Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summary

Chapter 1   ||  Buckle up / Survive | Maya/Chioma 
Chapter 2   ||  Everyone comfortable? / Trapped | Savathûn/Mara
Chapter 3   ||  Park / Nonverbal communication  | Eris/Ikora 
Chapter 4   ||  Highway / Pirate AU | Eido & Eramis
Chapter 5   ||  Pack / Accidental marriage | Maya/Chioma
Chapter 6   ||  Pay the toll / Sedoretu AU | Lakshmi-2 & Mithrax 
Chapter 7   ||  Pit stop / Secret agent AU | Hawthorne/Amanda
Chapter 8   ||  Breakdown / Soulmates AU | Lakshmi-2/Ikora
Chapter 9   ||  Deer in the headlights / Picnic | Savathûn/Ikora
Chapter 10 ||  Playlist / Making your own traditions | Lakshmi-2/Ikora
Chapter 11 ||  Places to go / Fairytale AU | Mara/Petra
Chapter 12 ||  Snack / Historical | Sathona & Xi Ro & Aurash
Chapter 13 ||  Wish you were here / Dragon | Maya & Maya's mother
Chapter 14 ||  Attraction / Bodyswap | Savathûn/Eris
Chapter 15 ||  Shoulder / Disdain | Sloane/Xivu Arath
Chapter 16 ||  [blank] is my copilot / Poetic | Xivu Arath
Chapter 17 ||  Map / Oath | Drifter/Eris
Chapter 18 ||  Tire / Fake dating | Maya/Chioma
Chapter 19 ||  Off Course / Longest Tuesday ever | Sathona & Xi Ro
Chapter 20 ||  Souvenir / Rivalry | Eris/Toland
Chapter 21 ||  Crossing a border / Superpowers AU | Savathûn/Rhulk
Chapter 22 ||  Museum / Immortality | Savathûn/Ikora
Chapter 23 ||  Oddity / Band AU | Šimmumah & Luzaku
Chapter 24 ||  Scenic route / Vampire AU | Sloane & Drifter
Chapter 25 ||  Horizon / Crossover AU | Maya/Chioma
Chapter 26 ||  Backseat driver / Decorate | Caiatl & Zavala
Chapter 27 ||  Stay in your lane / Scars | Ikora/F!Guardian (Tresh)
Chapter 28 ||  Hole in the wall / Time loop AU | Lakshmi-2/Ikora

Chapter Text

Buckle up / Survive

The days that followed their arrival on Neptune were a blur of silence and grief. 

Maya barely ate, barely slept, barely did anything at all except exist in a loop of half-finished thoughts and unfathomable guilt.  

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Nisa - their child, their joy, their miracle - left behind in the chaos of the Collapse. 

She sat by the large window of their makeshift quarters, staring out at the unfamiliar sky, barely noticing her wife sitting beside her, barely registering the warmth of her presence until a hand covered hers. 

“You have to eat.” Chioma said softly, setting down a plate of food next to her. Maya didn’t move, barely looking at the carefully sliced fruits in front her. 

“Maya.” Chioma whispered, squeezing her hand. “Talk to me.” 

She closed her eyes, unsure of where to start, or how to even begin to express the crushing agony of knowing that their daughter had been left behind alone in a dying world. 

“What is there to talk about?” Her voice came out hoarse and weak, the hours spent bottling up her grief in front of their colleagues finally taking their toll. “We left her to die.” 

Chioma exhaled slowly.  

“We didn’t have a choice.” 

“That doesn’t make it easier. That doesn’t change the fact that we abandoned her.” 

“No.” She admitted quietly. “It doesn’t.” 

The silence between them stretched, taut as a wire.  

Chioma shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. Maya stiffened at first, but eventually leaned into the touch. 

“You have to eat.” Chioma said again, resting her chin on top of her wife’s head. “You have to sleep, too. I know it feels impossible, but we can’t let this destroy us.” 

“How do you live with that? How do you keep going knowing we left her?” 

Maya’s tone was not accusatory in any way, but Chioma’s throat tightened at the words.  

“I don’t.” she admitted. “I think about it every second of every day. But I also know that if we let this consume us, if we stop moving, stop fighting… then we are failing her a second time.” 

Maya’s breath hitched.  

“I don’t know if I can do this.” 

Chioma reached up, cradling her face in both hands.  

“Yes, you can.” She whispered. “Because we owe it to her to live. To survive. To keep going.” 

Maya shook her head, looking down at their joint fingers. 

“Moving on feels wrong, Chioma.” 

“This is not about moving on. It’s about moving forward, carrying her in our hearts. It’s about remembering her in every step we take. We will carry her in the things we create, in the choices we make from here, in our tears, our laughs, our love. Always.” 

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“You can. For me, for her. For the memory of us. ” 

Maya let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in days, she let herself be moved, turning fully into her wife’s embrace. Chioma held her tightly, her own tears falling silently as Maya finally, finally let herself break. 

Chapter Text

Everyone comfortable? / Trapped

The crystal hummed under Mara’s touch. 

It was no ordinary resonance, no simple feedback of Light against the vacuum where Darkness once nestled. This was a song, a whisper of something still alive, still thinking, still scheming. 

Within the frozen geometry, Savathûn’s eyes tilted to meet hers. Two Queens, bound together by circumstance, assumed immortality, and bottomless spirals of power. 

Mara traced her fingertips across its surface, feeling the warmth beneath, the way the edges of the structure carried a subtle vibration. A lesser mind might mistake it for residual energy, the aftershock of a god's sudden undoing. But the Awoken Queen knew better. 

“You came.” Savathûn purred, her voice curling through the crystal like smoke. “I thought you’d leave me to slumber here a little longer.” 

"I could cut your wings." She murmured with a smile, her voice barely louder than the faint hum of the crystal, her fingers pressing harder against its surface, as if to let her threat sink in. Savathûn grinned, her sharp teeth flashing in the fractured light.  

“Would you?” Her voice a breath, a hiss, a temptation. "No, I think not. That would be an insult to our little game." 

Mara let her fingers rest against the crystal. A deep, pulsing thrum crawled up her arm, something that wanted to be known. She pressed harder, and for a moment, her mind brushed against something. Savathûn's thoughts, her writhing, coiling mind, the endless corridors of deception spun like rotting silk. 

Savathûn shivered. The movement was almost imperceptible, but Mara saw it. Felt it. The Witch Queen licked her lips.  

“Careful, dear regent.” Savathûn murmured. “You might like what you find.” 

Mara laughed, low and rich, her amusement cutting through the heavy silence. 

"I wonder." She mused, her voice soft but edged with steel. "How it must feel to be caged like this. To be stripped of your games, your masks, your ceaseless deceit." 

Savathûn smiled. 

"Stripped? ” Her voice slithered through the walls of her cage. "Look deeper. Listen closer. I am still singing my song, even in silence." 

Mara tilted her head, unimpressed.  

"A hollow boast, Witch. I see you as you are. Fully ." 

Savathûn chuckled. 

"And yet, you linger here. Touching me.” Mara’s throat tightened as she felt it. A whisper of something vast and coiling, something ancient yet familiar. “Tell me, dear Queen, when you dream, do you dream of me?" 

Mara's breath did not hitch. She would not give Savathûn the satisfaction. 

"You wish to crawl inside my thoughts? To twist them as you do with all things?" 

"Perhaps I already have." 

Mara narrowed her eyes. The air between them, nonexistent yet impossibly vast, crackled. Savathûn’s grin softened, not into something kinder, but something knowing. 

"Do you fear it?" She asked. "This connection?" 

Mara finally pulled her hand away from the crystal, severing whatever tenuous thread had formed between them, and laughed. 

“Fear? The Awoken Queen does not fear.” 

