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phantomwarrior12 · 2 years

Text

Meet Again

A/N: The Cabal character in this fic comes from the Helphas Electus Proving Grounds mission. I tried to project what I could surmise of his personality from his wiki page into his character with a “HE LIVES AU”. Enjoy! <3

TW: Description of death, image of death

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

Ignovun still isn't sure how the Guardian got so close.

He's gone over that Helphas Electus Rite a thousand times. He should have died at the end of it. She should have killed him.

He remembers hitting his knees, struggling to draw breath. His massive form swayed, his helmet cracked from the impact of her blade barrage. His entire body alight with Solar energy and as he sunk back on his knees, his head lifted.

The Guardian was approaching him, a sword grasped firmly in her hands. He would not die cowering.

Ignovun had tried to lunge upward but only succeeded in stumbling toward her half a step before his hands planted on the steel paneling and he heaved a violent cough.

Her boots came into view and he dragged his head up. He could barely breathe then.

He could see himself in her visor. Battered, broken and bleeding. But not defeated. He would never admit defeat.

The Vanguard had to die.

But she didn't move. The tip of her blade clanged as it met the floor. It wasn't poised for a strike.

"Finish it!" He bit out, another cough rattling his frame.

Her head tilted, angling back for a moment before nodding and the sword vanished between her fingers.

"What–"

"You get to live." She said simply and then she turned, leaving him in the arena.

He didn't see her again after that. Not while he is taken to the medical bay to be mended. Not in the months that followed where they battled the Lucent Hive. Not until Lord Saladin was brought in to repay a debt. Then-then he wonders if he remembers her correctly.

The Guardian stands beside Forge, listening to him explain something. What, it doesn't matter.

Ignovun doesn't think as he approaches. All those months ago - the tank, the Rite, his failure - it all comes rushing back. His strides grow rapid, his hands clench and he drags his weapon from his shoulders.

The Guardian turns as he lunges, narrowly blocking the blow but it does send her skidding across the room before she can catch herself.

It's the same blade.

She brandishes it and is in a defensive stance at once.

Ignovun nearly starts toward her once more until two guards place themselves between them. Until Valus Forge has come to her aid and insists Ignovun lowers his weapon and backs down.

“No! No, she–”

The Guardian drops out of her stance, stepping up beside Forge.

“You recognize him?” Forge asks softly though Ignovun can hear it all the same.

She nods solemnly, sliding her blade back along her shoulders. Her Ghost materializes beside her, “That’s the Centurion we faced in the Rite of Proving on the Helphas Electus…Caiatl asked us to spare him.”

His brow furrows in confusion as Saladin looks from the Ghost to the Centurion.

“The Empress asked you to…what?” Ignovun manages after a moment.

“She said you’d never admit defeat on your own but she wanted her fleet commander intact.”

“Sounds uncharacteristic of Caiatl,” Saladin remarks.

“Maybe he’s just that good?” Ghost’s shell shifts.

They talk but the Guardian doesn’t. Her gaze is fixed on him. Absent. Cold. Detached. She remembers him. She remembers that fight but she does not react.

A shell. A weapon. Nothing more.

The bridge doors open an instant later and the Empress enters with Commander Zavala at her side. She pauses, no doubt taking in the scene before her focus zeroes in on Ignovun. “What is going on?”

No one answers. For a moment, he considers stepping forward until the Guardian does so.

“Your Fleet Commander was kind enough to remind me of our previous meeting.” She says calmly, tilting her head, “I hardly recognized him out of ceremonial armor.” She looks over her shoulder at him and he narrows his eyes.

“Yes…the Rite of Proving that forged our alliance. A shame we were not victorious but I suppose it has reaped its own benefits.” She looks to Ignovun for an instant, his gaze drops shamefully before her focus shifts back to the Guardian.

“Acting as your allies has had better results than acting as your subservients, Empress,” Zavala interjects pointedly.

“...I’ll concede we’ve had successes.” She returns flatly, “Enough on the past. We have Nightmares to tend to. Resume your posts.”

He gives a partial bow as the guards return to their place by the door. His gaze locks with the Guardian’s for an instant before he returns to the console on the other side of the room.

The Empress leads Zavala to the war table and begins going over plans. Forge assists but the Guardian? She props herself against a pillar and doesn’t appear engaged at all. The disrespect is outrageous but he remains where he is. The last thing he wants is to anger his Empress.

Time ticks by, the two leaders find themselves in a tense debate and the Guardian looks increasingly uncomfortable. She pushes off the pillar, beginning to meander between stations as if searching for a distraction. By the time she’s anywhere near him, the debate has grown exponentially in volume and she looks ready to dart.

He eyes her carefully, noting the tension in her posture, the way she evades looking toward the discussion behind her. She must not realize how close she is to him because by the time her head lifts, she’s within a few feet of his arm. She jolts back abruptly, evading his gaze as she takes a wide berth around him and heads toward the bridge doors.

Only when they close does her Commander and Forge take note of her absence.

“Where did she–” Zavala stops himself, gaze fixating on Ignovun, “Where’s the Guardian?”

“Left the bridge, sir.” He returns tightly.

Caiatl squares her shoulders, “Why?”

“Unknown, Empress.”

“Well, retrieve her. She’ll be leading this operation and I want her included in the planning.” She gestures harshly toward the door.

“Of course.”

Ignovun heads toward the door, beginning his search of the ship. He ends up finding her in the hanger, seated on the wing of her ship as she stares out at the cosmos beyond the shield. Her arms are folded, resting atop her knees and she doesn’t look over until he’s within ten feet of her.

“The Empress requests your return.”

Her head tilts toward him but doesn’t look away from the stars. She nods and, unsurprisingly, doesn’t start moving.

“Now.”

She waves him off, irritation creeping into her posture. He waits, silently willing her to change her mind.

She doesn't. She sits there and they're both trapped in an uncomfortable silence. It makes him want to attack her again but it's clear he won't get the opportunity.

