and Lash found it hard to argue with that. After claiming a set of keys, the only object on the priest’s person, they retreated to the cells where they might regain their strength.

---

The eerie green glow had awaited them patiently, it’s luminescence barely more than that of a candle only steadier, unfaltering. The three could smell and hear water in the distance, but that wasn’t unexpected. It seemed everywhere they turned in this place water had either seeped up from the ground or had flooded in by the heavy rains. Why would this new chamber be any different?

Galumak led them forward, his shortsword held at the ready, head buzzing with the memory of several gulps of wine. The fire in his veins was numbed for the moment, he just hoped he hadn’t overdone it. Unless there was an even lower floor to this place, it would not be long before they met this Naga. He would need his wits about him.

The hidden path behind the altar did not curve or bend, but led directly into a cavernous chamber beyond. The closer they got, the easier it was to see in the faint light. Another underground lake filled most of the space, ornately carved pillars rising from the waters periodically, covered in a bio-luminescent moss that provided the strange green light. But there was something else glittering in the soft light, just out of the corner of his eye.

Treasure. An immense pile of coin and gems massed in a disorganized heap on a patch of dry land to his right as they entered the chamber. It sat upon a crumbling marble dais, bordered on two sides by more marble pillars marked with age. Despite the small number of them, their arrangement gave the impression of a temple frozen in time. This temple’s god, sat coiled in wait upon her hoard of tributes.

“So they come, like all the others to bask in my glorious presence.” Explictica Defilius, Naga of the Rushmores, God to the Serpant cult, rose up to peer down at the three adventurers. Black stringy hair hung from her scalp like lake weed, wet and glistening. Her womanly features were not entirely human, the eyes larger, sharper in the corners, and her cheek bones looked as they could cut diamond. The serpentine coils of her lower half were black as night, striped with a faint olive green and a pale underbelly. When reared up at her full height, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how this impressively terrifying monster could convince others she was a great deity.

“Don’t look in her eyes!” Lash cried out and cast their eyes to the ground. Their heart pounded in their chest, the terrifying grinning visage burned into the back of their eyes.

“More informed they are, smart. Are they smart enough to accept my mercy? Accept my gift?”

“‘They’ are here to end this blasphemy.” Raam stood defiant, eyes cast downwards as he reached for the scroll tucked into the sash around his waist.

“A pity, these humans are so frail. They would have been better servants.” Explictica hissed a collection of magical words as if they were a curse. A sudden spark flared before her, growing into a massive broiling ball of flame. It shot forward with tremendous speed, the heat becoming nearly unbearable. Just when Galumak felt he could not bare any more, relief fell over him and he watched as the flames struck an invisible barrier and followed egulfed it until the three of them were inside a large orb of fire.

Raam let the parchment scroll fall to the ground, the magical words of protection fading into nothingness leaving only a blank page. As the fire subsided he tossed a ball of sulfer and smoke. It passed through the barrier with ease, striking the Naga in a section of exposed underbelly. It barely left a mark, and Explictica only offered a toothy smile in response.

A jolt of searing pain shot up her coils, her head twisted and writhed in agony. She glared down at Galumak, his short sword dripping in blood from where it had plunged within the coils. With a horrific his she struck like a viper, such terrific speed made her appear as no more to a blur to Galumak. He threw up his shield blocking stopping the unhinged lower jaw from swallowing it entirely. However, the two large fangs that hung from the top row of teeth had managed to slip past the wooden barrier, burying themselves into his arm.

Lash lunged forward and lodged the end of their quarterstaff into the corner of the Naga’s jaw. Using it as a lever, they threw all their weight downward, prying the maw open painfully wide even for it’s unhinged state. The corners of the cheek tore, mixing blood with saliva and venom before leaking past the lips in a long line of drool that fell to the ground.

The two puncture wounds in his arm oozed with blood, but Galumak was relieved to find himself neither sickly, nor weakened. Somehow, Pan only knows how, the venom he knew had been pumped into his veins had been neutralized. The fire perhaps? The very thing that cursed him, could it have burned away the toxins that threatened his very life? That was a question for later. For now, he had an opening, and Galumak took it.

Desperately trying to re-align her bottom jaw, Explictica reared up high to protect her wounded face. In doing so, she once again exposed a large section of underbelly. Galumak’s blade drew across it with ease, spilling out fat and tissue and fountains of blood. The Naga screamed in a voice both human and inhuman, a high pitched screech that pained their ears. And then, she was gone. Where a towering serpent had been, now was a void of damp cavern air.

“Where-?” The three looked at each other, as if the other had the solution, though neither offered any at first.

