#disrupt the conga line and let the us fall into

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Ma'am- how dares thou leave us off on a cliffhanger for both Empires on the Horizon and Kingdom Collisions V >:L I demand to know whats going to happen next!! (also take your time to write them lol )

Ah my friend you are right I am sorry for being so rude😭👀here's a Kingdom Collisions update. Please forgive me?🥺

Y’all know the drill by now. This is a fic i’m writing to try incorporate more descriptions into my writing. I do not have pre-written chapters so we’re both lost on what comes next or when the next update will be?! Please enjoy!

masterlist

TW: Suicide mention

Kingdom Collisions VI

Once upon a time in a land known for water and jewels there lived a young boy. He had skin the colour of soil and eyes the colour of oceans and were your gaze to ever fall upon this little figure you knew the earth was created just for him. The boy lived in a white-stone castle, surrounded by guards in clanking silver armour and blue-feathered helmets. Swords gleamed with their newness. They are decoration, a rite of passage. They only reflect the water. Children darted between their legs as they swoppeed shifts and if you looked closely the boy was often one of them. The castle stood proud and tranquil in the kingdom and gave the people hope.

If the white walls stand tall the queen will rise above all. 

A piece of poetry long since washed away.That single line ran through the city streets like rain water. Ran into people's homes, and under the wheels of rumbling cars. Generations had forgotten the poem to time but that line for it's power and rhyme had weathered the changing tides. If you listened closely the trees still knew the words. But nobody ever heard. The world was too busy and the day too new to remember what it was like to become one with evergreens.

Percy Jackson wakes up with a gasp, heart beating like conga drums. His fingers curl into his chest, leaving red marks as he winces sleep away. The world is still pitch black; stars hidden behind a blanket of storms. He wonders if they find comfort wrapped in the clouds. If those white puffs feel as soft as they look. Sleep is faraway, a distant friend stuck at a cold airport terminal. So he drifts to the window, ignoring the wind prickling his skin and sits down at the bench. The chiffon curtains rustle softly, talking to him in a language he hasn't quite yet learned. He knows they're saying something important. They must be if they brush against his legs every few minutes. Everyone is always trying to tell him something important. Something life changing and groundbreaking. He wishes he could pause time for a little while. Stroll through the gardens and into the ocean without anybody running after him.

The curtain drifts towards him again and he sighs as if the universe has made him designated driver. An unwanted, unwilling task.

Somewhere a bird caws and he snorts softly, "Okay, okay. I'm handling it."

He let's the sounds of the wind take him through the endless corridors, let's it carry him like a dying flower, like autumn leaves, like bonfire embers. The stone floor is cold under his bare feet and his body is littered with bumps. He misses the warmth of his castle. Misses the warmth of the hearth in every room and the smell of the sea that drifts in through open windows. Mostly, especially, he misses his mom. There is something distinctly missing from the Castle of Caelum. He hasn't quite put his finger on it but it doesn't feel right.

He doesn't have time to delve into that thought because all at once everything goes quiet. A large door looms before him.

"So this is it huh?" His voice is soft, afraid to disrupt the silence.

Taking a deep breath, filling up his lungs with the air of the Kingdom of Wind, he knocks on the wood. It is gentle and solitary and he's almost certain no-one heard it but his ears perk up anyway. He knows you can't pick up footfalls on stone but it doesn't stop his heart from racing in anticipation. The door opens with a soft click and tired eyes look at him.

"Percy," Jason's voice is raspy with crying and his heart shatters.

"Hey, can I come in?"

The blonde looks at him, brows furrowed and tear stains carved into his cheeks. Percy can see the tiredness in the prince's bones, like x-rays of exhaustion. He's about to say nevermind, about to walk away, walk past his own chambers and into the lifeless night. But the Prince nods once and moves aside.

He feels almost disappointed that he couldn't escape. Disappointed he couldn't just go back and never return. His mother's voice flitters into his head.

When your people are suffering you must lie down with them and ask them to tell you their story.

Why mom?

Because little one when the time comes you will know what to do.

How momma?

We are made of stories little one. We are made of all the things people tell us. Our dreams and hopes and memories are just threads in a tapestry and every person is connected to it.

I don't understand momma?

She smiled at him, perfect white teeth and dark blue eyes: When you think of me little one, what comes to mind?

Ten year old Percy frowned, Chocolate chip cookies, and your bedtime tales, and the beach, and hugs.

And what do you think about Grover?

Percy's green eyes had lit up like the sun: Play time and movies and ice-cream!

She laughed: And what about Dad?

His little brows furrowed: Fancy clothes and swords and paper and cuddles.

And Princess Piper?

His nose scrunched up: Cooties! He squealed and then he was running around the room; the world a flowing river, him a little fish learning its current.

You see little one, you didn't think about bones or skin or blood. You thought of memories and stories. Do you understand now?

