Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She woke in a daze, face down in the snow, but she wasn’t cold.  Her entire body was stiff and her muscles ached as she pushed herself up on her knees.  Her vision slowly focused and she looked down at her hands, gloved in pale leather.  She pressed her hand against the stone in front of her as she tried to focus on the weathered writing through the tinted face of the helmet on her head.

R____  _os_  _e_ 

“Guardian?”  A soft voice called out.  It sounded so familiar, almost motherly.  She looked up from the stone and her eyes focused on the floating AI in front of her face.  It was small and multifaceted, a little orb surrounded by pale lavender triangles.  At the center, a luminous blue light.  “There you are!”

The woman sat back on her heels and gazed up at the little AI with curiosity.  Snowflakes fell around her slowly, the world was quiet and peaceful.  She opened her mouth to speak, and at first, no words came out.  “What… What are you?”  She inquired.

“I am a Ghost.  I’m your Ghost.  And… well… you died a couple of years ago.  What’s your name, Guardian?”

She looked back down at the headstone.  “I-I…”  She reached out and traced her fingers over the weathered epitaph. “Rose… I think my name is Rose.  Why… Why is my mind blank?  I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.”  The Ghost’s shell twirled as it chirped.  “Don’t worry about that.  Everyone rises with a blank slate.  I understand it’s hard…but you’ll have new memories in no time.”

She paused a moment as she tried to stand up.  The layer of snow on the ground crunched under her feet and slid off her back.  The Ghost floated over her shoulder.  “What… what should I call you?”

“Others called me Yarrow.  You can call me whatever you’d like.”

Rose’s eyes floated around the graveyard as she started to walk between the headstones.  “Yarrow is nice… but… can I call you ‘Iris’?”

“Of course, Guardian.”

The young woman’s eyes caught sight of an old, run down shack at the edge of the graveyard.  She approached it, slowly pushed the door open, and was met with silence.  There wasn’t much inside: a bed pulled over to the hearth, a table and a couple of chairs, and a small bookshelf in the corner.  But it was the condition of the room that piqued her interest and filled her with a notion of worry.  Everything was in disarray.  The table was overturned and one of the chairs was broken, the bed was missing all of it’s bedding and it wasn’t anywhere to be found.   There were a couple of weapons on the ground, both of which she picked up.  The ammunition was limited, but it would do for now.

Rose started to walk.  She didn’t know where, but she just let her feet carry her.  The cloak around her shoulders ruffled with the cold winter wind.  Rose held her hand out in front of her, palm up, and the Ghost settled in her palm.  She smiled beneath her helmet.  “Where do we go now?”  She asked as she started to make her way down the mountain.

“The Last City.  It’s beneath the safety of the Traveler.  And of course, it’s where other Guardians congregate, specifically at the Tower.  You can meet your Vanguard there and they can get you set up.  First, though… we need to find a sparrow.  It’s a week’s walk, but a five hour ride if you’re going fast enough.  And the Fallen out here aren’t too kind to trespassers.”

The woman laughed as she slid the blade out of the sheath on her thigh.  “Yeah, well, I think I could make out just fine.”  She flipped the blade a few times in her hand.  It felt so natural in her grasp.  “What kind of Guardian am I?”

“You’re a Hunter.  Capable of wielding the light in the form of two Arc blades and you can go invisible.”

“Really?  How?”

“You’ll learn in time, but for now we just need to get you to the Tower.”

Rose slid the blade back into place.  “Okay… where do we find a sparrow?”

Finding a Sparrow was actually the easy part.  When she reached the town at the base of the mountain, people stared.  No one approached her or was welcoming.  She couldn’t understand why.  She met another Guardian who was passing through town.  He recognized her armor, it marked her as a new risen.  He almost seemed to pity her.  He gave her his old sparrow, it was old and the engine was dying, but it had enough juice left to get her back to the Last City.

Getting to the City… that was the hard part.  The ride wasn’t as easy as her Ghost said it was going to be.  She rode hard for hours, but the sparrow was in rough shape.  A few times, she was ambushed by alien pirates her Ghost labeled as “Fallen,” from “House of Devils.”  They killed her a couple of times, and each time she was raised from the dead, she used her knife to either stab through their skull or slit their throat.  And then she would have to spend an hour fixing up the sparrow so it could drive again.

It was night when she arrived at the gates on a flaming Sparrow.  The watcher at the gate directed her to the Tower and she walked the rest of the way through the Last City.  She was fascinated by it.  The life, the lights, the air… Life breathed through this City and filled her with warmth and comfort.  She rode the elevator up to the Tower Plaza and when she reached the top, her breath was taken away by the sheer number of Guardians and the Ghosts that flew through the air.  Rose reached up and pressed the release buttons on the bottom of her helmet and slid it off, brown waves falling loose around her face.

“Welcome home, Guardian,”  Iris chirped.  “Right down those stairs ahead is the Hall of Guardians, where you can meet your Vanguard.  And over that way—”  the Ghost floated towards the left “—is the North Tower where the Speaker is.  And this way—”  Rose’s eyes trained on the Ghost as she floated towards the right.  “—is the Hangar where Amanda Holiday can get you set up with a new sparrow and a jump ship.”

Rose’s lips curved in a smile.  “I think I should probably meet the Vanguard first.”

She walked down the stairs to the Hall, passed by the Crucible handler, but she felt like eyes were on her the entire way.  And when she walked into the hall, something was… odd.  There were three Vanguard standing around a table, along with some technicians working on terminals in the hall.  

All three of them looked up when she stepped off the bottom stair.  She was unsettled by the stares as she approached the table.  She didn’t know what to say at first, so she stood there in silence.

“Guardian,”  the woman said.  Her voice was kind and she was draped in deep magenta robes.  The look in her eyes, however, told a completely different story.  They were filled with shock.  Maybe even disbelief.  The Awoken across the table shared the same look.  “What’s your name, Guardian?”

“Rose,” the Hunter answered and she shifted uncomfortably under their combined gaze.  “I just… woke up this morning, I think… I’m sorry, but why are you two looking at me like that?”

“Oh-kay!”  The Exo butt in with a clap of his hands.  “Rose, right?  Name’s Cayde-6 and I’m your Vanguard.  I’ll take over from here.”  His arm wrapped around her shoulders and he turned her around, steering her out of the Hall of Guardians.  “Don’t mind those two, sometimes they just do that,” he reassured, trying to clear any unease from her mind.  “I’m gonna take care of ya’, understand?  Get you set up with a place to stay and some new duds to keep you comfortable.”

“Oh, um, alright.”  Rose followed beside him, but cast a glance over her shoulder.  The two of them were still staring.

Cayde set her up with a vacant apartment in the Tower and got her some new armor.  It was basic but sturdy, and much more durable than the armor that she was wearing.  He told her she could talk to Banshee-44, the local gunsmith, to better arm herself.  Cayde said that she should take her time, however.  That she should take a day or two to get settled in, then to come see him for her first patrol assignment.

