Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I had a moment to learn how to crawl, a second to walk, and a minute to begin running, all without falling before my father forced me to jump and then to fly.

For sixteen years of my life, that was the truth I knew. That was gospel. That was the definition of my life, one I had been raised by.

That truth is a lie.

Run. Running is all that matters. There’s still blood on my hands, on my pajama pants and slippers. It’s in my hair. I think some might have splashed into my eyes. If I had more time I might wipe it away. As far as I understand I’m on borrowed time. My mom and dad…

Their time had already run out.

There’s no time to cry, no time to mourn. They taught me better in the six years I have been alive. My mom and dad taught me to know when to run, among other things. Those things are useless right now though. My heart is beating too fast. My legs hurt too much and my palms are dripping blood everywhere. I can’t tell my blood from other people’s. Everything’s happening so fast. I’m running, times running. I pray it will stay by my side instead of going ahead.

I slip in a puddle all of a sudden. My knees smash the ground and I cry out, but there’s no one who will hear me. I’m alone out here. My aunt picked the perfect time to come for me.

“Are you okay?” a voice wonders behind me. So maybe I’m not as alone as I thought. I look up from the ground, tears clouding my eyes. There’s a man kneeling beside me, younger than my dad. He’s just around the same age as Aunt Evangeline though. I clench my jaw and back up slowly. Narrowing my eyes I read him. The stone in my veins allows me to see he is a doctor, that he is kind, and that he will take care of me. It’s all I need to leap up and grab his hand.

“I need to get away from my aunt,” I blurt, his hand still in mine. His expression is so worried.

“Is she the one who did this to you?” I sob and look behind him. The red moon is rising. He follows my gaze and watches the sky. The stone pulls in more information.

The doctor has magic. Magic that he doesn’t know about.

“We have to run,” I tell him. “If she finds me she’ll kill us both. Please hide me. Please, please save me.” His blue, green, and yellow eyes come back to me. The power he has inside of him is powerful, and for some reason, it’s calling to me. Not to the stone, but to me. He’s strange. “If she finds me, she’ll take my stone. I can’t let her take the stone. My daddy and mommy told me not to let her take my stone.”

“Okay, okay,” he stands, my hand still in his. “We’ll run to the hospital okay. I work there. You can hide until the police can stop your aunt.” I nod and rush out of the street with him. Both of our feet pound the cement leading up to the bright white entrance. Despite it being the middle of the night, the hospital is full of people. They’re all rushing around, checking clipboards and patients.

“I’m going to take you to a hospital room so we can take care of your cuts, okay?” I nod. The doctor begins guiding me to an empty room. “My name is Stephen Strange,” he tells me. “Can you tell me your name? And how old you are?” I swallow and look up at him. Our magics are still reaching for one another.

“Y/N,” I say. “Y/N L/N. I just turned six.” We step through the doorway.

“Well, Y/N,” his voice is so kind, “can you tell me your parents home number so I can get a hold of them?” Tears start to collect over my eyes again and I look down. My palms hurt so much.

“My aunt, Evangeline, hurt them,” I tell him under my breath. “She hit my mommy in the head and she put her sword in my daddy’s chest.” Slowly, I look up at Stephen Strange, the pain making my throat tight. “I think they’re dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his own. He’s trying to comfort me. “I’ll take care of you for now. We’ll let the other doctors know to call the police and get your aunt. She won’t find you. I won’t let her.” I nod again. I don’t want to bother with words again. There’s so many I want to get out, but none of them seem right. And his magic. Magic shouldn’t be so soft. It shouldn’t try to entangle itself in another’s. My books never said anything about that. So why is ours doing that just that? He definitely doesn’t know about magic and he’s not trained. Stephen isn’t like me. I was trained since I was a baby, but he… He has no idea.

“You won’t leave me alone in here,” I wonder, “will you?” His hands are steady as they grab mine and lift them to his face.

“Of course not,” he reassures me. “I’ll keep you safe until you ask me not to.”

“Thank you.”

There’s silence for a long time. Then he tilts his head to make eye contact with me. “Your cuts. The ones on your palms,” he begins. “Were there scars there before?” I nod. “From what?”