She nearly killed him once, there would be no one to stop her a second time.

This entire situation is preposterous. He won't beg but he will instill the urgency of the situation - Caiatl is more forgiving than her father but even she has her limits.

"If I return without you, the Empress would be very displeased."

Her shoulders sag a fraction, he's sure he's earned a glare before she straightens her legs out and slides off the ship. Her boots clump against the metal flooring before she adjusts her hood and starts past him.

“You shouldn’t run from conflict.” He warns and she stills, her helmet angling up as if she were looking at him.

He has her full attention.

He’s not sure what to do with it.

His shoulders square in a show of indignance, "And you don't have to lie on my behalf."

Her head tilts, her shoulders rise in a shrug. She lingers a moment longer before walking away. Her stride doesn’t hold it’s usual bravado, it’s more measured, deliberate - almost reluctant.

Perhaps there might be more to the Vanguard's weapon than he previously believed.

—---------------

The next time he sees her, she's speaking for Forge. He's heard fragments in passing about the Throne World, about what they're all doing there.

They're reclaiming their Light, one enemy at a time.

It would admirable if he didn't loathe her as much as he does.

Forge has noticed his gaze, his focus shifting entirely to Ignovun.

The Guardian straightens slightly, tilting her head before following his gaze. Her helmet is still in place but he swears he can see the curiosity in that visor.

He huffs a snort of disgust and turns back to his console.

Forge's voice carries across the bridge behind him, "Is there something you needed, Commander?"

"No," he bites back.

The Valus starts to argue but falls silent an instant later.

Ignovun chances a look toward him; the Young Wolf has laid her hand on his shoulder and is nodding back to the console before them.

Redirecting. Again.

Why does she keep doing that?

Stop fighting my battles for me!

It tears through his mind and yet all he can do is stand there and glare. Even that does not fully convey his contempt and rage for the Guardian.

He knows she can feel his gaze. Her weight has shifted, her shoulders have squared and there is nothing about her that gives the impression of vulnerability in that moment.

It's a clear message: My mercy is not to be confused with weakness.

He grumbles and turns back to the console. He can't even begin to focus on the reports before him until the doors slide open and the Guardian is departing.

He looks over, watches her bid her farewells to Forge before her head turns toward him a fraction.

Her expression had better not be pity or he'll–

"Commander," Forge speaks and his focus is forced to the Valus as the Guardian takes her leave.

Forge approaches, his brow furrowed in a stern expression as he meets Ignovun's gaze. "I understand you resent the Guardian for what happened aboard the Helphas Electus. But I expect you to show her respect when she's on this bridge."

"She is unworthy–"

"She has the Empress's respect. Are you claiming it's misplaced?"

Ignovun straightens, his anger resurfacing, "Of course not!"

"Then show her respect, Commander, before I bring this to Caiatl's attention." Forge returns to his post and Ignovun is fuming.

He'll never understand the nonchalance humans display when addressing the Empress. They don't hold her in the regard she deserves but, surprisingly, she doesn't mind.

If anything, she seems to enjoy when Zavala addresses her by name and not title.

Ignovun shakes his head. He's getting sidetracked. Letting his mind wander to arbitrary things and…topics he has no place deliberating. He forces his gaze to the console in front of him.

Still, curiosity gets the better of him.

He searches up the footage from Mars staging area - the cannons the Guardian had used to get aboard Savathún's ship. He watches her fight her way to the barrel and noted only a moment's hesitation before she jumped inside to be launched heavenward toward who knows what.

Does she know fear? Is that something she can feel?

"You're enamored." Forge remarks from beside him.

Ignovun jolts, taking a step back in surprise.

When did Forge - never mind that.

He glares at the Iron Lord, his hands clenching at his sides.

But Forge? He's calm. Smiling at the stilled image of the Guardian.

Ignovun settles on simple denial. "I am not."

"She's a remarkable warrior. I'm sure that's caught your attention, at least at first." Forge shifts sharp brown eyes to Ignovun. “You’ve been beaten before. But you’ve never obsessed, have you?”

“That isn’t what this is,” he grits out.

“Then what is it?” Forge looks almost amused and it infuriates Ignovun.

“None of your concern,” he turns back to the console, switching off the footage and pulls up the report. “I’m forwarding an update on the Lucent brood to your station. I suggest you return to it.”

“Of course,” Forge uncrosses his arms though his voice is smug as he disappears from Ignovun’s peripheral.

His hands still over the console for a moment before he glances toward the door. He’s not enamored or obsessing. He wants to understand his opponent - decipher why and how he lost all those months ago.

Of course, he’s heard the stories. He knows how she’s felled Hive gods, even Savathún, Rhulk the First Disciple of the Witness, Ghaul and an Ahamkara. Could he have been successful? Is there a chance he could have gotten the upper hand at some point?

Yes. Of course! He is Cabal! They eat the mountains and drink the seas!

The Guardian is a formidable foe and one day, he will beat her and regain his honor.

But for now, he will remain vigil and serve his Empress.

As he always has.

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

One month later…

He's overrun.

The Empress sent him on this mission expecting success. But their intel, it was all wrong. His squad was wiped out in an instant and his cover is quickly crumbling beneath fire.

Ignovun tightens his hold on his weapon, preparing to face the brood head-on. If he is to die here, he will make it a battle worthy of a legend.

He charges from the pillar, launching solar into the air as the machine gun spins up and begins to shed thrall, acolyte and knights alike.

A shot clips his bicep from the left and he spins, cursing under his breath when he spots the arrival of reinforcements. He falls back, still shredding the Hive encroaching on the line he's forged.

He'll be overrun in moments.

Suddenly, the Hive around him ignite, blades scorching Earth and worn flesh alike. He knows those blades, he's felt those blades–

The Guardian tucks and rolls her landing before hurling her knife into an acolyte closing on him and he rises.