He nodded as he scrambled into her lap: I think so momma. So if my people tell me who they are I can use their stories to help them when they're sore?

Almost little one. Half of hurt is because nobody listens. If you just listen to what your people are saying they will not hurt so much.

Is that because we have to tell our stories momma?

"Exactly. That is how we live. And live on."

Prince Perseus Jackson takes a deep breath and steps into the room. Immediately he can feel the icy wind, so much colder up here, stinging his bare arms, chest, legs. Save for the small silk boxers covering his most sensitive parts his body is exposed to the brutal temperatures and he cannot hide a shiver as he settles on the couch. The fire has died long ago, maybe not even put on for the night, if the grey ashes and lack of heat are indication enough.

"What are you doing here?" The blonde prince looks at him.

"The curtains told me to come."

"What?" He can hear the confusion, but more than that the weight of a thousand heartaches.

He wonders if every person who has their heartbroken feels like they're the first to ever go through it. If that feeling is so perfectly human it feels unique and special to each one.

"Sometimes the world talks to me and sometimes I listen."

"I don't really know what game you're playing but I'm not in the mood so if it isn't an emergency," Those eyes are ice blue, "And I honestly wouldn't care even if it was, please get out."

"I cannot." He shrugs and pulls a velvet blanket over him.

"I'd appreciate," Jason's teeth grit, "If you respected my boundaries enough to leave. I am not in the mood."

"The window is open, there is paper sitting on the desk and many crumpled pieces on the floor, and I can see you haven't even sat on your bed, never-mind slept in it. What do you plan to do Grace?"

"You know what." That voice is hard, malicious with fear, pain.

"I will not leave. And you will not either. You can sit there on your bed hating me till the sun graces us once more. You can punch me until I am the same colour as the dusk but I am not leaving."

"I hate you. Leave me alone." He can hear the tears hit the cold stone. He doesn't react. A shadow blocks the moonlight finally peaking through the clouds.

"I said leave me the fuck alone!"

"I cannot do that Prince."

"Don’t call me that." He snaps, pushing his face into Percy's, "Go away! I want to be alone."

"I can't Jason,"

"JUST LEAVE!" Golden fists pound at his chest, droplets of salt soaking into his skin, as if trying to wash away the bruising.

He grabs his husband's hands gently and pulls him to the couch.

"I'm not going to leave you."

"They all left." Jason gasps, "They left. HE LEFT!"

The scream draws blood from his ears, pulls oxygen from his veins.

"I'm here. I'm not leaving. I am here."

"Please," Sobs wrack that broken body, and Percy can feel the first cracks in a kingdom. "Please don't leave me. Please, please please."

He rubs his hand over a shaking back and mutters over and over again, "I will not leave you."

Prince Jason Grace cries a new ocean and he names it after the fire that caused it. When the sun peaks over the horizon, fracturing a wall of crystal, and attempting to warm those cold grey stones, Percy Jackson takes his husband to bed and ignores the fissures running under his feet.

Once upon a time in a kingdom known for storms and gold there lived a little boy. He had eyes of lightning and skin the colour of sunlight and if you ever caught a glimpse of him you knew only the darkest nights could ever produce something so beautiful. The guards are bathed in riches, weighed down by diamonds cut from dreams and earrings weighted with the pureness of gold. Swords are varied and prized. Bred for fodder. Used at will. He lived in a castle made of grey stone and it loomed over the kingdom like a black cloud. The people looked at it and shied away. For they too had a poem about their crown but they remembered every line. 

Those who fell under the shadow of stone were sure to be left to ruin by their king and cursed forever alone. A young boy with hair spun from starlight is trapped inside. Who will save him if he cannot hide?

Forgetting was a death warrant.

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

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@leydiangelo

@sparkythunderstorm

@asami-sato-has-never-sinned

#Kingdom Collisions #Part 6 #Baby fanfic #Baby fanfic series #PJSSG fanfic #PJSSG series #Jercy #Jercy royalty AU #Royal jercy #Jason grace #Percy Jackson #PJSSG asks #Ciara's Convos #She speaks #This ask made me so happy!!! #Thank you for being invested #don't ask me what direction this is supposed to be going in becaue i have zero ideas #we just vibing #it be like this sometimes

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

The Raven and the Hawk, Part 7

Osiris x female Guardian | RavenHawk | with a side of RaspberryBitchface | drama & angst | adventure | SFW | a whole chapter without smut what even | the smut will return | but for now have some feels

Cresora’s new Fireteam board the Dreadnaught to look for the Queen of the Reef, but find much more than they were expecting

Author’s note: This chapter brings together all four of my OCs: Cresora, Piax, Mercy and Andara because Cresora needs the backup! As Andara’s origin story intersects with Osiris’s past we’re gonna deal with the fallout from THAT mess here, too. It’s not going to be long-winded or boring and you don’t need to have read Andara’s (unfinished) origin story, Before the Fall before you read this. Everything will be clear as you read along and the focus is still on RavenHawk.