“It’s where I have to keep the stone.” His eyes narrow. “My aunt wanted to give the little pieces to a bad guy when I was a baby. To keep it safe my parents put it in me.”

“Your parents, did that to you?” He always looks so worried.

“It was the only way to keep it safe.”

“These little pieces…” his voice trails off. My blood got on his fancy black trench coat. Really fancy black trench coat. “Why does your aunt want them?” I bite my lip and look down.

“Because they’re strong, I think. But,” I look over at the door so I don’t have to look into Stephen Strange’s eyes. “But I made them stronger. That’s what my aunt Evangeline said when she came to our apartment. That’s why she cut my hands. So she could take it and my power.”

Another pause.

“Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

I shake my head.

“Water.”

“No.”

“Some food?”

I say nothing. Stephen Strange asks another question, but I feel something down the hall. It hurts my head.

“She’s here.”

The door bursts open. Before I even have the chance to react Stephen Strange has stepped in front of me. He acts as a barricade between me and the red-clad sorcerers who hold long, thick swords at their side. They’re going to kill him. I grab onto the back of his bloodstained trench-coat. While I’m still slightly hidden I start to mumble a spell. It should shield him hopefully. My aunt will still be able to kill him though.

And then she walks in. Evangeline. The Artemis, Queen of the Blood Moon Coven. Her hard eyes scan the room, and her dark red hair is chopped off right at her shoulders, spilling onto the crimson silk hanging on her shoulders like drying blood. She doesn't look like me.

“If you don’t mind,” she leers, her voice cruel, “I’d like my niece back.” Somehow she had managed to not get any blood on her, even though it was her that cut my parents down.

Stephen steps back a step, more to cover me better than to get away. “There’s no way in hell I’m giving Y/N to you.”

“And who are you to say that?” she laughs. I hate that laugh. “A priest? A deity? A sorcerer of any sort?”

“Yes, actually.” There’s someone else here. Everyone turns their head to look at the yellow cloaked figure hidden in the corner of the hospital room. I hadn’t even sensed her. She pulls back her hood, revealing a cruelly scarred head. Her eyes move to me and I’m surprised to see her smile. I don’t smile back. The Dark dimension lives within her. However, I do look at the stone she wears around her neck. The remnants inside of me call to it.

It’s the Time Stone.

“Doctor Stephen Strange is my successor,” she tells them, but her eyes are still on me. Stephen still stands his ground, not saying anything.

“And Y/N is mine,” my aunt replies. The bald woman cocks her head.

“Really?” she asks. “Because it seems more like she’s your next victim.” My aunt growls and dozens of red fan blades buzz to life. The bald woman does not engage them. She remains calm. Her and my aunt are nothing alike.

“The Blood Moon Coven has claim to her soul. The Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj do not.”

“My dad left the Coven,” I exclaim, surprising even myself. “He left before I was born because he hated you.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, amused. “You can’t take me away.”

“You are the kin of my kin, niece.” She steps closer. Stephen does the same. “I can do whatever I want to you.” My grip on his jacket grows tighter.  Kin of my kin. My father told me those words every night as a warning.

“Yes,” the bald woman nods. “But I’m afraid Y/N is more tightly bound to someone else.”

“Who?” my aunt hisses. She’s angry.

“Doctor Strange.”

My gaze snaps up to him, but he does not look back. He’s still confused. Even though he is brave, he doesn’t understand magic yet, and it will kill him. Evangeline will kill him.

“It would seem their magic is bound together,” she comes closer and I realize she is not inspecting me but rather the space between Stephen and I. The woman smiles. “Your niece is to be his Guardian.”

“That is a dead practice,” my aunt argues.

“It was dormant,” she corrects. I’m the only one who sees the way my aunt’s fingers are moving. “Y/N has resurrected it, it seems.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, Evangeline aims her hand at Stephen. I slide off my seat and raise my hand purely on instinct. Magic hums in my fingertips. A blue haze appears.

“Leave him alone,” I command. Her hand does not move though.

“Already so loyal,” she chides. “Well, Ancient One? Are you going to step in.” My eyes widen. That’s…

“Why should I, Evangeline?” She sounds bored. How hadn’t I realized it was her? After reading so much about the Ancient One, her power, I figured I’d know her the moment I saw her. “Y/N will kill you before you have the chance to kill Stephen.” Although I feel small standing in the middle of all these sorcerers I know that’s the truth. I don’t know what it means to be Guardian, or how Stephen and I’s magic is bound, but I do know that it feels right to keep him safe.

