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Chapter Text

How Savathûn could entertain herself with one book for hours was something beyond Oryx. Surely she would not get bored, or at the very least, attempt small talk just to be rid of the silence? It was something Xivu would do, if she were thrusted into such an occasion. Now that he thought about it more, perhaps she would rather bat the book aside and dramatically declare a battle against her sister. 

“What is on your mind, dear brother?” Savathûn flipped a page. “I know you're thinking.”

“It is nothing, dear sister,” Oryx replied. “Though I suspect you know what it is.” 

“Of course. I’m only teasing.” Indeed she was. Quite the trickster, or whatever. A brief chuckle rose from her, likely in response to that wayward thought. “My, getting soft, are we?” 

Oryx sighed, wishing he could take off these blasted horns so he could turn his head to face her. “It is… taxing to be revered as a celebrity by the Lightbearers,” he confided. “Moments of silence are a luxury, with you and Xivu even rarer. I cannot fathom you having dealt with these vermin for years!” Truly, it was incredible that she was stable after witnessing such depravity! Unless…it was her who solicited this activity?? To his relief, that notion was quickly rejected by a sputtering laugh from Savathûn.

“You’re so cruel, dear brother!” She said between giggles. “It is entirely their fault that you have so many suitors!” She set her latest read down on the grass, her last page sporting a rather silly froggy bookmark. “Have you taken a look in the mirror? Maybe ask one of my Lucent Hive, should you find the time. I'm sure they'll humor your interests.”

Oh, so now she says he was attractive to those gaudy wretches?? The audacity in these Guardians! Royalty like he, the Taken King, Oryx , reduced to an object to ogle? Had he an army at his disposal, he would have declared war out of sheer anger! 

Obviously his plight made him a laughingstock to Savathûn. She cackled, relishing in his misfortune. He groaned, wearing the most miserable expression he could muster with his rigid Hive face. What a tragedy. 

Once Savathûn recovered from her fit, she regarded Oryx with a devious glint in her eyes. To his surprise though, they softened to one of genuine, sisterly affection. “Thank you,” she said, “I missed seeing you so troubled over such mundane things.” 

So that was the reason why she brought him here. A ploy to embarrass him. Right. 

“I aim to please.”

Stop reading my thoughts!

“Relax, brother.”

No.

“Your loss.”

Chapter Text

“...Mom?”

Savathun looked up from the sheets of paper, adjusting her nonexistent reading glasses.

Why did she think she had reading glasses? She never wore any, and she never got into that habit beforehand. Whatever. Dul Incaru stood awkwardly at Savathun’s door, leaning against the frame. 

“What is it?” Savathun asked, looking back down at her desk in the process. Which one was the last one she signed? Oh, that one! She moved that one to the signed pile. She’ll ask Incaru to take it out later. 

“There’s someone waiting for you outside. I think you scheduled an outing or something?” Dul Incaru said. 

Oh, a date? Right! She was supposed to be out with someone…Rhulk, was it?

“Yes, Mom, it’s Rhulk.” 

Oh. Had she said that out loud? 

Dul Incaru giggled. “Yeah Mom. You said that out loud.” 

Savathun smiled sheepishly. “M-My apologies. I tend to lose track of myself.” She tapped the signed pile of papers. “Be a dear and take that to my assistants. I must make myself presentable.” 

“Sure,” Dul Incaru replied, getting to her task. “You have fun out there, Mom. Everyone knows you need it.” 

Savathun gave her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and a smile, dashing off to prepare herself. 

…

Oh, Sky, did she over-prepare? She couldn’t have, right? One could never be too ready…

Savathun stood outside, wringing her hands uncomfortably. She had taken the time to scratch out every bit of grime covering her chitin, and washed it up to such a degree that she nearly burned herself from the friction. Topped off with a sweet perfume and a quick sip of her favorite coffee, she was set for the day. 

Right?

Honestly, the more she thought about it, the more she was inclined to believe that she was under-prepared . 

Nope! She would not have a repeat of what happened last time! (She canceled their date just because she felt like she was missing something. That was bad.)

She gave herself a quick calming exercise. Blink. Left eye, right eye, middle eye, repeat. Left eye, right eye, middle eye, repeat. Left eye…Breathe in, breathe out…

Phew.