RaspberryBitchface is the ship name for Andara x Shiro-4. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

“Ah, home sweet home,” Mercy said, looking appreciatively around at the inside of the Dreadnaught. “I spent weeks disrupting Hive rituals here during the Taken War. Such a blast.”

Andara, bundled up in thick Vanguard robes shaded vivid purple, hefted a pulse rifle in her grip. “Ugh. Cold. I hate the Dreadnaught.”

It was cold, but that wasn’t what was making Cresora shiver. It had only been a matter of days since she’d nearly died here. After she threw Osiris out of Piax’s flat he left the City and she hadn’t heard from him since. It hurt, thinking about him. She tried not to.

Piax, Fireteam leader, turned to Cresora. “So. Where do we start?”

Cresora looked around the vast chasm of black and green Hive structures. From far off came the screaming of a Wizard and the lumbering thump-thump of an ogre. The Dreadnaught was the size of a planet. Where were they even going to begin? In her weakened state the Arc trace that she’d laid down to guide her to the Queen had vanished and she wasn’t game to try any more Thanatonautics by herself.

She pulled out the maps that Osiris had given her. “Before I got separated from my Ghost I was marking off sectors as I searched them. Here’s how far I got.”

The other women gathered around her.

“All right,” said Piax, pointing at a place on map. “We’ll start here and work in a clockwise direction, moving outwards. Happy to navigate?” she asked Cresora, who nodded.

They set off, and Cresora found herself walking alongside Andara, with Piax in front and Mercy bringing up the rear. The only sound was the occasional report of Mercy’s scout rifle as she took pot shots at wriggling Hive worms.

Mercy was the first one to get bored and strike up a conversation. “Hey, so our dear queenie. How do you know she’s on the Dreadnaught?”

Like Andara and Cresora, Mercy was Awoken. “I had a vision during the Red War that she was here. Osiris helped me uncover the rest of it.”

Behind her helm, Andara made an angry little sound. Cresora glanced at her. Curious.

The next seven hours was spent tramping from one room to the next through dark and dirty tunnels, clearing out Hive as they went. Mostly it was Thralls and Knights with the occasional Ogre and coven of Wizards to liven things up.

Late in the day they found themselves back in that vast cavern room, except this time it wasn’t empty. A Hunter was leaping from plinth to plinth, his cloak streaming out behind him and a conga line of screaming Thrall following his every move.

“Who is that?” Mercy said admiringly.

The Hunter suddenly turned, pulled a sniper from his back and aimed straight down the line of Thrall. There was a report like a lightning strike and they all disintegrated at once and fell into the abyss. The gunshot had briefly lit the Hunter, his cloak blazing yellow.

Andara cried out, “Shiro.”

The Hunter turned at the sound of his name, hailed the group, and then leapt lightly down to them. Andara ran and threw her arms around him and the Exo pressed his forehead against her helm. One of her hands traced his mouth plates, Void Light shimmering beneath her gloved fingers.

“What are they doing?” Cresora whispered to Piax. Whatever it was looked sweet and tender, and a pang of loss went through her, seeing Andara in the Hunter’s arms.

“Kissing,” the Titan murmured, and drew her away. “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”

The pair exchanged quiet words together and then turned to the rest of them. Andara was practically bouncing on her toes, the happiest Cresora had ever seen her.

“Lady Guardians,” Shiro said, nodding to each of them in turn.

[Wow. He’s polite] Cresora’s Ghost said silently.

Isn’t he, she replied, liking him immediately. He wore brown leather gear over his lean Exo frame, and his cloak was a brilliant shade of canary yellow.

“Andara tells me you’re looking for the Queen of the Reef. I’ve been tasked with looking for something, too. Wanna team up?”

Piax laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course. But I guess you can’t tell us what you’re looking for?”

He hesitated, apologetic. “A set of runes, essentially. I wish I could tell you more. Orders from the Vanguard.”

They started walking and Mercy fell into step beside Shiro. “Thank the Traveler you’re here. This Fireteam was starting to get swamped with Warlocks.”

“Two. Two Warlocks, Mercy,” Andara said, holding up two fingers.

“Yeah, exactly. Swamped.”

When they stopped to make camp Cresora eyed Andara curiously, but waited for Shiro to peel himself away from her side. When he went with Mercy to do a quick patrol Cresora sat down next to her. “Do you know Osiris?”

Piax, who was flattening out her bedroll, started at the name and looked over at her friend. Andara seemed to choose her words carefully. “Not exactly. I had a run in with him a very long time ago.” She looked narrowly at Cresora. “You’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

Friendly. Whatever they were to each other it wasn’t friendly right now. How happy she’d been when she’d woken up and found him sleeping by her bedside. He’d heard her, all the way in the Infinite Forest, and had found her. But to have seen what he saw and left the queen to her fate when he thought she was dead was too horrifying. “Not exactly. It’s complicated.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

Cresora didn’t want to pry, but she knew so little about Osiris. “Can I ask what happened between the two of you?”