“That is true, but she can’t stop all of us.” Just then her other sorcerers raise their red hands at Stephen Strange. “Even with that shield she put on him, your successor will die… Unless you give me my niece.”

“I will not.” They prepare to kill him. “But,” Evangeline raises her hand to stop them, “I will not take her either.” The two of them speak for a second wordlessly, trapping Stephen and me inside a cage of silence. I do not turn to look at him. My body feels too tired to do so anyway.

“We left her father alive.” My heart fills up when she says that. But then I remember mom. She had only hit her head. She couldn’t be… “He can take care of her.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Since I am letting go of this opportunity though,” my aunt drawls, her hard eyes lingering too long on me. I want to sleep. “I’d like to even the playing field.” The Ancient One narrows her eyes. I watch as she shifts her gaze from me to Stephen, to my aunt. Finally, her eyes land on the ground.

“You may manipulate their memories,” she tells her. My hand drops and I stumble backward. My dad told me about my aunt’s memory manipulation abilities, how they had been capable of ruining civilizations, but I had never thought she’d do it to me.

“No, no please.” I turn towards the exit to my left. If I move fast enough, I can escape her. Without warning, I run towards the door, but a warm sensation runs over my skull, like silk. My eyelids become heavy, and my knees buckle. I drop to the floor, the sound of footsteps approaching becoming loud. For some reason, I don’t think I hit the floor. Hands caught me before I could. Right now I’m trying to see who it was. It takes a long time for the bright lights to fade enough for me to see him.

His hair is dark brown, his eyes are the color of the ocean and sunflowers. He looks worried. I recognize the expression. I don’t remember him and I don’t have enough time to try before my eyelids drift closed and he disappears from my mind entirely.

Chapter Text

Brazil 2025

Two Years After the Blip

I slip in and out of shadows, biding my time. Fire glints along the cobblestone sidewalks and in the distance I see the glint of the Brazillian Carnival, along with the sound of music. Blinking I get rid of the sight of the sound waves. I should really remember to turn that off.

My feet move silently over the stone as I leap forward, the red and orange light only catching on my figure for a second. It’s enough time for me to catch sight of their operation though. Five sorcerers crowded around the bonfire, chanting. They are words I know well. Words I debriefed my team on before we arrived. 

Rise, sweet child,

Kin of my kin,

Blood of my Blood,

Daughter of the Artemis.

And the Red Moon above

I’m not sure what exactly the spell is for. It’s a recollection spell of sorts, meant to reveal something lost. In this case a daughter of Artemis. A daughter of the dangerous Blood Moon Coven I had been trying to track for the past year. They had been pressing the borders kept between them and us--the Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj. Originally, they are based in the mountains of Colorado. From the looks of it, they have been branching out.

“Heather,” I whisper into my hand to muffle the noise. It doesn’t need to be loud for her to hear. Since before Thanos I have developed a connection with her, much to Stephen’s chagrin. It keeps our minds fused, allowing me to call her. She hums in response. “What are you seeing from up there?”

“Just the five of them,” she says. “Crimson tunics and capes. Swords and bows. The usual.”

It is the usual. Every time they carried their weapons obviously, doing nothing to disguise their appearance to anyone, like they are trying to make their presence known. Seeing that that’s the case I made sure to keep Herren and Lola guarding the actual festival, making sure that we weren’t being tricked and the actual ritual wasn’t happening where the citizens were.

“Is the Queen Artemis down there?” I ask. 

She is far more elusive, keeping her distance. I hoped she would’ve shown up tonight. From the lack of ivory skin and blood red hair, it seems that I am to be disappointed.

“Afraid not.” 

“They’re coming to the end of the ritual.” I glance across the abandoned, crumbling city to see Erion crouching behind a piece of rubble, grey-blue eyes turning to fire as he watches the witches. His gaze meets mine, intense and somewhat penetrating. Slipping back behind the tree I bite my hand, heat spreading over my cheeks.

“We’ll strike soon,” I say, hoping I don’t sound too hopeless.

