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phantomwarrior12 · 2 years

Text

Arranged

"She can't be serious!"

"I'm afraid she is." Commander Zavala pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a weariness to him, a sort of exhausted dread that blankets the Commander and every inch of the room. They can all see it and yet, Ikora Rey looks from him to the Guardian.

It hasn't sunk in yet. At least, the Young Wolf doesn't think it has. Empress Caiatl wants an arranged marriage between one of her Valus and the Guardian. It’s…an outdated custom even for humanity but something has brought it about.

They can’t refuse. Not after all they’ve done to preserve this alliance.

Ikora’s voice draws the Guardian from her thoughts, her gaze snapping to the Warlock Vanguard, "And she's sure it has to be–"

"She'll accept no one else." Zavala shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "I tried to argue. Even offered myself in place but she was adamant that it was her Valus and not her, she wanted for the treaty."

"What if we refuse?" Ikora's shoulders square. Always so ready for a fight against the unjust, always prepared to back the Guardian should the need arise. She admires that in Ikora. Appreciates it more than she could ever know.

Zavala sinks into his chair, "She withdraws support of Earth. We are left to deal with the Leviathan on our own. And I wouldn't put it past her to break our armistice when the opportunity presented itself." His eyes drift to the Guardian, "Saladin has been trying to change her mind. His presence on her War Council should be binding enough but she won't hear it." His voice is weighted with defeat.

The Young Wolf paces away a few steps, touching the edge of her helmet slightly. This is quite the ask, something she never imagined she’d have to shoulder for humanity. A war with the Cabal, a fight against the Witch Queen, yes. But not something so…political. So menial yet significant. Nothing that required her to sacrifice her life in another manner entirely.

No. No, she can stomach this.

"Will it affect my duties for the Vanguard?" She asks at last, pivoting to face the Commander. She notes the worried line etched into Ikora's brow, but the Warlock offers nothing else. Still, the Guardian knows she's fuming at the Empress’s terms.

"I-I'm not sure. That's something we'll discuss with her but if you don't want to do this, Guardian, I won't ask you to. We'll fight the Leviathan and we'll fight Caiatl, too, if it comes down to it." Zavala rises once more, his features set in a look of determination.

No. Not after Savathún. Not after everything. They need the Cabal now more than ever and the Guardian will not be what breaks this partnership.

After all, it’s about making the sacrifice, right?

Gloved fingers ghost over the hilt of the Ace of Spades before they square their shoulders and shake their head.

"Guardian–" Zavala leans forward, worry weaving into sharp blue eyes as they search her visor.

"I'll do it." She says firmly.

Ikora nods, but there is more in her eyes than the Guardian cares to decipher. But the most obvious are somehow simultaneously respect and sympathy.

Zavala is far more determined but defeated. How long will he bear this guilt on his conscience? The Guardian makes a mental note to speak with him in private about that but for now, for now they head to Caiatl's flagship and begin negotiating.

She only hopes it's worth it in the end.

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

"She stays on Earth!" Zavala's fist slams down on the table, his voice sharp and infuriated.

Saladin stands beside the Empress but there is a flare of concern in his eyes for his former protégé.

Caiatl leans forward, planting her hands on the table, "And dishonor the union we are forging?"

The argument continues, and while it concerns her, the Young Wolf has little interest in engaging. She's never present for the politics, for the negotiating. Ghaul was right - she very much is the weapon they point and fire. She prefers it that way, at least for now.

Instead of listening, her eyes drift to the Cabal warrior she's promised to. A Valus on Caiatl's War Council. Saladin tells her he's honorable but brutish, ill-tempered and has a sharp tongue. But he doesn't loathe humanity, a welcome relief to be sure.

Her gaze drifts along his form. He's standing at attention - a stark contrast to her propped position against the pillar behind Zavala. He must have felt her gaze because his head turns toward her and they find themselves in a staring contest; one he'll lose of course. He can't see her eyes and - he's coming over to her.

Her chin lifts a fraction and the arguing between leaders has halted. All eyes are on them as the Valus stops just shy of her, the only shy bit about him as his head tilts, pointedly looking her up and down.

She doesn't straighten up despite it all, but her head tilts as well, pretending to mirror his action as if she hadn't already done it a few minutes ago.

The Cabal snorts, kneeling down to her height and she quirks a brow.

"Remove your helmet." He all but demands.

Her gaze drifts to Saladin over the Valus’s shoulder, a subtle tilt that the Iron Lord picks up on before he gives her an encouraging nod. She can feel Ghost's anxiety welling but she straightens up regardless. The Guardian draws her hood back before sliding her helmet off and props it against her hip. Her expression is tantamount to annoyed but he looks no more pleased than she does.

"So, you're the Guardian. Earth's Champion. God Slayer. Ghaul's Executioner." He doesn't say it in any fashion resembling reverence, but it's not exactly mockery either.

The Young Wolf nods firmly, arching a brow as her eyes flit over the Valus's features. "Can't say I know much of you."

"I'm called Acrius."

She knows the name…but from a story Caiatl had mentioned. A Cabal legend loosely based on the human myth of Icarus. Saladin had mentioned some Cabal are given a new title after certain triumphs, and Acrius’s was bestowed by Calus himself. She is intrigued to know what feat earned him the namesake of their legend but it’s a question for another time.

She offers a hand out but Acrius ignores it. He leans in, she squares her shoulders. Traveler, he dwarfs her in an instant. She thought standing beside Shaxx made her feel small but Acrius is - shit.

He's so close. He probably expects her to lean away. To step back. Something. But she holds her ground and her vertical until his helmet brushes against the skin of her forehead.

"You don't fear much, do you?"

"You wouldn't make the list," she returns evenly, placing her hand on his chest and gives him a firm shove back.

A pleased chuckle escapes the massive Valus as he rises to his full height, pivoting to face the others as a large hand settles near her shoulder but not quite touching. A show of support perhaps?

Judging by the nod exchanged with Caiatl, he’s given his approval and subsequently, sealed both their fates.

"Very well. Your Guardian will be permitted time on Earth. But I want her here as well." Caiatl’s focus shifts to Zavala.

"She's our greatest defense, you can't expect us to give her up like that." Zavala protests sharply.

“And you expect their binding to be nothing more than a formality? Dismissed by her departure and only acknowledged in title?”

“Isn’t that all it is?” He challenges sharply and Caiatl squares her shoulders.

This is escalating. The Guardian steps past Acrius, moving to stand beside Zavala. "I'll return to Earth whenever aid is required."

Caiatl leans forward, “You’d return at every opportunity you mean.”

Saladin intercedes, "You send your best warriors to the forefront to do battle, Caiatl. To guarantee victory. Would you deny the Vanguard that same courtesy?"

She weighs her answer carefully, "No. You make a fair point, Valus Forge. I will concede, Commander. The Guardian may return to Earth but make no mistake, she will remain aboard this ship as often as is required to ensure this success.” Success of what exactly?

"Then it's settled." Zavala straightens to his full height, casting his eyes toward the Guardian.

She smiles slightly, laying a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. The instant Zavala looks away, her eyes flit up to Acrius. He's watching her but she cannot decipher his expression.

Caiatl adjourns the meeting and Saladin moves around the table to the Young Wolf and Zavala, laying a hand Zavala’s shoulder to tear him from his musing. As for the Guardian, she holds Acrius's gaze until he gives a nod and moves off toward the door.

"You'll have your hands full with him," Saladin remarks, folding his arms over his chest.

"Just have her back when she's here," Zavala says, shifting his gaze back to her. She doesn't meet it, occupied with watching the Cabal leave before leaning on the table and folding her arms over her chest.

"How do you feel?" He asks gently.

She forces a smile into place, finally dragging her eyes back to his. "We do what has to be done."

"Not at the cost of–"

Her hand rests on Zavala's shoulder.

His jaw clamps shut, his eyes fall. The guilt is already there and she doesn't know what to say to chase it away.

"She won't be alone," Saladin assures the Commander, "She'll be safe here and should she need aid, I'm not far."

"At least I know she couldn't be in better hands," Zavala forces a smile but it saddens the Young Wolf to see it. He blames himself. But this isn't a situation in which there has to be blame.

The Guardian had no romantic pursuits in the City. She spent her free time in a ramen shop, asleep or reminiscing with Holliday. She will miss her regular jaunts into the Crucible. Her battles in Gambit. But it's not gone forever. Nor will she be after this marriage.

She only hopes Zavala will come to see that.

They all will.

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

Caiatl is pushing for a ceremony sooner rather than later. Preparations are being made for a Cabal event but there's been no talk of one on Earth.

Zavala had asked and she'd refused.

Human weddings mean vows. Human weddings mean there is some semblance of affection. Human weddings mean she chose him.

At least, that's what it means to her.

She’s still unsure of this…success Caiatl keeps talking about. This is meant to be a symbolic joining; proof that humanity and the Cabal can be allies, etc…So then why does it feel like it’s something more to the Empress?

"Sulking?" Acrius's voice drags her from her musing.

She’d managed to find a balcony, albeit a narrow one, in the training room for her to use as a perch. Somewhere she could sit and think. Somewhere similar to her perches in the Last City. It probably wasn't difficult for the Valus to track her down and yet? She wishes he hadn’t.

Her head lifts, angling back against the wall before it lulls toward him boredly. Her helmet is on so he can't see the annoyed expression but she gets the sense he can see it all the same.

"Your silence doesn't aid your case, Hunter."

She snorts, shaking her head and tilts back toward the arena below. His steps register an instant later and she notes his leans opposite of her, following her gaze down to the soldiers training.

"What do I call you? Beyond Guardian?"

She shrugs.

"You have a name?"

Her head shakes.

His shoulders square, "You're a warrior and there is nothing for your people to praise. Just a title and a helmet?"

A nod and it seems to infuriate him. Quick-tempered, indeed.

He takes a step toward her, so abrupt that her hand snaps to Ace on instinct.

He stills, gaze flitting from her helmet to her hand and tilts his head.

She realizes the knee-jerk reaction and immediately withdraws her hand. He won't hurt her - not with everything hanging in the balance but somewhere in the back of her mind, in the depths of her soul, she is afraid of letting her guard drop in case he is meant to be her executioner for a grander Cabal plot.

It's paranoia.

But what if it isn't?