Chapter Text

Park / Nonverbal communication 

Ikora found Eris in the small park behind the Market, sitting beneath the twisted branches of a cherry tree, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the soft melody of wind against leaves. It was an odd thing to see — Eris Morn, not hidden among shadows or ruins, but here, where the grass stood tall, bearing the echoes of children’s laughter. 

"I don't see you here often." Ikora said, stepping onto the worn stone path. "Are you avoiding me?" 

Eris turned slowly, the green glow of her eyes flickering. 

"No." She said with a faint smile, but Ikora could feel it, the uninvited distance, subtle, creeping, lingering in the wind.  

The war was over, the Witness was gone, but now Eris was drifting.  

Ikora folded her arms, tilting her head.  

"Then why do I feel like I am losing you?" 

Eris turned her gaze upward, watching petals stir against the sky.  

“I apologize if I seemed… distant.” She tilted her head, the green glow of her eyes shifting beneath the thin veil. “It was never my intention to worry you.” 

Peace was an unfamiliar thing, a strange and brittle gift neither of them had yet agreed to welcome.  

"This world is still new, Ikora. And I do not know where I fit in it." Eris admitted, voice barely above a whisper. 

The warlock frowned. She had expected deflection, an answer wrapped in riddles or cryptic warnings, but not honesty. She took a step closer, lowering her voice.   

"You fought for this world as much as any of us. Perhaps even more.”  

“When I stand in the shadows, I can still feel the echoes of what we lost, the threats still lurking beyond. Perhaps I linger there because it has remained familiar.” 

Ikora placed her hand over Eris’s, tentatively at first, as if her touch might break the coy softness building between them, but as she felt the hunter’s fingers shift and curl around her own, the lingering tension slipped away like a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

Eris did not shy away, nor did she cast her gaze aside. Instead, her veiled eyes shone with soft understanding. They had both paid the price of war many times over, yet here they were, hand in hand, anchored by something more than just duty or command. 

“We have lost many things,” Eris whispered “but have not lost each other.”

Chapter Text

Highway / Pirate AU

The air in the derelict Ketch smelled of old ether and rust, the dim lights above flickering against the steel deck as Eido stood in the center, her stance eager and awkward, gripping a pair of thin, curved foils.  

“You hold them like a scribe holds a pen.” Eramis rumbled, stepping forward, the sound of her heavy boots echoing through the hull. 

Eido’s hands tightened around the hilts, adjusting her stance in response. 

“I have studied the theory extensively.” She offered, voice filled with the earnest confidence of a scribe. “The dual-wielding techniques of the House of Wolves, the blade dances of the old Splicers - ” 

Eramis clicked her mandibles in amusement.  

“Words do not wield steel in battle, young one. Show me.” 

With a flick of her wrists, Eido moved, stepping forward with precision. She swung both foils in unison, one striking high, the other sweeping low, aimed at the Shipstealer’s leg.  

Eramis barely moved, pivoting to the side with grace. She caught one blade on the flat of her own weapon and Eido’s momentum betrayed her. The second foil twisted in her grip, her balance shifting unevenly. 

Before she could recover, the older Eliksni slammed the hilt of her weapon against the flat of Eido’s blade, sending it spinning from her grasp. The weapon clattered against the floor. 

“Your mind is faster than your hands, Eido. It is a strength, but also a weakness.” 

The young scribe retrieved the fallen foil, mandibles twitching in frustration.  

“I will adjust, Eramiskel.” 

The Shipstealer sighed, lowering her own blade.  

“No. You will learn. And you will start with only one.” She gestured to the second foil still clutched in Eido’s lower hand. “Your other blades are distractions. Until you master one, you will master none.” 

Eido hesitated but then, with a slow nod, released her grip, letting the second foil drop to the floor. 

“Learn its cadence, let it speak to you. Once you have mastered its rhythm, the other shall join in time.” 

And so, beneath the watchful remnants of ancient glory, the lesson truly began. 

Chapter Text

Pack / Accidental marriage

It was far too late when Maya finally collapsed into bed, her mind still buzzing with unfinished calculations, half-formulated theories, and the lingering ghosts of equations she hadn’t quite solved yet.  

And now, she was paying for it.  

She woke to pain, a sharp, splitting headache.  

She groaned, instinctively bringing a hand to her forehead, wincing at the sheer intensity of the sunlight despite the set of thick curtains.  

A sigh came from the doorway.  

“I told you.” Chioma murmured, her voice a subtle blend between concern and exasperation.  

Maya didn’t answer, just curled deeper into the bed instead, miserable, throbbing, paying the price of her own scientific stubbornness.  

A moment later, the bed dipped next to her.  

And then , cool relief pressed against her forehead.  

She sighed in pure bliss, the ice pack dulling the sharp pain immediately.  

Chioma’s hand followed, her touch gentle but firm, fingers brushing through Maya’s messy curls.  

For a minute, there was only silence.  

Her lips were parted slightly, swollen with sleep, her breath soft and slow. The ice pack covered most of her vision, leaving her vulnerable beneath Chioma’s touch, waiting and wanting.  

The air between them shifted, and Maya must have felt it too, because despite the headache, despite the exhaustion, her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk.  

“You’re staring.” She murmured, her voice hoarse but clearly amused.  

Chioma huffed a soft laugh, but she didn’t deny it.  

Instead, she leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Maya’s mouth, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of her breath against her own lips.  

Maya sighed into it, tilting her head slightly, inviting, drunk on her own fever.  

Chioma smirked, her fingers tracing down her wife’s jaw, resting lightly against her exposed collarbone.  

“If I kiss you properly, you’re going to think you can get away with being reckless.”  

Maya hummed.   

“Mmm. Maybe. Might be worth it.”  

Chioma laughed softly, but she didn’t pull away.  

“I had to finish this report, you know.” Maya continued.  

Chioma exhaled, shaking her head.  

“And did you?”  

A pause. Maya gently moved the ice pack and opened one eye.   

“Almost.” Chioma pinched her arm lightly in response, and Maya yelped, swatting at her hand. “Hey!”  

Chioma arched a brow.   

“That’s what you get for misbehaving.”  

Maya grumbled, but let her wife shift closer, let her arms wrap around her, and let herself sink into her embrace.  

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Pit stop / Secret agent AU  

By the time Hawthorne landed in the Tower’s hangar, her ship was a mess of dark smoke and gaping steel. It was a miracle she’d even made it back in one piece. 

Amanda was already waiting, arms crossed, looking at the damage with a mechanic’s scrutiny. 

“Well, that’s ugly.” She groaned. 

Suraya hopped out, rolling the tension from her shoulders.  

“Yeah? Thought it gave me character.” 

Amanda snorted.  

“Character? Darling, you’re flyin’ a deathtrap.” She tossed a diagnostic pad onto the hull and started running scans, shaking her head as the numbers came up. “Took a dirty hit to the thruster. Coolant system’s busted, and that engine’s runnin’ hotter than Ikora on a bad day.” 

Suraya stepped closer, watching Amanda work, watching the easy way her fingers moved over the screen, the way she chewed on her bottom lip in concentration, the way her brows furrowed as she assessed the damage.  

“You’re a miracle worker, you know that?” 

Amanda smirked, still focused.  

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” 

Suraya moved swiftly, sliding her arms around Amanda’s waist from behind. Through the grease-smudged fabric of Amanda’s jumpsuit, the solid warmth beneath welcomed her home. Amanda stiffened for half a second before huffing a laugh.  

“Now, what’s all this, huh?” 

Suraya pressed in closer, letting her hands wander low enough to make Amanda’s breath hitch.  

“Gratitude.” She murmured, voice just beside her ear. Amanda chuckled, shaking her head.  