Andara grimaced, but started talking. “I was rezzed for the first time about a year ago, the same time as Piax, but unlike other Guardians I could remember my life before.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m getting to that. I was a Dead Orbit scavenger back when the Walls were new and I died protecting Zavala’s then-girlfriend from a Concordat heavy with a shotgun. He was about to blast her Ghost to pieces during a riot and I stepped in front of the barrel. It was so fucking stupid. I don’t know what made me do it.”

Piax shook her head. “You were a Guardian then even if you didn’t know it. It’s what any of us would do.”

Cresora was confused by this, but waited for the Warlock to keep talking.

Andara looked angry and embarrassed. “Yeah. Maybe. But the point is that when that shotgun killed me I was actually a Ghostless Guardian but I didn’t know it. Hence why I could remember that death and my life as a scavenger when I was revived several hundred years later. Someone found my Ghost and woke her up.”

“How could you not know that you were a Guardian?”

“Osiris,” she muttered darkly. “It seems I really was a Dead Orbit scavenger in my first life and when I was rezzed on Mercury for the first time, really for the first time, me and my Ghost walked into one of his weird experiments while trying to find our way to the Last City.” She glanced at her Ghost which was hovering next to her. “It did something to her. She can’t speak, and I don’t even know her name.”

There was such a look of sadness on Andara’s face. Not being able to hear your Ghost? That was a terrible thing. Cresora’s Ghost had been her only true friend on many lonely missions.

Andara’s Ghost did a sad little swoop and booped her on the nose, making the purple-haired Warlock smile wanly. “My memories are very confused. I remember being in a jumpship with Osiris. Him asking my name and all these other questions and me being unable to answer. In the end he dropped me off at the Last City outside Dead Orbit headquarters. Because of my gear.”

“He just left you with Dead Orbit?”

The Warlock nodded. “Yeah. Real nice, huh? And then with what happened to poor Lyssa, I just, ugh. Osiris is like my least favourite person. Lyssa was Zavala’s girlfriend,” she added, seeing Cresora’s frown.

“What happened to her?” Cresora asked. Then she glanced at Piax, remembering that the Titan seemed to be involved with the commander now. “Oh—sorry. Rude question.”

Piax shook her head. “It’s all right. Osiris was her mentor. After she and Zavala broke up she died on Mercury looking for him, like Saint. No letters, though. Just gone.”

“She was really nice to me,” Andara said quietly. 

Shiro and Mercy had come back and had heard the last part of their conversation. Mercy whistled through her teeth, long and low. “That man sure leaves a lot of messes in his wake.”

Cresora lay down on her pallet, feeling worse for having heard all this. She remembered what he’d said to her when he was trying to convince her that she should let him help her.

I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.

[Maybe it should have] her Ghost said, hovering above her.

Yeah. No kidding.

They were walking through some dungeons the next day when a Vex portal opened in a blaze of silver light.

Shiro, the only one who hadn’t seen the Vex portal open in the Tower, was the most alarmed. “Vex! Vex on the Dreadnaught.”

Cresora sighed. “No. It’s Osiris.”

But it wasn’t just Osiris. As he stepped through the portal there was a large, struggling bundle heaved over one of his shoulders, and when saw Cresora he strode forward and threw it at her feet. The figure rolled in the dust and turned onto its back. It was Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef Awoken, bound and gagged and wriggling like an angry worm.

Mercy snickered. “Aw. Osiris brought you a present.”

Cresora looked up into Osiris’s hawk-like eyes. “What’s this?”

The others, sensing that this was a good time to make themselves scarce, drew away. Piax grabbed a fistful of Uldren’s shirt and dragged him with her.

Osiris pulled his bandana down. “I’m helping you get what you need. You can tell the prince what you know.”

“It’s a little late for that. You should have gone to him when you thought I was dead.”

His eyes were hard and angry. “I thought she’d killed you, her and her brother. I never liked their sneering, their politics. What they did to you—”

She interrupted him. “What they did to me was perfectly understandable. I was a spy. Of course they hated me. If you want to help with this, fine, but why did you have to bring Uldren?”

“Because he’s enjoying himself being Kell of House of Kings and if anyone should be suffering over this is should be the Queen’s own brother.”

Cresora cast her eyes at the ceiling. He’d kidnapped a Fallen Kell and dumped him at her feet like a sack of potatoes. “Traveler’s Light, Osiris. Kings is going to be so mad at you.”

“They can get in line behind the Vex, the Vanguard and you. And I only care what you think, little bird.”

Her face hardened. “Don’t call me that. I’ve been finding out more about your mistakes these last few days. It seems you’ve been making them for some time.”

Before he could ask what she meant Uldren, who’d been untied, strode forward. “I’ll make you pay for this, old man,” he seethed.