“Just tell him you’re in love already, Glinda,” Heather suggests.

I drop my head into my hand, the heat on my cheeks turning into a wildfire that ripples up to my ear. Through the connection, I can hear Heather laughing.

Thank god each link is private.

Breathing deeply I look up to the starry sky, composing myself. The poorly healed scar on my wrist throbs as I reach back and draw my own sword from its sheath, the metal singing quietly. Seven years ago, before I began training at Kamar-Taj, before I left Midtown, before I broke it off with Peter, before the blip, before Tony…

Before Thanos, I wouldn’t need a sword. I’d just release my needles.

I lost a lot in that time though.

“Attack on my count,” I say, steeling myself with courage, with indifference, with a warrior’s patience. “Five, four, three, two--” I pause, listening closely to the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the grass, the crackle of the fire. Through it all, I listen to the heartbeats of Heather and Erion. It is my responsibility to keep those hearts of theirs pumping no matter what. 

“One.” 

I twist around the tree, rising to my feet with ease. The witches turn to me. Their red cloaks give them the appearance of drops of blood hanging in the air. Under their hoods I cannot see their eyes, no can I make out any other important details. It’s no matter though. Not seeing them makes it easier.

Magic flows through me, shoving me towards the five sorcerers. Above a crow screeches as it descends. Moments before it strikes the ground white light flashes through the deteriorating city and I girl stands, pale purple eyes deadly. One of the Blood witches turns towards her. Behind them Erion steps forward, almost nonchalantly, his fingers grasping for nothing, yet pulling starlight from the aether, turning it into two twin blades. Two more of the witches turn towards him, the others still facing me.

I smile. Now this isn’t a fair fight. 

A growl curls from my tongue and I lunge. My blade moves like the wind in front of me, shifting and swinging effortlessly in my hands, as though I am a painter with an array of watercolors to splatter over my canvas. But the only paint that comes from this brush is red. 

One of the witches cries out in pain as the tip of the iron blade strikes them across their shin. It hit bone.

In the wake of my temporary victory I allow myself to become distracted and the other witch attacks. I’m barely able to dodge it. In fact, the metal stings the side of my arm, slicing easily through the thick leather armor Stephen commission for me. Blood drips onto the black material. 

While recovering the other witch stands, their hand hovering over the wound. The skin sews itself back together. I meet their eyes.

“That’s not very fair,” I say, panting.

“You ambushed us.” From this angle, I can see the glint of copper eyes below the red hood. The feminine shape of her face, the blonde hair. “You may not preach about what is fair, Guardian ,” she says it like it’s acid on her tongue. 

“So you know who I am?” I drop the tip of my sword into the cobblestone with a sharp ting, feigning casualness while I access my opponents closer. Both of them seem to have a good amount of talent and skill, but it’s hard to tell for how long. Blood Moon Coven witches all have a special talent when it comes to manipulating their aging. Rumors say their Queen Artemis--a stupid title--is centuries older than the ancient one. “I don’t suppose you were expecting me?”

“We hadn’t been expecting your face,” she says, tone mysterious, face obnoxiously enigmatic. Again with the theatrics? “We had, however, expected your blood.” 

They attack again, this time simultaneously. I barely have enough time to grab the dagger from the strap on my thigh, the last piece of my once-reliable needle. 

Parrying their attack I swoop around them, swift as a falcon, and toss the dagger into the air. As it spins I conjure a fan blade and throw it, ignoring the stinging pain when I do so. It goes straight for the woman’s thigh. She screams when it split open the skin and sinew, flying behind her. My dagger lands in my head and I call the blue blade back. It strikes her again, this time in the back of her shoulder. I hone my magic and the fan blade fades. But not entirely. The blue haze seeps into her cut, preventing her from healing it. She shrieks at the pain, but I don’t have it in me to care. I have a fight to finish and a team to keep alive.

“You’ve grown just as skilled as your father,” the other witch says.

I pause, my stance falling just a bit. “What did you just say.”

“I used to train with your father,” he explains further. When was the last time I really thought about my dad. Not since I let go of his and my mom’s magic. That was years and years ago. Maybe I would’ve thought about him more if those five years in between, after the snap, hadn’t left my brain numb and unfeeling. After the blip I visited his grave--of course I did--but I never thought of him. He felt so distant, so unreal. And I had more important things to focus on… Like letting Tony go.