"I don't need your help!" He barks out.

She doesn't answer. She never answers. She just goes on killing things as if she were born to it.

At some point, a Hive Knight lands a blow while Ignovun watches.

She hits the ground, skidding and rolling until her back meets stone and her form goes limp.

She can't be–

He moves then. Torn from his stupor and charges. Solar energy ignites and shoots out, incinerating the brood before he cleaves his axe through the Knight. He places himself between them all and the Hunter sprawled on the ground.

Her Ghost has cautiously come out - she is dead.

He realizes it and then deploys a bubble shield, "Revive her quickly!" He snaps, eyeing the Lucent Hive just beginning to break the barrier.

He readies himself but just as he begins to charge, a grenade flies past him and the Guardian is pushing herself up to her feet. She still looks worse for wear but she snatches up her rifle and is at his side.

"You're–"

"In one piece," she interrupts, firing off a few shots.

"Fully healed?"

"Not by a long shot," her Ghost supplies over the comms. "But there isn't time enough to mend everything."

"So, you didn't die?"

She shakes her head, hurling her knife into a Knight.

That's a relief but he worries now she might slow them both down. It's a concern she swiftly puts to rest. The Guardian moves quicker than he can, clearing a path out of the halls. It's only when she stops to check on him that they're ambushed by an Ogre.

Its claws pierces her chest and the Guardian goes still.

It jerks its massive hand back and she crumples to the floor.

N-now she's dead.

He can't bring himself to get near her, instead forcing his focus to the Ogre. He charges, his axe drawn and the Solar orbs scorching from his spinal cannon. It's a brief battle. He overran the opposition almost instantly.

Then. Then he can return to her side.

"Area's clear," he says just before the Ghost materializes, immediately shifting back away from him.

Ignovun gently rolls the Guardian onto her side so he can lift her into his arms. Her body is limp, the warmth beginning to ebb and it's an odd sensation. His eyes drift over her helmet for a moment, "I could see her face at last," he remarks.

The face of his enemy. A face to the nightmare - perhaps it'll be enough to make his rest peaceful again.

"Remove her helmet!" He barks sharply and her Ghost darts back a little further.

"That's not–"

"You'll do as your told or the next time you appear, you'll be ground to dust in my hand."

He could swear the Ghost looks indignant but it's clear that his Guardian will not be safe to revive until Ignovun's demands are met.

So, the Little Light relents, transmatting the helmet away. The Fleet Commander is pleased as his gaze drops to the Hunter in his arms.

Her features are soft, softer than he imagined for a woman who lives like a weapon. He can't see her eyes but he memorizes the color of her hair, the curve of her jaw, her every feature before he gently touches her skin.

Even that is soft.

"She looks to be in pain."

"Being impaled isn't the worst way she's died." Ghost admits.

"What was the worst?"

The Ghost mulls it over, transmatting the helmet back into place. "Oryx. He incinerated her at one point. She said it felt like every cell in her body was torn apart individually and then exploded inside of her. Worst pain she's ever been in…she still uses it as a point of reference to measure her pain."

"She remembers every death?"

"Most. It's really just the pain that stands out. She said it kind of lingers in her muscles post-rez."

His head tilts but he nods,"Bring her back…and Ghost?"

The Little Light angles up to look at him.

"Not a word of this to your Guardian."

Her Ghost gives no response; obviously he'll tell her but Ignovun had to try. Still, as the Light ignites along Ghost's shell before it separates, Ignovun holds her steady against him.

A moment of silence before she bolts upright, gasping for air and coughing. She presses a hand to her chest, no doubt catching up in an instant before her head tilts up to him.

She's out of his arms and on her feet in an instant. He watches her adjust her hood before stooping to pick up her hand canon, checking the barrel immediately before sliding it back in her holster.

The Guardian gives him an appreciative nod before she looks toward their objective.

A short-lived moment, but he's come to understand her a little better. Her compassion compromises her, leaves her open to an attack. He can't help but wonder about her, yet he knows better than to get swept up.

He's learning how to best her. That's all.

When his eyes lift to her, he notes she's taken a step closer and is offering a hand up.

There is no world in which she'd be able to help him to his feet but he finds the gesture…amusing?

He rises on his own, lifting his machine gun and squares his shoulder. "If you're going to accompany me, stick close. The orbs seek out enemies and I wouldn't call you an ally."

Her head tilts and he can hear a soft snort before she nods. He detects no animosity from her as she starts toward the objective, drawing her auto rifle from her back.

She clearly trusts him not to kill her. It's well placed…for the time being.

The ensuing battle through the corridors is quick. She plays off his attacks, cleaning up stragglers until they reach the massive Knight. That's when the Hunter’s fighting style shifts again.

She does all she can to draw its attention away from Ignovun and the instant he's out of the line of fire, Light ignites along her form. Not a barrage this time, but a gun so bright the Fleet Commander must divert his eyes as the shots split the air.

The Hive Knight drops, the Guardian's Light fades and she looks pleased. Her focus shifts to him and she holds up a thumbs up…Forge had explained its significance at some point when she'd done it in front of him.

Ignovun huffs, shaking his head and starts back toward the staging area. The mission is complete. Their target is down. He can return to the ship, put this all behind him and go over what he’s learned of the Guardian - she’s at his side. Matching his stride with two of her own as they walk as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

It makes his trigger finger itchy.

Her head is on a swivel, her own fingers braced along the side of her trigger. His hold on the machine gun doubles down, pushing back the instinct to strike while she’s unaware.

Now is not the time. But it will come; a time when his Empress asks him to finish what he started aboard the Helphas Electus.

He has to bide his time.

When they make it back to the dropship, the Guardian lets her Ghost transmat the weapon away before she drops down onto the floor in the corner. Her frame sags against the cold steel before her head angles back against the wall.