Osiris threw him a gun, and the prince caught it. “So good to see you again, Sov. Try not to die.”

Piax looked at Cresora expectantly, glancing meaningfully at the newcomers. They had been four and now they were seven. Cresora blew out her cheeks. “I guess we keep looking? Osiris and the Prince can do what they like.”

The Titan nodded. “All right. We should split up into two groups and—”

“We should stay together,” Osiris interrupted. “A Fireteam of six is the best size when facing the Hive. He doesn’t count,” he added, glaring at the prince.

“Piax is Fireteam leader, Osiris. If you want to stay then follow her orders.”

Osiris seemed to grit his teeth, his eyes flashing. “Piax,” he said, making an effort to sound polite, “if you’re concerned about doing this in the fastest possible time may I suggest we use my reflections? They can search and report back much faster than we can.”

As he spoke half a dozen gleaming reflections split off from his body, all identical copies. Piax looked around at them, bewildered, and then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Use the reflections. Send them to the most inaccessible parts of the ship first. We’ll keep searching these middle sectors.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Osiris. I’m looking for a certain set of Hive runes. Can your reflections do two things at once?”

The Warlock gave him a long, curious look. “Of course. What are they?”

The Exo Hunter hesitated, clearly wondering whether to trust an outsider with details about his mission. He dug out a datapad and passed it to Osiris, who studied the screen and gave it back.

“Yes. They’ll search for those runes at the same time.”

Cresora thought she saw a gleam of interest in Osiris’s eyes and wondered if the runes meant anything to him. As they began walking Osiris drew up beside her, but she walked faster until she caught up to Piax.

“How’s Eris Morn?” the Awoken Prince asked Osiris in a nasty tone of voice. “I hear she’s not herself these days.”

Mercy put a boot on his backside and shoved. “That way. Your Highness.”

“Hunter solidarity,” Shiro said as he walked beside her.

“Word,” she muttered, bumping the fist he offered. Then she glanced at Osiris and sighed. “Another Warlock. Outnumbered again.”

Uldren quickly became the most tedious part of the search. As they marched from room to room he complained about the pointlessness of what they were doing. “What are we even looking for?”

“A sarcophagus of some kind. She’s being kept in something ritualistic.”

“What utter rubbish.”

Cresora rounded on him. “Don’t you want to find your sister?”

“She’s dead. She died in battle. If there were visions to be had of her, I would have been the one to have them.” He looked at her with loathing. “Not someone like you.”

Osiris conspicuously reloaded his weapon. “Sov—”

“It’s fine, just ignore him, we need to keep moving.”

Mercy stepped forward. “If he’s not interested in helping we could always leave him here.”

The prince sneered at her. “Mind your own business, Fallen Fucker.”

Cresora eyed Mercy’s House of Dusk cloak. So that’s why she wore it. Mercy spat back something in Eliksni that the prince clearly understood as he aimed his weapon at her. Andara and Shiro both sprang to Mercy’s defence.

Meanwhile Piax was trying to be heard over all the yelling as an ominous hissing and scraping sound filled the air. Finally she shot a blast of her auto rifle into the air and shouted, “Hive.”

Thralls were flooding into the room, followed by Knights wielding wickedly serrated swords. Osiris launched himself into the air, fire blazing around a sword that he’d summoned.

On the ground, Mercy and Shiro got to work with their Arc staffs, slicing through the Thralls, Piax sent a rocket launcher shell at an Ogre and Cresora and Andara took cover and sniped. Uldren had disappeared behind a low wall.

Andara looked up at Osiris as she was reloading. He was still zipping around the room hurling flaming swords at the Hive. “He’s a asshole but your boyfriend’s kind of…you know.”

Good. Impressive. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she muttered, looking up at Osiris. “And he knows he’s kind of you know.”

It took twenty minutes and a lot of ammunition to overcome the Hive. Finally, the seven of them gathered in the centre of the room.

“All right,” Piax said, staring round at everyone, hands gripping her rifle and breathing hard. “For the rest of the patrol we are all going to focus.” Her eyes landed on Uldren. “That includes you, Your Highness. And you do not speak to my Fireteam with anything but respect. Are we clear?”

Witnessing the Guardians at work seemed to have subdued Uldren, and he merely scowled and looked away.

Two hours later they set up camp for the night. As Andara pulled off her helm Osiris glanced at her face. And then looked again.

Andara noticed. “You remember me, then.”

That seemed to startle Osiris. “You remember me. How is it that possible? When were you resurrected?”

But Andara turned away, her shoulders tight.

Cresora picked up her gun, looked at Osiris and nodded at the door. Taking her meaning he followed her out of the room. They walked along a walkway, a sheer drop on both sides.

“You remember who she is?”

He nodded. “From a long time ago. When she was mortal she was a scavenger I found disoriented on Mercury. I took her back to the Last City.”