A car stopped in front of her. The driver was distinctly Exo–not her date–but the passenger…

Rhulk exited, nodding at the driver in thanks. They smiled and waved him off, saying something Savathûn couldn't hear. Rhulk hummed, but he closed the door, swerving around to approach Savathûn. “Good morning, Miss Savathûn,” he said smoothly. “How are you? I'm aware I may have set an unwanted date for our…outing.” 

Chapter Text

The Girls™

Omnigul: who wants to do a gm with me 

Incaru: what is it this week

Omnigul: lake 

Incaru: FUCK no 

Sav: watch it 

Incaru: mom you’re going to embarrass me

Sav: lol 

Sav: i am NOT doing lake of shadows. arent the threshers still broken

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: No, they’re not. But I can tell Omnigul is going to babyrage

Omnigul: bitch

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: slut

Omnigul: WHORE

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: CROTA’S BEDWARMER

Omnigul: ayo wait

Omnigul: dont shit talk crota his dad’s going to kick your ass

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: I am a wish dragon. 

Omnigul: nothing can stop a dad on a mission 

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Cass: girls please i have to maintain the gc i dont wanna kick anyone

Incaru : then don’t. this is the GIRLS GROUP CHAT

Cass: tttttrueeeeee……

Incaru: that means you get to say whatever the fuck you want

Incaru: including saying that your girlfriend has a giant dick

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: WOMAN

Riven of a Thousand Dicks: THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KNOW.

Omnigul: 👀

Incaru: ayo she’s mine

Sov of Mara: Miss Dul Incaru, why are you laying with MY wish dragon?

Incaru: because i can bitch

Sov of Mara: …

Sov of Mara: i will allow it 

Venj of Petra: im sorry WHAT

Sov of Mara: you heard me 

Venj of Petra: i hear you 

Sov of Mara: It is too much of a hassle to keep those two in check. Just let them be. They won’t cause as many problems that way.

Incaru: i mean if you don’t fuck with me and riv i won’t fuck with you 

Incaru: easy

Sov of Mara: This discussion is over. I would like to talk about other things. 

Venj of Petra: it is NOT over you come back right this instant

Sov of Mara: No.

Chapter Text

Eido was lost. Very, very lost. 

At least she had company to get her unlost. But Phylaks was lost too, unfortunately. 

“Machine-forsake this map! Too many words,” she grumbled. “I’m going to have a word with Atraks and Taniks once we’re done blundering around some corner of Riis-Reborn!” 

“Mhm,” Eido hummed in agreement. “Might I suggest calling Eramiskel for her to find us-”

“No! We are fine without Her Excellency’s guidance!” A faint blush gathered on Phylaks’ cheeks. She smoothed out her suit nervously, even though all she was doing was wrinkling it up more. “I refuse to be humiliated by having an escort guide us!”

“We are already lost as is, what use is salvaging our dignity at this point? It will be for naught if we are late to the ball,” Eido countered, already in the process of taking out her phone. Phylaks tensed, but she sighed and waved it off with a defeated grunt. 

“Fine. Whatever. Go call my dumb wife for their dumb help.” 

Eido dialed Eramis’ number. Raising it to her ear, she instantly heard the Kell pick up. “Let me guess, Phylaks got you lost,” their voice came through. Was this a common occurrence? How odd.

“...Yes, Eramiskel. We appear to be lost.”

A sigh. “Alright. I'll get someone to find you two. Stay put.”

“Thank you, Eramiskel.” Eido had the sudden urge to ask:  “If you'll excuse me, is this a common occurrence–Phylaks getting lost?”

Eramiskel laughed, a pleasant noise that carried nicely over the phone. “Yes, it happens. Mostly on her own, though. I would have gotten Atraks or Kridis to pick you up but neither of them were attending. Perhaps next time– oh!” Another voice was heard, though very faintly through the background noise. After a bit of waiting (and some looking around to see if Phylaks left without her), Eramiskel seemed to focus their attention back on Eido. “My apologies, Scribe Eido. Your, ah, girlfriend just arrived, she’s looking for you.”

What?! “[Fuck!] Um, wait- I didn’t- why is Krisiks here?!” Eido cursed in City-speak out of embarrassment. She was supposed to keep that a secret! Out of the corner of her eye, Phylaks’ shoulders quivered. 

“HAH! My intuition was correct! You two ARE dating! How cute, Atraks owes me some glimmer now.”  