"Always on edge," he remarks, taking another step but this time, it's measured. It's not aggressive, it's not cautious either. He is standing beside her an instant later but she doesn't adjust the angle of her head. She doesn't try to meet his gaze - de-escalation, perhaps.

The last thing she wants is to accidentally kill him but something tells her he'd make it incredibly difficult.

Instead, she stares at the elaborate engraving along his collar, the bright blue colors providing a welcome distraction from his proximity.

"You're not frightened of me but of my actions. How many Cabal have charged you? Moved so suddenly that you had no time to react?" He leans in and this time, this time he does touch her. This time his chestplate presses against her pauldron and her jaw sets.

"How many times have you known fear at the hands of the Cabal, Guardian?"

She can feel the aggravation welling in her chest. It's what he wants, no doubt. To draw a reaction. To push her into a fight or, at the very least, an argument.

She won't let that happen.

The Vanguard needs this to work. To keep Caiatl happy and the Cabal Empire on their side.

She swallows her pride, forcing composure into place as she lifts her head. Those sharp orange eyes burn into her visor. "Don't antagonize me." She returns flatly, willing a detached edge into her voice that she certainly doesn't feel. But he can't see her eyes and he doesn't know her voice well enough to tell.

"Or what?" He challenges.

He wants a fight.

Her head tilts, her body sitting upright as she rotates. He holds her gaze but now she is sitting square to him. His hands grip the banister on either side of her, lowering himself to her height.

It'd be comical if it were any other time.

She reaches up, gently hooking a finger beneath his chin. The tough skin is an odd sensation against the leather of her gloves but it's enough to ensure she has his full attention.

"Because I'm not your enemy," her eyes flit over his features, "And you're not mine."

He holds her gaze then, looming over her as her hand falls away from his face. It's as if they're caught in a tense trance before he straightens up abruptly.

"You're toying with me."

"No more than you did me." She leans in, he steps back and she stands.

It seems he wants to try and power play with proximity. He thinks he can intimidate by size alone. But she has killed far larger beings than a nine foot space rhino. He's the least of her fears and she intends to make sure he knows that.

Acrius laughs, "Saladin was right."

Her head turns toward him a fraction in acknowledgement.

"You do have a fighting spirit."

She snorts, "He was right about what he told me of you, too."

"And what was that?"

"I am going to have my hands full with you." She ducks under his arm and heads through the door. Behind her, she swears she can hear him laugh again.

One thing is for certain: none of this is going to be easy.

In the time she's known the Valus, he's tried to goad and intimidate her at every turn. She won't cave, of course. But if this persists, she is worried how she'll react on days she's less…enthused about his challenging spirit. Days she is exhausted from battle and he wants to trade verbal blows. Days she might snap.

Perhaps she's in over her head for once.

She can only hope she's wrong.

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

Some part of this feels like a dream.

It's been a few days. Preparations are nearly complete and her husband-to-be has been aggravating, crude and downright confrontational.

She can hardly get a few hours alone before he finds her again and their dance begins all over. If he's not careful, she's going to find the most humiliating way to put him in his place.

"I'm beginning to believe you're avoiding me."

Speak of the devil.

The Guardian rolls her eyes and lays back, dangling upside down from a large beam and meets his gaze.

"Get down," he orders sharply but she holds up a singular finger in response.

He doesn't understand the meaning behind it and she has no interest in cluing him in.

He does step up to her. His eyes drift up to the beam before his fingers bind around her hood, "I will pull you down."

She sneers and he starts to pull before her blade is in her hand and against his throat. It stops him. He can't pull faster than she can swing so they stay there, glaring at each other…upside down.

"Release my hood," she snaps and Acrius complies.

The fabric gathers in a loose hang once more and she withdraws her knife, twirling it before sliding it back into its sheath.

"You're not meant to be up there." He growls.

"And you're not in charge."

"You're aggravating," he grumbles.

He steps back as the Guardian grips the beam and unhooks her legs, swinging them over her head and lets herself drop from the flip and land in front of him.

She pats his chest and starts to move past him before his hand snaps out, gripping her wrist and pointedly drags her closer to him.

"You won't cause trouble aboard this ship. You'll behave properly–"

She shakes her head in irritation, wrenching her wrist free and shoulders past him.

"You show this much disrespect–"

"You're not my keeper, Valus. You're as much a reluctant participant in this as I am." She pivots to face him. "Spare us both your antics."

"You're the one who lacks–"

"Patience. The word you're looking for is patience, Acrius." She paces closer, irritation flared in her voice, "Ghaul was right about one thing. I am very much the weapon the Vanguard points and fires and you don't want to be on the receiving end of that."

His head tilts, amusement sparking in sharp orange, "No, you're the Empress's weapon now. Her blade to wield against her enemies. And when she doesn't have need of you, you're mine to fight and goad as I please."

Her chin juts up, her shoulders square. The urge to fight him is incredibly strong but a level head reminds her that this is what he wants.

"Stop following me around the ship. If you want my attention, ask. Lost dog doesn't suit you," she moves past him, heading back into the hall.

"I never said–"

She doesn't let him finish, already around the corner and heaving a weighted sigh. If this is life aboard a Cabal ship, she has every intention of remaining on Earth as often as she can manage.

Acrius, thus far, is a nightmare to deal with and something tells her marriage will make him no more pleasant.

Figures.

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

She feels… naked without her armor. Without her cloak. Without Ace.

Her hand drifts to her hip, patting the weaponsless thigh but it brings no comfort. She's dressed in Cabal robes - substantially smaller robes that Tess had fitted her for. Everything feels wrong but it's too late to back out now.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Ikora asks gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She can't bring herself to nod but she won't shake her head either. Instead, she meets Ikora's gaze and it must be clear in her eyes what she cannot utter.

"Right," the Warlock squeezes the Young Wolf’s shoulder. "The Vanguard stands behind you. Say the word and we'll–"

The Hunter lays her hand over Ikora's and nods with a sad smile.

Ikora returns it, but there's something else there. Some fragment of grief the Guardian hasn't seen since Cayde.

She squeezes Ikora's hand before the Warlock withdraws and leaves her. The hall is quiet and the Hunter begins to pace outside the chamber. Impatience. Anxious. Dread. Reluctance. So many emotions she never thought she'd associate with something like matrimony.

Still, she forces herself into a somewhat steadied state. Composure is something she's used to forcing but now? It doesn't feel like a comforting wall to fall behind. It feels foreign. Misplaced.

It doesn't bring the comfort she hopes for either.

But she opens those doors regardless. She steps foot inside the chamber and Acrius stands beside Caiatl. Her stomach turns and still, she strides inside as the door closes behind her. She nods to Zavala and Ikora on her left - the only two she allowed. No one else must see this, for anyone else, anyone she's close to, could read the discomfort in an instant.

She crosses the room and Acrius meets her gaze. They haven't spoken since that exchange about the beam - clearly he’d realized how undignified it made him look to trail after her around the ship. Still she can read the telltale signs of his discomfort as well about this whole ordeal.

Neither of them want this. But here they stand, allowing Caiatl to oversee a ceremony binding them for a lifetime.

She doesn't retain half of it. It's in their native tongue, something she doesn't speak. At some point, he takes her hand. At some point, their foreheads touch and she forces every instinct to dodge back, down.

"It is done."

Acrius releases her hand immediately and the Hunter steps back.

Caiatl looks to Zavala, but the Guardian doesn't dare.

"Our people are bound now. You've done the right thing," her hands settles heavily on the Guardian's shoulder. "You both have."

The Hunter chances a look up at Acrius as Caiatl departs, the Vanguard not far behind her and the two of them are left staring at each other. Finally, the Valus finds his voice. "It's over. You don't have to–" his eyes flit along the robes disdainfully, "pretend you're Cabal any longer.”

Her armor reappears in a transmat, her weapon back on her hip and her hand finds it immediately. He follows the movement but he must recognize the lack of danger because he doesn’t move.

She turns to leave, not eager to prolong the awkwardness but he steps in front of her.

Her eyes don't lift.

"Neither of us is pleased with this arrangement but we will uphold it for our respective peoples."

"Agreed."

He steps closer. She does step back this time, keeping her gaze down. Her nerves are fried, her head feels like it's spinning. Not the effects she was expecting from a wedding but it's nothing some sleep won't solve.

"You fear me now?"

"Has nothing to do with fear." She bites out lowly.

"Then what?"

"Not eager for another battle right now. I'd rather rest." She returns softly.

He startles her by kneeling, by offering her a hand. "We'll be expected to share a room now. I'll take you to it."

"I'd rather–"

"That was not a request, Hunter." He returns sharply, yet she hears no threat.

Still, she doesn't take his hand and instead meets his gaze. "Lead the way."

He relents, much to her surprise. He leads her through the ship to what she can only presume are his quarters.

It's very clearly a Cabal sized room. Everything is larger, the bed is massive. She cautiously steps past him, scanning the room. She notes the weapons hung along the wall - decorative yet functional. There's a gun disassembled at a huge desk-like table and a cloak laid along the back of the chair.

She stops in the middle of the room, watching her husband move around the space. He deposits his helmet on the table and returns to her side. She looks up at him; there's no searing resentment in his eyes. No tension at all. If she could guess, there's worry there, maybe. Maybe she's imagining it.

"You don't…move a lot in your sleep, do you?" She asks softly.

"No. Why?"

"Just needed to know if Ghost needed to be ready to rez me in the morning." She tries a smile.

"You imply I'd kill you in your sleep?"

She pats his torso as she moves past him, "I mean your nine foot ass could crush me in the middle of the night in your sleep."

She can feel his eyes on her as she hoists herself up onto the bed. She kicks her boots off, lays her cloak along the end of the bed. Her hand stills on the holster belt.

Her eyes flit to him.

"You won't be harmed, Guardian." He says simply, "Not by me."

"Not what I'm worried about." She returns, finally undoing the belt, "Just…don't touch it."

He nods and she finally deposits it on the nightstand.

It's then that he begins to shed his armor. She lays down, turning her back to him to give him some semblance of privacy. It's ceremonial armor, different from what she'd seen him in before.

He'll likely return to duty, Caiatl will have no need of her for tonight.