It occurs to him that the floor cannot be comfortable after a mission but he has little interest in aiding her. Instead, Ignovun moves toward the cockpit to speak with the pilot and retrieve a data pad.

He needs to be up to date by the time he returns to the ship.

The flight back is silent. The Young Wolf has clearly fallen asleep, propped against the wall and at some point, a War Beast lumbered over to her and laid down beside her. Its head settled in her lap and he had watched her absently stroke the scales until she drifted off again.

The Beast proceeded to snuggle in and keep her upright for the remainder of the flight.

It only left her side when its handler whistled for it.

That's when the Guardian woke, jostled by the Beast escaping her embrace.

Ignovun watches her over the edge of his datapad. She stretches a little before shifting. The sway of the docking keeps her on the floor for the moment, her head lifting and no doubt scanning the hold until she finds him.

She does seem nervous all of a sudden, but he can't place exactly why or what may have caused it. Regardless, when the ship settles, they both rise and make their way to the bridge.

But she isn't beside him this time.

She hangs back a few feet, feigning interest in a few panels they pass to keep the space between them.

It's him. He makes her nervous now that they're back on the ship.

But why?

She was bizarrely comfortable in the field? What could–

"Ah, Commander." Caiatl's voice drags him from his musing. "I'm pleased to see the Guardian made it to you in time."

He nods respectfully, eyes diverting to the Young Wolf as she steps past him and takes her place at Forge's side. "Thank you, Empress."

"We'll be more diligent in the future to avoid another ambush. It seems these Hive are far more…competent than those we've faced before."

"I did mention that," Forge grumbles, turning back to the console with the Young Wolf peering over his shoulder awkwardly.

"So you did," Caiatl returns flatly before her gaze darts back to Ignovun. "You were the sole survivor?"

"Unfortunately, yes. We were overrun in an instant. And what few I could shield fell soon after."

Caiatl looks to be disappointed - whether it's in Ignovun or the state of things, he isn't sure.

"Very well. Get some rest, Commander. We can manage while you recover."

"Empress, if I may–"

Her hand settles heavily on his shoulder, "Rest, Ignovun. There will be time enough for battle tomorrow."

He relents, conceding a nod. "Of course."

Her hand lifts and he watches her stride over to Forge and the Guardian. The Hunter keeps her focus on the console but her head does angle a fraction upward as if that were acknowledgement enough for the Empress.

Again with their nonsensical nonchalance.

He should be outraged but when Caiatl doesn't admonish them for it, his frustration fizzles out.

The Guardian gets away with it all and that should enrage him.

Why doesn't it?

He lingers a moment longer before shaking his head, clearing away that particular wormhole of thought.

Rest. Yes, that sounds ideal.

But before he turns, he catches sight of the Guardian eyeing him. Not in a hostile, scrutinizing manner. But an innocent sort of curiosity.

For a moment, her features flash at the forefront of his thoughts. He's reminded she's not just a weapon beneath that armor but for now, that's all he can afford to think of her as.

A weapon on loan from the Vanguard.

Here and gone within a day. Her presence is a rare thing but when she is there? When he turns and she hovers beside Forge or studies him, Ignovun experiences this…odd sensation in his chest.

At first it caused him concern - he attributed it to anger or the memories from the Rite of Proving.

But now? After seeing her face, it's…there's no chance it's resentment or anger.

It's an emotion he can't place but its not a pleasant one. He hates her too much for it to be anything other than hostile in nature.

He's held her gaze for far longer than he likes.

He glares, squaring his shoulders before he wheels and storms from the bridge.

She will not get too close this time. He'll be ready for her.

This time, he will not fail.

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

A few days later…

"...you want us to do what?" The Guardian’s Ghost sputters, flickering forward.

"Are you not up to the challenge?" Caiatl chuckles.

"You want us to fight him?" Ghost looks from Ignovun to Caiatl.

Forge steps in, laying a hand on the Guardian's shoulder, "Caiatl–"

"I believe it would be a good challenge. My Commander doesn't see eye to eye with your Guardian. Let them resolve it here."

The Young Wolf’s head tilts as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her response is clear: I've beat him already. What more do you want?

"This time, fight without your Light." Caiatl returns flatly, "You'll be evenly matched and we won't have to humor anymore…tension."

Ignovun straightens a fraction, noting the Guardian's annoyed head tilt before her arms fall back to her sides and she nods.

Forge squeezes her shoulder, muttering to her, "Don't kill him."

She pats his hand before stepping away and heading down to the arena without sparing Ignovun a glance.

He looks to Caiatl who gives a firm nod. She must have noticed the hostility the last few months but it confuses him. Isn't she expecting him to kill the Guardian when the Vanguard is past the point of usefulness?

"Go on," she gestures and he has no choice but to move. His gaze locks with Forge's for an instant before he makes his way down to the arena.

When he arrives, he realizes her gauntlets and leg armor have changed. The bladed gauntlets are replaced with something…less ornate but there is still a blade braced along her forearm. Just, longer and more functional. But the leg armor is entirely different. Metal plating along her thighs, and he doesn't understand the small tubing attached at different points on the armor.

"What is this?" He gestures.

"Just swapping equipment," her Ghost supplies. "These are Stomp-EE5."

He snorts, "Why not the bladed gauntlets?"

"Those amplify her Light when she supers. Since that's not an option here, doesn't make sense to use them, does it?"

Ignovun grumbles and turns, hoisting his cleaver from the rack beside him. "Choose a weapon, Guardian. This will be quick."

She nods, stepping up to the rack near her. Some of the weapons would look comical in her hands given their sheer size. She doesn't seem to like any of them and instead, steps back and draws her own blade from her back.

Quick Fang he'd heard Forge call it. The same blade she nearly killed him with the first time. She brandishes the blade for a moment before falling back into a defensive stance.

His gaze darts up to the box Forge and Caiatl are watching from. The Iron Lord seems anxious, but the Empress? Her arms are crossed and there's a thrill he can make out from here.