“She wasn’t a scavenger, she was a Guardian, newly risen. She wandered into one of your experiments by mistake.”

Osiris looked at her sharply. “I didn’t know there was a Ghost. I didn’t feel her Light. How did she—Where did her Ghost—?”

But Cresora didn’t want to answer his questions. She had a few of her own. “What were you doing out there on Mercury? Her Ghost has been silent ever since it was trapped in your experiment. She doesn’t even know it’s name.”

“I was studying.”

He look annoyed, and didn’t seem to want to answer. She could well guess why. It was the work he was doing then that upset the Speaker and the Vanguard and led to his expulsion from the City. He was probably tired of defending his actions from that time. But she didn’t much care. She needed to hear it from him. “Studying what?”

“The Light. The extent to which we determine ourselves or whether the Traveler decides everything for us.”

“Does that matter?”

“Of course it matters,” he snapped. “But I wasn’t able to find out the truth so I moved on to other things. I will never stop looking for answers to the questions I have. I can see the way you’re looking at me, Cresora, but it’s the truth whether you like it or not. That is my purpose.”

She shook her head. “I admire your purpose, but you’ve left a lot of casualties in your wake in your search for answers. Andara. Saint. Lyssa.”

If he was surprised she knew about Lyssa he kept it to himself. “That all happened a long time ago, when I was far more reckless.”

Maybe it was the truth. The Vex seemed to have swallowed up most of his energies in recent decades and he had been right about Panoptes. But being right about the Vex didn’t magically make everything else right. “You never went back and tried to fix any of your mistakes.”

Osiris glanced back toward the camp. “It was such a long time ago. I’m not even sure if there’s anything I can do for her.”

“You’re supposed to be clever. Figure it out.”

When she returned to the camp Andara was reading on her pallet. Osiris could talk to her or not, that was his decision, but there was something Cresora might be able to do for Andara in the meantime. If there was one thing Cresora was really good with, it was Ghosts.

She knelt down beside the other Warlock. “Because you’re Awoken, I might have a way to help you with your Ghost. Connect with her. Would you like to try something with me?”

Andara looked at her doubtfully. “I guess. What do I, uh…?”

Cresora sat down cross-legged in front of Andara and motioned her to do the same. When they were knee to knee she said, “Close your eyes and give me your hands.”

Andara did as she was asked and Cresora began speaking softly, of the singing of the stars beyond the Reef. Of the Light that is spread throughout the universe. The Light that lived within Andara. Within her Ghost. That connected them long before even Andara’s resurrection.

She watched Andara’s face as she talked on. “It’s within all Awoken, the ability to forge connections with our minds. You and your Ghost are already strongly linked. Reach out to her with your mind. Feel her presence, and listen.”

Andara’s face suddenly creased with tears and she sobbed, pulling her hands out of Cresora grasp and covering her eyes.

“What is it?

“I can hear her singing,” Andara whispered thickly and looked up at her Ghost, tears shining in her eyes. “I can hear you.”

The Ghost whirred and danced excitedly. Piax came forward and crouched down beside her friend.

“What is your name?” Andara asked the Ghost, reaching up to pluck her out of the air and cradling her in her hands.

“What does she say?” Piax whispered.

Andara paused, listening, one hand to her mouth. “It’s hard to make out, but I think she’s saying Ayla.”

Shiro came forward and put a hand on Andara’s shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around his leg and leaned against him while she listened to her Ghost in her mind, smiling, tears trickling down her face. It was the first time Cresora had seen the Warlock smile.

She stood up and saw Osiris watching her, his eyes unreadable. He took half a step closer, and then hesitated, a question in his eyes. Part of her wanted to go to him. Put her arms around him. Rest the weight of her worries on his chest and close her eyes. It felt so good to be held by him. But the things that he’d done and hadn’t tried to fix stopped her, and she turned quickly away.

An hour later, after the others had fallen asleep, Piax came over to talk to her, whispering softly. “I was in the Tower when Osiris brought you back from the Dreadnaught. He was distraught. When he thought it was too late he started chanting something. I forget what it’s called but Andara can tell you. Some Warlock thing. It was…very moving, what he was doing and the way he feels about you. I just thought you should know. For what it’s worth.”

Cresora glanced at Osiris’s broad, sleeping back and remembered the moments before her Ghost revival. The feel of warm, golden wings wrapping around her even through the bleak certainty of death. Easing her passage.

“He hurt the man you love,” Cresora pointed out.

Piax’s mouth twisted. “He did. But from what I understand Osiris has only ever cared about his work before. If people want to change or put things right we should let them.” She studied Cresora for a moment. “I mean, that’s what we’re doing here, isn’t it?”

“I have found the queen.”

Cresora sat bolt upright on her pallet, recognising the metallic hum of Osiris’ reflections. One was standing before its master, relaying its news.

“I have found also the runes that the Hunter seeks. They are on the Hive crystal containing the Queen.”