“He used the same cruel technique as you,” he continues when I meet his eyes through the fog of my own. “If his fighting was prose, it would be the Greek tragedies of old. Fitting for the father of Icarus.”

“Do all Blood Moon witches talk this much?”

“You would know, princess.”

I hiss and attack, my sword and dagger moving in unison. Each move is rapid--feral--like I am a beast coming uncaged. For a moment he looks like he got what he wanted. Then his eyes turn to fear when he realizes I will not be slowing down. His moves become predictable, clumsy, hasty--and I see my window.

Stepping to his side I shove my blade down--Cruore--right through the skin and muscle of his calf, between his tibia and fibula. I receive an unholy scream. One high and powerful enough to curdle the air.

The man's hood revealed his tear trodden cheeks, and the simple red line tattoos that revealed his rank in the Coven. 

An oracle.

“You knew I was coming,” I repeat forcefully. “Why stay?”

“Because we asked you to come.”

Unsatisfied, I twist my sword in his leg. He hiccups at the pain, probably never having felt something so horrible, and says, “I am not allied with the Queen Artemis.”

Now that was interesting.

“Then who are you allied with?” I ask. This is the best lead I’ve had in months. A way to take down the Queen Artemis and keep the Blood Moon Coven from pressing our borders.

“Her successor. The lost Artemis.” I lean in closer. “They say her parents were killed but she escaped, honing her magic so she could fight back.

He isn’t lying, which is all the more terrifying. A princess of the Coven preparing to rise against her forerunner. It was treason of the highest degree in the Blood Moon Coven. Blood of Blood. Kin of Kin. If someone draws the blood of their kin it is punishable by death.

“Where is she.”

He laughs. I don’t know whether to feel shocked or angry.

“Had you only let us finish the ritual,” he chides with the click of his tongue, tears still running down his face and dripping from his nose. “Perhaps we all would’ve known then.”

“Meaning that you already know,” I conclude.

He chuckles--again. “Another day, Y/N. When you are ready to know the truth.”

I’m prepared to argue when a light flares around him and he disappears entirely, the only thing he leaves behind is a shiny red feather. My sword clatters to the ground and I look up to see the other four sorcerers fade from the broken city. Heather gasps, the black feathers on her knuckles shuddering in the firelight, and Erion meets my eyes. This time I do not look away.

“What just happened?” he asks. I don’t have an answer. I drop my gaze to the feather on the cobblestone. Nervously, I pick it up and lift it to my face. There is a message burnt into the fibers.

You will be the one to find her.

My brows narrow.

“What is it?” 

He knew my dad.

“Nothing,” I lie. “Just some stupid feather.” I walk towards the two of them, their watchful eyes suddenly too much to handle. “Call Herren and Lola. Have them meet us here so we can head back to Kamar-Taj and tell Doctor Strange what happened.”

Erion nods and turns away talking into the air. As he does so Heather glares at me, her lavender eyes pensive. I mouth later at her, hoping she will leave it be. For a moment her eyes to not falter. Then she shakes her head and looks down. I shove the feather in my pocket.

It only takes Herren and Lola to meet us. Erion lifts his hand and using his sling ring crafts a portal right back to the courtyard at Kamar-Taj where a dozen students prepared for the days training. I glared through my lashes at the crowd who parted wordlessly as we passed.

No one outside of the flock speaks to me anymore.

Chapter Text

"You're bleeding."

I don't bother turning to see that it's Erion speaking to me. He's right though. My upper arm is still throbbing, and my navy blue leather armor is in desperate need of a repair. It's really not that much of an issue though. A healer and some stitches will make it disappear in no time at all.

"It's no biggie," I say and lean forward on my knees as we wait for Stephen to finish up his meeting. The sun is already setting, and I don't want to have to stay late and explain another failure--even if he never treated them as such. Even if he should treat them as such. I’ve been chasing the Coven for too long to have achieved nothing. At least I have the feather now. That seems measly in my hands too as I look towards the oak doors.