Ignovun squares his shoulders, readjusting his grip on the cleaver before he charges. He remembers her mobility, but she's even quicker now. Dodging and sidestepping his swings but she doesn't attack. Perhaps she's trying to find a pattern?

He won't give her one. He won't allow her to beat him a second time!

He changes his attack, throwing the brunt of his weight into a swing before shifting abruptly and landing a kick to her side.

She goes flying, hitting the ground and tumbling a few feet before she's able to get her feet under her and she skids to a crouched stance. She touches her side gingerly, no doubt registering the cracked ribs before her grip tightens.

He can see the exact moment she realized he isn't just sparring. She's in a fight for her life and he knows she won't hold back any longer.

He rushes again, but this time, this time she's ready. He tries another combination, intent on shattering a leg to take away her mobility but the Guardian dodges. She pivots and the next instant, there is a slash along his shoulder, forcing spasming muscle to involuntarily drop his cleaver.

He tries to swing but she slides between his legs, twirling and her boot collides with the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.

No! Not again!

He roars, snatching up his cleaver and swings blindly behind him. He can feel the impact of his blade against…he doesn't know what, but another slash and it topples from his hand.

She slams him forward, a boot planted between his shoulders and then her blades are at his throat from behind. His arms tremble with pain, his head straining to remain upright and avoid certain death if there's so much as a slip.

"Yield," the Guardian bites out lowly. He can hear the pain in her voice but he can't find the words. He will not accept defeat, not again–

The metal grates against the skin of his throat, she's trying to force him to yield.

"You'll have to kill me, Guardian." He growls back and she presses the blades a little closer.

"This isn't worth your life, Commander." She pleads.

He's never heard that from her. Never heard a whisper of desperation but whether that stems from her own injuries or a deep-seated need to play savior, he isn't sure.

Ignovun only knows he will not grant her that satisfaction.

"You stripped me of my honor aboard the Helphas Electus. I will not endure further dishonor to the likes of you–"

She's drawn blood. Pain sings along nerves and he clenches his hands into fists to stay the cry lodged in his throat.

"Commander! Either you yield and put this nonsense aside or the Guardian kills you. The choice is yours." Caiatl calls and her voice echoes through the arena.

Ignovun feels the Young Wolf stiffen - she wants no part of this. Her blades start to ease away as she leans back.

He moves then, pushing himself upright and knocking the Guardian back. She hits the ground with an umph and scrambles back as he pushes himself up to his feet.

Ignovun snatches up his cleaver, ignores the burning along his arms as he lumbers toward her.

She gets to her feet, twirling her knife in one hand and brandishes her sword in the other. He can see the blood staining her side - that's where his cleaver found its mark.

He has to–

There is apprehension in her stance. But not fear. She doesn't want to have to kill him - pitiful.

He heaves a roar and charges. The Guardian bolts to the side, pivoting and swinging around to his back. She could slash, she could take him out then he realizes, but she doesn't. She just retreats, keeping distance between them.

When he wheels, her head is jerked up toward the box, no doubt looking to Forge for an answer as she clutches at her side.

The Valus is voicing his protests as they fight and when Ignovun charges again, the Young Wolf evades a second time. This time launching herself up onto one of the barricades - a precarious place to balance.

Again she looks to Forge. He's fallen silent and gives her a nod.

Permission. She has it.

Her focus shifts back to Ignovun.

"There's nowhere left to run, Guardian."

She hesitates, looking back up to the box before her weapons lower. "Killing me will allow you to reclaim your honor?"

"You're not just going to surrender!" He bites out, "It'd be pointless."

Her head tilts, her knife slipping back into its sheath as she drops off the barricade. It's less graceful than she would have been, her hand immediately bracing against her side.

What is she doing now?

The Guardian attacks then, forcing him back a few steps but her blows are measured. She doesn't go for anything lethal, but blows he can counter in his battered condition. She's not letting him win but…this isn't her full strength.

He swings then, knocking her back a few feet.

"Enough! I'm not a child you can placate! Clearly, you can best me! Why don't you?!" He fumes, "End this!"

She looks to Forge and he nods again.

"You have your mentor's blessing! Do it!"

She shakes her head, tossing her sword to the side and lets her hands fall to his sides.

"You insult me!"

"Get over it." She retorts evenly. "This is about your pride, Commander. You will not let me yield nor will you do so yourself. We're at an impasse and I refuse to kill you." She kneels down, sitting back on her heels as she holds his gaze.

That's all.

She's placed herself at his mercy, just like that.

"You're a fool if you think I won't kill you."

Her head tilts and she nods as if encouraging him to do it.

He looks down at the cleaver in his hand; it feels…heavier with this choice before him. He has imagined a thousand moments like this - her, on her knees before him. Awaiting a death at his hands. But not like this.

There is no honor in killing an opponent who willingly surrendered.

His gaze shifts back to the Hunter and the next instant, his cleaver lodges into the metal panel beside her.

She doesn't even flinch.

"There is no honor in killing you now. No victory. Keep your life, Guardian. But know this: There will come a time the Empress calls upon my blade for your head. And that time, I will beat you."

Her head tilts as she rises, but she just regards him for an instant before retrieving her sword. She moves past him then, cleaning his blood from her weapon before it slides back along her shoulders and she disappears out of the arena.

He looks to the box above, to his Empress and she shakes her head.

"This alliance will endure, Commander. The time you speak of will never come to pass. Accept this role or step down." She turns and Forge follows her from the room.

He's left on his own, reeling with the reality set before him.

The Guardian–

No. He cannot blame this on her this time. He has made a fool of himself of his own accord.

But can he let this go? Can he put aside this burning resentment for her?

Only time will tell.

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

It's another few weeks before the Guardian returns to the flagship. And it's only because the Leviathan has resurfaced and docked itself above their moon.