“I can still hear her breathing.” Galumak leveled his sword, searching for something, any clue as where the vile creature had gone. Inside the orb of protection that still shimmered like a gossamer veil Lash, having assumed the form of a wolf, bore their teeth and growled at the empty air before them. Finally, it clicked for them all at once.

“Invisibility spell...” Reaching for the second scroll in his sash, Raam spoke with confidence he did not feel. There was little doubt as to what spell she had used, what he did no know was how powerful a mage she was. The scroll in his hands was strong indeed, but would it be enough to dispel her magic?

In the very instant that Raam had uttered the last syllable, there was a rush of air and a burst of energy through the area. A dark shadow immediately fell upon the grey wolf within the party, Explictica loomed before them, face only inches away from their snout.

“They must help me. They must attack their friends for their God!”

Within their wolf brain, Lash felt something wriggling its way into their mind. A tickle, an impulse. They watched it for a moment, noting how it moved, how it teased the senses and twisted the thoughts that were already there. This charm was not like others they had heard of. It acted like one of the species of lizards within the Dim forest. It snuck into the nest, devouring the eggs that had been laid before laying their own leaving the unsuspecting bird to hatch their young. Once born, the bird would be torn to pieces. Lash’s mind however, was less a sparrow, and more a hawk. A bird of prey that was far from helpless.

With a mind very much their own, Lash lunged forward and sunk their teeth into Explicticas exposed face. Flesh tore from her cheeks as she desperately pulled away, screaming and cursing in a slurred speech.

“You vile, insignificant, creatures!” Twice now, her magic had been thwarted by the teifling. The half-orc was strong, but her coils would crush him to dust. The elf changling would get their comeuppance for resisting her charm. But if she were to have any chance to do any of it, the spell-caster would have to be dealt with first.

Opening her jaw to it’s full size, Raam stared down the gaping maw. He saw the venom sacs just under her eyes, filled like over-stuffed pillows. The ends of her fangs glistened with venomous dew, and in the blink of an eye she struck. Pain shot through his arm, his veins burning as the poison was pumped into his body. But there was another burning within him. He could feel it swell. A dark retribution from his patron, always watching him. With a vengeful smile, Raam reached out and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking the Naga’s face towards his. In his eyes, Explictica saw a fury and flame she had not witnessed in any mortal creature before. For the first time in her life, she knew fear.

“Who’s insignificant now?” Raam forced his lips to hers in a kiss of death, the blazing inferno that erupted from him engulfing the Naga’s entire head. The room filled with the scent of scorched flesh and incinerated hair. It was only a few seconds before her strained screaming fell silent, and the smoldering lump of flesh that had once been her head fell lifeless into the dirt.

---

Raam awoke to Lash, back to their elf form, shaking him violently by the shoulders. “Raam? You OK? That was amazing!”

“Wha-?” He tried to shake the fog from his mind but found it held fast. There was a gap in his memory that began when the fangs sunk into his shoulder. The rest was darkness. He looked down at his feet to the smoldering heap for answers, but it offered him none. “I...I don’t remember doing that.”

“What do you mean?” Lash examined his wound before laying a hand upon it. Once again a burst of lavender filled the air, warm sunlight fell upon them, and the poison was gone.

“I mean, I blacked out. I...I don’t know what happened. It’s strange.”

“You sent that thing to the King in Yellow, that’s all that matters.” Galumak wiped his blade clean of the dark blood that had coated it and sheathed it at his hip. “It’s done. This nightmare is over.”

“No, not yet.” Raam stepped towards the shore, staring deep into the unexplored cavern that lay ahead. “There’s plenty more of this place. We’re not done until we search through every last room.”

“Any cultists will have snapped out of her charm the moment you barbecued her.”

“True, but the Trogs weren’t charmed. Plus, we need to be sure there aren’t any more of the necromancer’s abominations left roaming around.”

“He’s right.” Lash nodded, only half listening. Their attention had been drawn to the large pile of loot left abandoned in the corner.

“Fine.” Galumak shrugged, taking out a bottle of wine from his pack. “We go through the rest of this place and weed out any stragglers.”

“After we loot the hoard, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

Buy Me a Coffee

#Dungeons and Dragons #against the cult of the reptile god #the protected realm #role playing games #campaign diary

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grimalkenkid · 7 years

Text

“When Dragons Cry” Chapter 19

I seriously had part of this chapter written ever since I decided to write this story, and I love it!

AO3 link.

Chapter index.