The Young Wolf stiffens when the bed dips beneath his weight. She looks over her shoulder and while he is back in his usual armor, he's sitting near her. Her brow furrows in confusion before he holds out his hand. She slowly turns over and lays her hand in his though it…it feels odd.

His fingers curl around her own and she can't help but note how small her hand looks in his.

"Rest. The Empress will request your presence at the banquet tonight."

"...you'll come wake me before then?"

"If you'd like."

She nods.

"Very well." His fingers flex a fraction around her own. "Rest. I'll return soon."

She nods and he releases her hand. She can only stare at him in wonder as he rises, moving to collect his weapons before he departs. He doesn't spare her another glance.

That's fine with her.

–--------------------

He's more rude when he returns.

She was sound asleep and she was abruptly awoken when the door slid open. She was half upright when he strode to the bedside and just stood there for an instant. She doesn't detect that fragment of worry any longer. He's back to being his usual Valus self.

Great.

"Get up," he barks abruptly.

She snorts, laying back down for a moment to properly wake up. She rubs at her eyes, listening to him move about the room until she suddenly senses him beside the bed - beside her.

Her hands fall away from her face and she gazes up at him expectantly.

"Get moving," he all but growls.

Her brow arches, an amused smile slipping into place as she gazes up at him. "Your idea of flirting?"

"Don't–"

"If you're going to enter and start barking orders, I'm bunking with Valus Forge." She sits up.

He leans down sharply, fast enough to catch her attention.

"You'll do nothing of the sort."

"I may be your wife, but you have no power over me, Acrius." She retorts evenly. "Title only."

His eyes narrow, a low growl slips out as he straightens up and moves away from her.

She glares after him before swinging her feet onto the floor and sets about putting her boots back on. His gaze burns into her back but she ignores it. She secures her cloak in place before standing. The holster is secured next and she can hear a soft huff behind her.

"Does that weapon accompany you everywhere?"

"It does."

"Why?" It's not curiosity. He's demanding an answer.

She turns, picking up her helmet as she does so, "Ask me again when you find some manners." The Guardian moves around the bed and past him.

Acrius reluctantly trails after her as they head to the banquet hall. Zavala and Ikora have returned to Earth so when the Young Wolf enters, she searches only for Saladin.

The banquet is meant to celebrate the…marriage, but she's more interested in finding a quiet place to wait it out. Grand dinners were never her thing in the City, that won't change here.

Acrius steps past her, heading toward what she can only assume is where the Cabal equivalent of alcohol is. She shakes her head and slips through the crowd until she locates the Iron Lord and plants herself at his side.

"Are you alright?" He asks, apparently already sensing her frustration.

"It's loud. Crowded." She grumbles, scanning the room.

"These things usually are." Saladin chuckles softly, no doubt trying to make her feel better.

She leans into him, laying her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. The Solar energy is comforting in the otherwise cold room. Calming after the argument she'd just had. Perhaps silence will be her greatest approach with Acrius but…it seemed to only infuriate him before. She doesn't know what to do with him. She doubts Caiatl will grant her separate quarters so her only recourse if things escalate is seeking out Saladin.

"I saw your partner returned to duty immediately after the ceremony." He states softly, "Are you okay?"

"He's always looking for a fight. He was…nicer after the ceremony but when he returned from duty, he was back to being a pain in my ass."

"Caiatl mentioned to him that she expected him to make this a priority. Something along the lines of this being more than just a formality."

Her head lifts, "Isn't that what this is? An…arranged marriage to cement the alliance?"

"That's what we were told."

Her brow furrows and she looks toward the Empress and then searches for Acrius. He's on the opposite side of the room, obviously avoiding Caiatl and…looking at the Hunter. She can't read his expression but his gaze alone tells her he's still upset with her.

She narrows her eyes and shifts her gaze back to Saladin. "What does Caiatl expect me to do while I'm here?"

"I imagine helping with missions. Fewer will fail with you at the forefront."

She snorts and smiles slightly, dropping her head against his shoulder once more. She wills herself to relax, to let go of the tension radiating through her frame.

"Do you ever miss Earth?" She asks softly.

"Often enough but I'm allowed to return from time to time."

"I'll miss the Iron Banner." She returns, scanning the room. "From what Zavala tells me, Caiatl expects me to return here after any Vanguard operations. Report from here. Everything."

"She'll back off after a time. Be patient, Young Wolf. All of this will get easier with time. Your partner is no exception."

"He'll stop starting pointless fights?" She snorts.

"He's testing you.” Saladin corrects calmly, “They have stories about you, you know. He wants to see how you measure up. It's no small honor for him to be chosen for this."

She nods, straightening back up. "More like a punishment. He didn't want this either."

"No one likes having their choice taken away. You took this with far more grace than anyone else would have."

She chuckles softly, adjusting the edge of her hood. "Zavala tried to propose to get me out of it."

Saladin laughs, "So he tells me."

"You could've married her," she teases and they both chuckle.

"The Empress would sooner execute me than bind herself to me in that manner. Besides, neither of us have the temperament for something so…long term."

The Guardian snorts softly but allows the silence to settle nonetheless. They sit and watch the Cabal move about. Saladin tells her about some of them, the important ones to note. A few approach and try to engage in discussion but she remains silent and polite while Saladin speaks.

Finally, Acrius finds his way over. He no doubt surmised that she had no intention of leaving Saladin’s side in such a crowded room.

The Iron Lord nods his greeting as the Valus stops beside the Guardian.

"You intend to remain with him all night?"

Her arms fold over her chest and she tries to ignore the edge in his tone.

Saladin intercedes before she can respond. "She's never liked crowds. The outskirts is where she's most comfortable and aside from you and the Empress, she's unfamiliar with anyone else. A modicum of consideration might improve your standings with her."

Acrius's shoulders square a fraction, "It looks wrong for her to be at your side."

"Then perhaps you should make an effort to make her comfortable at your side, Valus." Saladin returns calmly.

The Guardian smiles beneath her helmet, grateful her mentor is always prepared to jump to her defense. She doesn't want to have to explain herself to the Valus or to anyone.

They can all just leave her well enough alone and there won't be any complications.

She doesn't look over when Acrius huffs and starts to walk away. He stills a step away before turning back. Her eyes lift and he kneels in front of her, "At some point, Hunter, you and I are going to discuss how this works without your war beast."

She uncrosses her arms and steps up to him. His eyes are alight with something - intrigue, perhaps?

"Then speak to me as an equal and not an underling. You address me the same way you address Valus Forge or I won't hear you." She says firmly and his head tilts.

"Very well." He rises, "In the morning then?"

She nods and she swears there's something like a smile in his eyes as he turns away and moves off.

"You're earning his respect," Saladin steps up beside her.

She snorts, "It'll take more than a conversation to win him over."

"Yes, but it's a start."

That's all this is.

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

Acrius wasn't in his quarters when she returned. She entered, albeit apprehensively and scanned the room. There's a neat stack of clothes on the bed - human sized ones.

She cautiously approaches the stack, noting the data pad on top. She turns on the screen and there are Cabal letters that translate down into English.

Your belongings are still enroute. These should suffice until they arrive so you won't have to sleep in your armor. - Valus Acrius

She looks over her shoulder at the door before smiling and setting the data pad on the nightstand. It seems Saladin’s scolding hasn't fallen on deaf ears after all. She takes out what looks like a makeshift hoodie and a pair of shorts before leaving the rest of the clothes at the end of the bed and gets changed.

She eases onto the massive mattress with a degree of uncertainty before trying to get settled.

When she slept earlier, she'd had the benefit of emotional exhaustion and stress to help her drift off. Now? She can hear every noise, every vent and the mumbling of passing patrols. She lays there awhile, just listening, trying to identify something she can use as a white noise to focus on. She's slept in the wild but never aboard a ship of this size…supposedly filled with no threats.

After a while, she closes her eyes and tries to fall asleep. It's then that the doors open and she's bolt upright in an instant.

Acrius steps inside and when he realizes she's awake, he turns on the light beside the bed. His eyes sweep along her form, a look of approval glinting when he notices the clothes she's wearing. Still the Guardian eyes him cautiously. She can smell the Cabal ale on him.

He sinks onto the bed but doesn't lean toward her. "Valus Forge had a good point."

She arches a brow, silently waiting for him to continue.

"And you had a good point, Hunter. I did address you as if you were something to be ordered about. But that isn't the way of the Cabal. A partner is…the warrior we choose to join us in combat above all others." His eyes drift to her, "I haven't made you feel that, have I?"

"...I haven't exactly made it easy either." She admits softly.

"Hm. Perhaps…we should attempt this again."

She arches a brow, "Attempt what exactly?"

He gently takes her hand, brushing his thumb over the top of it slowly. "I am Valus Acrius. It's an honor to meet you, Guardian."

She smiles slightly, nodding slowly.

His hand releases hers before he rises, she watches him move to the other side of the room and begin to remove his armor. She diverts her gaze out of consideration and waits patiently until he returns to the bedside.

"Would you permit me to share the bed?" He asks and she's taken aback by his request but nods all the same.

He eases onto the mattress beside her. The bed is large so there's ample distance between them but still, he makes himself comfortable and reaches for the light.

"Do you require anything?"

She shakes her head and the light clicks off. Silence overtakes them and it takes a moment but the Guardian slowly eases back down onto the bed. She shifts to face Acrius, watching his massive form in the dark.

His eyes are already closed, his head angled toward her but he doesn't look uncomfortable in the least.

Her eyes flit down to his hand resting a short distance from her. She isn't bold enough to reach out and touch it. She doesn't imagine she'll get much sleep either given it's the first night but…at least his breathing will be the white noise she needs to drift off for a little while.

—--------------

The next time she opens her eyes, Acrius is sound asleep and her Ghost is gently bumping into her. It's how he used to wake her in the wild to avoid alerting anything around them. It must be close to the time they usually wake up so she gently eases out of bed.

Thankfully, the bed is firm enough that it doesn't move much in her absence and she is free to stand without issue.

Ghost transmats her armor back in place and she lays the clothes she slept in on the bed. She grabs her holster and slides on her helmet before leaving the room.

The Young Wolf makes her way to the bridge, weapon secured on her hip and she's surprised to find Saladin already up and at work. The crew looks to be from the overnight shift so they pay her no mind as she props herself against the console Saladin is working at.

"Good morning," he greets without lifting his gaze.

"Morning."