She evades him at every opportunity. Deliberately refusing to meet his gaze and instead, keeps her focus on Forge or Caiatl herself. Making a point to steer clear of his station.

She isn't afraid of him, clearly. But she is…cautious.

Why should it matter to him? He wanted her dead before, but now? Grasping at straws of what he thought was his purpose? How does she play into it?

Caiatl is also going out of her way to keep them separated. He never gave her an answer but, he supposes, for the time being…he can tolerate the Guardian if it means doing his duty.

The weeks tick by, they work to sever the Leviathan from the Lunar Pyramid.

The Nightmare of Ghaul is permanently bound to Caiatl's side. It's daunting but Ignovun does all he can to aid his Empress.

Until she's had enough. Until he accompanies her to the Leviathan alongside two Bracus and an Optis. Until they are clearing a hall of Loyalists and Scorn–

He knows that sound better than any of them. It haunts his dreams, torments his soul.

An instant later, a barrage of flaming blades soars between the four of them, exploding along the closest of the adversaries.

He has but a moment to look over before the Guardian comes charging through.

Ignovun activates his comm, "The Guardian has arrived."

"What?" Caiatl's anger is palpable over the link and as the Young Wolf clears the room, he can hear the Empress's warnings over the Guardian's commlink.

It doesn't slow her. Not when she incinerates a Centurion. Not when she deactivates the lockdown. And certainly not when she charges past the turbine toward the Empress and her Nightmare.

She's faced Ghaul once before, after all. Ignovun doesn't doubt she can best him again but Caiatl? Her victory will be what matters.

He is forced to watch as his Empress wrestles with her demon, struggling to push past the barbs and digs of her mentor.

When Ghaul's manifestation falls and the Guardian returns to Caiatl's side, he can read the telltale signs of exhaustion, of worry, even, in her frame. Her hand settles against Caiatl's arm and the Empress bristles, forcing the Guardian back a few steps. She withdraws a moment later, moving past Ignovun and the others.

Not upset but merely recognizing the mission is over and she can be of no more help.

"Guardian!" He calls and she stops, pivoting to face him.

He casts his gaze toward Caiatl, gestures for the others to tend to her before he approaches the Young Wolf.

Her back straightens, shoulders drawn back as he stops short of her.

"...thank you. I fear today would have gone differently had you not arrived when you did."

Her head tilts before she nods, her frame relaxing a fraction.

"I suppose…you're not as," he hesitates a moment, "horrendous as I once thought."

Her shoulders shake in a silent laugh before she offers him a hand.

He looks from the outstretched appendage to her helmet before his large hand closes around hers.

"I cannot guarantee we'll come to be friends, but you have my respect, Guardian…and my appreciation."

She nods again and this time, this time it seems relieved. As if she too has been uncomfortable with the tension between them these last few weeks. As if the occasional glances toward him were filled with regret rather than apprehension and paranoia.

As if she could care about him.

"You should return to the H.E.L.M. We will tend to the Empress and contact your Vanguard when a course of action is decided."

The Guardian nods, withdrawing her hand from his.

Odd. He never thought he'd grow to like that sort of contact - least of all from her.

Still, he wills his focus to the Young Wolf and away from his own confusions.

She gives a wave and backs toward the door nonchalantly. He simply nods and turns away to head toward the breach pod.

He feels as though he should say something more, but it wouldn't matter now.

So, they part ways.

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

That was the last binding.

Ghaul is gone. The link between the Lunar Pyramid and the Leviathan should be severed.

Ignovun had barely managed a few words to the Guardian before he was recalled to the flagship.

But even then, aboard the Leviathan, she'd stood closer to him than she ever had before. She held his gaze and although she seemed tired, she indulged his debriefing before she was called away.

In the end, her hand had settled along his forearm and the skin felt as though it tingled in response.

It could have been her Light. He's heard of Guardians projecting their power in manners that reflect their mood. He could certainly feel the warmth of her Solar Light but could that trigger nerves and stutter his heartbeat? And if so, what did it mean for her own emotions?

That can't be his focus right now.

A week passed and Caiatl called upon the Guardian for one last plunge into the depths of the Leviathan to wrench Calus from his cocoon and end this hell before it can truly unfurl.

As for him, he were ordered to remain on the flagship. To be ready for anything but when the Empress returned, she bore not the face of victory, but one of defeat.

The announcement came soon after: Calus was dead in any real sense. He had given himself over to the Witness and they will work with the Vanguard to coordinate a next move.

The Guardian didn't return to the flagship, nor did she venture near it in the coming

weeks. He found himself…longing for her company? Is that something he could do, feasibly?

He'd hated her for so long. And even here, she hadn't spoken to him but there was…an unspoken something that was forged in the glances and subtle looks.

Hostility warped into something else. Something so uncharacteristically like him to feel.

Their fleeting interaction aboard the Leviathan has awoken this feeling and he almost hates it.

But it binds him to her so he tolerates it.

Two weeks turn to three and he's had enough.

He speaks with Caiatl, requests a brief leave to go to the H.E.L.M. as that's where Forge told him she spent most of her time now.

Caiatl, of course, had been suspicious. She pressed him for answers, he had none to give but he assured her that he would conduct himself accordingly and she relented.

It's where he finds himself now; standing in the docking bay, scanning the space. He notes her ship before venturing toward the command center.

He's pleasantly surprised to find the Guardian there, hovering by the Crow while he works.

Does she only ever hover because she has no patience for the order of things?

His footsteps draw both their attention and the Bracus near the door straightens up a fraction.

He gestures for him to be at ease before he approaches the two Hunters.

"Commander Ignovun, I didn't…well, ever expect to see you here." Crow remarks, trying to will a smile into place.

"Yes, well…I came to speak with your Guardian if she has a moment." His gaze shifts to the Young Wolf and her head lifts a fraction.

She pushes off the station and nods, gesturing for him to follow.

Crow reaches for her for an instant before she gestures, no doubt assuring him it'll be fine before moving toward the back hallway.