They’d only been asleep for four hours but everyone scrambled up and grabbed their weapons. Even Uldren seemed keen to get moving, as if at last he believed that the Queen really was being held prisoner somewhere nearby.

The reflection led them on a hour-long hike through the Dreadnaught, down and down through the tunnels and into the far reaches of the ship. Waves of Cursed Thralls attacked them, their detonations fierce and sudden. The Fireteam looked down into a ritual room with a great black crystal in the centre.

“She is there,” the reflection said, and disappeared with a snap.

Piax turned to Shiro. “Is this what you were expecting to find?”

The Exo looked carefully around at the room, and then nodded.

“Is it going to be dangerous down there?”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

Piax stationed Osiris and Andara at the top of the room and told them to use their ranged supers and scouts. She turned to Cresora. “Stormcaller? You go down with Mercy and Shiro and carve it up. Uldren and I will come in from the sides with our autos.”

Osiris shook his head. “I’m a Stormcaller as well. I’ll go down, Cresora can stay up here and sn—”

“Yes, Piax, I’m going,” Cresora interrupted him. As she passed by him she hissed, “Don’t argue. You’re more use as a Dawnblade anyway.”

He caught her arm. “Be careful down there.”

Cresora looked into his tense brown eyes, not knowing what to say. She heard the soft thumps of Mercy and Shiro landing down on the ritual floor, and jumped after them.

The Hive emerged as if from nowhere, hundreds of them. Flaming swords fell all around her, burning away the enemies that might have been in range of her Stormtrance. She lobbed grenades instead, and used her fusion rifle on the toughest Knights. Traveler’s Light Osiris, I’m fine.

Until she wasn’t. Thrall came screaming out of nowhere, claws raised. She was changing to her auto rifle when her eyes swept over the crystal, and saw her. The Queen. Trapped within the crystal, her eyes wide and staring and her hands pressed against the translucent sides. Not screaming. The screaming was only on the inside.

Then the Thrall were upon her, a hissing, scratching mass. She couldn’t get her gun up to fire. A hand circled her wrist and pulled her to safety, and when she looked up it wasn’t Osiris that she saw, but the Prince.

“She’s all right, I can feel it,” he said roughly, shooting the Thrall in bursts. “We’re going to get her out but you need to keep fighting.”

Running into the centre of the room, Cresora summoned her Light and unleashed a wave of Arc energy. It swept from one enemy to the next, disintegrating them within a blaze of lightning. When the storm ended, the Hive were gone.

There were two thumps, Andara and Osiris landing next to her. She watched as Uldren and Shiro stepped forward to the crystal, searching for a way to open it. Her hands were shaking on her gun.

“It’s different to how we saw it,” she whispered to Osiris.

“We saw what she felt.”

Mara Sov came out of the crystal pale and trembling slightly, but on her own two feet. She looked around at her rescuers, her eyes half-lidded and cold. “Osiris. It has been some time.” She gave him a calculating look, and said slowly. “You knew I was here. You were going to leave me here.” Her eyes slid to Cresora. “Because of her. Petty, though understandable. She is the raven, isn’t she?”

Cresora stared at her. The queen been aware of so much throughout her entrapment?

The Queen turned to Uldren. “House of Kings. You have been busy, brother. Take me there, and we shall see what you have done.”

And with that the Queen strode carefully but solemnly out of the room, steadying with every step, as if she was growing stronger. At the threshold Uldren paused and looked back at Cresora, his mouth twisted as if with words he wanted to say. Then his eyes fell away and he strode out after his sister.

Osiris sat beside the purple-haired Warlock in the jumpship. “Can I talk to you, Andara?”

She was watching the rings of Saturn recede, and turned quickly to Osiris when she heard his voice. Shiro drew a step closer to her, his optics chilly. She put a hand on his chest. 

After taking a long, measured look at Osiris, the Hunter drew away and went to sit with Mercy.

“It’s easy not to pay attention to things when you feel important. When you feel busy. I should have realised you were a Guardian.”

Andara said nothing. The antipathy was rolling off her in waves.

“When you wandered into my experiment—

“Got caught in. I got caught in your experiment.”

“When you got caught in my experiment all I saw was a confused Dead Orbit scavenger. I never saw your Ghost.”

“She was there.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Would it help you if you had some answers? About what I was doing and what I saw?”

The young woman thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Try me.”

“I was studying the nature of the Light, looking for the way it influences Guardians and what we become. What we are. I was using my own Light and Sagira’s, teasing it apart in what I thought was a controlled environment. Then I saw you and stopped the experiment. You were very confused and couldn’t remember who you were.”

Andara glanced at the pretty golden Ghost hovering by Osiris’s shoulder. “And you didn’t mind? He would do that to you?”

[Oh, all the time, back in the old days. He experimented on both of us. Lately it’s just been Vex, Vex, Vex.] Sagira almost sounded like she missed the experiments.