Eido’s face felt like it was sizzling, and she could barely put her words together. She settled for a frustrated shout, crumbling into a squat and burying her face in her unoccupied primary. She could vaguely hear Eramiskel wheezing in laughter. 

Once Eramiskel gathered their bearings, they cleared their throat. “Apologies. I'll send someone over right now. Goodbye, Scribe.” 

“Goodbye, Eramiskel. See you at the ball.” She hung up. 

This is going to take a long time.

…

…

To be honest, Eramis really didn't like it here. They tried to make it look like they wanted to be here: the Kell’s cloak, a Salvation symbol in House Light colors and a fine suit they ordered made out of the finest fabric possible. But, the suit felt too tight on her and the cloak made it cumbersome to walk. They only hated it a little less because Krisiks was here, and that call with Eido. Krisiks was nice. A bright student and excellent at talking her head off. And pretty, too (Eido got lucky!). 

“Is that Variks over there?” 

Ohhhh, fuck. Variks. The old hoot who spent more time coddling young Guardians in search of loot than living in Riis-Reborn. The thought made them uncomfortable. 

Krisiks chirped, suddenly far more animated than before. “It IS Variks! I've wanted to see him since for ever !”

“Forever?” Eramis scoffed. “What could you possibly need from that old man?”

“He holds knowledge of the Whirlwind, duh!”

“I'm standing right in front of you.”

Krisiks rolled her front two eyes. “You're too cool for me to ask. Besides, Variks is older, which means he's got more information than you do. If anything, I can come to you to fill in holes.” 

“I'm touched that you find me so valuable to your studies.”

“[Fuck you.]” Krisiks said it in perfect City-speak, even holding up the closest equivalent to a middle finger. Though she said it in jest, Eramis couldn't help but feel a brief flash of anger. Before they could involuntarily fire off an insult, Krisiks gave a mock-salute and left to interrogate Variks, who was strangely enjoying an ice cream cone, judging by the very uncharacteristic nod and smile on his face.

Once Krisiks approached and fired off some questions Eramis couldn't hear, they watched his face turn from satisfaction to exasperation. They creeped closer, weaving in between crowds to listen in.

“I have already divulged such information to Scribe Eido. You are close to her, yes?” Variks pleaded. Eramis would have loved to see him suffer, but such a fate at the hands of Krisiks was not one they would ever wish upon anyone. She had a habit of gluing herself to sources of information, especially Whirlwind survivors. She wouldn't leave until she got something of value. 

“I need it again!” Krisiks declared, brandishing her datapad. “Who knows if Eido’s going to lose her stuff in that awful desk of hers!” 

“Even so,” Variks wheezed, “This is not the place or time for it!” 

For once, Eramis would have to agree with the old man. His ice cream looked dangerously close to melting off. They pushed their way through and crowd and clapped a hand on Variks’ shoulder, making him jump and nearly drop his ice cream (Was that vanilla? How basic!). “Variks, old friend! It has been a while since we last talked!” They shot a threatening glare at Krisiks, who was already about to unleash hell on her interruption. “Say, why don’t we talk a little?” They pleaded to some higher power that he would play along. 

His eyes glittered with thanks, and he nodded. “Yes, yes, of course!” Krisiks glowered at Eramis, but she let them go. 

Outside, Eramis crossed her primary arms. Variks bowed in gratitude. “I thank you for rescuing me from dire straits, my Kell.” 

“Save your dick-sucking for later,” Eramis sneered, waving his thanks off. He shrugged, licking his ice cream. 

“Must you curse so shamelessly in front of your elders?” Variks shot back.

“I’ve heard worse coming from you , fool!” 

“Because this proclaimed dick-sucker’s lived longer than you, [fuckwad!]” He quickly abandoned his accent, catching some spectators’ looks. Eramis would have laughed at what they were probably thinking: “ No way, Variks knows how to curse?!” Hah!

“So foul-mouthed for a sacred House of Judgement Scribe! You ought to have your tongue docked for such- such…ah…” Her insults petered out. Variks smirked, taking a bite out of his cone. 

“[Variks wins the battle this time, yeeeeeees?]” He tossed the cone into the wind, letting it roll away. Some ancient part of Eramis screamed at them to curse him out for littering, but it was a little childish to remark about it now. The crowd gathered around the two cheered for the old scribe, whistling and praising him. “[A new record for the… ooooolder one, hmmmm?]”