"How did you sleep?"

She snorts, opting to change the topic. She'd been in and out all night. Every time Acrius moved, she was awake and alert.

"What are you looking at?"

He noticed. Thankfully, he's letting it slide. "Scout reports of Lucent Hive activity. Even with Savathún gone, her forces continue to pose a problem. Just what we need on top of the Leviathan."

The Guardian shifts, trying to read over his shoulder. It's all in the Cabal's natural tongue.

"You can read that?"

"Yes. Learning the language was far more efficient than having my Ghost translate everything for me." The Iron Lord returns.

"Can you teach me?" She looks over at him with a degree of excitement.

"Perhaps–" he pauses, glancing toward the bridge doors. Acrius has entered, his gaze flickering about until they settle on the Young Wolf. "Perhaps Acrius may be better suited for that."

"Better suited for what, Forge?" Acrius narrows his eyes as he approaches.

"Teaching me your language," the Guardian supplies, nodding to the console before her.

He stills, "You want to - why?"

"I'll be here more often than not," she tilts her head, "It makes sense."

He steps up to her and she has to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Something tells her he likes making her have to do that. He finds it entertaining judging by the look in his eyes.

"It's not an easy language for humans to understand."

"Forge did it. I can, too."

Acrius nods and there's something like approval in his eyes. "Very well."

"You'll teach me then?"

"I will. In exchange," he offers her a hand, "You have to spar with me."

She quirks a brow, glancing at Saladin.

"Without your Light," the Iron Lord clarifies.

She weighs her options for a moment before lifting her head and taking his hand. "Deal."

"Good." His hold on her hand tightens a fraction before releasing it and he straightens back to his full height. "There will be a meeting this morning I imagine the Empress will want you to be a part of."

"I'm not on her War Council."

Saladin chuckles softly, "By virtue of marrying him, you are." He nods to Acrius.

"How–"

"Cabal logic. Besides, you're here as the Vanguard's strongest warrior. What else would you do?" He flashes a smile and the Young Wolf snorts.

She leans against the console again, this time toward Acrius and he seems satisfied with the whole ordeal. Eventually, he takes up a console on the other side of her, occupying himself with reports about Xivu Arath's brood.

The Guardian had moved closer to get a look at the files but most of it was translated by Ghost via her HUD. She doesn't realize how close she is until his arm shifts down a fraction to press a key and it brushes along her shoulder.

She jerks, trying to veil it but Acrius has already noticed. Saladin is oblivious thankfully as the Valus lifts his hand and gently touches her back.

Her eyes remain locked on the panel in front of her, rigid beneath his touch.

"Do I truly make you that uncomfortable with just a brush of my hand?" He asks softly, softer than he's ever spoken to her before.

"No. Just…not used to it is all." She wills herself to relax, squaring her shoulders, "What does this–"

His hand smoothes along her shoulder blade and she tries not to pull away. He's being unbelievably gentle and she'd hate to bar him from touching her accidentally.

"You don't like it."

She forcibly leans back into the contact to try and disprove it.

"It's alright if you don't, Guardian."

"No, it's–"

His hand gently falls away and she looks up at him. His gaze is fixated on the console as his hand returns to the keys.

"Acrius–"

"It's alright." He returns, cutting her off sharply.

She falls silent, folding her arms over her chest as they continue to go over the files. She can feel tension from him, but also…anxiety.

Every step forward seems to be a step back now.

She prays this trend does not continue.

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

Acrius was right.

Caiatl did want her at the briefing because she was being sent to handle the mission on her own. She'd stood between Acrius and Saladin. The former hardly spared her a glance until the end when he wished her luck.

It was a…short mission. Well, shorter after she scavenged enough heavy to take out the Nightmare with her Gjallerhorn. But she's coated in spores and blood and desperately needs a shower.

Saladin mentioned the communal showers were…cold and could damn near drown one given the pressure but she doesn't particularly care at the moment. She stops at the room she shares with Acrius to retrieve a change of clothes.

She's surprised to find him there, sharpening an axe when she enters. His eyes lift and he takes in the extent of her state before setting the weapon aside.

"Now you look like a warrior," he chuckles, leaning back in his seat.

She rolls her eyes playfully and moves to the dresser to grab some things that arrived from Earth. A long sleeve and sweatpants before she turns to leave.

"Where are you going?"

She gestures toward the door, "Saladin said the communal showers were–"

"You can clean up here." He nods toward the bathroom in the corner.

"I–"

"I insist." He says sharply, "The communal is for Bracus and under. You won't be using it."

She could argue. She could insist she goes where she pleases but a private shower does sound more ideal. So, she nods, giving him a slight smile before she moves toward the bathroom.

This would be cramped for him but to her, it's more than enough space. She tries not to take too long showering but the water is warmer than she expected and eases some of the ache in her muscles.

She then takes the time to clean her armor, laying it out along the metal counter to dry before she finally shuts off the water. They don't exactly have towels, but her Ghost transmats one up - something else from Earth probably.

When she finally steps foot outside of the bathroom, towel drying her hair, Acrius is occupied with the axe once more. He looks up when she's a few steps away and she can feel his eyes drifting along her form but she ignores it and eyes the weapon with intrigue.

They stay there for an instant or two before she looks to his eyes. They haven’t left her form, idly tracing along the fabric and she squares her shoulders.

"Must you always stare at me like that?" She asks with a twinge of irritation in her voice.

"Forgive me. Humans are…soft. It's curiosity, nothing more."

"You eye up Saladin this much?"

"...he's a different sort of soft. Gender and all that–" he trails off.

She snorts doubtfully but leaves it be as she moves over to the bed.

Again, his eyes follow her as she eases onto the mattress and sets about massaging a tight muscle in her quad. She hears the clatter of his axe being placed on the table and the groan of his seat as he rotates toward her.

"What are you doing?"

"It's called a massage."

"I know what it is, why are you doing it?"

She sighs, shooting him a look, "Why do you usually get a massage?"

His eyes narrow, "Explain."

Her jaw flexes, irritation welling in her chest as she speaks, "There's a muscle that's tight. It's causing pain. Massaging relieves that." She retorts, turning back the muscle.

He rises, crosses the room to sit on the bed in front of her. He reaches for her and when she starts to recoil, he pauses.

"Allow me."

The Guardian regards him for a long moment, "Be gentle," she warns, letting his hand settle along her thigh.

His touch is warm and steady. It surprises her how careful he is when shifting it into position.

He mirrors her action, pressing his thumb down and dragging it in a slow movement toward her knee. When he hits the knotted tissue, the Guardian jerks in pain and he stills instantly.

She reaches for his hand, guiding his thumb slightly to rest over the knot, "Press there, but not…too hard."

His eyes drop to her leg before darting back to her features. He does as he's told and her features instantly contort in pain. He tries to ease up but she shakes her head and he resumes the steady pressure until he can physically feel the knot give way and her features ease.

From there, he resumes the gentle, yet firm stroke along her leg which soothes away some of the remaining tension.

"Thanks," she smiles slightly, laying a hand over his.

"So, the only time you'll allow my touch is when I'm hurting you." He snorts and she shakes her head with a smile.

"No–"

He squeezes gently and her eyes drop to the point of contact, frozen in place beneath it.

"No more pulling away." He releases her and rises, heading back over to the desk to continue working on his axe, leaving the Young Wolf to stay where she is to just watch.

He doesn’t try to touch her again for a time but beyond that, this would become a nightly occurrence for them for the following weeks. A talk, albeit a brief one before he focused on his weapons and she would either watch or tend to Ace.

Their days were spent running missions separately and Acrius giving her short lessons on Cabal language between briefings. There are periods where she remains on Earth for a week or so to better coordinate operations and when she’d return, they’d resume their evening ritual.

They never got around to sparring until the Guardian explicitly requested a day from Caiatl.

Acrius was summoned to the training arena where he found the Guardian.

"What is this?"

"I promised you some matches. Here's your chance." She twirls her blade and holds her hands out at her sides.

He steps closer to her, "You're sure?"

She smiles and nods.

Something ignites in his eyes. Thrill? A bloodlust?

Saladin mentioned Cabal sparring was intense. There is no room for jovial games or anything less than outright combat.

Acrius advances on her, his axe already drawn and the Hunter retreats a step or two to gather herself. Perhaps she should have taken Saladin up on his battle axe but it's too late for that now.

He lunges, she dodges. He swings and the Hunter slips beneath his arm to get behind him. He wheels and her heart is racing.

"Are you going to fight or run?" He bites out, stalking toward her.

She darts to the side, skidding into a slide and snatches one of the discarded swords lying about. She's upright just in time to block his blow.

She regains her footing and lunges, grazing his leg with the blade and instantly regrets it.

His cry splits her ears but he does not cave. He wheels, she catches sight of Caiatl in the box above and panic wells.

Acrius roars and charges her, she adjusts her footing before darting to the side, planting a foot and swinging. The blade lodges in the side of his chestplate but he knocks her to the ground with a backhand.

Her head is spinning from the impact and she narrowly gets her bearings in time to see her partner drag the blade from his side and discard it on the ground beside her.

She doesn't see that same thrill in his eyes. She doesn't know what it is but it sends a chill down her spine. She reaches for the sword and he kicks it away, standing over her.

She has a means of escape. But that would kill him.

Still, her fingers curl around the throwing knife, holding his gaze.

There's laughter somewhere above them and Caiatl's voice fills the arena, "No killing blow?" She taunts.

The Guardian waits, staring up at him and wondering if she'll receive a blade through her chest….because she won't kill him.

"You could escape," he says, but it sounds like a question.

She nods and lets the blade slip into view.

His head tilts, "Do it."

"That would kill you, Acrius."

"Isn't that what you want? Me, gone? So you can return to your precious City?" He takes a step closer, a silent threat piercing the air between them as he kneels over her, gripping her cloak and dragging her face to face with him.

She doesn't fight him. Her hand lifts, curling around his wrist, "That's not at all what I want."

His eyes search her own and she prays he can see the sincerity there.

His hold eases a fraction, slowly lowering her back down.

"What was your killing move?"

"Acrius–"

"Tell me." He coaxes with a tilt of his head. It’s different from any way he’s asked her before. It’s gentle almost; there’s no trace of urgency or hostility in his voice. It’s more like curiosity and thrill?