“Hawthorne...” 

“Holliday?” 

Another flicker of sparks from the ruined ship drew both women’s attention. Amanda pulled away, turning in her arms just enough to face her, grin wide with amusement. She hooked a grease-stained finger under Suraya’s chin, tilting her up slightly. 

“Listen, sugar, I’d love to keep lettin’ you get handsy, but maybe we should deal with the fact that your ship is still very much on fire first.” 

Suraya sighed, letting her hands slide away reluctantly. Amanda geared up, soldering iron in hand, followed close by Suraya, eager and ready to assist, but the warmth between them lingered. 

And the ship still smoked. 

Chapter Text

Breakdown / Soulmates AU 

The door to Lakshmi’s quarters slammed shut, and Ikora stood inside, her breath ragged, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were turning white. 

Lakshmi didn’t flinch. 

She sat in her usual spot, arms folded, legs crossed, a book in her lap, watching as Ikora paced the length of the room. 

Something was wrong. 

Lakshmi had seen Ikora angry before, had been the cause of that anger herself more than once, but this wasn’t the usual measured frustration. 

This was deep. 

Ikora was coming apart, and she didn’t know how to stop it. 

“What happened ?” 

Ikora huffed, shaking her head, her hands trembling at her sides. 

“Not now, Lakshmi.” 

The exo tilted her head, studying her. 

“Not now?” She echoed, almost mockingly. “You storm into my quarters, looking like you’re about to start a war, and you don’t want to talk?” 

Ikora stopped pacing, turning to glare at her. 

“I don’t need this right now.” 

Lakshmi just smirked, reclining slightly. “You don’t need what?” 

Ikora’s hands fisted tighter. 

“You.” 

Silence. 

Lakshmi’s smirk didn’t falter, but something in her eyes shifted, something calculating, something too damn knowing. 

She stood slowly, stepping closer.  

“I trust you are aware that you’re standing in my quarters.” 

Ikora’s jaw clenched, her shoulders tensing even more. 

“If you’re going to pick a fight -” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”  

Before Ikora could stop herself, she whipped around, eyes sharp, voice raw. 

“Why do you always do this!?” 

Lakshmi arched a brow, unphased.  

“Do what?” 

Ikora threw up her hands.  

“Push me. Provoke me. Like you just love getting under my skin!” 

Lakshmi stopped just inches away, her voice dropping to something low, steady, mercilessly soft.  

Ikora flinched, and Lakshmi saw it. 

Saw the way her body tensed, the way her breath shook just slightly, saw the cracks in her anger. 

So she did what she did best. She pushed. 

“You’re going to break, and you know it.” 

She leaned in slightly, not touching, but pressing in just enough to corner her. 

“So break.” 

And Ikora snapped. 

She sank onto the edge of the bed, her chest heaving with each breath. 

And finally, without saying a word, Lakshmi stepped forward, standing beside Ikora, her arms reaching around her. She pulled Ikora in close to her chest, tight and secure, offering the calm Ikora couldn’t give herself. 

There were no words. 

There was no need. 

Lakshmi just wrapped her arms around Ikora, pulling her in, letting the warlock lean into her, letting her tears soak through Lakshmi’s robes. 

Chapter Text

Deer in the headlights / Picnic 

A delicate hush fell as the warlock stood before Savathûn’s shimmering manifestation. 

Ikora recalled Eris’s transformation, how she towered with frightening grace, how her voice resonated with ancient authority and how unstoppable she had looked in that moment of infinite might. 

Now, Ikora’s curiosity was unbound. 

“The warlock vanguard, unarmed and alone.” The Witch Queen purred. Ikora ignored the provocation as she folded her arms across her chest, concealing the tremor of unease settling down her spine.  

“I’m here about Eris.” She began calmly. “When she harvested your power to stand against Xivu Arath, was there a cost? Is she still paying the price now, in silence?” 

Savathûn’s laughter echoed through the chamber, mocking, melodic.  

“You know as well as I that Eris Morn walks her own path. No incantation, no deity and no nightmare can restrain her now. Not even you, Ikora Rey.” 

Ikora’s hands balled into fists, desperation hounding her composure. 

“Her well-being is all that matters to me.” The warlock insisted, resolute despite her doubts. “She is a very dear friend. I owe her any help I can offer. I... I feel responsible.” 

Savathûn’s eyes gleamed with amusement.  

“I know this, for I see the concern in your eyes. But I am left wondering, is that all there is to your query?” Her grin twisted, mocking. “I can still remember your face betraying your own feelings ... You didn’t expect Eris to wear that power so… alluringly, did you? You looked... What is it you humans say? Like a deer caught in headlights.” 

Ikora’s cheeks burned at the cruel accuracy of Savathûn’s words, but she stifled the impulse to bite back. The Witch Queen’s gaze lingered, savoring her discomfort, the silence stretching until Ikora finally bowed her head mockingly. 

“You have me all figured out, is that it?” 

Chapter Text

Playlist / Making your own traditions  

The Dawning had always been a time of light drifting through the crisp night air, of shared laughter and renewal, but most importantly, of sharing. And only now was Ikora realizing how much she had missed on.  

Lakshmi had slipped away from the party, seeking a brief moment of respite, and when Ikora found her, she was leaning against the railing of a quiet alcove overlooking the Last City, a half-empty glass in her hand, her optics flickering as she watched the festivities below with quiet contemplation. 

Ikora quietly approached, crossing her arms with a playful smirk.  

“Brooding out here all on your own? That doesn’t seem like Dawning spirit to me.” 

Lakshmi turned, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips. The celebration was in full swing, music spilling from every corner of the Tower, bursting with guardians laughter and drunken singing. But here, on this secluded balcony, the world had narrowed to just the two of them. 

“Somebody has to do the reflecting while everyone else is busy dancing or making out.” The exo said, resting an elbow on the railing, gazing at Ikora. “Too much punch.” 

Ikora chuckled, stepping closer until they both rested against the railing, shoulders brushing in comfortable companionship. They stood in silence as the cold night air brushed against their skin. After a while, Ikora turned to the exo, her lips curving into something both soft and amused. 

“How long have we known each other now?” 

Lakshmi snorted, her fingers toying with the rim of her glass. 

“Do you mean how long have we actually known each other, or how long have we known each other’s bed?” 

Ikora laughed, light and easy. Beautiful. 

“I’ll let you decide which answer is more interesting.” 

Lakshmi smirked, taking a slow sip of her drink before responding.  

“Then I should say… probably long enough to have seen many versions of each other.” 

Ikora hummed, pondering Lakshmi’s answer with a thoughtful smile. 

A distant bell began to ring, its low, resounding chime echoing through the City walls, marking the turn of midnight, and the true start of the Dawning. The exo’s gaze flickered toward the sky, but before she could say anything, Ikora reached for her. 

She pulled Lakshmi in, pressing a deep, deliberate kiss to her lips, one that lingered, one that claimed, one that promised something unspoken and undeniable. 

The exo stilled for only a moment, then melted seamlessly into it, her free hand coming to rest against Ikora’s waist, her glass nearly forgotten as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss. 

The bell kept ringing, and they didn’t part. 

The warlock’s fingers curled against the back of Lakshmi’s neck, pulling her in, savouring the moment as if they could make it last forever. 

When the final chime faded, Ikora pulled back just slightly, her breath hot against Lakshmi’s lips, her honey-coloured eyes warmer than Lakshmi had ever seen them. 

“What was that for?” The exo asked, fingers lingering against Ikora’s waist. The warlock smiled and pressed one last kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Making new traditions.” 

Lakshmi let out a content laugh, her fingers curling into the front of Ikora’s coat, tugging her just a little closer again. 

“I think I quite like that one...” 