Once out of earshot of Crow, the Guardian turns to face him with an expectant tilt of her head.

What brought you here?

It passes between them silently and he realizes he will have to be the one that breaks that silence.

"You…haven't been to the flagship in some time." He squares his shoulders as he speaks, trying to rally some semblance of dignity. He is well aware of how all this sounds.

Petty. Whiny. Unbefitting someone of his status.

But looking at her now?

He cares a little less about that. He's just relieved to see her again.

Her Ghost transmats beside her, "The Leviathan is all but handled and until we have a next move, we're…not needed there."

"Untrue. The Leviathan is not completely free of Nightmares. Surely our forces could benefit from–"

The Young Wolf steps closer, her palm settling along the side of his hand - she knows.

She can see through his excuses and complaints. His ill-attempted efforts to make it seem as though there is a genuine need for her abilities aboard the flagship.

"Missed me already, Commander?" She asks softly yet her voice holds a teasing lilt.

"Of course not," he grumbles, absently taking her hand even as his shoulders square. "I just…you're not one to leave a job unfinished."

"Technically speaking, she left you unfinished," her Ghost remarks smugly.

The Guardian laughs and Ignovun can't find the heart to be angry.

"That's beside the point." He kneels down to meet her gaze, "Can the Vanguwrd spare you or not?"

"I think they can," her Ghost returns.

He angles his head a fraction as the Guardian steps up to him. She holds there for a weighted instant before she nods encouragingly for him to speak.

"I want to hear you say you'll come back and aid us." He leans in a fraction.

"I'll help you clean out the Leviathan, Commander…on one condition."

"Name it." He answered too quickly. He knows that. But the way her head tilts? She didn't mind.

"No more hiding behind excuses. It doesn't suit you," she grazes the edge of his mask with her free hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Clever woman.

"You have my word."

She withdraws with an enthusiastic nod.

"We'll get our gear!" Ghost calls as she starts back up toward the command center.

He can only stare after her, his chest alight with an emotion he never thought possible when it came to her. He has to force himself to walk, to move from that secluded hall and back toward the hanger.

She'll meet him there.

He begins to wonder if she, too, has felt this confusion. If her agreeing to return stems from her own affections?

No.

Affection seems too far to take this, too much of stretch, too much of an assumption. She's never–

He stills at the foot of the ramp, gaze darting over the paneling in front of him.

Has she ever shown an indication of something like affection?

No, surely he hasn't been privy to that–

Her hand is against his forearm and his head snaps downward, focus fixating on her helmet.

"Are you alright?" Her voice is impossibly quiet, cautious even.

He stares for a weighted moment and her hand withdraws slowly, falling to her side as she steps back. Her demeanor shifting, as if she's overstepped and suddenly regrets it.

No.

He reaches for her, pressing his palm against her shoulder and her head tilts down to the contact.

"I'm fine, Hunter. We should get back."

She nods but doesn't move as her gaze shifts back up to his. She leans a little into his hand like an affectionate bump before placing her hand over his.

Her touch is…gentle. Warm. Tender.

Nothing he'd call her but just this once? He thinks of her as something he wouldn't mind letting touch him if it meant she were this close all the time.

She pulls away a moment later and he can only stand and watch as she ascends the ramp. She pivots at the top, tilting her head like a question.

Are you coming?

He had thought she'd take her ship but this? This somehow seems better.

He treads up the ramp, "Your ship–"

"Flying remotely," her Ghost transmats beside her and flickers upward.

Ignovun nods slowly, "Very well. Make yourself comfortable, Guardian." He steps past her, trying and failing to ignore the slight disappointment evident in the sag of her shoulders.

It is disappointment, isn't it?

He moves up to the cockpit, orders the pilot to return to the flagship and when he turns back, the Guardian has taken a seat near the back corner of the cargo hold.

There is something like dejection in her posture; shoulders slumped, her head bowed against her chest, an arm slung over a bent knee in a position he can't believe is comfortable.

It all shifts when she notices his gaze. She sits more upright, her shoulders drawn back and her chin up.

She didn't want him to notice her mood.

If it were before the Leviathan, he wouldn't care. He'd presume it's her own problem to settle but now? Now he wants to know what has snuffed that spark.

He moves across the cargo hold, aware that her gaze is fixed squarely on him until he takes a seat opposite her.

"What troubles you?"

She shakes her head, gesturing dismissively until he takes her hand in his and her whole form goes rigid.

Not in a defensive sort...but in surprise. In complete and utter shock.

"Tell me. We'll fix it."

Her head tilts and her hand shifts in his, gently tracing her thumb along his.

I'm fine.

It passes between them silently and he nods at last. He rises, moving to sit beside her much to both their surprise before she squeezes his hand.

They stay there for a time. Nothing uttered but a comfortable sort of silence settles over them as the ship lifts off. It's not a long flight back but evidently, it's long enough for the Young Wolf to drift off, leaning into him.

He was surprised to feel her head against his tricep. When he looked down, it was clear she was fast asleep and he didn't have the will to jostle her awake.

But when she starts to lurch forward, his arm snaps out, bracing along her torso and guides her back. He readjusts, shifting to a more relaxed position against the wall behind him before he maneuvers her along his side.

She is less cooperative.

She ends up laying her head on his thigh in the end. Some half conscious shuffling along the bench before she's curled up and has a hand splayed against a patch of fabric between his knee guard and the fabric of his sash.

And then she's asleep again, cuddled against his leg and this is all very…foreign. But he doesn't hate it and that's what matters, right?

He lays a hand on her shoulder, keeping her securely on the bench as the flight continues and he can enjoy the comfortable silence.

By the time they reach the flagship, Ignovun is reluctant to wake her. But the subtle jostle of the ship touching down stirs her.

Her head shifts and he has to stay the instinct to tell her to go back to sleep. Instead, he rubs her shoulder gently and she snuggles in for a moment.