Rose stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows of her apartment that gave her a panoramic view of the Last City.  Gold lights sparkled underneath the glow of the Traveler like fireflies.  She slid out of her armor and laid down on the bed, in just the black under layer [thermals] that protected her body from the elements.  She tucked her hands under her head as Iris appeared above her, her glowing blue eye illuminated her face. 

Rose smiled softly at the Ghost and reached up, cupped the Ghost in her hands and smoothed her fingers over its shell.  “Welcome home, Iris.  We’re home.”

Chapter Text

Rose didn’t stay in her Tower apartment for long.  After her first few patrols, she found that she was more comfortable out in the wilds than she was in the Last City or at the Tower.  She built herself a home base underneath the protection of a cluster of willow trees.  The hanging branches provided her coverage from prying eyes.  She kept a bedroll in the corner and installed a small kitchen so she could cook for herself whenever she was home.  The cabin was like a small greenery.  She set up an irrigation system so that the plants she cared for didn’t die while she was on patrols and some UV lights and heat lamps so they could thrive in Old Russia’s cold climate.  She raised a small herb and vegetable garden, along with some sunflowers, roses, and lilies.

She would come to the Tower weekly for supplies, but otherwise, she stayed out in the thick forests that stretched an entire region of the Cosmodrome.  During one of her trips into town, she found a vendor that sold custom class armor for Guardians, made out of incredibly strong but lightweight metal or fabric.

She bought a cloak from him, the first of many.  But it was her favorite.  It wasn’t heavy and didn’t weigh her down, but it kept her warm and it moved behind her like a flag in the wind.  The cloak was the color of sunflowers, the design that started at the top of it was intricate, almost resembling the outline of the bloom, with petals that drifted down the length of it.  Those designs were what drew her attention in the first place.  The top was held secure on her shoulders by sturdy metal plating that clipped onto her breastplate.  The hood was wide and loose, and it covered her head before it pooled on her shoulders.  Oftentimes when she was tracking down a bounty, her Ghost would tuck herself into her hood and rest in the crook of her neck.

After a couple of months of successful patrols, Cayde offered her a chance to officially join his scout network.  She was an excellent tracker and with Fallen and Hive constantly encroaching on their borders and Guardians disappearing, he needed her to start tracking down Guardians who were missing in action.  Rose took the position gladly.  

And she was good at it, too.  Rose was good at finding people who were abducted, lost, or just didn’t want to be found.  She always got there just in time, Arc Light dancing around her body, cloak flying behind her like a pair of wings.

People had started calling her Ikhnaie.

Rose was supposed to operate a search and rescue on a Guardian whose final transmission was a panicked request for backup.  They were investigating a Hive nest somewhere deep in the Cosmodrome, preparing it for a strike team when something went wrong.  The Hunter’s comms had been dead ever since. 

Rose got the briefing almost immediately and headed out into the wilderness to find the missing Guardian.  It was the Vanguard’s hope that they could find the missing Hunter quickly and bring them in, securing what intel they had managed to find.  They gave her the coordinates of the Guardian’s transmission, but it was only a starting point.  She would have to follow any trail of them from there.

She left by midday, armed with a hand cannon and a shotgun, a few flares in her pack, and a long, sturdy rope slung across her chest, and rode fast on her sparrow towards their last known location.  She arrived by nightfall at the entrance of a cave somewhere deep in the mountains of Old Russia.  She hopped off her sparrow as it transmatted away.

“Iris, show me those coords again,” she said as she crouched down at the mouth of the cave.  It was dark and seemed to go on forever.  The light that her Ghost emitted didn’t give her much more work with, either.  The coordinates popped up behind the face of her helmet and she glanced at them briefly.  Compared to their current location… that Guardian was somewhere in the depths of this cave.  There was almost a kilometre between her current location and their last known.  Rose sighed, checked her ammo reserves, and placed a hand over her breastplate as she stood, slender fingers covering Alpha Lupi’s crest.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

Her first steps into the cave were determined.  At first, there was nothing, everything seemed like it was normal.  She followed the Guardian’s footprints that were just barely recognizable in the dirt.  When she reached the halfway point to the transmission’s location, Hive corruption started to fester and cling to the walls of the cave system.  Rose hated the way it seemed to move and breathe as you went by.

Rose’s footfalls became quiet and cautious the deeper she went in, the closer that she got to the missing Guardian.  She was right on top of their last known coordinates, they were just below her.  Down a dark hole that seemed to lead to nowhere.  She reached into the small pack on her hip and pulled out a flare, ignited it, and dropped it down.  As it fell, she counted the seconds before it hit the ground below.

Five long, quiet seconds before the distinct thunk as it hit the bottom.

“Iris,” she whispered.  “Be ready to light my spark in case this hurts more than I think it’s going to.”

“Why?”  The Ghost sounded so worried as Rose stood up, pulled off the long rope that was slung across her chest, and tied one end around a sturdy rock.  “Are you insane?”

“Only way to find that Guardian is to go down.  And that’s a long fall.”  Rose tossed the rope down the hole then cracked her knuckles and did a few side lunges to stretch her legs.

“Why don’t you just climb down like a sensible human?”

“Iris, we are running out of time.  Stand-by for resurrection.  Just in case.”  Before her Ghost could continue to try and argue, Rose jumped down the hole.  She hit the bottom hard and tucked herself inward, rolling to the side to try and break the fall.  She moaned in pain from the impact.  She felt like she had shattered her ankles, but she could stand up just fine.  Rose walked over to the rope that was dangling behind her and gave it a firm tug, satisfied that it didn’t come loose.  

Iris appeared by her side.  “You’re an idiot,” the Ghost sighed.

“I dunno, I think I stuck that landing pretty well,”  Rose laughed quietly.  “Now focus.  That Guardian has to be around here somewhere…”

The hole they fell down led into a completely new area of the cave system, this chamber was wide open and damp, but there was more Hive corruption here than what she’d seen above her.  The Hunter cloaked herself and turned invisible as she scoured the room for that Guardian and looked for any other offshoots of the cave that they could have gone to hide in.

Rose felt her stomach lurch when she found their corpse, bloody and mangled by the Hive that likely overwhelmed them.  Their Ghost was in their hand, dead as well, drained of its Light.  Her invisibility faded as she crouched down beside their body as her Ghost hovered over and examined them.  There was a pile of empty magazines on the ground.  They spent every last bullet trying to survive.  Rose closed her eyes.

“COD was a single GSW, just underneath the thoracic cavity.”  

“A gunshot wound?”  Rose was astounded by that conclusion.  She looked over at the wound; it was torn around the edges.  She’d never seen any bullet make a hole in someone like this before.  It completely ripped through the flesh with a strange, jagged edge that curled around the outside of it.  “Are you sure?  What kind of gun are we talking about, Iris?”