She sighs, lifting her hand and pressing a spot between his chestplate and neck. "There's a break in your armor here."

"And you could hit that from down here?"

She chuckles softly, "You aren't the first Valus I've faced. All your armor is the same."

"Hm," he releases her cloak and she leans back on her elbows. "I'd have killed you and you still would have won."

She nods, patting his chest playfully.

His eyes follow the movement before darting up to the box Caiatl is watching from.

"I fear my mercy may have–"

"Think of it this way," the Guardian gets up, wrapping her arms around his neck, "If your only failure is showing mercy to your wife, I'd say you're not half bad."

He looks at her, a degree of surprise in his eyes.

"What?" She asks, starting to recoil but his hands snap up and stop her.

"What did you say?"

"That showing mercy to me was–"

"No," he stops himself, collecting himself, "you said it differently."

"Mercy to your wife?" She asks, worry slipping into her voice.

He chuckles lowly, "I like hearing that." His head lowers, his helmet leaning against her own and she stiffens before willing herself to relax.

"Why's that?" She asks softly, adjusting her hand to hold his.

"You're mine, Guardian. That's what I like about it."

Something in her chest flutters and clenches and she can't breathe. But, in a good way? In a way that has her reaching for him, her hand cradling his cheek tenderly until he withdraws.

Until he stumbles up onto his feet and she recalls the wound she inflicted.

She scrambles to her feet, stumbling a little at the concussion he no doubt gave her until Ghost appears and mends the damage. Then she's at his side in an instant, shifting the fabric to get a look at the injury.

He chuckles softly, laying a hand on her shoulder, "I'm fine."

"You should see the medic–"

His finger hooks beneath her chin, drawing her eyes up to his. Again she has to crane her neck but this time, this time she doesn't care.

"You barely broke skin, Hunter. I'm not nearly as soft as you are."

She glares and whacks the cut, drawing a hiss from the Valus.

"How's that for soft?"

He laughs and she allows a reluctant smile.

He humors her and they see the medic. Turns out, the cut was deeper than a surface graze. He was proud of her, but less amused when it was being bound shut.

She patted his shoulder, afraid to offer her his hand in case he crushed it. But he did lean into her. He did indulge in her company and trace a hand along her back as the medic lectured him of limitations she doubts he'll follow.

They return to the bridge after. Saladin gives her an approving look. Caiatl looks almost disappointed no real blood was spilt but she also looks pleased.

Saladin notices it, too.

"What's so entertaining?"

"I find it curious neither of you tried to finish the match earlier." Caiatl returns though she does not look at Saladin but at Acrius and the Young Wolf.

Acrius doesn't answer but the Guardian is far less willing to let such things slide.

"It didn't serve a purpose."

"Or perhaps you've finally grown fond of each other." She sounds like a proud parent catching a child in a lie.

Acrius snorts softly, occupying himself with the panel before him.

"Something to say, Valus?" She challenges and the Acrius stiffens, stealing a glimpse of the Young Wolf beside him.

"My partner has explained, your Highness. Neither of us saw a purpose in killing the other for a sparring exercise."

"Hm, and the embrace?" She sounds amused now.

"I had a concussion. Acrius was kind enough to help steady me." She glances up at him.

"I'm sure that's all it was." The Empress chuckles, departing the bridge.

The Guardian and Acrius share a quiet laugh before she moves to Saladin’s side to discuss Vanguard operations.

Still, she could feel his eyes on her periodically. She could feel the warmth of his presence as if he weren't across the room.

Perhaps being joined to him wasn't the worst thing to happen. She's found a nicer side to him. A gentle side she only finds in a fleeting moment before he retreats back to his soldier tendencies.

But he's in there. And evidently, he's begun to care for her as she has for him.

It's nice to be wanted.

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

"No, like this." The Guardian laughs softly, readjusting Acrius's hold on the knife.

Banshee made him a Hunter knife, but Cabal-sized. The Young Wolf has been teaching him how she wields her own. They’ve begun some light footwork but he’s been stumbling, frustration mounting until finally, his temper snaps.

Acrius growls his irritation, wheeling to pin her between him and the wall but she laughs rather than experiencing any sort of fear.

"I think you're confusing me on purpose," he bites out.

"I think you're confusing yourself," she leans into him. "Perhaps you just prefer your oversized weapons."

He narrows his eyes at her, his hold easing as she pats his hand gently. "Or you're toying with me again?"

"Why ever would I do that?" She tilts her head innocently.

"Delay our return?"

"You're right. I like getting pushed around while you complain about not being able to grip a knife. It's my favorite way to spend my time."

He laughs softly, cradling the side of her head in his hand, the tension in his frame easing. "Must you always get snarky?"

"I thought you liked it when I got snarky?" She smirks up at him.

"Now is not the time to use my words against me." He lowers his head.

"When else am I supposed to use them?" She leans her head against his, closing her eyes.

"When you aren't antagonizing me."

"This isn't even close to antagonizing–"

"Guardian!" Zavala's voice captures her attention and her head draws back as Acrius straightens up and steps off to the side.

The Young Wolf pushes off the wall, her hand grazing the Valus's before she approaches Commander Zavala.

His gaze lingers on Acrius over her shoulder before focusing on her. She can read the concern in his eyes.

"Caiatl tells me you've made progress on the Nightmare front. Eris wanted to–" He pauses when Acrius moves past, he no doubt notices the large hand trailing against her back as the Valus heads toward the door. "Are you…alright with him?"

She nods, "It was difficult to start but I think we get along well now."

"You're sure?"

She nods,"What did Eris say?"

"She believes we can begin the severance ceremonies. I'd like you there for Crow."

"Of course."

"Commander," Caiatl's voice draws both their gazes to her as she approaches. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Empress," he greets tightly. "I came to give the Guardian an update personally."

"You came to check on her, you mean." She tilts her head, a knowing glint in her eyes.

"Can you blame me?" Zavala counters calmly.

"No, but you'll be pleased to know the two seem affectionate toward one another now."

The Guardian folds her arms over her chest in mild annoyance.

"Is this true?"

She shrugs, "You grow fond of anyone you're around enough."

"Guardian." He chides.

She grumbles a yes and glares at Caiatl from beneath her helmet. Why couldn't they both stay out of this? Who she shows her affection to shouldn't matter. Saladin leaves it be, they should follow his example.

The Commander doesn’t look as though he knows what to do with that information. He looks from her to Caiatl and then to the door Acrius had left through. She should get him back on task but Caiatl looks a little too pleased with his…fluster? Would that be the right word for it?

“Guardian,” he begins, hesitating before his composure settles into place. Sharp eyes fixate on her as his shoulders draw back, “How soon can you be prepared to return to Earth for the ritual?”

“Fifteen minutes,” her Ghost supplies, materializing beside her.

Zavala nods toward the door pointedly and it’s all she needs. The Young Wolf gives Caiatl a polite nod before she crosses the arena, grateful to escape their scrutinizing gazes.

She doesn’t make it more than two steps beyond the door before Acrius is beside her once more. A smile settles into place as she looks up at him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” He asks softly.

She nods in confirmation.

“It,” his gaze darts to the door and then back to her, “has nothing to do with what your Commander witnessed?”

“No,” she lays a hand over his forearm, “Something unrelated, Acrius. Won’t take more than a day or so.”

He nods, seeming to weigh his words before he kneels down in front of her. “What if I accompanied you back to Earth this time? See your world through your eyes?”

Her chest clenches, her heart fluttering before she steps closer. “You’re sure?”

He nods. “You always insist we must compromise…so, I’ll accompany you and when your mission is complete, we could,” he gestures vaguely with his other hand, “see some of Earth?”

“How is that a compromise?” She chuckles softly, angling her head skeptically.

“I could insist I accompany you on the mission, too.” He returns smugly.

She snorts, “Fair point.”

“So? Do we have a deal?” He presses, his tone a mixture of insistence and intrigue.

She nods, gesturing for him to follow as she steps back. He rises, but there’s a sort of excitement in his eyes. It’s clear he had no intention of merely asking to come with her. There had to be a barrier, or a perceived one at the very least - something he can overcome.

Enjoys a challenge, indeed.

The Young Wolf leads him back to their quarters and while she assembles her pack, Acrius asks a litany of questions. He’d been to Earth, of course, but one of the wasteland regions. There was no greenery, nothing but barren soil and he was eager to learn more about the habitable parts - which was quite literally, any other part of the planet. She promises to show him the EDZ, the Cosmodrome…perhaps even where Ghost found her. But the last location, she intends to show him is as close to her favorite place in the Tower as she can get.

Acrius will have trouble reaching the actual point, but there’s a place a few levels down that’s close enough.

When she tells Zavala that Acrius has asked to join them, the Titan Vanguard is less than enthused but makes a show of agreeing. Caiatl makes no effort to argue and all but shoves the Valus toward the hanger.

The flight back is insufferable. The silence is deafening and while Zavala pretends to occupy himself with a data pad no doubt full of reports, the Guardian is propped on the seat opposite him with Acrius sitting on the floor. The benches really weren’t large enough for Cabal so she more or less decided to lean on him.

Acrius was…less than pleased but he made no effort to complain given the circumstances. In fact, he reclines against the seat, his shoulder pressed against her quad and his gaze is idly drifting around the cargo hold.

The Young Wolf is keenly aware that Zavala is partially keeping an eye on them. While she’d very much like to put his mind at ease, it’s not a conversation she relishes having in front of Acrius. The hoops she’ll have to jump through to reassure the Commander will be a nightmare and not one she wants to tackle anytime soon.

So when then ship touches down aboard the H.E.L.M., Zavala is the first off-board.

Acrius struggles to his feet in the confined space and shuffles out. The Young Wolf hardly veils her amusement as she descends the ramp just behind him and he groans softly as he stretches cramped muscles.

His gaze then sweeps around the H.E.L.M.’s hanger as her hand slips into his. “I presume your room in this place will be no more comfortable than that ship.”

“I’m afraid not,” she chuckles, maneuvering in front of him.

His gaze drops to her, his eyes darting over her helmet before he sighs. “I’ll find a way to make myself comfortable in your absence.”

She reaches up, resting her palm against his chestplate. “I’ll speak with the Commander. Perhaps I can get a few mattresses, stick them together? It would be more comfortable than the floor.”