It would be better to surrender. In the back of his mind, Hanzo knew this. The guards easily shuffled around to surround the men, hesitating only because of Reinhardt’s imposing figure. The archer had experience with unarmed fighting – and he had an inkling that the knight did too – but this? This was practically unwinnable.

The guard who issued the order to arrest them in the first place drew his sword as he stepped towards them. “Surrender! You will face judgment for your crimes according to Vishkari Royal Law.”

Reinhardt huffed, and Hanzo half expected him to throw the man out of the way. For all that they were surrounded, there was still an alleyway nearby. It wasn’t much of an escape route, but it was one. The knight didn’t notice it, though, or if he did, his demeanor didn’t suggest it. “And what crimes would those be?” Some of the men shifted as Reinhardt puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. Even the archer found himself slightly intimidated by the knight.

“You know your own crimes,” the guard-captain snorted. “Seize them!”

A few guards stepped forward, reaching out to grab the men’s arms. Hanzo didn’t have time to wonder if he should let them capture him, though. The moment one even touched Reinhardt, the giant man slapped his hand away – sending the guard reeling to the ground from the force. The others stopped the moment he resisted, weapons in their hands instantly. Hanzo felt his heart clench, and his eyes flew over the nearby buildings, hoping for some weapon or advantage he could get before this fight went completely downhill.

As if they weren’t already at the bottom of the proverbial hill.

Reinhardt adopted a defensive stance, arms raised to shield his chest from the blades directed at it. Even without armor, the man could take a few hits while dishing out some of his own. Hanzo was not so durable. He barely had enough warning to step out of the way of one strike, just to stumble right into another. The spear tore his shoulder, and the follow-up blow missed just because he fell to his knee as he cried in pain.

“Hanzo!”

The archer winced as he looked up to see Reinhardt throwing off two guards to return to his side. Had there been more time, he would’ve asked why the knight chose to fight when the odds were so against them, probably yell at him for being so reckless. I believe I’m beginning to know how Brigitte feels, Hanzo thought, even as he caught the glimpse of weapons being raised again out of the corner of his eye. “We’re outmatched and unarmed. We’ve lost,” he stated.

“Have faith, my friend,” Reinhardt grinned. Hanzo gave him the most incredulous look, but that just furthered his smile. “I will protect you!”

Any protest died in Hanzo’s throat as Reinhardt stood back to his full height and let out a roar. Not just a loud shout. A roar. The sound was deep and guttural, far beyond what any human should be able to produce. Hanzo could feel it vibrate through his body, all the way to his bones, his legs turning to jelly at the sheer power behind it. Apparently the guards were feeling the same, as they all took a step back, glancing at each other and their captain.

Hanzo’s eyes never left the knight before him. Reinhardt seemed to grow, his arms and chest stretching the fabric of his tunic. His hands shifted, growing wider… and hairier. Short, gray fur grew from his skin, some poking through his clothing. But what drew his attention was neither that nor the leonid tail that seemingly sprung into existence… it was his face. His jaw stretched into a short muzzle from which dozens of whiskers sprouted. His hair, already ruffled and unkempt, grew into a glorious mane that went halfway down his back. The scar over his left eye became even more pronounced, lending him an air of wisdom and toughness he lacked even when human. His teeth, now thick and sharp, gleamed as he snarled and roared yet again.

“What…” Hanzo exhaled, so soft that only he could hear the words, “what are you?”

Everything felt so far away. The fear of this new creature before him drowned out anything else that might’ve scared him. He wasn’t even aware that the guards had given them space, backing out of reach of Reinhardt’s claws.

“What are you idiots doing?!” the guard-captain shouted from the backlines. His harsh words and cracking voice were what shook Hanzo back to the present, where they were still in very real danger from all sides. “You have swords! Use them!”

A halberdier turned to his captain, visibly shaken. “B-but sir… he’s a were-beast…”

“Either that monstrosity gets the sword or you do!”

Reinhardt snarled and lunged as soon as the words left the captain’s lips, swiping through the ranks with ease. Hanzo saw pieces of metal clatter to the ground, trailing blood from the gashes the werelion left in the guards’ armor. Words hung in his throat, unsure of what would turn that monster’s attention to him. The guards were an afterthought in his mind. It would’ve been easy for one to slit his throat in passing, but all of their focus was on Reinhardt. And why wouldn’t it be? For every slice marring the lion’s fur with sticky red, his claws rent through two suits of armor. The guard-captain stood his ground, but he fumbled for a horn at his belt. He blew it, and a loud bellow echoed through the square, a call for reinforcements no doubt.