“I don’t know… It’s not like any wound I’ve seen before.  Guardian… look at this…”

Iris’s light flicked over to their hand.  The Hunter shifted closer and tilted her head with curiosity.  A single, black petaled rose was perfectly tucked in their hand underneath the dead Ghost, clutched in their fingers.  Rose reached over and gently picked up their Ghost, then picked up the bloom just as carefully.  She examined the petals underneath the light from her Ghost.  They were black like the midnight sky and fragile, and dipped in the victim’s blood.

She felt sick to her stomach, but she didn’t know if it was from the smell of the Guardian’s corpse, or if she felt sick from the blood that dripped from the rose onto her fingers.  She closed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand against her helmet, as if she was covering her mouth, and swallowed down the bile that rose to the back of her throat. 

Out of nowhere, a low chittering.  Her head shot up and she stood, rose and the deceased’s Ghost in her hands.   She recognized that low rattle, it sounded like teeth grinding and chattering with a low groan that hissed through the silence.  The Hive were coming, and they could smell her Light.

“Iris, to me,” she said as she started to walk away from the corpse.  She tucked the Ghost and the rose into the pack on her hip.  “We need to get out of here.”  Her Ghost flew over to her quickly and disappeared.  Rose ran over to the dangling rope, jumped into the air and grabbed hold as the chatter grew louder and screams started to echo through the chamber.  She climbed up the rope and pulled herself up, her feet caught the sides of the hole to give herself some leverage.  She pulled herself over the ledge and started to run, her footfalls echoing off the stone walls.  The chittering started to grow louder and louder as Thrall filled the cave behind her.

“C’mon, Rose,”  she muttered to herself as the Thrall started to catch up.  “C’mon.”  Arc Light started to dance around her body, it spread up her arms and her legs as two blades formed in her hands.  Her speed hastened and she cut through any and all Hive that got in her way.  Black blood from their bodies splattered her armor and cloak.  As she neared the cave’s entrance and the light of day started to illuminate the tunnel, the Thrall started to back off.  It was just after dawn when she stepped into the light.

Her legs were sore from sprinting for so long, her pulse was thumping hard in her carotid and sweat slipped down her spine.  She summoned her sparrow and sat down on it to rest, pressed her fingers on the release for her helmet, and air hissed as the pressure released.  She pulled the helmet off and placed it on the hood of her sparrow.  Rose leaned back on the seat, trying to get her breathing under control.

“You alright, Guardian?”  Iris asked as she materialized out of thin air.  “You’re blood pressure is really high.”

Rose turned towards her Ghost and narrowed her eyes.  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, I just climbed out a hole and ran for my life from a horde of Thrall, no biggie.”  Her eyes rolled as she reached into her pack and pulled out the dead Ghost.  She grimaced at the sight of it, now that she was in some better lighting.  It’s shell was all beaten up and it’s Light was gone.  “I need to notify the Vanguard that their scout was murdered,” she sighed.  She slid the Ghost back into the safety of her satchel then slid her helmet back on her head.  “C’mon.  Let’s head to the Tower.”  She leaned forward, grabbed the controls of her sparrow, and punched the throttle.  After a wide turn around through the trees, she headed off for the Last City.

She gave the report when she arrived.  Every gruesome detail.  She placed Ghost on the table.  Hopefully the Vanguard could get any of the information they needed, but Rose advised against sending a strike team down there.  Their numbers down in that cavern were astounding.  She blamed herself for not getting there in time.  Maybe if she had been faster, she could have saved them before they ran out of bullets.

When she told them about the rose, she saw all of their shoulders tense up.  Ikora was the first one to turn to her.

“Rose…”  The Warlock Vanguard sighed.  “There was nothing you could do.  They were likely dead before we even assigned you the extraction.”

“Who did this?”  Rose asked, her voice was tense with frustration.  Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.  “You say that like you know who’s responsible for all of these unexplained deaths and disappearances.  Who is doing this to us, Master Rey?”

“We don’t know who they are, Rose,”  Ikora said firmly.  “Nor do we know their motive.  We just know that they are out there, and that they will not stop.  Several of my Hidden are trying to track them down.  Please, do not worry yourself with this.”

Rose’s entire body went rigid as her muscles tensed with anger.  “‘Don’t worry myself with this’?  Are you actually telling me not to worry about someone who is out there, killing guardians for sport?!  Most of the people who have gone missing are scouts, Ikora!  Do you really think that I shouldn’t be worried about it?”

“If you wish to step down from your position, we would—”  Zavala started.

The Hunter slammed her fist on the table.  “Like hell I’m going to step down!”  She snapped.

“Easy there, Rose,” Cayde butt in before she could start cursing out the Vanguard Commander.  He turned to the Titan adjacent to him.  “She’s the best scout I got, Zavala… maybe we could—”

The Titan shook his head.  “Absolutely not.  I won’t put any more of your scouts at risk, Cayde, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“If anyone could find this guy, it’s Ikhnaie!  She earned the name for good reason!”  Cayde exclaimed.  He turned back to Rose.  “If you’re up for the job, of course.  I don’t need to tell you about the risks, you already know them.”

Rose placed her hands flat on the table and looked at the dead Ghost that was between them.  Cayde was right.  She was the only one who was uniquely skilled with tracking.  And she had the rose to go off of.  Evidence that was so uniquely theirs, she could follow similar signs.   Look for patterns in the deaths and disappearances.  But it was dangerous.  Even if she found them, there was no telling if she could get out alive.  She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath.

“When do I start?”

Chapter Text

Rose had to commit everything she had in her to this mission.  She made sure her plants at home would be set for water for at least the next month.  She didn’t know how long she was going to be on this trail.  She packed light.  A few pieces of produce for the first few days, some glimmer if she came across any villages so she could restock on provisions, and an extra layer of clothing.  Winter was coming fast in Old Russia.  She hoped she could track down her bounty before the first snowfall.

She was on his trail for nearly a month.  She checked in with the Vanguard every 3 days, per their request to make sure she didn’t go missing as well.  The check-ins gave the vanguard an idea of how much ground she was covering every three days, so if she missed a check in, they had an idea of where they would be able to start looking for her. 

In those weeks she spent tracking, she followed the footsteps of several people who went missing, but all of those leads led to dead ends.  And after weeks of chasing cold trails, Rose was starting to doubt if this murderer would ever be found.  She crossed through a village one night and decided to take a rest at an established tavern.  Most of their rooms were empty, thankfully.  She was desperate for rest.    Maybe if she could sleep, she could emerge with a fresh mindset and keep tracking him.  Maybe find some kind of clue that she may have missed.  The entire time she was on this journey, she kept the rose with her.  Strangely, the petals never wilted.  It stayed as fresh as she found it that day in the underground cavern.  The blood had dried, but it forever stained the tips of every petal a rusty red color.

She sat in the tavern that afternoon, nursing a brew that filled her body with warmth.  There was talk of snow tomorrow.  Everyone could feel it in the cold, crisp wind that blew dead leaves around the dirt streets.  She noticed it in the clouds today, too.  They were gray and seemed to hang heavy in the sky, opaque and ominous with the weight they carried.  It was certainly going to be one hell of a storm.