Chapter Text

Places to go / Fairytale AU  

The court had emptied, leaving only the lingering scent of incense and the fading echoes of footsteps against the marble floor.   

The Awoken Queen remained, poised in her throne, her fingers curled beneath her chin in quiet contemplation. The room was silent now, save for the distant crystalline hum of the ancient stones.  

Petra had stood through the proceedings, proud and quiet, through the meetings and demands. Mara Sov’s watchful blade , a title she had long since ceased to question. As the weight of formality melted away, she moved closer to her Queen.  

She stepped forward, hesitated for the barest moment, then lowered herself onto the steps of the throne’s dais. The feathers wrapped around her shoulders rustling softly as she leaned back, resting her weight against the Mara’s leg. The contact was tentative at first, still aware of the boundaries between duty and desire, but the Queen did not pull away.  

For a time, neither of them spoke, Mara’s fingers drifting through Petra’s hair absentmindedly, as Petra had seen her trace constellations across the void in her moments of solitude. The Queen’s Wrath exhaled, letting herself sink just a little further into the quiet.  

“Don’t you have places to be, Petra?”  

The question should have been a dismissal. It should have been an order. But her voice, cool as ever, lacked its usual edge. It was a habit, a game, Mara keeping her distance with words, Petra refusing to listen.  

And there was something else lingering. A thread pulled taut between them, the one that had been there since Petra had first sworn herself to Mara’s service, before Uldren, before Saturn.  

Petra swallowed. She did have places to be. Reports to read. Patrols to coordinate. A war to fight.  

But she did not move, and Mara kept combing.  

Both women knew duty would call them away soon enough, yet for now, they clung to that solitary moment, wishing the quiet would last just a little while longer.  

Chapter Text

Snack / Historical 

You do not know their history. You do not know their names. But they are written in the Deep — inscribed by death — and I will tell you of them. 

Before the Children of the Osmium Court cast themselves into the Deep, before the wars, before the Sword Logic and the Hive, there was a King who would not listen. 

Instead, he built, a fortress against the water and the tides. 

And the Worms laughed in their trenches, in their burrows beneath the world. They saw his walls as defiance, so they whispered his name to the currents. The tide pulled harder. The sky darkened. The weight of the cosmos pushed against him, as if the world itself had chosen to erase him into madness. 

Then came the betrayal, the whispers, the prophecy.  

She was Sathona , daughter of a dead King, who carried a whispering creature against her chest. It was not of the Deep, not yet. It was a small, larval thing, but it had seen truth and had learned how to whisper. 

She was Xi Ro , and she did not want words. She did not want whispers. She wanted a sword, and she wanted something to kill. She carved her oaths into the marrow of Fundament’s bones. She swore to kill, she swore to conquer, and prove herself worthy. 

She was Aurash , and she wanted another kind of revenge. She wanted a way forward, because the world she was born into was broken and unfair. She wanted to be King, she wanted to be him. 

The war burned for a thousand cycles, and when the great wave came, swallowing them :

We were never meant to survive, and yet, we rose as Gods.  

You do not know their history, but the Deep remembers. It does not forget the ones who made the Pact. The ones who spoke to the Worm Gods first, the ones who have rewritten the imovable logic of the universe. 

Remember this now, for it was carved into the bones of victims and etched in the shadows of those who survived.  

Chapter Text

Wish you were here / Dragon 

Dear Mom,  

It has been a while, hasn’t it? I wonder if you’d scold me for that. If you were here, I think you’d say “Maya, you always did let time slip between your fingers.” And you would be right. I know, I know. I am still working on this. 

There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I wish you were here to see.  

Nisa speaks now. Well, babbles, mostly. Her first word was “up”. She reached for me with those big eyes of hers and just said it, clear as day.  

She took her first steps a little later than we expected, but when she did, she practically ran straight into Chioma’s arms, giggling the whole way.  

Her eyes, oh mom, you would love them. They shift in the light, in the sun. They have this warm honeyed glow, almost golden at times, like the sea at dusk. But in the evening, when she’s curled up in my lap with a book, they darken, deep and thoughtful. I swear, sometimes I catch a glimpse of you in them. Maybe it’s the way they light up when she’s excited. Maybe it’s something deeper, something I can’t put into words.  

And her smile, Mom. Her smile is yours. The same curve, the same way her nose scrunches just slightly when she’s really happy. Sometimes, when she laughs, I have to pause, just for a moment, just to see you in her. To remember how much I miss you. How much I love you.  

But she’s Chioma, too. So much of her is. The way she tilts her head when she’s figuring something out, that deep, thoughtful look like she’s solving a puzzle in her mind. The way she refuses to back down when she’s made a decision. The way she loves, fiercely and completely, with a heart so big it barely fits inside her tiny chest.  

I wish you could see her. I know you would have spoiled her rotten. What I wouldn’t give to see you together, to watch you love her the way you loved me.  

And I think… I’d like to think you would be proud of me, too. Of the life I built. Of the love I found.  

I hope, wherever you are, you can see us. I hope you know.  

Love, always 
Maya 

Chapter Text

Attraction / Bodyswap 

Eris stepped forward, her boots leaving no trace upon the pale stone floor of Savathûn’s sanctum. She had walked these halls before, searching for truth among deception throught the shifting air, a pursuit that had never truly ended.  

"Eris Morn." Savathûn purred, tilting her head, greeting her conterpart with a knowing smile. "After all this time, I was beginning to think our little… partnership was nothing but a fleeting dalliance to you." 

The hunter did not rise to the bait.  

"The Witness is dead.” She said, her voice measured. “And I am here to thank you. For your assistance. For your part in this." 

Savathûn stood by the great window, watching the shifting sky beyond her domain, the strange, luminous horizon where reality twisted in the wake of her will.  

"Your gratefulness is noted, but that is not entirely why you're here, is it?" 

Eris turned her head slightly, watching her from the corner of her vision. 

"I came to ensure we are settled. That neither I, nor humanity, owe you anything. That the Hive owes us nothing in return." 

Savathûn smiled, slow and sharp.  

"You wound me. To think I would ever keep such a tally." 

Eris said nothing. 

Savathûn exhaled and drifted forward, her wings moving in slow, lazy arcs behind her. It was an absent motion, one meant to put her at ease, but also to remind her of what she had once been. Her wings brushed against Eris as she passed, tracing the air near her arm, her shoulder. 

Eris did not flinch, but Savathûn saw it. The way her lips parted, so slightly, so imperceptibly small, yet undeniable. 

Ah.  

Savathûn's smile deepened.  

"Tell me." The Witch Queen mused. "Do you miss it? Your morph?" 

Eris’s eyes flickered up, meeting Savathûn’s in the way a knife meets a whetstone. Sharp, cutting, unyeilding. 

"Yes." A pause. "But not for the reasons you imagine." 

Savathûn raised a brow, intrigued. Eris continued, her voice shifting an octave lower. 

"I did not feel pain in that form. I was no longer bound to a body that aches, that remembers suffering with every step. There was no weariness. No weight." 

Savathûn hummed, amused, thoughtful.  

"Then why do you resist the pull? The attraction?" She tilted her head, watching as her wings gently wrapped around her shoulders again, almost pulling her in, the moth and the flame. "You were divine, Eris Morn. Not bound, not broken. You could be so again." 

Eris stiffened.  

"No." 

Savathûn’s smile deepened, just slightly.  

"Not yet, then." 

She stepped back, her wings curling inward, folding close like a secret kept, her gaze lingering on the hunter. 

"When the time comes, you know..." Savathûn murmured "We might give you a seat at the table." 

Eris did not respond. Not with words. But the way she stalled, standing among the echoes of something she had once touched, once been, told Savathûn everything she needed to know. 