The lion tossed a horrified swordsman to the side and rounded on the captain, snarling, “Fight me, you coward!” Hanzo gasped, tightening his grip on his shoulder wound as Reinhardt charged the captain. The man raised his shield, blocking the swipe of his claws in the same moment he thrust his sword into the lion’s side. An agonized roar rang out, and Reinhardt backed away a step.

“Heh,” the captain smirked, advancing as he spoke. “See, men. This monster is no more than a desperate criminal with nothing to lose. We have righteousness on our side! Therefore, we shall be v-”

Without pomp or circumstance or warning, a fiery blast exploded against the captain’s back, sending him reeling face-first into the ground. Some of the guards furthest from the unarmed duo also fell as arrows peppered their backs and energy bolts knocked them off their feet. Those few guards still standing whipped around, trying to see who had joined the fray. Reinhardt knelt by Hanzo’s side, shielding him with his furry body against these unknown assailants, almost unaware of the archer’s fearful looks at everyone present.

Men and women in peasants’ garb stood away from the scuffle, each leveling either a crossbow or hand swirling with arcane energy at the guards. They came from what looked like all walks of life: elves, humans, dwarves… each with varying levels of humble clothing, from dirty rags to the respectable apron of a town’s blacksmith. Leaping down from a rooftop was the most conspicuous of the new arrivals.

It was a golem, or something close to it. In shape, it resembled a humanoid with cat-like legs and an overly large chest. However, it had no head, and reinforced glass covered the front of its chest, revealing a hollow cavity where a brown-haired girl lay on her stomach. The girl held onto two handles that she moved, and with each movement she made with them, the golem moved with it. And on its arms, instead of hands, were two bulbous apparatuses that swirled with various energies. When the hollow golem landed in the square, it left a visible imprint in the dirt, kicked up dust landing on its pink hull.

“I think you’ve had enough fun for today,” the girl shouted, her voice seeming to echo not from her mouth but the golem itself. “Why don’t you run along, like good little toy soldiers?”

“Never!” the guard-captain screeched, picking himself off the ground with more than a little difficulty. “Kill these rebel scum! Take no prisoners!”

No sooner had he spoken those words than the girl squeezed the handles and several small bolts of energy shot out from the golem’s arms, striking him all over his body. The other rebels – as Hanzo assumed they were – struck as well, bolts burying into the rest of the guards’ bodies as fire and lightning rained down from the few magicians in their midst. The captain fell to the ground, his face frozen in a look of pure disbelief as the last breathes left his body. Around them, guards that had merely been injured were struck down, and the rest backed away, clutching their newly opened wounds. Several men shouted for a retreat, and a few managed to escape down the main road. Others ducked down whatever alley was closest. Hanzo saw some rebels twitch as they ran past but stopped when the girl raised her voice again.

“Let them go!” she ordered. “We’re not sore losers like they are!” The golem stepped up to Reinhardt and angled down, so the girl was eye level with the leonid man. “You better come with us. They’re gonna come back soon, and we don’t want to be outflanked.”

Reinhardt nodded and reached around to pick the archer up. The brush of claws finally shook Hanzo from his paralysis. He scrambled to his feet, nearly shoving the knight’s hand out of his way. The rebels disappeared into the city just as quick as they had appeared, and Hanzo stuck as close to the girl as he could while she led them down twisting streets, as far from Reinhardt and his deceivingly kind smile as possible.

* * * * * * * * * *

They kept going down, being led along staircase after staircase until there was no direct sunlight at all. Mud and dirt gave way to brick, stone, and wood that formed corridors that were almost assuredly underground. It wasn’t long before Hanzo was totally lost; he could probably find his way back along the path, but he knew he couldn’t navigate the rest of the city. Part of it was just that he wasn’t familiar with the area, but mostly it was because there were too many turns to remember all at once.

Eventually, they began to pass other rebels, hiding their swords and bows beneath cloaks and jackets. They kept their eyes firmly locked on Hanzo and Reinhardt, but the girl told them all that it was fine and to let them pass. She only stopped once they reached a cavernous room, where several men and women had gathered, resting in cots or sharpening their blades by a solitary forge. One of the men, wearing the bright green vestments of a bard that were such a stark contrast to his dark brown skin, moving among the cots perked up as they entered and dashed over.

“Hana, you’re back!” he sang.

The girl sat her golem down against the wall, and a hatch opened up on its back, where she backed out to stand next to the archer and knight. She smiled at the approaching bard and held out her arms for an embrace, moments before he did just that. As they squeezed each other tightly, Hanzo could see that the man had slightly pointed ears that twitched in joy. “Of course I’m back,” Hana stated, though she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice. “You don’t think some silly guards could keep me away, do you?”