Two other Guardians sat down at the bar a few stools down.  They were passing through, just like she was, looking for a moment of reprieve.    She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was a habit she had gotten into when she was hunting for information.

“I don’t know what the fuck happened, man.  Drew just fucking dropped.”

“I know, Mark, trust me.  We said we would rendezvous here, maybe his Ghost was just waiting for it to be safe.  Drew’s gonna come walking through that door and be mad at us for running.”

“Nah, man, nah.  Drew never drops to just one bullet, sumthin’s not right.  Did you see that guy’s eyes, Levi?  They weren’t human.”

“Yeah… I noticed.”

“And that fucking gun… that thing’s cursed or sumthin’.  Never seen anything like it.  A single bullet from that gun made Drew go slack, Mark, that guy shot him twice more like it was an insurance policy.”

That piqued Rose’s interest.  She set down her glass and looked across at the two Guardians.  “What’d this guy look like?”  She asked.  The two of them looked over at her in surprise.

“Who wants to know?”

“I do.  Name’s Ikhnaie.”

The Warlock, Mark, stared at her slack jawed.  “You’re Ikhnaie?  No way.  Everyone says you’re a myth.”

Rose stood up from her stool and pushed it in with her foot.  “I can assure you I’m very real and I’m looking for the man you guys just met.  So what do you know.”

The Hunter, Levi, was quick to spill everything.  “That guy was cursed.  He’s dressed like a hunter but fights like a damned titan.  He took on three of us like we were nothing.  Drew, our Titan, was the only one that caught bullets.”

“The Hunter,” she butt in.  “Focus.  What can you tell me about him?”

“Right, right, so this guy, he’s got fur in his collar around the hood of his cloak and his armor looks like it was made from the bodies of dead Hive.  All chitinous and incredibly hard to penetrate.  Dude’s a fucking mountain, too, like he’s almost as tall as Shaxx for fucks sake.  He’s got on a rebreather type mask that covers the lower half of his face but his eyes are all messed up.”

Rose tilted her head as she approached them.  She leaned against the counter on the other side of the Hunter.  “What do you mean messed up?”

“Like, they weren’t white.  They were black almost all around except for his irises, which glowed this creepy green color.  Felt like he was staring into your soul.  And his skin is all weird, too.  Like, there’s black tears on his face but they’re not tears, they almost look like pools and streaks of ink.”

“What about his gun?”

“I dunno.  It didn’t even look like a gun at first.  It was all warped and looked like a chunk of bones.  But…”  He pulled out a bullet from his pocket and handed it to her.  Rose felt the same sickness in her stomach that she felt when she first found the rose, clenched in the hand of a dead scout, and the longer she looked at it, the more she recognized the spikes on the end of it.  They very well could have been what grotesquely tore about the scout’s flesh.  “Those bullets… they look like thorns, man.  I’ve never seen anything like ‘em.  I managed to pull that one out of a tree when he shot a bullet right past Mark’s head.”

Rose placed the bullet back down on the counter and dropped some glimmer on the wood for the bartender.  So much for getting some rest.  “How far out?”

Levi looked at her with wide eyes.  “What?”

“Where did you see him?”

“You’re actually going after that guy?”

Rose pulled out her knife, twirled it in her hands, then stabbed it in the counter between the man’s fingers.  She asked him again, “Where?”

The Hunter moved his hand off the counter and stared at her with wide eyes.  

“About two kilometres north-west,” Mark said for his tongue-tied partner.  “In the forest.”

She pulled her knife out of the counter and nodded to the two of them, then swiftly left the tavern.  Snowflakes were already falling fast and coating the cold ground.  Rose hopped on her sparrow and rode off in the direction of the altercation.  This was her first fresh lead since she left her safe house.  She couldn’t let it slip away.  

She rode her sparrow through the snowstorm.  This storm was bizarre.  It was snowing, yes, but thunder rumbled through the atmosphere and lightning flashes lit up the sky brightly.  A storm like this one was never one that you wanted to be caught outside in.

When she arrived, she found their dead friend.  His blood had stained the snow around him red.  She observed from her sparrow so not to disturb anything.  He had been shot in the neck, and the hole in his throat was so much like the one that was in her first victim’s stomach.  Those two Guardians were lucky to get out alive.  This man doesn’t normally leave witnesses.  On the Titan’s chest was a black rose like the one in her satchel; petals dipped in blood, flecked with snowflakes.

There were fresh footprints in the snow.  Whoever killed him came back just recently.  Rose hopped off her sparrow and drew her sidearm and knife.  “Iris, ping this position for the Vanguard.  I don’t know what we’re walking into, but make sure they can find this Guardian.  We can’t be that far behind him.”

Rose followed his tracks in the snow for nearly half a kilometre.  Then out of nowhere, the tracks stopped at the edge of a clearing in the woods.  Night had fallen and the heavy snow had started to seep through her armor.  Rose took several cautious steps into the field as lightning lit up the sky; the flash illuminated the trees whose bare branches swayed with the wind.  If it wasn’t for the tinted shade of her helmet that protected her eyes from the blinding flashes, her vision would have gone from clear to hazy in an instant.

She lifted her gun quickly, her opposite hand that was holding her knife immediately poised and in line with the barrel.  The flash that followed had illuminated a tall, dark, shadowy figure standing in the field, holding a gun in her direction.  As her eyes focused, it seemed like there was a green smoke or glow coming from the barrel.  His eyes seemed to glow underneath his hood, too.  His body was armored by thick, but oddly elegant hive-like plating and a collar of fur sat on his shoulders beneath his chestplate, just like the Guardian at the tavern said.

She found her murderer.

“I’m impressed,”  his voice floated over to her, poisonously sweet.  He even sounded pleased.  “You managed to hunt me.”

Something in the back of her mind started to awaken.  Something woke when he spoke.  She mentally shook herself and told herself to focus.  “I’ve been hunting you for weeks,”  Rose spat.  “Put it down.”

“You first.”

Rose’s jaw clenched and her hand tightened around her sidearm’s grip.  “I’ll ask you one more time.  Put.  The gun.  Down.”

She stood her ground as he approached her, back straight and legs spread apart.  He tilted his head at her as he made motions with his gun and empty hand as he spoke.  “You’re not like many others I’ve met.”

“Yeah, I’m not dead.”

He laughed at her snide remark.  “You haven’t asked to see my piece.  Everyone else has.”  He chuckled low as he slowly closed the gap between them.  He made another motion at her with his cannon, like he was daring her to look at it.  Rose just kept staring at his face.  “Would you like to see it?  It’s a pretty thing, you know.  Normally when I offer people a look, they flinch.  But you—” he pointed his gun at her and Rose had to control each muscle in her fingers to not pull the trigger “—you haven’t even blinked.”