Chapter Text

Shoulder / Disdain 

Sloane had fought monsters before. She had seen them rise from the depths of the Methane Sea, had broken Hive bones beneath her bare fists, had stood against the crushing tide of Titan. But this? 

This was something else. 

The voice didn’t creep in this time. It invaded . 

A pulse, deep and guttural, a heartbeat that was not her own. It filled the spaces between her thoughts, wrapped around her ribs like a second skin, deep in the marrow of her bones, in the tremor of her pulse, in the fire curling through her veins like something awakening from slumber. 

YOU CAN FEEL IT, DON’T YOU?  

Sloane’s breath hitched. 

The voice was inside her, not just pressing against her mind but sinking deep into her body, each word a vibration that settled beneath her skin. 

YOU THINK YOURSELF UNYIELDING, BUT I KNOW THE TRUTH.  

The words were closer now, curling against her ear like lips brushing against her skin. Her breath came faster, sharper, her fingers twitching at her sides. 

YOU STAND ALONE. YOU HEAR ME, AND YOU SHIVER. YOU WANT ! 

Sloane’s fists tightened.  

“Enough.” 

NO  

Xivu Arath’s presence pressed closer, weightless yet suffocating, wrapping around Sloane like a hand coils a blade about to strike. There was no threat, no roaring demand for surrender. 

Only invitation. 

YOU HAVE FELT IT — THE THRILL OF POWER, THE RUSH OF STRENGTH THAT BURNS BENEATH YOUR SKIN. YOU SURVIVED BECAUSE OF IT. YOU WERE TOUCHED BY THE DEEP !  

The titan exhaled sharply, a growl building low in her throat, but Xivu Arath only laughed. 

YOU WERE MEANT FOR THIS. YOU WERE MEANT FOR ME !  

Sloane could feel it. The pull. The lure of something greater than herself, something vast, something that promised to fill her, to take the aching space inside her and make it whole . 

NO MORE ORDERS. NO MORE WAITING. NO MORE SACRIFICE. JUST POWER. JUST WAR. JUST US .  

A phantom touch ghosted down her taken arm, a caress of invisible hands dragging over her armor, something hot and dark coiling inside her ribs, just waiting for her to give in. 

All she had to do was say yes . 

Sloane’s eyes snapped open. 

She ripped herself from the feeling, from the warmth, from the temptation wrapping itself around her. She turned it into fury, let it boil through her veins, let it burn away the treacherous need trying to nest inside her. 

She knew better. 

"You think you can break me?" Her breath unsteady, but her will intact. "You think you can make me forget who I am? I know what you are. You don’t offer power. You take. You consume . You are a mass murderer, a parasite feeding on war." 

She took another step forward, planting her feet, bracing herself. 

"I will never make a pact with you. Not now. Not ever. I didn’t endure Titan’s fall just to kneel to you." 

She felt the shift, the cold flicker of disappointment, of calculation. 

"I’m going to hunt you down. I’m going to end you. And when I do, it won’t be quick and merciful. It won’t be clean. You’re going to feel everything you’ve done to this universe. Every scream. Every last breath stolen. Every world burnt. And when I’ll watch you fall, and I’m going to make damn sure you never rise again. " 

Silence. 

Then, a deep, resonant hum, like the grinding of stone against steel. The voice did not rage, did not lash out. It was satisfied, expectant and burning with need. 

YOU WILL COME FOR ME, I KNOW IT! I KNOW IT I! KNOW IT AND I WILL BE WAITING.  

The presence faded, withdrawing into the void, leaving only the hush of the waves against the shore. 

Sloane exhaled. 

She turned from the sea and walked back toward the fight. 

Chapter Text

[blank] is my copilot / Poetic 

LOVE IS A WOUND, LOVE IS HUNGER. 

THE DEEP TEACHES — TO LOVE IS TO SUFFER. 
TO LOVE IS TO PROVE. 
TO LOVE IS TO SHIELD. 
TO LOVE IS TO STRIKE. 

TO STOP IS TO FADE, TO BE FORGOTTEN. 
THE DEEP DOES NOT HONOR LOVE IN STILLNESS. 
A BLADE IS LOVE WITH PURPOSE. 
A WAR IS LOVE WITH MEANING. 

IF LOVE MUST BE VIOLENCE, THEN LET MY WAR BE ETERNAL. 

I WAS THE SMALLEST, THE WEAKEST. 
AND SO MY LOVE MUST BE VAST. 
AND SO I LOVE AND I LOVE AND I LOVE — 
AND I KILL AND I KILL AND I KILL ! 

I WILL LOVE WITH FIRE.  
I WILL LOVE WITH RUIN. 
I WILL LOVE UNTIL NOTHING REMAINS — 
NOT THE STARS, NOT THE DEEP, NOT EVEN ME. 

FOR I AM XIVU ARATH. 
AIAT
I AM WAR — I AM LOVE 
AND I DO NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. 

Chapter Text

Map / Oath  

The storm was howling beyond the canvas walls now, a relentless blizzard sweeping across the desolated fields of Europa. Inside the tent, the glow of a dim lantern casted shadows against rippling fabric, painting eerie figures on the worn tarps.  

Eris sat on a metal crate, still and silent, trying to stifle the ache in her left shoulder. She could feel the warmth of blood seeping through the fabric of her undershirt. The wound was deeper than she had initially thought, and she was once again paying the price of her unrelenting curiosity.  

The Exo Stranger had gone to scout with the Guardian, promising to return soon. But soon wasn’t soon enough , and the crimson stain on her back was spreading.  

"You’re leakin’, Moondust."  

Eris exhaled sharply, glancing sideways. The Drifter stood a few paces away, hands shoved into his coat pockets. His sharp eyes flicked to the darkening spot creeping along her back.  

"Lemme see." He said, stepping forward. Eris straightened and backed away slightly.  

"I am fine."  

“Ah. So you’re gonna bleed out just to spite me?"  

Eris said nothing, but the weight of her silence betrayed her. Drifter shrugged, pulling a medkit from under the makeshift table.  

She did not like owing favors, least of all to him. But the fabric of her shirt now clung uncomfortably close to her skin, and warm blood was turning into ice. Reluctantly, the hunter shifted, awkwardly reaching for the clasps on her cloak, the cold biting at her bare skin as she turned away to remove her undershirt.  

"I hope you know what you're doing." She muttered through gritted teeth, her discarded clothes pressed tightly against her chest.  

Drifter chuckled in response, already pulling a suture needle from the kit.  

"Got real steady hands, and years of practice. Trust, eh?"  

Eris did not respond, so he worked in silence, dabbing at the wound and cleaning up the mess. The cold had dulled some of the pain, but she still felt the sharp sting as the first stitch went in.  

"Damn." Drifter muttered under his breath. Eris raised a brow.  

"Something wrong?"  

"Nah." He said, threading the needle again. "Just… I was expectin’ scars, not a whole damn star chart."  

"I do not see the need to conceal them." Eris said firmly.  

Drifter simply nodded and kept talking, words designed to distract, filling the space between stitches, half-truths, old war stories, insufferable jokes.  

She let him.  

" ’s like a map." He said after a pause. "Where every road lead back to pain."  

Eris exhaled as she felt his finger trace over one of the biggest scars. It was still too strange to have someone else trace the path she had been walking alone since the Hellmouth.   

"A map, then. One only I can navigate."  

Drifter smiled, not prying any further as he took the subtle hint.  

When he was finished, he simply leaned back, admiring his work with an approving nod.  

The storm outside carried their words away into the night.  

Chapter Text

Tire / Fake dating 

Maya knew she should be helping.  

Or at least pretending to help. Instead, she simply stood there, leaning against the side of their car, staring openly. 