“Can I heal it?” he asks. I turn towards him slowly, eyes narrowed.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Erion shrugs lazily, and a wisp of dark hair fell over his eyes. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

I don’t mean to blush at his comment but I do. In a desperate attempt to keep him from seeing I turn to my left, but Heather is there, black feathers spread across the peek of her sharp cheekbones. She smirks at me and my cheeks grow hotter.

Standing without warning, I hurry over to the door. “I’ll get it handled later,” I say and shove open the door, interrupting whatever meeting Stephen was happening inside.

Luckily, it’s just Wong and him. As I shut the door I study the model of the earth that hangs right above them, golden lights glittering all over the place. Then, just below that, is the Eye of Agamotto’s old stand, empty and collecting dust. I’m all that remains of the Time Stone.

“Ms. L/N,” Wong greets, inclining his head towards me. I catch the way his eye flits over to Stephen and I knowingly look as well. He’s tired, the bags under his eyes apparent. And his hands are shaking. Shaking like they only do when he’s nervous or angry.

“Hi, Wong.” I smile as I look away from him. “How are you?”

“Better than you,” he nods at the cut on my shoulder, “it seems.”

I laugh, instinctively covering it with my hand. “Oh, that’s nothing,” I say, reaching the middle of the room. “You should see the other guy.”

“I don’t suppose you caught him?” he asks. I bite my bottom lip and look up at the Earth.

“No,” I whisper. “They got away again. Something tells me they won’t be going back to Colorado though.”

“Why’s that?” Stephen speaks for the first time since I arrived. I can feel his eyes on my cut, no doubt figuring out how to lecture me on it.

I reach towards the planet. “He said he wasn’t allied with the Queen Artemis,” I say. When I touch the model ocean my fingers faze through.

“Allies then?”

“I don’t think,” I mutter, dropping my hand back to my side. When I look at the Time Stone’s stand again, the magic inside of me blinks, almost as if it doesn’t recognize it anymore. I thumb my dagger and say, “He gave me something as well. A feather. I haven’t told anyone else about it.”

I pull it out of my pocket and hand the red feather to Stephen, whose eyes are still on my cut. It can’t be that bad. If it was, Heather would have said something. Then again she’s seen me at my worst. Dormammu, Thanos… Myself. She’s seen it all, so I suppose a flesh wound wouldn’t catch her eye.

“ You will be the one to find her ,” he reads out loud. “What does that mean?”

I cross my arms over my chest. Wincing when the cut stings at the movement, I cover it again. I’ll sew it up later . “They’re looking for the next heir. Some of the Blood Moon Coven’s members want to move against Queen Evangeline.” 

“Wonder why?” Wong contemplates sarcastically and I can’t help but snort as Stephen hands the feather off to the Master of the Hong Kong Sanctum. “I might be able to trace this back to whoever gave it to you.”

“Please,” I say, closing my eyes tiredly. “I’m feeling like I’m leading the Flock on goose chase after goose chase.”

“It shouldn’t take long,” he surmises as he studies the words. “I’ll start right now.”

I watch him turn and walk into the library, disappearing behind the bookshelves and tables and ladders. Once he’s gone I sigh and turn back to Stephen, who is still looking at the cut.

“Look a little longer. Maybe you’ll cauterize it.” I yank a stool towards me and sit down, glad to finally have a moment off my feet. My elbows drop onto the podium. Blowing at the Time Stone stand I blow away a good portion of the dust, though a thin layer remains, tinting the once glorious object a dull grey. 

“I don’t need to with you ignoring it so well,” he says and the Cloak lifts from his shoulder. Stephen’s shoulders slouch just enough for me to notice. “It may have well just faded from existence entirely.”

This has been the greatest obstacle since I started living with him. Stephen and I--as much as I hate to admit it--are horribly alike. That means when we are both tired, both frustrated, both lost in our own minds… every conversation only has a dead end. The only foreseeable outcome will be silence. I try to break the cycle. He does too--I think. Maybe we’re both just too stubborn. Perhaps if I let myself out of my own mind for even a moment I could carry on a conversation with him. It just takes one good conversation starter, right?

“That man said he knew my dad.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best starter.