Rose didn’t even hesitate.  The moment he was within reach, she grabbed his wrist and pushed his gun hand away from her and ducked under his arm; she tried to get a shot off on him, to wound him, but he was as fast as the lightning that lit up the sky.  His opposite hand grabbed hers on top of the grip before she could pull the trigger, he released the clip which slid onto the ground, and pulled back the slide, ejecting the bullet that was in the chamber.  And while he was still holding onto the gun, he twisted her arm, forcing Rose to swallow the cry that tried to erupt from her throat.  She looked at him with wide eyes underneath her helm.

How was he so strong?

“Big mistake,” he growled.  Before he could pull his weapon on her again, Rose tugged down on his hand that was holding her gun and drove her knee into his stomach.  Air hissed through his teeth as he let her go and she dropped the empty weapon into the snow.  She drew her knife, but before he could do anything, his fist connected with the face of her helmet.

Rose stumbled backwards as the face of her helmet cracked from the sheer force of his punch and glass flew at her eyes.  Pain blossomed on her skin like hot fire as the tiny pieces of glass cut her flesh; she tasted blood in her mouth as it oozed out of her lip.  She pressed the release on the sides and ripped off the helmet; she threw it into the ground and wiped the blood off her mouth with the back of her hand.  Lightning illuminated the clearing as she stared at him, blood dribbled down her chin from her lip and her eyes narrowed with rage.

He froze as she stared at him, his eyes went wide when their gazes met.  She didn’t know why, but he didn’t move.  Her grip fastened around her knife.  She watched as he slowly lowered his weapon to his side.

“Rilea?”

Rose wiped her mouth one more time, gripping her knife in her hand.  “Who the hell’s Rilea?”

Chapter Text

It felt like an eternity while he stared at her.  Snowfall blanketed the area in silence until lightning flashed and thunder boomed through the atmosphere.  Her fingers close tighter around her blade.  Rose lunged at him while he was distracted, Arc Light surging through her body and her blade, extending its reach.  But before she got near to him, she vanished.  She circled around him as he looked around for her, jumped above him as she reappeared, and drove her knife down into his shoulder.  When she pulled the blade out, the man turned and knocked her away.  She kept her balance, used the momentum to recover and dashed back towards him.  She lashed out at him again, but he blocked her move as if he saw it coming.

Something was so strange about this.  It was like he could foresee every blow she had for him, and she could counter his just as easily.  She was more agile than he was, for sure, but he was so much stronger.  Every time she would swing at him, he knew exactly how to block her blows, even when she feigned an attack on him.  Every time he swung at her, she knew exactly how to dodge it.  Every time he would catch her in a choke hold or with her arm twisted behind her back, she didn’t even hesitate to break free, something she didn’t even know that she knew how to do.

Fighting like this felt like an eternity at a stalemate.  A few times, he shot a bullet or two just past her head.  The only reason he missed was because she caught his movements in enough time to either knock his wrist back or dodge away from him.  The ring of a bullet leaving that gun sent a chill down her spine.

“Rose,” Iris chirped urgently to her.  “That weapon is Hive corrupted, it’s how he can kill a Guardian.  You have to get it away from him.” 

Iris was right.  She had to get that cannon out of his hands.  When Arc swirled around her body again, she was quick to jump up, grab him by the neck, and pull him over her shoulder when she landed down on the ground again.  While he was stunned, she knelt on his arm to pin him down, wrenched the gun from his hand, and tossed it across the clearing.

That was a mistake.

The man was quick to throw her off of him once he recovered.  She slid through the snow and stood, but he was on her before she could recover and lunge back at him.  

The first punch to her solar plexus knocked her out of her Arc Blade.  

The second punch to her breastplate knocked the air out of her chest and she stumbled backwards.  

The third punch to her stomach sent her on her back, coughing up blood.  She rolled over in the snow and hunched over on her hands and knees, her hand pressed against her stomach as crimson splattered the snow.

He walked away from her, presumably to retrieve his weapon, but she was so stunned from the quick combination of blows that she was left there in the snow gasping.  By the time she had found strength in her to move again, his feet were back in front of her vision.  

“Guardian, look out!”

She looked up at him in time to see the butt of his cannon coming down before everything went black.

Dredgen Yor looked down as she laid unconscious in the snow.  He was breathing heavy, not from exhaustion, but from trying to keep the overwhelming emotions of laying eyes on her again held back.  

His paramour.  It was unmistakable.  

The gentle waves of her brown hair that framed her face.  The glimmer of her hazel eyes that lit up with the Arc Light that swirled about her body and when lightning flashed.  The freckles that danced over her forehead, brow, cheeks, and nose, disappearing underneath her collar, but he knew those dark specks decorated all over her body.  The scars on her cheek and forehead that were some of her most defining features.  The gentle curve of her plump lips, even though her bottom lip was busted open and bleeding.

Rilea Fey was dead.  He’d killed her.  And she was raised from the dead to haunt him.

“Amit,”  he growled as his Ghost appeared at his side to heal the wound in his shoulder.  “Did you know this would happen?”

“What do you—”

“Did you know she had the spark of the Traveler in her?”

The Ghost was quiet as Yor felt the wound in his shoulder closing.  Once healed, he rolled his shoulder and cracked his neck.  “Answer me, Amit.”

“I did,” the Ghost admitted quietly.  Yor’s hand gripped onto Thorn tightly.  His jaw clenched.

“And you didn’t tell me?”  Yor growled quietly.

“How could I?”  His Ghost floated in front of his face.  “You’re on a rampage, Rezyl, how could I tell you that… there was a chance she could come back?  You’d already killed her once.”

Dredgen Yor pushed his Ghost out of the way and crouched down beside her.  He moved her face by sliding his gun underneath her chin; he got no reaction from her.  She was out cold.  Snow was already starting to stick to her face; her hair and her eyelashes.  He could have just left her here in the snow and disappeared, but that would guarantee that she would hunt him down again  when she woke.  He could have put another bullet in her while she was here, unconscious, but that wasn’t fair, nor was it nearly as fun.  

He wanted her to remember who he was, just like he makes everyone remember who he was.  For most people, it was a reaction out of fear when they realized that the hero everyone celebrated was the one behind the trigger.  But for “Rose,” it would be different, purely because they had actual, tangible history.  Maybe in the process, he could remind her of who she was.  Sow the seeds needed to jog her closed off memories.  

The truth was… killing her was his biggest regret.

He slid Thorn into the holster on his hip and picked up the unconscious Guardian.  She was still as light as he remembered.  His hands knew where to go the moment he slipped them underneath her knees and her shoulders.  He swallowed the bile that guilt was trying to force up his throat.

“What are you going to do?”  His Ghost asked him quietly.

“I’m going to make sure she remembers.”

“Why?  Why must you go down this road?  What makes you think she’s even going to remember anything and be willing to take you back with all of the blood you have on your hands?”

Dredgen Yor couldn’t answer, not at first.  Part of him wanted to break her, to make it easier, if not more enjoyable, to kill her again, just like all the others he had killed; simply add her name to the list that was going longer and longer every day.  The other just wanted to hear the tenderness of her voice again, to feel her touch on his face, or the softness of her flesh pressed against his; that sentiment was, perhaps, a luxury he couldn’t afford.