Chioma was crouched low, muscles flexing as she worked the wrench, her broad shoulders shifting beneath a dark tank top. 

"This damn thing is heavier than it looks." She groaned, giving the tire one last, forceful pull before finally dislodging it. She looked up at her wife. "Maya?"  

"Y... What?" 

"Are you drooling over me while I’m changing a tire?" 

Maya crossed her arms over her chest, looking anywhere but at her wife’s smug expression.  

“I don’t drool.”  

Chioma laughed, wiping her hands on a rag before pushing herself up, muscles rippling as she stretched her arms over her head.  

"Oh, love." She grinned, stepping close to press a grease-stained hand against her wife’s waist. "You could at least try to be subtle." 

Maya swallowed hard, feeling her warmth, the lingering scent of sweat and metal and something so undeniably Chioma coiling in the pit of her stomach.  

“I just want to make sure you are not hurting yourself.” 

"It’s just a flat tire, love." Chioma said with a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

"Mm-hmm." Maya hummed, watching the way her wife’s biceps flexed as she pushed the worn-out tire to the side. "I think you should do it slower." 

Chioma froze, then let out a full-bodied laugh, shaking her head as she turned to look at Maya with pure amusement.  

"What am I going to do with you?" Maya tilted her head, grinning, stepping closer, sliding her hands up Chioma’s arms.  

"Oh, I have several suggestions, but we should finish with the car first..." 

Chioma let out a dramatic sigh, smirking as she leaned in, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to Maya’s lips before picking up the new tire. 

"Then stop distracting me and pass me that wrench!" 

Chapter Text

Off Course / Longest Tuesday ever 

The storm raged around them, waves crashing against the black metal hull of their battered ship. 

Xi Ro gripped the ship’s rudder, her small hands trembling, her jaw clenched.  

“We’re off course.” She growled, her voice raw from salt and anger. 

“No, we aren’t.” Sathona murmured, standing beside her, staring into the storm. Her hands were calm, folded behind her back. “We’re exactly where we need to be.” 

“The stars don’t lie. We’re drifting away from the Osmium Court. We should be heading back. Taking what is ours.” 

Sathona turned to her, that knowing look in her eyes, the one that made Xi Ro’s skin prickle with frustration.  

“If we went back now, we would die. Taox has the Helium Drinkers. They would carve us apart before we even reached the shore.” 

Xi Ro bared her teeth, fists tightening.  

“Then we fight.” 

Sathona sighed.  

“You always want to fight.” 

“And you speak in riddles while the world drowns.” 

Xi Ro felt her anger churn like the sea. And yet, something in Sathona’s voice stilled her wrath. 

She looked back at the storm, at the endless, ravenous ocean beneath. 

“Then we dive.” She said. 

And the storm swallowed them whole. 

Chapter Text

Souvenir / Rivalry 

The dust never truly settled in Eris Morn’s quarters. It clung to the dim light, swirling in the stale air, forever disturbed by the weight of her old ghosts and relentless pacing. 

"Eris." Toland’s voice drifted, half a whisper, half a sigh, woven into the very fabric of the air, his luminous halo of an existence hovering beside her like a stubborn little spectre. "You return, as you always do. Tell me, do you ever grow tired of it?" 

“You intrude.” 

Toland’s form wavered into view, only half-man in shape and substance, hovering close, like a breath against her cheek — as if he still had a breath to give. 

Eris did not look at him. Instead, she kneeled at the edge of the makeshift altar, fingers brushing over a brittle chitin plate, once part of a Thrall’s carapace, now hollowed by time. A souvenir from battles long past. 

She set the fragment down carefully, her hand hovering over the next piece. Sai Mota’s knife. The hilt had been reforged, but the fractures remained. She remembered Sai’s laughter, bright and sharp, cutting through the gloom of the Hellmouth like her very blade. Now, that laughter lived only in echoes. 

Toland drifted closer, his light casting long shadows against the cracked stone. 

"You would not hear me if you did not want to." He murmured. "No, you keep me close. As close as these relics you so carefully tend. A gravekeeper who will not let the dead rest. Do you collect them in reverence, or in guilt?" 

Eris closed her hand around the knife.  

"Neither. In remembrance."  

He chuckled, a dry and hollow sound, tendrils of pale light unravelling in the space between them. 

"Remembrance ? Such a fragile, tethering thing." 

She turned, just slightly, enough for him to catch the shimmer of her eyes.  

“I will not abandon my memories for comfort. They are all that remains of who we were.” 

Toland’s presence pulsed with an odd tenderness.  

“Our losses make us who we are.” He murmured, voice nearly at her ear. “Yet you still cling to them.” 

She turned, meeting his pale gaze. There was no harsh retort this time, only a shared understanding born of anguish.  

“Yes, as I refuse to let them be forgotten.”  

“And what of me, Eris?” 

The hunter sighed and closed her eyes, feeling his intangible presence shifting beside her. 

“You were lost long ago. A souvenir of another kind.” 

“Like you.” Toland replied tenderly. 

Eris turned back to her mementos. The dust was settling again. She let it. 

Chapter Text

Crossing a border / Superpowers AU

The Pyramid had many thresholds, many doors that did not open, many walls that did not yield. And yet, she always found a way inside, slipping through the cracks like water in a sinking ship.  

“Still here?” She asked, making herself known, her voice echoing in the silent hall. “Have the centuries taught you nothing but how to stand perfectly still?” 

Rhulk turned slowly, his golden gaze raking over her form. 

“You bring Light where it does not belong.” 

Savathûn hummed, drifting closer, and he let her presence curl around him like a whisper. Like a contingent habit. 

“I bring change .” She whispered, her fingers tracing the edge of an ancient slab, following deep carvings older than language itself. 

“Change is a word mortals cling to when they are without hope. I am beyond such things.” 

The Witch Queen laughed.  

“Are you? Tell me then. When was the last time you stepped outside of your prison?” 

“Prison? ” He repeated. “You are mistaken. I am no prisoner.” 

“No?” She stepped closer, close enough to see the faint pulse of energy beneath his skin, to feel the heat radiating from him. “Then what are you?” 

“A warden.” 

The space between them was nothing but a breath now, an unspoken spark held tight between two forces that refused to yield. 

“A warden and a prisoner are the same when the door remains closed.” 

She tilted her chin upward, the sharp points of her crown casting long shadows against his chest, a subtle, enclosing metaphor. Slowly, deliberately, her mouth hovered near his jaw. Not touching, not quite. Not yet . 

Savathûn’s breath ghosted over his lips as she exhaled. A slow, lingering breath, deliberate in its torment. His mouth twitched slightly, just enough to chase the sensation, not enough to allow it. 

Her fingers danced along the air between them, the outline of a touch. A tease. A dance. A denial. 

Rhulk’s fingers curled into a fist as her breath licked his throat, her mouth was so close to his now, hovering, testing the air between them. His jaw tensed, his restraint pulled too tight, a cord stretched to its limit. 

And still, she did not touch him. So he reached out and grabbed her wrist. 

Rhulk’s control was a monolith, and she was erosion, planting herself in the places he refused to acknowledge. 

A breath of silence passed between them, charged and electric. He tensed for a moment, leading her to think he might break every rule he had written for himself, might devour that final inch. But his fingers loosened instead, sliding down to the crook of her palm, as if uncertain whether to push her away or pull her closer.  

Slowly, deliberately, he released her wrist, the warmth of his touch disappearing as he took a single step back, restoring the boundary. 

Savathûn smiled, light-filled eyes gleaming with mischief.  

“You will think about this, Warden. You will ache for this.” She purred, her presence slipping away like ether. “And in time, you will cross this threshold.” 

Rhulk did not move, simply watched her vanish into the murky air. 