“I would appreciate it.” He squeezes her hand and she swears there’s something like a smile in his eyes.

He’s so…warm. Comfortable, almost. So many months at one another’s side and she is grateful this is the fruits of their labor. A sort of give and take that keeps them both in pleasant humor most of the time. An easy sort of interaction that holds no expectations except that of affection.

This, perhaps, wasn’t a mistake.

His head tilts and she’s forced from her musings.

“What is it?”

She shakes her head, “Nothing. Let’s get you settled–”

When she tries to pull away, Acrius gently tugs her back as he kneels in front of her. “You have that posture?”

“What posture?” She bristles, lifting her chin a fraction. Nothing in her posture could give any indication as to what’s going on in her thoughts.

“What hole did your mind end up in?” He chuckles, lifting her hand to the edge of his mask.

His version of a kiss. His show of affection that he instituted to mirror the kisses she gives him.

“The mission, if you must know.” Her demeanor softens beneath the gesture, “And how to make sure you’re comfortable here.”

“Don’t fret over me. I’ll manage on my own. You-you have a job to do, Little One.”

Her nose wrinkles. She isn’t sure how she feels about that term of endearment but…perhaps it’s better than simply hearing Guardian every time he speaks. Of course, he does say something else; a few other things, in fact. But they’re all in his natural tongue. She can decipher a few of them.

Something along the lines of fearless war dog and elegant something. They’re not as gentle as human terms would be but Saladin assures her that’s as gentle as Cabal get with their nicknames. So, Little One doesn’t sound half bad in the grand scheme of things.

She’s the first to break eye contact, withdrawing her hand from his to force them to move. “We should–”

“Of course,” he rises, his voice pleasant.

She leads him from the hanger and toward her quarters. The silence between them is comfortable, far more so than it had been aboard the ship under the watchful eye of Zavala.

Acrius had a little trouble clearing the doorway of her room but once inside, he scans the room. He looks comically too large for such a mundanely sized room and she barely quells her laugh. Instead, she deposits her pack on the bed and turns back to him.

Acrius has already begun to investigate the small space, a look of disdain etched into his features. “This is…standard?”

“It is,” she confirms with an edge of amusement.

“It’s so…small.” He remarks, finally turning to face her.

“For you. It’s more than enough for me.” She chuckles, stepping up to him. “I’ll have some mattresses brought in right away. At least then you’ll have somewhere to sit and–”

He kneels down, holding up his hand in a silencing gesture. “Focus on your mission. I will speak with your Commander Zavala.”

“That might not–”

“Guardian,” he interjects, his tone gentle yet firm. “I’ve seen how he gazes at us. I can sense your anxiety.” He reaches out, carefully guiding her closer to him until he can rest his helmet against her own. “I will take this burden from your shoulders. Focus on the severance. I can handle Zavala.”

She manages a nod before lurching forward, binding her arms around his neck for a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispers as he hugs her back, massive arms locked around her torso.

He huffs out a low chuckle, “There’s no need to thank me, Little One.”

She will regardless.

She doesn’t envy him that particular conversation - justifying their growing attachment in a way that makes sense, in a manner that is tangible and less…forced proximity but more, a gradual drift. Because that’s what this was.

A slow, agonizing crawl toward friendship.

She dares to call it more than friendship now but what? She isn’t sure. She can’t name it because with everything in motion, with one disaster after another? She can’t afford to stop and wonder, if only for a moment, if this is what love could be.

An unwavering trust. A haven. A comfort. A familiarity she can find no where else.

A home.

Because if this isn’t what one could call love, she is frightened of what more could look like.

And Acrius’s response.

That frightens her even more.

Up until now, he has mirrored her gestures, even initiated gestures of his own. But how much of that is Caiatl’s prodding and how much is the Valus’s own inclinations?

It’s only a matter of time before she finds out.

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

Home, at last.

Crow’s severance was a failure but Eris was sure he’d be ready again soon. In the meantime, the Young Wolf returned to the H.E.L.M. where Acrius relayed his discussion with Zavala. It had been…tense but productive. The Vanguard no longer believed their relationship was one of discomfort but rather, a mutual dynamic that benefits both their alliance and their respective people.

Acrius had intentionally left out the bit about their affectionate behavior. He went as far as to chalk up the scene Zavala witnessed as a…training exercise. To build a tense interaction to see if the Young Wolf could feasibly talk her way out of it. Zavala had seemed doubtful but Acrius is sure it’s resolved which was a welcome relief to the Guardian.

A night of rest ensued - the first they’ve spent in separate beds in months, but there simply wasn’t sufficient room for them both on Acrius’s three mattress bed. He barely fit as it was, and not without some relentless teasing from the Young Wolf about how ridiculous he looked.

He’d nearly pulled her off her own bed but she’d evaded his reach with a laugh.

When morning dawned, she’d awoken to Acrius’s arm draped along the edge of her mattress, his fingers splayed against her bicep. He woke when she shifted, she teased him about missing her and that is when he tugged her out of bed and onto his chest.

Taunts were exchanged, she stole a kiss against his cheek before she escaped and disappeared to take a quick shower while the Valus dressed. When she emerged, the day of sight-seeing began.

A stop in the EDZ to introduce Devrim, a few explorations into the ruins before venturing to the Cosmodrome. The Guardian actively avoids venturing near Shaw Hawn’s post, citing her first encounter with him as reason enough to avoid the “New Light Sherpa”.

Acrius found the title amusing but when it became clear there were too many Fallen between them and the Guardian’s birthplace, the Valus became less enthusiastic.

They had tried to clear some of the ranks, but reinforcements arrived fairly quickly and the Guardian barely sealed the passage in time.

“Another time, perhaps?” Acrius asks, standing from his cover.

The Young Wolf nods, leaning against the wall beside the door with a huff. “It’s…not all that special. Just, cars scattered around.” She pushes upright, dusting off her cloak, “We had to run right away.”

He snorts, “You? Run? I doubt that very much.”

She pats his chest as she moves past, “Come on. There’s one last place I want to show you.”

They returned to the Tower, much to Acrius’s confusion. And then began the gradual climb - the back platforms. The stairways along the outside of the Tower. The narrow squeezes of a Valus through remarkably smaller spaces than he probably anticipated.

Until finally, finally she pulls him away from the stairs and toward a large platform overhanging the City.

His head lifts, eyes darting over the horizon as the sun begins to set. “What is this?”

“As close to the vantage as I can get you.” Her helmet vanishes in a transmat and she smiles, beckoning him over to the ledge.

He stills a few steps from it, “You aren’t going to try and push me down there, are you?” He sounds skeptical and she’s almost offended he’d think of her that way after all this time.

Her hands settle on her hips as her weight shifts to one leg. “If I wanted to knock you off, I’d have done it out in the Cosmodrome and blamed the Fallen.”

“Fair point,” he relents albeit sheepishly before he ventures closer.

She shakes her head and takes a seat, waiting for him to join her. When his form settles beside her, she casts her gaze out toward the wall and exhales deeply.

She's missed this view.

He's bent a little lower beside her, trying to see things from her height but he's still too high and she thinks that irritates him a little.

"So, you just sit here and stare?" He grumbles.

She snorts, "Usually, there's someone with me to talk to."

"And by that, you mean they do all the talking."

She nods and he huffs. "One day you'll explain that ill-timed silence tendency to me."

She chuckles and leans into him, resting her arm on his knee to support her.

"It's…quiet out here. Is that why you like it?"

"In part." Her other hand rests on her holster, "It's a place to think. To remember."

His eyes dart down, "Will you ever tell me of that weapon's significance?"

"Have you found manners?" She teases, angling her head back to see his eyes. They are fixated on her, tracing over her own features with a degree of intrigue and warmth. But there’s something else there - something she tries not to think too deeply about.

The gentle bump of his shoulder against her forces her from her daze, "Obviously."

"Then perhaps today is when you’ll find out." She hesitates, "You have to answer one of my questions first."

"Name it." Patience clearly isn't one of his strong suits, this is the only time she'll use it to her advantage.

"Caiatl keeps mentioning how this is…more than just an alliance. Pushing you to make it work. Why? What is this to her?"

It's his turn to hesitate and his brow furrows. She watches his eyes drift to the Traveler, the silence between them taut with apprehension.

Finally, he finds the words.

"Our union…began as a means to an end. A binding to solidify our alliance but for the Empress, this was to prove a point." He lays his hand over her thigh as he continues. "There are those in the Empire who believe that the blood between our respective people cannot be overlooked, that the alliance can't last after so much hatred."

He snorts, "The point she intended to make? That not only could it be put aside, but something else could come of it. Not just a formality but a genuine bond." His hold tightens, "Mind you, my intentions with you were genuine, Caiatl's plot aside. In fact, I intended to make things between us as inhospitable as I could manage to discourage her from using us as her trophy example."

The Young Wolf laughs, "So, you were an asshole with a purpose."

He huffs out a sound of assent, squeezing her thigh. "You had my respect even then, but I didn't want Caiatl to have that satisfaction. But as I grew to know you, it became less about the Empress's wishes and more…" he trails off with a degree of uncertainty.

"More what, Acrius?" She pries gently, laying her hand over his.

"Selfish. I became selfish. I wanted you to regard me as something you could care about, even if it was only a fragment. I wanted to forge a partnership with you that would ensure your time beside me would be pleasant. That this…complication didn't drive you over an edge I could not follow."

Her head drops against his chest, not quite ready to see his face when he answers her next question. "And now?"

His arm slips around her shoulders, guiding her flush against his side. "This is all I want."

You are all I want.

He doesn't utter it but knowing her Valus, that is what he means.

She reaches up, partially hooking her arm around his neck to hug him.

Silence settles over them for a time, until the Young Wolf slowly withdraws and Acrius clears his throat.

"I believe…it's your turn."

It’s harder to start than she anticipated. She had to force her gaze away from him, away from the pity she knows may spark at some point. She starts with Cayde. About their friendship. Moving on to the Prison of Elders is hard, it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. When she speaks of Uldren and then Crow, some of that distaste ebbs. Her hand found her hand canon when she explains the reminder Ace serves.

She thought it would get easier talking about him but it hasn't. By the end, her voice falters and she has to stay quiet to avoid tears. Crying is something she’s never done in front of Acrius - it’s not even something she does often. But when it comes to Cayde, when it comes to that loss - she is more vulnerable than she’d like.