The Warlock turned to him. “You should have told me at the time what had happened to me. You should have told someone at Dead Orbit. I didn’t understand anything that was happening to me. I felt so afraid.”

“I should have. I’m sorry.”

“I suppose you went right back to your experiments as soon as you dumped me back on earth.”

“I did.”

“Jeez, no wonder they banished you. Zavala might be boring and uptight but at least he cares.” She hesitated, seeming interested despite herself. “What did you find out, anyway? In that experiment.”

“Very little of interest. I gave up and moved onto Thanatonautics which I found much more rewarding. I’m sorry it wasn’t even worth it in the end, what happened to you.”

She shrugged. “Even failed experiments have their uses.”

Osiris raised an amused eyebrow. “I’ve always thought so, too.”

Andara looked at him for a long moment. “I heard you uncovered some parts of the Thanatonaut’s Lullaby. I like those passages. They’re very beautiful.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

She shook her head. “I considered it. When I was looking for answers.”

“If you would ever like to try Thanatonautics, just because you’re interested, I would be happy to help you.”

“Maybe.” She glanced over at the others and then back at him. “Cresora’s really nice, you know.”

Osiris glanced at Cresora. Her golden eyes flickered over him and then away, and his heart constricted. “I know.”

“Then don’t be an asshole.” And with a look that could melt metal the Warlock turned away, and Osiris supposed that was as close to I forgive you as he was going to get from Andara.

He found her at the railings, looking out over the Last City. Cresora looked up at him as the golden light burnished his face.

“How does it feel? Now that it’s over.”

She smiled out across the houses and streets, at the pink clouds skirting the setting sun. “Better than I thought it would. It’s over. I’m so happy it’s over.”

The relief knowing that the Queen was free had been quickly replaced by a sense of elation. She didn’t owe them anything anymore, and they could think of her what they liked. She never had to think of them again.

He nodded slowly, and then let out a long, heavy sigh. “Things are not good between us. I wish I knew how to make things right.”

She remembered what he said to her when she was distraught over Uldren and the Queen.

I’ve made a lot of people angry with me over the cycles and I can honestly say not once has it bothered me.

Are you admitting to having made mistakes?

Cresora, I’m saying that there a thousand things I would devote my time to before I thought even one less than admiring thought about you.

“I am grateful, Osiris. Thank you for helping me.”

“Always. I’ll always want to help you, if you need me.” He looked at her hard, as if trying to make her believe him through sheer force of his will.

She hesitated. “I feel like there was something you were going to show me, before, when we got the vision of the Queen, but there wasn’t time.”

He looked down at her, his hand very close to hers on the railings. “Yes, there was something very special. The most important thing to me. It’s…my home, in a way. My heart. My soul.”

Is that what her own void of blackness and stars would become to her, over time, if she returned enough times? Her home? “And you were going to show me?”

“I’ll show you now, if you like.”

Their bodies were in the Simulant Past but the rest of them were in Cresora’s dark visions. She flew in a long, glorious circle, revelling in the freedom, the happiness she felt now that this place was no longer occupied by pain and screaming. 

Osiris twined around her, his feathers skimming her own, and then he flew toward the horizon. She followed. The blackness seemed to go on and on, the gold light a mere line in the distance. Then suddenly they burst through as if into sunshine, and he was all around her.

She saw him. Properly saw him. There was nothing he could hide from her as everything here was him, bright and gold and vital. Every flaw. Every strength. Is this how it was for him, when he saw her, the raven against the velvet night?

They flew up and up together, circling slowly, feathers skimming each other, higher and higher until the Light raced through them. 

When she opened her eyes she found him already watching her. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “That world of Light and gold. But the void is beautiful too. You saw the darkness and all I felt about myself in that place and you didn’t say anything. You didn’t tell me how it could be wonderful.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted you to see for yourself.”

She pressed her mouth against his, and tasted gold, shimmering against the darkness of the void.

“Little bird,” he murmured, kissing her back. “Little bird. You understand now, don’t you, why I love you? How could I not, when I saw all that you were, standing out so bright against the stars.”

They walked back to his spire, hand in hand, and in the window that looked out across Mercury, she turned to him. “What were those runes that Shiro was searching for? The ones on the Queen’s sarcophagus.”

Osiris tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer to him. “They’re a special set of summoning runes for a ritual. Powerful ones. The Vanguard must have discovered their importance and sent Shiro to look for them.”

“What do they mean?”

He considered this for a moment, seeming reluctant to answer. “I’m not a Hive expert. Eris may now better than I do.”

“But what do you think they mean?”

“That the Hive are gathering their strength under a new leader. That the Queen was going to be used as a host. And that Savathûn is coming.”

Thank you for reading! xx

#RavenHawk #the raven and the hawk #osiris #curse of osiris #destiny 2 #destiny fanfiction #shiro-4 #oc: andara #oc: mercy #oc: piax