He sighed and gazed down at her features, his eyes following the freckles from her forehead to her cheekbones to her jaw.  “I guess you could say it’s because I’m selfish.”

Chapter Text

CW::: this chapter has a lot of angst and a lot of whump, so please read with caution! Includes: talk of blood/gore, restrains/binds, violence/abuse (and the threat of more) 

When Rose finally started to come to, her head was pounding.  Pain burned into the side of her skull and her vision was hazy when her eyes finally started to flutter open.  She realized she was on her knees when she rolled her head to get a better look of her surroundings.  Pain sprouted in her arms when she tried to move; she was bound by some kind of barbed restraint.  The barbs ripped right through her sleeves and she could feel warm blood coming out of the small puncture wounds; she hissed quietly in pain.  She was in a cabin with no lights, no fire, and little to no furniture, but it was very well lived in.  She caught sight of the dark figure leaning against the wall across the room, cannon in hand.

Rose stared him down and blew her hair out of her face.  “What the hell am I doing here?”  She asked quietly through the pain pulsing in her skull.

“You should be thanking me that you’re still alive,”  the man scoffed.

“No… you could have killed me.”  She laughed bitterly.  “You should have killed me… so what the hell am I doing here?”

He pushed off of the wall and walked across the room towards her.  “Do you know who I am?”

Rose leaned back on her heels and winced as the barbs dug into her skin.  She looked at him with narrowed eyes through her hair.  “No.  Nor do I care to learn who you are.  You are my mission.  That’s it.”

She flinched involuntarily when his hand brushed her hair off her face.  “My name is Dredgen Yor,” he said.  “Yours is Rilea Fey.”

“I don’t know any Rilea,”  the Hunter hissed.  “My name is Ikhnaie.”

“Ikhnaie is a cover,” Dredgen Yor growled.  “I’d heard of a Hunter using that name and I’ve known of you long before you’d even heard of me.  But I know who you really are… ‘Rose.’  Do you want me to enlighten you on just who you truly are?”

Rose wanted to strangle him.  She pulled away from his hand, though she inhaled sharply as the barbs dug into her skin.  She grit her teeth and composed herself.  “Not interested.”

“You were twenty-eight when you brought your village to the settlement under the Traveler.  This was before the Last City you know was the ‘Last City.’  You were a protector type then, and clearly you still are.”

“You don’t know me,” Rose groaned through grit teeth as she shook her head and looked away from him.  She gasped when his thumb and index finger grabbed her chin and tugged her back, which forced her to look into his eyes.  His dark, blackened, haunting eyes.

“I know everything about you.  You have tattoos on your arms, shoulders and chest that are symbolism for yourself and your mother.  The scar on your cheek is from a training session gone wrong when you were seventeen.  The one on your shoulder is from injuries you sustained from in the Faction Wars.  The rest, on your stomach, back, and head were from a near death experience at Twilight Gap.  You created the software for the Wall’s sensor grid.”

“Stop it.”  Rose wanted to pull herself free, but the pain was starting to bleed into the rest of her senses and adrenaline was pumping through her veins.  Her head was starting to pound, whether it was from dehydration or being pistol whipped, she wasn’t sure—it could have been both.  Even still, she struggled against his hold, which unfortunately caused herself more pain.

“You were one of the strongest mortal women in the Last City.  A hero.”

“I said stop, you son of a bitch!”  Rose’s eyes flashed blue as she pulled herself away from his grasp, but Yor’s hand flew up, grabbed onto her hair, and he yanked her head forward before releasing her so forcefully that she nearly fell to the side.  The pain that rippled through her entire body as the barbs dug into her muscles and snuffed out the Light that she tried to summon.

“You’re going to listen,” he whispered darkly.  “Or I can make this a lot more painful, understand?”

Rose closed her eyes and let out a small, tired sigh before nodding.  Her tense muscles went slack as the blood from all the puncture wounds started to soak her palms.  She looked at him through the pain that was making her vision spotty.  He could probably read the exhaustion on her face—it’d been almost two weeks since she’d had any real rest.  Maybe if she stopped resisting, she could get out of this alive.  

“You’ll lose in the end…”

“Now, now,”  Yor chuckled softly.  Rose flinched as his fingers caressed her cheek gently, almost tenderly.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”  She didn’t mean to sound like she was begging, but she had never been in this much pain before.  Her voice was a pained, quiet whimper.

“Because I want you to know who you are… and remember who I am.”

Deep down, she wanted to know.  She wanted to know why Ikora always looked like she had seen a Ghost whenever she looked at her.  She wanted to know why all of those people in the village she was resurrected in looked at her strangely.  She wanted to know why fighting hand-to-hand felt so natural, why she was such an excellent marksman with no training.  But she didn’t necessarily want to learn about her previous life like this, bound and restrained with no energy left.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dredgen Yor paused, long enough to see the sad, tired look in her eyes, and his heartstrings tugged painfully in his chest.  Part of him hated how short his temper was nowadays.  “You loved sunflowers,”  Yor murmured softly, “and strawberry pancakes.  You were a workaholic and at times, work got in the way of your health until someone forced you to go home and eat or sleep.”

Rose closed her eyes and hung her head, but didn’t flinch this time when he lifted her chin.  She opened her eyes and looked at him.  She didn’t want to listen to this anymore, but she knew what his cannon could do to a Guardian.  She’d be dead in one bullet.  She bit on the inside of her cheek and held back the choice words she had for him.  

But… how did he know she liked strawberry pancakes?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled.

“Rilea Fey was a fighter,”  Dredgen Yor continued.  “A trained warrior and protector.  Your father died before you took your people to the Last City, but he taught you everything.  Hand-to-hand, martial arts, marksmanship, how to hunt…  You were the captain of your guard and you were a leader.  You were remarkable, but so, so humble.”

“You don’t know me,” she repeated quietly once more.  She raised her gaze to meet his glowing green irises.  “I don’t know who Rilea Fey was…  You can tell me that Rilea is me all you want, but I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Yor’s expression darkened.  “You were more of a fighter when you were mortal,” he scoffed.  “Disappointing.  I expected more.”

“What, you’ve never seen me tied up before?”  Rose laughed weakly as she leaned back on her heels.  The pain that resulted from moving didn’t faze her this time.  It stung and her muscles tensed, but it just blended into the rest of the agony that her body was in.  “I don’t know what you were expecting, you’ve got a gun that can kill a Lightbearer.  Why should I even bother to put up a fight?”

He chuckled quietly, darkly.  That sound rang in her ears, soft as music, sweet as poison.  It unnerved her how intimately familiar his laugh sounded.  She pushed the sound of his dark laugh out of her head.

“What makes you think that I’m Rilea Fey?”

The Dredgen stood tall and pulled his cannon out of his holster.  Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “Because when I saw your face three nights ago, I saw the woman, the warrior that helped build the Last City with me.  Because I once loved her,” he said.  “I once loved you.”