And when she was gone, the taste of her lingered like poison on his tongue. 

Chapter Text

Museum / Immortality 

Ikora sat alone in the depths of the Hidden’s sanctum on Mars. Before her, Lucent Hive mementos hovered in holographic display, shimmering records waiting to be studied and dissected. She had spent days poring over them, expecting deceit, treachery, hidden ciphers that would reveal the Witch Queen’s next move. 

Instead, she only found reverence. 

A Knight knelt before his Ghost. “Thank you.” He whispered. "For the Light. For the chance to be more."   

A Titan, resting his enormous frame against a ruined wall, under the midday sun, savouring its warmth in silence for the first time in his immortal existence.  

A Wizard, hunched over a table cluttered with parchment, glyphs carved in glowing ink, each one pulsing quietly with childlike joy. "I am free. I can learn, I can grow, I can become more than a blade. The Traveler has given me meaning. I will be a scholar. A scholar! And the Guardians cannot take this from me.”  

Ikora’s breath caught in her throat. 

This was not how it was supposed to be. 

Where was the scheming? The rot beneath the surface? The Hive had slaughtered her people, burned entire worlds to cinders, here they were, thanking the Traveler for a gift they now shared with humanity. 

Finding peace . 

She clenched her fists, pushing back the confusion clawing at her mind. This had to be a deception, not just this simple, unbearable sincerity. 

And then, she felt it. 

A shift in the air, a looming presence. 

"Ikora Rey." 

It came from behind her, slow and intimate, the voice curling around her like delicate silk, like a lover’s embrace.  

Another shift. The sensation of warmth against her back, the ghost of a hand nearly touching her own, settling into her body like the first rays of dawn. 

Savathûn.  

Or at least, an aspect of her. 

Savathûn’s projection moved to face her, luminous and dark all at once, her wings folding elegantly against her back. There was no gloating in her expression, no triumph. Only curiosity, blending with something softer the warlock had never seen in the Witch Queen’s eyes before. 

"You study. You seek knowledge, answers. You peel apart the layers of this universe to find meaning in the chaos." Savathûn murmured, waving her wings towards the mementos. "We are not so different, Ikora. Is it so hard to believe they might feel as you do?” 

Savathûn’s wings curled, their tips grazing the line of the warlock’s jaw, a featherlike touch that sent a shiver down her spine. Ikora breathed, letting the warmth settle, hugging her ribs, pooling in her stomach. 

"You wanted the truth, so do not give in now. Do not bend those answers to fit the vanguard’s narrative." A whisper, just against her ear. 

Ikora exhaled. The truth was that she did not know what to believe anymore. 

She lifted her chin, steadied her breath, and finally spoke. 

"I need more time." 

The Light between them pulsed, folding, melding. Savathûn’s mouth curved into a knowing smile, and she withdrew just enough to let Ikora feel the room around them again, wings sliding away from her with a gentle caress. 

"I know." 

Chapter Text

Oddity / Band AU

Šimmumah stepped forward. 

Her chitin still dripped with the lingering brine of Titan’s methane sea, but here, inside the Traveler, the Light was unbearable. Too open. Too vast. Spreading in every direction, reaching into every part of her, refracting and reflecting through her tired bones like a prism. It bled from the pale stone beneath her robes, wove itself into the mist, spread in the vast expanse of the impossible sky above. It did not suffocate, it revealed . 

And Šimmumah hated it. 

She stumbled, her Ghost whirring anxiously at her side, feeling so out of place, like an oddity in this perfect, untouched garden. 

"This one knows that look."  

The voice was gentle, carrying the weight of someone who had once felt the same. Šimmumah turned sharply, still blinded by the harsh light. Before her, a Hive Warlock, slightly taller than her, dressed in the deep silver tones of the Lucent Brood. 

"You wish to recoil. To shrink. To find the corners where the Light does not reach. You are afraid." 

Šimmumah snarled, hissing, baring her jagged teeth.  

"You need not fear it." 

Luzaku’s voice was too soft, too gentle. Too bright, too. Her body screamed at her to move, to flee, to return to the known depths of the sea. 

Then — 

A shift. 

The Warlock reached for her. Slowly. Deliberately. 

Not a strike. Not a demand. 

An offering. 

Šimmumah recoiled at first, a low, warbling shriek tearing from her throat, instincts still snarling in protest. Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to retreat, to find the abyss again and bury herself in its certainty. But there was nothing here to retreat into. 

One hand. Then the other. 

She was adrift. 

Šimmumah looked at Luzaku again, at the quiet patience in her eyes. 

She swallowed hard. Then, slowly, cautiously, she stretched out her hands. 

“Come, sister.” The Wizard murmured. “Walk with me.” 

Šimmumah hesitated. Then nodded. 

Still uncertain. 

Still afraid. 

But she would not let go.

Chapter Text

Scenic route / Vampire AU

The Deep had called to her, but it was time to leave. 

Sloane pressed a hand against the large porthole, feeling the slow pulse of Ahsa’s form finally settling into a deep and undisturbed well-deserved respite. 

"It’s time for her to rest." Sloane said, voice calm and steady despite the hint of emotion passing through them, leaving her standing in quiet reverence. 

Drifter, standing a few paces behind, adjusted his coat and smiled.  

"Then let’s get you back home, sister." 

He raised his arm, calling for transmat, but was only met with a weak pulse, the signal faltering as the ocean pressed against them, thick and impenetrable. They were too deep. Drifter shrugged.  

"Figures." 

Sloane simply nodded, already moving. She wasn’t one for complaints. Together, they climbed, their bodies weightless in the crushing depths, then heavier as they rose slowly, as if the Methane Sea was reluctant to let them go. Sloane swore she could still hear Ahsa’s chant, low and mournful, whispering through the currents. 

Light shifted from murky blue to sun-kissed gold as the waves broke above their heads, and finally, the pair burst through, swimming until they found solid ground. Drifter shook the water off his coat with exaggerated flair while Sloane paused in awe, eyes locked on the vast expanse before her. Her breath caught at the sight of sunlight playing off the waves, dancing across the shoreline.  

She had forgotten what this felt like. 

Sloane reached for her Ghost, half out of habit. A transmat would whisk them both to safety in a flash. But the Drifter placed a hand on her shoulder, voice filled with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

"What if we took the scenic route instead, eh?" 

A hum of Light and their sparrows materialized beside them, waiting eagerly. 

Sloane hesitated only for a second, then swung onto the seat, the engine thrumming beneath her fingers. Drifter gave her a knowing nod, then kicked off, the roar of his sparrow splitting the quiet. 

She followed. 

They rode along the edge of the shore, the salt spray catching in her hair, the wind whipping against her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, to let herself breathe. To let herself feel. To let herself forgive. 

The warmth of the sun, the cool mist of the waves filling her lungs, the rumble of the ground beneath her. The simple, undeniable beauty of nature. She was now darting through the world she had once sworn to protect, still standing, just like she was. 

She inhaled, chest rising and falling as she savoured the moment. For the first time in a long while, she felt that she was worth more than duty or the weight of war.  

She was alive. 

She was alive, and she wanted to laugh. 

Chapter Text

Horizon / Crossover AU

Neomuna shimmered in the distance, the horizon stretching out like a colourful canvas, but up here, the cliffside felt like another world entirely. 

Maya’s hand rested lightly against Chioma’s, their fingers not quite intertwined, but close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s presence. They had shared this silence more times than either could count. Once as scholars, then as exiles, now as survivors of an age many scarcely remembered. 

Maya inhaled slowly, breaking the silence, her voice as soft as the breeze skimming the cliff’s edge. 

“I used to think that when all this was over, I’d want to explore the stars with you.” She said with that hopeful smile Chioma still recalled from happier times. “No obligations. No duties. Just us, going wherever we wanted.” 