“Oh, cut the fucking Earthen accent, its grating on my ears,” Eramis groaned. 

…

…

Just beyond the crowd gathered in front of the bickering Scribe and Kell, Eido, Phylaks, and their unnamed Captain escort watched. 

“Eramis has been getting rusty with her counters,” Phylaks observed disappointedly. “Wait…was Variks holding an ice cream cone ?” 

She shoved her way through the crowd before Eido could stop her. Their escort shrugged, muttering a “Can’t stop the Warrior of Eramis…” and wandering off, mission completed. With a shake of her head and a deep breath, she pursued Phylaks. 

“Eri!” Phylaks called out once she tore through the masses. “What are you doing with this old hoot?”

Variks whirled around, momentarily spooked by her sudden entrance. “W-Warrior Phylaks! It is you!” 

“Phylie!” Eramis hugged their mate tightly, bumping their foreheads together. They peeled themselves away, admiring Phylaks’ suit. The suit itself was a bright white, nearly blindingly so, cutely decorated with a little pink bowtie proudly resting on her chest. Her hair was tied neatly , professionally , in a braid. With a twinge of curiosity, Eramis noted a Warlock bond, Vanguard-colored. They narrowed their eyes. “What are you doing with a Lightbearer’s bond?” 

Phylaks laughed confidently as ever. “It's a gift from one of the Vanguard-kell’s ‘Hidden.’ I believe she called herself Cass-11.”

“I know her!” Eido interjected, bouncing up and down. “She's helped me with the renovation plans for the Eliksni Quarter!”

“You should meet her, Eri. I know you aren't exactly… comfortable towards Lightbearers, but you ought to see her babysitting hatchlings. You'd be surprised how good she is at it!”

Variks chose not to provide his own experience. He knew very well what he had ordered Cass-11 to do years ago. 

“Don't we have a ball to attend?” He tried instead. 

To his surprise, Eramis and Phylaks nodded. “We do,” Phylaks agreed. “I apologize for being late, Eri.” 

“It's nothing,” Eramis scoffed. “It's alright knowing you came anyway.” 

…

…

Krisiks tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for Eramis and Variks to come back. They'd been gone for minutes . Those were minutes she needed for a good story out of Scribe Variks!  “Where the [fuck] are those old idiots?” She cursed to herself. 

Another few lost minutes. She had taken a sip of the “fruit punch” that the humans attending made a big deal out of. Personally, it was far too sweet. Perhaps if she added a mix of ether, she'd find herself on the cusp of making history! Krisiks, the Fruit Puncher– no, that'd be terrible! Besides, someone had to have entertained their thoughts, right? Maybe it was terrible with ether. Whatever.

The doors swung open again. Lo and behold, Variks and Eramis, at last! 

Wait.

Two other figures walked in with them. One was a tall, well-dressed lady, ( Woah, she was HOT! By the Great Machine!) and the other was her very reliable, very smart, and very cute girlfriend, Eido. 

“Eido! Eido, Eido, EIDOOOO!!!” She sprinted towards them, pushing aside the Eliksni and humans in the way. She delivered a hefty bear hug, lifting a very disgruntled Eido off the ground. “I missed your dumb little smartass!” She ruffled the young Scribe’s head, screwing with her obviously meticulously groomed hair. 

“Krisiks! I spent hours combing that!” Eido protested, wiggling weakly. The hot lady raised a brow. 

“And who is this?” She questioned. 

Krisiks dumped Eido down, puffing her chest out and crossing her primary arms. “The name’s Krisiks! And you, my lady, are very sexy. ”

If it was possible, the hot lady's brow raised even higher. She glanced at Eido. “Excuse me?”

Krisiks huffed, relaxing her shoulders and glaring at the lady. “I said, you’re a very beautiful, aesthetically pleasing, highly attractive woman! Now,” she whipped out her trusty datapad, “What's your name?”

“...Phylaks.”

Tap tap. “Pronouns?”

“She/her. Why do you ask…?” 

Tap tap. Krisiks rolled her eyes. “Because I said so. You can call me Krisiks like I said earlier. He or she. Don't care which one.”

Phylaks nodded slowly. “I see. I suppose you are undergoing Scribe training?” 