Acrius seems as though he's trying to understand as he leans his head against hers.

"You carry so much guilt with you, don't you, Little One?"

She doesn't answer. How can she?

Her hand lifts, cupping his cheek gently. He guides her closer, cradling her form against him in a firm embrace.

And they stay there for a time. Basking beneath the warmth of waning sunlight and the comfort of their embrace.

She hopes this is enough. That Acrius will understand her a fraction more after today. If nothing else, it will explain why she never lets anyone touch the Ace of Spades and he’ll stop eyeing her every evening when she finally relinquishes it to the dresser beside their bed.

Eventually, sleep overtakes her for a few hours. Her mind exhausted from recounting that pain and Acrius cradles her through it. She drifts in and out, mildly aware of her position in his lap after he slid them both away from the ledge. Her back against his arm, her form draped over his thighs. His other hand resting on her knees, cradling one of her hands gingerly.

It can’t be comfortable for a prolonged period of time but he doesn’t complain.

And when she finally awakens some hours later, the night sky is alight with starlight and Acrius is murmuring an old Cabal legend above her. His words are lost to her sleep-addled consciousness but when he finishes, when he tilts her chin up, there is a smile in his eyes.

She’s never been struck with an inclination to kiss him - not like this. The warmth that floods her chest is consuming and she finds herself smiling up at him like a lovesick fool. Her gaze softening as her eyes drift along his features in the moonlight.

She registers his touch against her cheek, gently tracing a scar and she holds her breath beneath it. If she moves, if she breathes - she fears he’ll withdraw. He’ll retreat to that Valus wall that bars her from feeling his warmth, getting lost in sharp golden eyes that search her own as if they were galaxies not yet conquered.

“Breathe, Little One.” His voice resonates through her and her cheeks flush as she inhales. “There…”

She reaches up, cupping his hand but she doesn’t look away. She can’t form a word and she - Traveler - she can’t act. For once, the Young Wolf is powerless and at his mercy entirely.

Sitting here beneath starlight, lost in her Valus’s warmth and embrace, the Guardian can’t bring herself to think of anything else. Just him. Just his affection and maybe, just maybe - that he could love her as she believes she’s come to love him.

She draws herself up a fraction, eyes flitting down to his mask and Acrius angles his head a fraction.

He never removes it in front of her. She hasn’t any idea why and while it seems like something she should know, Acrius has refused to answer anything about it.

In the months to come, the Young Wolf will ask Caiatl and she’ll tell her why. That the day Acrius earned his name at Calus’s feet, he was injured, severely. His jaw marred and damaged to the point that a mask is his only comfort to veil the damage. Caiatl will tell her that Acrius enjoys her human kisses as much as he does because they are gentle and a welcome change from the ache that permeates most of his face.

But for now, the Young Wolf traces over his knuckles and holds those sharp golden eyes until Acrius finally breaks their trance.

Even so, it seemed reluctant.

He coaxes her into standing and the two begin their descent back to the Tower hanger. Back to their ship to return to the H.E.L.M.

Acrius is even less eager for the evening to end and the Guardian ends up curled up atop him for the duration of the night. He returns to the flagship in the morning, she remains on Earth to handle the rituals.

For the first time, she finds herself aching for his presence.

She misses him and her return to the flagship is delayed a few weeks. But when she does return, Acrius waits until they are away from prying eyes and only then does he sweep her up into his arms.

Only then can she breathe again.

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

A few days later…

The next time they spar, the Guardian doesn't give him a chance to get the upper hand.

She wasn't prepared the first time but now?

Now she fights in a way that prevents her from ending up in that position again. Despite his goading, she continues her evasions, her tucks and jumps. She uses her mobility as a tool until she finds a weak point.

Before each arching swing, Acrius shuffles half a step forward to build momentum.

That's when she strikes.

She sweeps his leg out and it takes most of her strength to do it. He stumbles, she slams her body into his side to knock him down. His hands plant on solid metal panels and he tries to swing back up from his kneeling position.

But when his head lifts, her blades are poised in a cross just shy of his throat and her helmet is gone. Replaced with a smug look as he stills.

"Clever tactic." He remarks, leaning into the biting metal.

"But?"

"But you forgot a key detail."

"And what's that?"

His hand smoothes along her hip, gripping gently and startles her. She doesn't react for a moment, staring at him in wonder until he moves swiftly. Until she finds her hands bound in his palm and her back aches from cold steel paneling along her spine.

"Your own weak point."

"I don't have…" She trails off, putting two and two together before her face flushes and she diverts her gaze.

He laughs, a deep, truly pleased sort of laugh that flutters her heart. "You've developed a weak spot, Hunter. But I suppose," he releases her hands, steadying himself over her, "a weak spot for your husband won't get you killed."

She smiles, finally meeting his gaze again. She sits up, he lowers himself enough for their foreheads to touch.

"It was a good match, Little One. I'm impressed."

She presses a kiss against his skin before sliding out from beneath him and getting to her feet as he remains in a kneeling position. He tilts his head, watching her until she wraps her arms around his neck and then he pulls her close for an embrace.

Acrius holds her for a time, smoothing his hand along her back in slow, gentle strokes that coax her into a relaxed state. Another kiss against his cheek and Acrius forces himself to withdraw.

“We should get to the bridge. The briefing will begin soon.”

She nods reluctantly, stepping back to give him space to rise. She stoops to grab her weaponry and then the two of them make their way to the bridge.

The Guardian is never present for strategy meetings.

Briefings? Yes. But the formulation of attacks is not her strong suit, or at least, not outside the field. It's a long term war, but the details bore her.

She'd rather fight in the midst and leave this to someone like Zavala and Ikora.

Still, when Caiatl begins the meeting, she tries to focus on it, on Caiatl's voice but her mind drifts. Not to anything in particular. It fixates first on Acrius beside her. His hand is level with her shoulder and she can feel the warmth of it.

Next, she notes Saladin across from her. His eyes on Caiatl, his arms locked in a firm cross over his chest. His brow is furrowed, his eyes alight with determination.

Acrius's weight shifts for an instant and her head jerks toward him. He isn't paying her any attention, completely absorbed in the meeting. She closes her eyes for a moment, willing away the distractions before she refocuses on Caiatl - or tries to.

She can't retain half of what’s said. It's boring.

She finally gives in, zoning out to avoid distracting anyone around her. To all appearances, she's watching Caiatl but her eyes are idly tracing patterns over her head.

Acrius's arm bumps her slightly, she doesn't respond beyond leaning into him. His entire frame stiffens a fraction before his hand shifts, maneuvering around her to cradle her shoulder and essentially, tuck her close against him.

A small smile slips into place. Her body relaxing into his as her head angles against his hip.

Caiatl must have noticed. She's watching them but doesn't pause her explanations. She nods subtly, almost like approval and the Guardian smiles.

Perhaps showing her affection for Acrius in public isn't the worst thing in the world. It certainly allows for the benefit of his touch in moments like these.

Her gaze flits to Saladin, noting the subtle smile at the corner of his lips when he meets her gaze.

Yes, maybe this is better in the end.

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

A few weeks later…

Caiatl’s severance ritual went much like the others. Two trips to the Leviathan, but with everything, with there being nothing left but for them to wait? Caiatl has insisted they shift their focus to the Lucent Hive once more and focus on clearing out some bases in the EDZ.

“We had successes against the Lucent Hive with joint operations before.” Caiatl looks between Acrius and the Young Wolf, “The two of you will be handling this mission.”

Acrius casts his gaze down toward her and she offers a nod. His demeanor shifts to something more relaxed as his focus darts back to Caiatl. “It will be dealt with, Empress.”

Her head angles, something like a smile in her eyes when she speaks, “I know it will.”

The Young Wolf waits until Caiatl excuses herself before she slips her hand into Acrius’s, drawing his gaze from one of the consoles before him.

“What is it?”

“First mission together,” she supplies softly, smiling beneath her helmet as she presses into his side.

“And…you’re excited?” He chuckles softly.

“Aren’t you?”

“I’ve seen you in action.” He argues, squeezing a finger around hers. “I know what to expect.”

Her shoulders sag a fraction in annoyance. He knows damn well that’s not what she’s talking about, but judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes? He knows. He’s just toying with her.

Her eyes narrow and she tries to pull her hand away but Acrius will not allow her out of his reach. He gently tugs her back as a laugh rumbles through him and she finds herself relaxing in his embrace.

“Alright. Yes,” his head lowers a fraction as his free hand lifts to cradle the side of her helmet. “I am thrilled to fight at your side, Little One.”

Her breath hitches at the contact as she searches his eyes. There’s a genuine warmth there now - his touch is gentler, a whisper against metal and the only indication of contact is the twing of metal against the tough skin of his fingers. Her eyes divert as she steadies her nerve, tracing a finger along his hand as he relinquishes his firm grip.

“We should get moving, Guardian.” He mutters, starting to recoil before her hand snaps to his wrist, holding his hand in place against the side of her helmet.

He stills, head angling with curiosity before he kneels down to her level.

She steps closer, releasing his hand before her arms bind around his neck. And she hugs him. As tightly and affectionately as she can manage.

Acrius has since grown accustomed to her displays of affection - he’s made a point to ignore the looks they get on the bridge when she hugs him or takes his hand - he seems to almost enjoy them now.

The Young Wolf lingers a moment longer before finally releasing him and giving a firm nod.

They can go now.

As they make their way to the hanger, the Guardian is pleasantly surprised to find Acrius’s hand has lingered near her shoulder as they walk. He seems to make a point of brushing against her with every subtle swing of his hand - she calls it subtle only because it swings in time with her strides and match them perfectly.

Caiatl seems to have had a ship already on stand-by because they’re beckoned toward the closest dropship. The descent to Earth is quiet, comfortable almost.

Acrius occupies himself with his blades and the Young Wolf? Her mind is alight with scenarios. Complications. Potential hazards for her husband.

She is keenly aware of his capabilities, his strength and combat prowess. But she can’t quite shake the dread creeping at the edge of her senses. So, she fixates on the Ace of Spades; checking the cartridge, the sights and the chamber.

She won’t lose Acrius here - not like she lost Cayde. Never again.