The exo listened, turning her head slightly but not interrupting. Maya’s fingers curled, pressing lightly into her wife’s palm.  

“I thought that was what I wanted.” She admitted. “But being here, with you again… It has made me realize something.” 

Chioma’s voice was soft. “What?” 

Maya sighed, watching as the golden sun slipped away beneath the water.  

“We have spent our whole lives running. First, chasing things. Knowledge, the Vex, understanding the universe. And then, running from things. The Collapse, our mistakes, our grief, the wreckage of everything we lost. We ran, we lost so much along the way. And we lost each other, too.” 

Chioma’s expression softened, and without a word, she reached over and took Maya’s hand. Their fingers entwined this time, fitting together the way they always had. The way they were always meant to be. 

“I think I’m tired of running,” Maya continued, her voice quieter now, squeezing her wife’s hand. “I think I want to stay here. To build something, a real home, with solid walls and doors that can remain open. With flowers I will probably spend too much time fussing over.” 

Chioma reached over, placing her hand upon Maya’s, their wedding bands catching the very last glimpse of fading sunlight. 

“I think it’s beautiful, Maya.” She said softly. “And I think I want this too.” 

Maya let out a slow breath, one she had been holding for far too long. The fear that once lingered whenever they dared dreaming of permanence was gone. Now, they could lay down the burdens of their old life and choose to remain, to allow themselves the gift of stillness. 

Chapter Text

Backseat driver / Decorate

Caiatl strode through the Tower’s courtyard, heavy footfalls crunching the thin layer of frost. The air smelled of cinnamon and melted wax, unfamiliar. The Empress was used to the smell of burning worlds.  

Countless lights twinkled in the twilight, guardians bustling about with delicate ornaments and biscuit boxes. She huffed, her breath misting before her tusks. 

This was a waste of time. 

The Hive was stirring again, and she had come to meet Zavala to discuss their next move. She had expected to find him reviewing tactical data or discussing strategies. Instead, she found the Titan Commander beneath the soft glow of lanterns, his hands carefully adjusting a garland of golden ribbons. 

She paused, perplexed, her imposing frame casting a long shadow across the festive display. 

"Commander Zavala." She called. "I need to speak with you." 

The Titan turned, his brow lifting. 

"Ah, Empress. You’re here early." 

"You prepare for celebration while the Hive gnaws at the edges of your system?" 

"Morale is as important as strategy. A soldier who has something to fight for, fights harder." 

Zavala picked up one of the ornaments, an intricate sphere reflecting the golden light of the Tower. He turned it in his palm before offering it to her. Caiatl scoffed.  

"I do not concern myself with such… frivolities." 

"Perhaps you should." Zavala countered. With a grunt, she reached out and took it. It was lighter than she expected, fragile in her massive palm. 

"Hmph. A strange ritual." She admitted. "But… not without merit." 

Zavala smiled.  

"I thought you might see it that way." 

She turned to him, a glint of humour in her sharp eyes.  

"Next year, I expect a banner of the Cabal among these decorations." 

Zavala chuckled.  

"Then I will see to it." 

Chapter Text

Stay in your lane / Scars

Tresh hadn’t meant to linger, but Ikora had made tea for two. 

The warlock vanguard was watching her from across her study now, arms folded, her gaze sharp as ever but softened at the edges. Then, her eyes dipped — just for a moment — to the curling shadows that licked up Tresh’s arm, twisting like infected ink beneath her skin. 

"Does it hurt?" She asked. 

Tresh slowly lifted her left hand, the one she had sacrificed, the one that was taken, the scars crawling across her arms pulsed faintly, as if breathing, as is alive. 

"No." Tresh said. "And if it did, I would manage." 

Ikora hummed, tilting her head.  

"Always the hardened soldier, I see." 

Tresh turned, giving her a sideways glance. There was something teasing in Ikora’s voice, something just short of fond, and Tresh found herself exhaling through her nose in what might have been the ghost of a laugh. 

“You would know.” 

Ikora let out a soft chuckle and stepped closer.  

"Let me look at it." 

Tresh hesitated only for a second before reaching for the hem of her top, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion before casting it aside. She felt Ikora’s breath before she felt her hands. Warm fingertips skimmed along the edges of dark energy, tracing where skin met corruption. The glowing scars ran jagged along her ribs, spreading like creeping vines over her shoulder, alongside her ribs and down her spine. 

Ikora pressed the tip of her thumb against the edge of a particularly deep scar, and Tresh let her eyes fall shut. The silence between them was familiar, as was the delicate intimacy between a Hidden and her mentor who had known each other for decades. 

"You wear them well." Ikora murmured. Then, after a pause, her lips quirked. "I think I can appreciate the… aesthetics. " 

Tresh huffed a quiet laugh, heart swelling with pride as Ikora acknowledged her sacrifice. 

“Just…” The warlock’s thumb brushed the edge of a spreading scar. “…Make sure it does not travel all the way to your heart.” 

Tresh turned her head slightly, letting herself lean into Ikora’s touch, and into the deeper implications. 

"This," She murmured "I can promise." 

Chapter Text

Hole in the wall / Time loop AU

They had agreed to meet by the Tower’s walkway, the place where traffic was lightest. Ikora arrived first, as she always did. She stood at the railing, arms folded, trying not to think too hard about what this meant — or what it might mean. 

Lakshmi arrived moments later, dressed up slightly fancier than she usually did. 

"So. Where are we headed?” 

Ikora hesitated, as if the answer carried weight. Her gaze turned downward, towards the Tower’s edge. The usual sharpness in her stance was absent tonight. There was something else there, something quieter. Finally, she said:  

“The Spicy Ramen Shop.” 

Lakshmi scoffed, highly unimpressed.  

“That sad little stall? That unsanitary hole in the wall? Ikora, I agreed to go out with you, not to lower my dining standards just to catch food poisoning.” 

Ikora glanced away again, as though looking directly at Lakshmi made it harder to say the words.  

“It was Cayde’s favourite.” 

Lakshmi’s posture softened, her eyes flickering with a faint glimmer of understanding that wasn’t there a moment before. When she spoke again, her tone had lost its usual bite.  

“Oh…” 

They stood in silence for a moment, arms nearly touching but never quite. Lakshmi finally broke the silence. 

“Then lead the way.”  

Ikora nodded, relief warming her chest. She could have joked, or teased Lakshmi about her sudden change of heart, but something in the air kept her quiet. Maybe it was the way Lakshmi’s eyes lingered on the distant lights, or the way Ikora’s own confidence faltered at the mention of Cayde. 

The stall itself was as cramped and rickety as Lakshmi had feared. She surveyed it with narrowed eyes, muttering something about the counters needing a proper scrubbing. Ikora simply placed two orders, trying not to grin as she did.  

When they settled onto the small stools, Lakshmi kept shifting, clearly uncomfortable, as though the rusted edges and neon signs offended her. But the steam rising from their bowls smelled of fresh noodles and rich stock, and Ikora watched Lakshmi’s expression change after her first spoon of broth. 

They ate mostly in silence, but when Lakshmi set her chopsticks down and glanced sidelong at Ikora, there was a quietness between them, a shared acknowledgment. They weren’t ready to speak of it aloud — not yet — but something had shifted. A truce, a possibility. 

Later, when they parted ways under the colourful fairy lights of the market, they shared one last glance that felt more meaningful than any word could. A promise that, maybe, they’d do this again. Maybe, next time, they would sit a little closer, talk a little more, give a little more room to the new emotions they both sensed. 

As she made her way upstairs, Ikora kept that hope close, the faint taste of spice still on her tongue, and Cayde’s memory not far behind.