“By virtue of being the girlfriend of a Scribe. Eido won’t shut up about her own studies, so I was like ‘might as well try out the Scribe role’ and life’s been great! So, I’m going to pursue this for the rest of my life like that guy over there,” she pointed to Variks, “and probably die of old age.” 

Eramis and Eido glanced at each other. The two of them had some sort of mother-daughter dynamic, Krisiks swore! She was half expecting the Kell to give her the spiel on keeping their “Little Light” safe and that if she did anything wrong they’d tear her to pieces or something like that. No matter. There was a party to attend. Without heeding Eido’s protests, Krisiks dragged her away by the arm. “Come on, we have things to do.” 

Watching the couple prance away, Phylaks relaxed her shoulders. Eramis patted her soothingly on the back. “I know, Phylaks. I’ve had my own run-ins with Krisiks, and none of them have gone well for me. You’ll get used to her.” 

“As if I ever will. I think she's trying to steal me from you.”

“She does that with everyone. Don't take it personally.”

Chapter Text

Eramis was not to be trusted, everyone said. Understandable; she was the one who attempted to fire on the Great Machine, she was the one who attempted harnessing Stasis to “give them the destruction they craved,” inadvertently giving Lightbearers a brand new toy to experiment with. That, and many other crimes even she didn’t know were responsible for. As such, she was appointed a bodyguard in the form of a somewhat bored and very pink Exo Hunter. Thankfully, he was much quieter than his kin. 

At least, that was the case when that old fool Misraaks’s daughter wasn’t glued to his side every waking moment. Eido couldn’t get enough of that man, peppering both him and Eramis with questions. If one asked her, she was certain the girl had a crush on the Hunter. Gods above, the two of them ate together sometimes! One side was smitten, that was for sure. She would have to ask the Hunter later. If he wanted to speak. 

“...Eramiskel? Is everything alright?” Eido’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“There is no need to worry for me,” she mumbled, attempting a pensive pose. Usually the scribe would leave Eramis alone if she was thinking. 

It seems this time, Eido didn't buy it. “Something troubles you.”

Eramis sighed. “You needn't fret, scribe Eido. I’m fine.” 

Even the Hunter chuckled, setting down his small breakfast. “Everyone knows you've been moping around with me ever since you got to the City,” he said. “You gotta lighten up a little. Tell you what: the Dawning’s soon.” The Dawning? Another human tradition, Eramis supposed. With how the Hunter spoke, she'd probably be dragged through the celebrations. “You can try to help us with decorations. There's cookies and Smallen.”

“…Smallen?? ”

“Eliksni kids.”

Once again, the Lightbearers subverted all expectations in the worst ways possible. Nonetheless, Eramis pondered the decision before her. Honestly, it seemed like she had no choice, seeing as the Hunter obviously wanted to help, and she couldn't go anywhere without him. Even if she refused, the scribe wouldn't have it. Overall: she would be fighting an uphill battle. “...Fine,” she replied. “I'll go. For you and the scribe.”

The Hunter flashed her a smile. “Good girl.” 

“Do not call me that.”

…

Something ancient within Eramis lit up the moment she saw the cookies prepared for this so-called Dawning. It was clear someone planned out her arrival here: sprinkled throughout the House Light emblems were a few Ether cookies adorned with her visage or a Salvation symbol. No one with a clear mind would bake a cookie for their enemy. Still…she found herself a little excited deep within. It had been uncountable years since she had prepared proper food, let alone been in a kitchen. 

“Ah, there’s that Eramis we’re all looking for.” 

The Hunter’s pretentious grin and tone immediately soured her mood, though. Eido had left on her own to participate in the preparations, which had left the two of them wandering. “Leave me be!” 

He quickly quieted down, a pout visible on his faceplates. “Fine. Guess I'll vibe somewhere else. Eido’ll take care of you. Eido!” He jogged off to find the scribe. Moments later, he returned with her in hand. “Take care of Eri for a moment, will you? I'll be back! Toodles!” 

Eido barely had time to protest before the Hunter ran off, disappearing around a corner. Eramis watched her comically deflate, only to brighten up right after. “Well,” the scribe began. “What should we do?” 

“I can think of a few things…” Eramis’ gaze turned to the cookies before her. Eido similarly looked, a clear smile radiating through her mask. Cookies it was.