The bard snickered and kissed her. Hanzo averted his eyes, feeling more like an outsider than he usually did. Something twisted in his stomach at the shamelessly display of adoration, the scene reminding him that it had been so long since Jesse had thrown his arm around his shoulder. I got along fine without being held for years, the archer thought, even as he crossed his arms close to his chest. I don’t deserve it anyway.

Reinhardt titled his head at Hanzo, but the action went unnoticed by the two lovebirds in front of them. As if remembering that they had company, the man reluctantly let go of the golem rider and stood straight before them, a grin still lingering on his lips. “So, who do we have here? I’ve never seen you two before. Pretty sure I’d recognize you.”

The leonine man let out a hearty laugh. “We do stand out quite a bit. I am Reinhardt Wilhelm, and this quiet one is Hanzo.” The archer felt fur tickle his back as if he raised a paw to pat his back but decided against it at the last moment. “However, I’m afraid we do not know who you are. May we at least have a name for our rescuers?”

“Oh! I knew I forgot something!” Hana snapped her gloved fingers.

The bard chuckled and patted her head. “You just get in that zone, don’t you? Well, sorry for the delayed introductions, but I’m Lúcio Correia los Santos. And the hyper-focused mage right here is Hana Song. And this,” he gestured to the rest of the cavern, “is the resistance. You got troubles with the Vishkari, you’re welcome here.”

“Resistance?” Hanzo asked.

Lúcio nodded. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie down while those mage-lords come in and take what they want. And I’m not the only one, either. You must’ve run into trouble with them too if Hana led you here.”

“Yes,” Reinhardt growled. “It’s… a long story. However, we’ve also been separated from our companions, so we need to find them as quickly as possible.”

“No problem,” Hana chirped, putting her hands on her hips and puffing her chest out. “We can find them, easy as pie. Just leave it to us.”

The bard nodded. “Yeah, best you two stay put and get some healing. Hana’s the best scout in the city, so you’re friends are in good hands.”

Hanzo didn’t feel right, but he agreed that they weren’t in the best position to go looking for the others. His shoulder still stung quite sharply, after all, and he couldn’t image how much all the nicks Reinhardt had gotten were feeling. Lúcio led them back towards a makeshift cantina after getting descriptions of the rest of Hanzo’s group, where he gave them some bowls of stew before running off to get one of the healers. The archer sighed and sat on a barrel that had been upturned to make a chair, swirling the bits of his stew to determine what each of them were before eating. Reinhardt was just a few steps behind him.

Hanzo flinched as the giant man sat down beside him. He tried to concentrate on the gamey stew in front of him, but the swish of Reinhardt's tail drew his attention. Did he have to remain in that unnatural half-beast form? The archer was about to get up when he heard a sigh.

"You must think me a monster."

"No," Hanzo snapped, surprising himself far more than the werelion. "You are... merely not human."

Beside him, Reinhardt huffed, the closest he could get to purring if he was anything like the tigers in the mountain regions. He shifted, and Hanzo felt short, graying fur brush his cheek as the werelion reached out to him. "You are not afraid of me?" The light, hopeful tone in his voice was all that kept the archer from bolting. Hanzo was afraid; he was so very, very afraid. Tales of lycanthropes weren't common in his homeland, and what ones he had heard were never good.

He bit the inside of his lip to keep from making any offputting sounds as Reinhardt gently turned his face to look at him. A thought kept repeating in his mind: This was Reinhardt, a man who knew everything he’d done, all the horrible acts he’d committed, yet the man still spoke fondly to him. This was a man whom he found himself admiring, and maybe even liking... He just happened to have more fur than expected. That was all, right? Looking into those wide eyes, one clouded from the scar that cleaved it in half, Hanzo could only say one thing. "I am not afraid."

Reinhardt smiled and lowered his hand. Somehow, he seemed even more human than before, and the archer realized that he had actually been frightened. Not of what Hanzo could do to him, but of what Hanzo thought of him. He suddenly felt very tired. Placing his bowl on the table in front of them, the archer let his forehead rest against the werelion’s shoulder. And he didn’t withdraw when Reinhardt wrapped one arm around his shoulder and pressed his lips to his head.

For the first time in a long time, Hanzo didn’t want to be alone.

#Overwatch #Reinhardt Wilhelm #Hanzo Shimada #Reinzo #D.Va #Hana Song #Lucio #BunnyRibbit #When Dragons Cry #Grim's writing #Overwatch Ensemble

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