"We've arrived," he manages at last, annoyed almost when her head lifts and she sets about sitting up. Still, his hand remains against her shoulder until she's swung her feet onto the floor.

He can hear the sound of a transmat, her hands lifting toward her face but he can't see around her hood so he simply diverts his gaze toward the cockpit until the ramp begins to descend.

It's then that his touch withdraws and he rises to his feet. The transmat sounds a second time and when she looks up, her helmet is back in place. He's almost disappointed but its not his place to press. Instead, he nods toward the ramp, "We should head to the bridge. I imagine the Empress will want a word before we begin to coordinate our efforts."

The Guardian nods, trailing after him as he descends the ramp. Then she's at his side, head on a swivel as usual as they make their way through the ship.

He prefers her at his side, he thinks.

Her confident stride. Her attentive flit over the corridors. And he dares to suggest he might have caught her stealing a look toward him periodically.

Yes. Beside him is better.

It's comfortable. Natural, almost, for her to be at his side after all this time. Stolen glances, subtle indications that they no longer hate one another as much as he once thought they did.

She was his enemy in every definition of the word. But somehow, some way, she found her way into ally, friend, even…maybe, something more someday.

So, yes. Beside him is best.

When they step foot on the bridge, Empress Caiatl looks halfway surprised, borderline amused.

"What's this, Commander?"

He…should have had an explanation prepared. He can't think of anything that would justify bringing the Young Wolf here - nothing Caiatl would believe anyway. The Hunter is looking to him, no doubt wondering why he didn't tell Caiatl but–

He's aware how this all looks.

Thankfully, Forge seems to pick up on the atmosphere and he moves to the Guardian's side. "I appreciate your bringing her so quickly. There's a Vanguard–"

"I admire your loyalty, Valus, but I believe Commander Ignovun has an explanation as to why the Guardian is aboard my ship." Caiatl interjects and fixates on Ignovun.

His gaze darts to the Young Wolf, her worry evident in every inch of her frame before his focus shifts back to Caiatl.

"Forgive me, Empress. I thought it prudent to have the Guardian return and aid the last of the Nightmare clears."

Her head tilts, "Those are well underway, Commander. Her skills are better utilized by her Vanguard. Try again," she squares her shoulders, folding her arms over her chest as she faces him squarely. "The truth this time."

She is forcing him to admit this - whatever this is between the Guardian and himself.

He gathers himself, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin a fraction. "The bridge…or rather, I, felt lacking from the absence of her tenacious nature."

Caiatl looks skeptical until the Guardian snorts. Her gaze darts to the Hunter, "Something to add, Guardian?"

Forge elbows the Hunter but it isn't enough of a deterrent to stay her tongue.

"He means, he missed me."

Ignovun is stunned. She's…never been so brazen. So outright ignorant of–

Caiatl is laughing. His Empress is–

He looks between them in disbelief until Caiatl's laugh no longer resounds through the bridge.

"It seems he's taken a number of things to heart…starting with Saladin’s observations."

Ignovun bristles. He wasn't aware Forge had passed that along. He glares over at the Human Valus as he pats the Young Wolf’s shoulder and moves back to his station.

"Resume your post, Commander…and get the Guardian up to speed on the Leviathan." There's a laugh somewhere in her voice and Ignovun tries not to think too much about it.

He won't hear the end of this. Not for a long, long time.

Still, he obeys. He beckons the Guardian to follow and resumes his post.

She, in a nonchalant manner he will never understand, hoists herself up onto the console beside him and dangles her legs. He pauses, staring at her for a long moment until she shrugs.

"Your professionalism needs work." He remarks idly.

She snorts, tilting her head. "So do your explanation skills, Commander."

Smug little Hunter.

"Focus," he deflects, pulling up one of the more recent reports.

The Guardian rotates a fraction, peering at the foreign letters almost expectantly.

"Most of the ship is–"

"Guardian?" Forge's voice draws both their gazes across the bridge.

"Seems you're needed elsewhere." Ignovun tries not to sound disappointed and instead, projects an edge of amusement.

She holds up a finger in a wait gesture before sliding off the console and moving over to Forge. Their discussion is quiet but he watches her posture change.

No longer relaxed. No longer playful or even…human.

The Vanguard needs its weapon and she assumes the role effortlessly.

Their exchange lasts a few moments longer before she nods and starts toward the door, stilling a few steps shy to look to him.

Reluctant. Regret. A silent apology that draws Ignovun from his post and toward her.

His Empress ignores it almost pointedly.

They step out into the hall and when she turns to face him, there is no helmet veiling her expression. For the first time, their eyes lock and he gets lost. His mind drifts to something like admiration as he gently angles her head up toward his.

"...you're needed elsewhere, aren't you?"

She manages a subtle nod, curling her fingers along his wrist. There is something more in her eyes, something he's never seen in her before: Eagerness.

To lean into him. To hold his hand against her skin while sharp eyes take in every inch of his features. To see him without a HUD in the way.

"Do you require aid?" He manages at last, forcing a sense of composure he doesn't feel.

He can't breathe but for another reason entirely. Her gaze is intense yet it soothes him. It is curious and assured all at once. It's…so very like her and he finds himself loving it.

Or perhaps…it's her that he loves.

Still, this moment cannot last. She must get underway and he is delaying her against his better judgment.

She shakes her head, finally lowering his hand from her face as she smiles.

He decides he loves that expression, too.

"It shouldn't be anything serious. Some pirates intercepted a shipment. I'm to retrieve it." She sounds almost annoyed.

He chuckles, "They don't stand a chance."

"I'm not sure how long it'll take?"

"Not to worry," he touches her shoulder, a smile sparking in his eyes. "I'll be here when you return. Go deal with those…pirates."

She smiles. The Young Wolf touches his chest and then she's gone.

But she'll return.

After all, she never leaves anything unfinished.

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

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