“What?” I meet Stephen’s gaze, though he seems angry. Unfathomably angry even. I’d gotten over it. At least for the most part, but the others, him, Clint, Bucky, Thor, anyone left who remembered--they hadn’t. There was still that flicker of rage. The quiet, deadly calm I know to sate whenever I see it.

“It’s stupid.” I grin, waving my hand. “He probably just said it to get a rise out of him.”

“And did he?”

It was a question in disguise. One meant to judge my well being, my mental health. Something that Stephen has been doing frequently for the past two years. Every day after Thanos.

“If anything he got a little more than he bargained for.” I try to laugh, but it is strained in my throat, my own body betraying my lies. 

“You’re still worried though,” he concludes, and if I was a fool, I would have heard betrayal in his voice. But it is worry. It is always worry. That’s both our job now. Me as his guardian and him as what those papers declared him to be more than seven years ago. 

Dad.

“I want to keep that part of my life behind me, Strange.” I leave no room for argument. “My mother and father… I let them go.”

“I know you do, kid.” His eyes soften, an invitation to talk more, but my bones ache and my cut stings and the Flock is waiting outside for my orders. Still, the invitation remains, a hand reaching out, a temptation to accept. “It’s okay if it takes time though.”

“I know that,” I say a little too fast. “I’m just curious why that’s the route he chose to go. Especially, when there are-” I measure my words. “Fresher wounds.” My wrist aches.

“We’ll look into it tomorrow,” he says. The Cloak comes back to his shoulders. It’s warmth suddenly seems very welcoming. “Get some sleep though. You get frustrated when you’re tired.”

I scoff. “You’re one to talk.” He glares back at me as we turn to exit the library and I lift my hands up. “I’m just saying you should follow your own advice, Mister Doctor.”

“Keep it up and I may just ground you.”

I touch a hand to the spot over my heart, feigning hurt. “Ground me? The Flock Leader? Your Magic Guardian Nuisance child?”

“I should’ve never helped you all those years ago.” His smile betrays his words. Stephen’s eyes even grow a light lighter at my comment, the weight slowly lifting off of him.

“I’m pretty sure you kidnapped me,” I say.

“And look where you are now.”

I roll my eyes and push open the doors, revealing the Flock. They stand up without a command, bodies going rigid as they await my orders. A few pairs of eyes drift to the Sorcerer Supreme at my side, who has let the same appearance of regality flow into his posture as me. Something we both had to learn on our own.

“We’ll meet tomorrow morning to recap what happened tonight. Eight a.m. in the back end of the library. Get some sleep.”

They all nod and turn away, except Heather of course, who remains in front of me, smiling up at Stephen who seems just a little exasperated already.

“Hey Doc,” she practically sings in her lilting voice. The feathers mixed in with her wavy charcoal hair flutter. “How are you this fine evening.”

“Spectacular, Miss Genesis,” he says politely, though not happily. “I’ll be on my way. Let me know if you need anything.” Stephen nods in our direction and walks down the corridor. As soon as he turns the corner I smack Heather on the shoulder, earning a hiss of pain and shove in return.

“What was that for?” she asks, rubbing the spot I hit.

“Do you really have to antagonize him?” I turn to lead us down the hall. She stays at my side, still rubbing her arm.

“Why do you think I antagonize him?”

“Do be snide.” I kick at her heels. The black feathers on her knuckles bristled. “He hasn’t done anything wrong to you, and especially not me.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, leaving emotion out of her words. “I’ll be nice to him from now on if it makes you happy.”

“I just don’t get why you don’t like him,” I exclaim and turn the corner that leads to our joined rooms. “He’s not Veryn, Heather.”

“I never said he was.” Her tone is just short enough to tell me she’s lying. I cock an eyebrow at her. She meets my eyes and sighs. “After Thanos, I just want to be sure that the people you let in are worthwhile.”

I frown. “So that if we have another Tony or Veryn my mental break is justifiable.”

“Y/N,” she groans, spinning on her heels to face me. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Stephen isn’t going to be like them, Heather.” I open my bedroom door. “Not when I’ve taken every precaution to keep him safe.” And Peter. “You don’t need to worry so much. I’m fine.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m really tired.” I smile halfheartedly. “I think I should get to sleep. See you tomorrow.” 

She has more objections to make, but I close the door before she can do so, clothing myself in the darkness of my room.