Her eyes opened and she stared at him with complete and utter bewilderment.  “You ‘loved me’?  And you mean to say that… whoever I was… loved you?”

His cannon slowly lifted and leveled with her chest, but Rose stared him down.  “Yes.  You did.  And last time I saw you alive, the day I killed you, you begged me to bury you next to your parents if I had any love left for you.  And I kept that promise.  But you… you were never supposed to come back.”

The gears in her head started to turn.  His words were clues and she was starting to piece them together.  “I saw the woman, the warrior that helped build the Last City with me.”  Her eyes widened.  “It’s you,” she whispered.  “You’re that Guardian… the hero that I keep hearing about, who disappeared one day…”  She looked away from the gun and down at the floor.  “Rezyl Azzir… That was his name…”

Rose felt the barrel of the gun press against her skull and she froze as she heard the hammer click as he pulled it back into place.  She slowly looked back up and the barrel of the twisted canon was lined up with the space between her eyes.  She stared at him with no fear in her hazel eyes, even though her heart was still pumping adrenaline through her blood.  If he was going to kill her again, he was going to have to look her in the eyes.  She was going to make him watch her Light fade.

“You remember.”

“No,” Rose sighed.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.  I’ve just heard of you.  Everyone… wondered what happened to you… even I did.”

It felt like an eternity while Dredgen Yor stood there, his finger hovering over the trigger.  But he couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t pull the trigger and kill her again.  The fierce resolve in her eyes, the bravery in them, reminded him so much of the look he saw in Rilea’s eyes at Six Fronts.  

She said she was sorry… and she meant it…

He slowly lifted his thumb and released the hammer.  “Damn you,” he murmured softly.  “You’ll always be the thorn in my side.  Always.”  A rose appeared in his gloved fingers out of nowhere: black petals, dark green stem and leaves, deep red thorns.  Rose froze when he reached down and tucked that rose behind her ear.

Then he left.  He just… left her there.  She watched him leave with a combination of disbelief and relief.  Her heart was thrumming in her throat and as the adrenaline in her veins started to decline, and she started to register just how much pain she was really in.  She moaned quietly in agony as Iris materialized in front of her.  She had to get out of these damn binds.

“Iris,” Rose groaned.  “Pump as much Light as you can through me.  Right now.”

The Ghost looked worried, but bobbed in a nod.  Rose felt warmth spreading through her entire body, her eyes started to glow blue with the Arc Light that was surging through every atom of her being.  With a scream, she thrust her arms apart.  The binds broke with the Arc Light that burst out of her, but the barbs sliced through her flesh and covered her in wounds that curled around her arms.  She panted heavily as she fell over, but her hands shot out to keep her from completely collapsing.  A mixture of Light and blood seethed out of the wounds; blood loss immediately started to make her dizzy and the Light covered her in delicate, intricate, and glowing designs that looked like vines that curled around her arms.  

Iris was quick to start to heal her wounds, but the scars that replaced them still gave off a soft glow.  When she found the strength, Rose stood slowly to her feet.  Her head was still spinning.  She was very, very tired.  Her hand reached up and she took that rose from behind her ear, careful not to prick her fingers on the thorns.  She stared at it with a sick feeling in her stomach.  He should have killed her.  She shouldn’t be standing.

“Iris, get me the Vanguard.”

Rose waited for the commlink to connect.  “Rose,” Zavala said, his voice sounded so relieved.  “What’s your status.”

“He got away,” the Hunter sighed.  

“Wait, wait, wait,”  Cayde butt in.  “Back up a bit.  You find him?”

“I’m coming in.  I’ll give you a full briefing then.”

Chapter Text

It was still snowing when she walked out of that cabin.  Rose had no idea where she was, or even where to start.  She was still dazed from everything that happened.  Her helm was nowhere to be seen; it must have been buried by snow in that clearing by now.  But the sting of snow hitting her face as she rode her sparrow through the forest didn’t bother her.  It kept her awake and aware.

Her Ghost finished healing her on her way into the Tower, but the scars that the wounds left behind still glowed faintly.  She got strange looks from other Guardians once she reached the Tower.  She heard the whispers of Guardians that were wondering why her armor was so torn, weathered, and stained with blood.  A few other scouts that she recognized gave her looks of concern, but also relief.  She’d gone five days without a check in.  Everyone must have thought she was dead.

She stood before the Vanguard and gave them a full report.  Dredgen Yor was the missing Guardian, Rezyl Azzir.  His cannon was twisted, it looked like Hive chitin and bone warped it, and it could cut off a Guardian from the Light, giving them a permanent and final death.  The roses left on their bodies were like a calling card; it was a signature so uniquely his.  

When Ikora asked what happened to her, Rose started to get fidgety.

“He kidnapped me,” she murmured quietly.  “Wanted me to remember who he was before he killed me…”  Her brows furrowed as she looked down at the table.  She pulled the rose out of her pack and showed it to the Warlock.  “He leaves one with every victim.  I should be dead, Ikora.  I shouldn’t be alive.”

“You’re alive, Rose,”  Ikora sighed.  “And that’s more than we could ever ask for.”

Rose looked away and chewed on the inside of her cheek.  “He kept calling me Rilea.”  When she looked up at Ikora again, there were tears in her eyes.  “I think I knew him,” she added in a whisper.  “I think I knew him before I was raised…”

The look in Ikora’s eyes was one of sadness.  One of worry.  One of regret.

“That’s enough,”  Zavala butt in before the Hunter could start asking questions.  “Thank you, Rose.  That will be all.  You’re to take some time off and recover.  Report back in for your next assignment when you’re ready.”

Rose nodded.  She was too drained to protest.  “Understood, Commander.  I’ll check back with Cayde in a few days.”

She rode her sparrow home.  The sight of her safe house was a relief.  The moment she stepped in the door, she was greeted by warmth from UV lamps and the sweet smell of the flowers in her garden.  She tossed her belongings on the ground and ran a hand through her hair; the motion was tired but restless.  Even though she was healed, her head still ached; she ran her fingers over the spot on her head where the grip of his cannon hit her.

“You should rest, Rose,” Iris chirped as she materialized in front of her.  “You… what you went through…”

“Don’t get started on ‘trauma,’ Iris,” Rose sighed.  “I know what I went through.”

Her Ghost flew around the safe house and finally settled down on one of Rose’s cloaks that was rolled up and arranged like a small nest.  It was the cloak she was wearing when she was raised, she never got rid of it; she instead arranged it as a place for her Ghost to rest.

Despite how tired she was, the scout was not ready to sleep.  Too much was racing through her mind; she was replaying through every detail of their conversations, trying to pick up on linguistic cues that Yor might have dropped for her, but she didn’t pick up on them at the time.  She knew she was going to drive herself insane the more she went through it, but she couldn’t help herself.