When they touch down, she’s off the ship first, already gauging the area for threats. Locating the catacombs in question is easy and soon, they find themselves stumbling upon the first of the Lucent Hive forces.

It’s then that Acrius draws his cleaves from his back and casts his gaze down to her. “Are you ready?”

She nods firmly, drawing Ace and takes a steadying breath.

They move in. Acrius takes the Acolytes along the edge of the cavern and the Young Wolf bolts straight toward the Ogre in the center. She hurls blades into a Knight attempting to summon a shield before she focuses her efforts on the Ogre.

At some point, she’s aided by a shot across the room from Acrius, buying her a chance to get up and around the monstrosity before unloading a few shots into the Ogre’s head. It’s massive form topples over and the Guardian launches herself off the corpse as it falls, tucking and rolling.

“Impressive,” Acrius chuckles softly, wrenching his blade from a Knight beside him.

She does a sort of dramatic bow with a smile and it draws another laugh from her husband before they venture further into the catacombs. Battles are frequent as they clear the space.

But something doesn’t feel right. They haven’t encountered an outright Light-Bearer. If this were a base, they’d have at least one safe-guarding it.

“Something wrong?” Acrius presses.

“Wondering where their heavy-hitter is.” She returns absently, scanning the walls. “There’s a cavern up ahead. Ready up.”

She can sense the shift in his demeanor. He’s…not anxious but there’s a faint twinge of concern. She knows it isn’t about the Hive but rather, her.

The inclination to remind him to stay focused strikes her but she thinks better of it. He knows. He’s ready to fight and yet? The urge to protect him is…distracting.

“Focus, Guardian.”

He knows. Of course he does. She looks up and his eyes are fixated on her. They’re sharp, intense but there’s a warmth beyond it. An aching sort of reassurance she didn’t realize she needed.

All she can manage is a firm nod before the two press forward into the cavern.

It’s well lit. Lucent Hive move about and panic wells in her chest. She immediately locates the largest threat - the Lucent Hive Knight across the room.

“He’s first.” She nods toward him and Acrius nods.

“I’ll clear a path.”

“You’re sure?”

He nudges her shoulder, “Don’t worry about me.” His tone is firm, matching the look he’d given her but even still, she will have to keep an eye on him.

She won’t lose him down here.

Acrius moves from the mouth of the cavern, charging into the fray as he activates his shield. Bashing and swinging, her Valus carves his way through the enemy.

She falls in behind him, clearing out stragglers until they shift, until Acrius swings to his right and she bolts past his left. With the brunt of their focus on him, the Young Wolf launches her attack on the Knight.

They trade blows and all the while, she steals glances toward Acrius, worried she will turn away one moment and he'll hit the ground the next.

The worry isn't unfounded.

While she wards off the Knight, reinforcements have flooded the room. Acrius has begun to be overrun and she breaks off her battle to aid him.

A blade barrage, that's all. She hits the ground as flames engulf their enemies and Acrius gives her an appreciative nod.

He's safe now, she can–

“Guardian!”

His call splits the air but it’s not soon enough. The Knight’s sword swings, lodging in her side but not before she unloads the clip under its jaw. It topples over, the sword vanishing as she firmly grasps the Ghost, crushing it just before the Young Wolf crumples to the floor, clutching her side.

Acrius fights his way to her, deploying a shield around them as he kneels. “Guardian–” He reaches for her, cradling her head and she doubles over. “No–”

He gathers her close, “Hold on. We’ll get you to the medic, we’ll–”

She presses her blade into his hand, gestures to her chest.

“What are you asking me to do?” His eyes lift to the shield for a moment.

Her Ghost materializes beside her, “You’re going to have to kill her the rest of the way. I can’t heal her with the Hive magic infecting her system and it’ll take too long for her to bleed out.”

“But–”

“I can resurrect her, just do it!” Ghost orders sharply.

His eyes drop to her and she nods shakily. She can see the fear in his eyes, the panic. He’s never seen her die before. He doesn’t know–

“P-please, Acrius,” she chokes out, her hold on his hand faltering with her strength.

“Do it!”

Acrius brings the blade down harshly, the Guardian is blinded with pain, her body jerking in his embrace. She touches his chest, a faint pat before everything fades to dark and her head lulls against his chest. The last thing she can feel is the rapid thrum of his heart.

The next instant, she’s bolt upright, chest heaving for air as she coughs.

Acrius is above her, horrified and her Ghost transmats away. She shakes her head to clear it, taking the blade from her partner and gets to her feet.

She starts to move forward, pausing when she realizes he’s still sitting there, in shock, frozen. She looks toward the battle. The shield will hold, but not for long.

She touches him, he jolts and his eyes lock on her.

“I need you to snap out of it, Acrius,” she pleads.

He just stares up at her, “You–”

“It’s normal for Guardians, sweetheart. But I need you to process this later. This shield is failing and I can’t protect you when it falls. You need to move, right now!”

“Hunter–”

“Now,” she orders sharply, pulling away and it seems to be enough. He shakes his head, blinking for a moment before he rises. He draws a shield from his back, deploying it.

But his eyes fall back to her. She nods and his features harden as he mirrors it and shifts his focus to the thrall rushing them.

The Guardian draws her Quick Fang, darting from the shield as it falls and charges the brood.

Acrius attacks a group of Acolytes, she hears a cry from him but it’s not one of pain. But of anguish and rage. It sends a chill to her very bones but she does not try to aid him. He needs this.

They fight their way through the nest until they reach the center. Until Acrius places his shield between them and the Wizard. Until the Guardian gathers her Light, drawing upon her Golden Gun and he drops the shield.

A single shot is all she needs and the Wizard is incinerated.

But Acrius was too close. He jerks his arm back, the singed skin red hot and the Guardian looks to him in worry.

"I'm alright," he manages even as she tears a piece of her cloak off and binds it around his forearm.

"Sorry," she mutters, avoiding his gaze but she's pleasantly surprised to feel his other hand against her side.

"I know to stand further away next time." He chuckles softly.

Well, now you really do fit the Icarus myth. She muses but smiles up at him from beneath her helmet.

Acrius is the one to finally withdraw. He radios their success while the Guardian checks the room for any stragglers.

When she turns, Acrius is staring at her.

She approaches him, her helmet vanishing in a transmat and she summons a smile. “We work well together.”

He slides his axe along his spine before stepping up to her. “You…died.”

She nods, “It happens from time to time.”

“And your Ghost?”

“As long as nothing happens to him, I can usually be resurrected.” She leans against the pillar behind her.

He nods slowly, his gaze falling to the floor.

“Will I have to…do that again?”

“I hope not,” she pushes to an upright position, wrapping her arms around his waist as much as she can.

“I knew Guardians died. I just…I’ve never seen it happen. Never had to do it myself.” He draws her back after a moment, gazing down at her. “You feel all that pain, every time?”

She nods.

“Aren’t you ever afraid you’ll never come back?”

“Every single time,” she takes his hand in hers, trying a soft smile. “There’s always a chance something goes wrong. If I’m in the midst of a battle zone and there’s no cover, Ghost isn’t allowed to come out. There’s always a chance there will be a complication, some new adaptation of our enemies that could prevent him from rezzing me. Everything is a chance.”

“And you take it every time.”

“If I don’t, who will?”

His head lowers against hers, closing his eyes. “I see now why Earth values you so.”

She snorts, wrapping her arms around his neck and lets him gather her into his arms. They stay like that for a time, basking in one another’s warmth. Acrius slowly coming to terms with how little regard his wife has for her own safety. The Guardian, relieved he isn’t…well, that he’s less traumatized by the whole ordeal.

He holds her until they’re alerted of a transport inbound and Acrius draws back. They work their way out of the nest and toward the surface. The ride back to the flagship is a silent one and Acrius will not release her hand. His shoulder is pressed against hers and he will not take his eyes off of their hands. She’d tried to pull away once and he glared at her until she relented with a smile.

He only releases it for the walk to the bridge, only allows her out of arm’s reach when they debrief. And when they’re dismissed for the night - Caiatl must have seen Acrius’s state - the Young Wolf finds herself trapped in his arms in bed that night.

They’ve never really…cuddled. Never been more touchy than the occasional hand hold and helmet touch - aside from that night on the HELM, but even that she'd call a necessary sleeping arrangement caused by limited space.

But even this is different.

Her head is leaning against his chest, he’s on his side, holding her close.

“Acrius?”

He grunts his response.

“At some point, you’ll have to let go, sweetheart.” She chuckles, looking up at him.

“Let me have this tonight. Save your barbs for the morning.”

“You’re still thinking about the catacombs.” She remarks, tracing along a muscle on his chest. His hold tightens a fraction and she has to push against his chest to remind him she can’t breathe like that.

His hold instantly eases but his head lowers, nuzzling against her hair.

“I frightened you. I’m sorry.” She manages.

“You didn’t–”

“You haven’t taken your hands off of me since we left,” she counters gently, leaning her head back to see him. “Frightened. Worried. Scarred. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

“I said to leave it be tonight.” He grumbles.

“If I don’t?” She’s hoping to get a snort, a laugh, something out of him but he recoils instead.

“Do not mock me–”

“I’m not.” She sits up as he starts to turn away, “I promise,” she gently tugs him back toward her. He could easily overpower the gentle pull but he doesn’t. He allows her to ease him back onto his back, “I was only trying to tease you. I don’t like seeing you upset, Acrius.”

He looks up at her skeptically.

She summons a soft smile as she slides up toward his head. Her hand settles along his cheek and his glare softens beneath her fingers.

“How do I help?” She asks softly.

“Don’t die again?”

She snorts, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. His arm finds its way around her waist and she presses another kiss along his brow.

“I never meant for this to happen,” he admits softly.

“For what to happen?” She asks, drawing back just enough to see his eyes.

“To care for you this much. To need you this desperately. To want you as my own.”

Her features soften as her thumb traces along his skin, “I’m already yours, Acrius.”

His eyes search her own, “You…feel the same?”

“Of course,” she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his mask. “I didn’t think I could. I didn’t know how, but…I’ve come to love you, Acrius. More than anyone or anything.”

He drags her down into his arms, she’s sure he broke a few of her ribs with his roughness but the pain is nothing compared to his affection.

Nothing ever will compare.

Her Valus. Her heart. Her love.

Hers.

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