She pulled off her armor and changed into some new clothes.  She gazed at the torn sleeves of the shirt she was wearing; they were practically shredded and stained maroon from her blood.  Rose sighed, tossed the shirt into the hearth, and lit a fire.  She stood quietly for a few seconds and watched the cloth burn before she decided to make use of her insomnia.  She walked away from the fire and walked over to the salvaged record player in the corner.  She flipped through the vinyl discs that she recovered from the North America Dead Zone on one of her scouting missions and dropped the disc onto the turntable and turned the player on.  The needle slid into place and soft pre-Golden Age jazz filled her safe house.  She swayed to the tune as she walked over to the garden.

Instead of going to sleep and recovering from the last few days, Rose tended to her garden.  She plucked dead leaves from their branches, harvested what fruits ripened while she was away, gathered bunches of herbs to be dried, and she pruned the roses, not even bothered by the thorns that pricked her fingertips.  She spent hours nurturing her plants, it was relaxing, therapeutic even.  By the time she was finished, the hearth was nothing but glowing amber embers and any evidence of her kidnapping was erased, with the exception of the scars that decorated her arms.  

When she was satisfied with her work, turned down the UV lamps, flipped off the record player, and slid the vinyl back into its case.  She unrolled her bedroll, threw some blankets down on top of it, and collapsed on top.  Rose pulled a blanket over herself and stretched her muscles with a yawn.  She was asleep in seconds.

“Open your eyes, paramour.”

Her eyes flutter open.  Sunlight filters through curtains in a house that looked painstakingly familiar.  She rolled onto her back and reached up, fingers brushing over the man’s cheek.  She gazed up at a warm, smiling face.  Bright green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, a scar across his nose and on his forehead, strong jaw, joyful grin.  She felt a smile pull at her lips.

“G’morning, Rezyl,” she hums.  Her voice feels strange; it’s hers, but she didn’t feel like she said those words; yet that name rolls off her lips so effortlessly, as though she knows him.

Rezyl.  Rezyl Azzir.

That’s Rezyl Azzir.

Rose bolted upright in bed, sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down her back.  She panted lightly as she looked around frantically.  A small kitchen with a hot plate on the counter.  An indoor garden along the wall.  She was in her safe house.  

It was just a dream.

Rose sighed and ran her hands through her hair as she shut her eyes once more.  His voice, though it was sweet and tender, sounded just like Dredgen Yor.  It was the only thing that she could relate it to.  The cadence, though lighter than that of the man that she met, was the same.  Yor’s voice was darker, huskier, but it was the same. 

His voice was going to haunt her.

She laid back down in bed and stared at the ceiling.  She didn’t want to sleep anymore, but exhaustion made her eyelids feel heavy and it was starting to give her a headache.  She dared to close her eyes, and before she knew it, she was asleep and dreaming again.

He drags her out of bed and she protests with a small laugh.  “Rezyl, it’s too early,” she complains.

“It’s noon,” he laughs.  That sweet laugh.  “C’mon, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

That got her attention.  She raises her eyebrows in curiosity.  “A surprise?”

His head tilts to the side and he smiles again, then outstretches his hand.  She takes it in hers.  Rough, calloused skin meets hers and it sends sparks of familiarity through her body.  She follows him out into the kitchen.  The room smells of fresh pastries and strawberries, and surely, there were fresh strawberry turnovers from the bakery down the road on the table, and her favorite pancakes.  She smiles up at him.  The soft, caring look on his face makes her knees feel weak.

“Happy 30th birthday, paramour.”  

Rose’s eyes fluttered open when sunlight flashed over her eyes from the skylights.  She gazed hazily up at the ceiling, feeling just as tired as she fell asleep.  She yawned and tried to rub the exhaustion from her eyes.  When she pushed herself up into a sitting position, Iris floated over to her with a twirl of her shell.

“Good morning, Guardian!”  She chirped happily. 

Rose managed a tired smile.  “Good morning, Iris,” she hummed softly as she cupped the Ghost in her hands and kissed her shell softly.  “Can you start the kettle?”

“Of course.” 

Rose stood to her feet and stretched her tired muscles.  She folded each one of her blankets neatly and placed them on the shelf, then rolled up her bedroll and tucked it away in the corner.  She walked into the kitchen as the kettle started to whistle.  Rose pulled some tea leaves out of a jar and dropped them into a steeper; she poured the hot water into a a mug and dropped the steeper into it.  While tea steeped, Rose chopped up some fresh strawberries.  The motion, at this point, was second nature.  It was routine.  However, she felt her stomach churn when she started to mix the pancake batter.  

The smell of cooking brought her into the kitchen.  She wrapped her arms around his waist as Rezyl sprinkled strawberries into the batter that was baking in the pan on the stovetop.  One of his hands ran across the back of hers until their fingers intertwined, and he squeezed hers gently.

“Good morning, paramour,” he chuckled softly.

Rose didn’t realize she had keeled over and clutched onto her stomach as nausea made her head spin.  Her Ghost floated down to her, her shell pulled close to her core with concern.

“Guardian, what’s wrong?”  She beeped worriedly.  “Are you alright?”

Rose nodded slowly.  “I-I think I’ll just have the berries today.”

“Guardian, you haven’t eaten anything in weeks, you’re not well.  There’s still some bone broth in your freezer, why don’t we take it out and start with that once it thaws?”

Rose nodded again and stood slowly.  “Y-Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.  I-I think… I think I’m going to go lie down and sleep this off in the meantime.”

“Rose, you really shouldn’t—”

Rose didn’t listen to her Ghost.  She dragged the bedroll out and threw down the blankets on top of it and crawled into bed.  She curled her legs to her chest and ran her fingers over the new scars on her arms the were still softly glowing blue.  

That little vision of Rezyl cooking breakfast?  His laugh that rumbled through his chest and his voice was that same low cadence of Dredgen Yor.

She took slow, deep breaths to calm the anxiety that was flooding her.  “Iris…”

“Yes, Guardian?”

“Us Guardians… we’re not supposed to look into our pasts, right?”

“No… that doesn’t define who you are.”

That wasn’t the answer she wanted.  She wanted to know who she once was, because who could attract someone as dangerous and callous as Dredgen Yor?   “He said I was the ‘thorn in his side,’ Iris…. What do you think he meant by that?”

“I don’t know… but you shouldn’t let it bother you.  You aren’t who you used to be.”

Rose chewed on the inside of her cheek and sighed.  “If I shouldn’t let it bother me then why does his voice sound so wonderful in my dreams?  Who he was… who he was is so different than who he is now.  Iris, I want to know what happened between us before you raised me.  Why does the Vanguard Commander discourage it?  What harm…”  She laughed tiredly.  “What harm could knowing do?”

Iris couldn’t give her an answer.  Either that, or she refused to answer her.  Rose rolled on her side and closed her eyes.  Maybe rest would do her some good.  Maybe… maybe these dreams that were supposedly her memories could give her some insight.

“Don’t wake me, Iris,” she murmured softly.  “I really just need to catch up on sleep…”

She was thankful that when she closed her eyes there were no dreams to take away from her sleep.  And when she woke not that afternoon, but the next morning, it was like her burden had been lifted and Rose was ready to return to her field work.