…

She and Eido spent the rest of the day supplying the House with cookies. Halfway through, Eramis began experimenting, making a few designs of Misraaks with some silly designs. She leaned back, inspecting her work. Eido looked over, giggling at the sight of her father’s slightly-off expression on the cookies. “It seems you’ve done some work,” she remarked. “Shall we retire for the day?” 

“Of course,” Eramis smiled behind her mask. Truth be told, she did feel lighter. Things didn’t feel so terrible and the world didn’t look so fucked up, now that there was anticipation of festivities. Even if said festivities were to mask the looming catastrophe the Witness had in store, she figured it was better to live in the moment than to overly dread the future. The future…the future was what got herself frozen for three years and her dear friends murdered by Lightbearers. Now? She mingles with the very same beings. 

The Hunter was nowhere to be found when the two of them got back home. “Isn’t it unbecoming of a bodyguard to…not bodyguard the captive?” Eido remarked curiously. They sat on the couch. 

Eramis shrugged. “None of my business. Perhaps their Vanguard can allow an exception.” 

…An awkward silence filled their home. Eido coughed. Eramis shuffled, huffing. 

“...I have a question for you…” she mumbled. 

Eido brightened up at the chance of conversation. “What is it?”

“Why…why are you so attached to that Lightbearer?” There, she got it out. Finally. 

Eido’s eyes widened. Suddenly she didn’t seem so willing to talk. “Umm…I…” she began ambitiously. 

Eramis felt a devious grin grow behind her mask. “Are you falling for him?” She rested her head on her hand, leaning on the armrest of the couch. 

Eido sputtered, a bright blush on her cheeks. “No! I…ugh!” She pouted, crossing her upper arms petulantly. “Rose told me you were trouble.” 

Ah, was that his name? “The Hunter?”

“Yes. Rose-1.” 

Their conversation quieted again. More awkwardness. Great Machine, what Eramis would do for a lengthy conversation. 

“We’re going to be waiting a long time for my bodyguard to come back, aren’t we?”

“He’s likely drunk.” 

“Damn.”

Chapter Text

How funny, that she laid against her dead brother and her soon-to-be-resurrected dead sister. Xivu Arath, the last of the Osmium siblings. Oryx fell first, then Savathûn, and soon, she had figured, it would be her. But of course, Savathûn being ever the trickster, the cunning, turned to the Sky, and now she truly never felt so alone. The two of them coincidentally had the same thought to visit their brother’s rotting corpse. Xivu was the first to take action, greeting the Lightbearer with a blade to her chest and a swift decapitation. 

She would have crushed the feeble creature that leapt out and shit-talked her, but such a kill felt…tainted. Deep within, she knew Savathûn deserved a much grander death than meeting an abrupt end on a moon. The Witch Queen must have felt the same, rising with a deep chuckle.

“Ahh…good day, Xivu.” Savathûn rolled her shoulders. 

Xivu did not want to grace her with a response. 

“Now now…isn't it disrespectful to not answer your elder sister?”

“What sister are you to me, now that you've thrown yourself to the Sky? You are my enemy!”

Savathûn’s eyes flickered briefly with what she swore was genuine hurt. Or was it pity? “I doubt you're here to kill me,” she replied in that velvety tone Xivu knew masked a greater sorrow than she let on. “Brother would not let that happen here, of all places.” 

She stepped forward to rebuke her sister, but her words could not leave her mouth. No, she was right. Oryx would not let this be their battleground. “Then what are you doing here?” She switched the topic. 

The Witch Queen did not answer. Instead, she rested a hand on Oryx’s cold head. At their current size, he was gargantuan: a harsh reminder to Xivu that six Lightbearers of similar stature defeated him like this. The two of them remained in silence, one watching the other with bated breath. 

Xivu would be the first to begin. “...I came to reminisce,” she started with a mumble. 

Savathûn stopped to smile. “How unbecoming of such a warlord.”

“You know what I said,” Xivu continued, ignoring the remark. “How I miss the days of yore. How I wished to return. Do you think the same?” 

This time, there was no clever response to instigate a fight. The Witch Queen held not a devious, shit-eating smirk, but a rather pitiful smile instead. “Are you tired of this? To march on and feed your worm, rending galaxies to satiate an unending appetite?”

A deep sigh escaped Xivu. So it would come to this. “...I'm tired of the dread, sister. Our…no, my future. My worm, it will consume me. This I know.”

Hive were not designed to cry. At least, not a typical one. Savathûn and Xivu were different in that regard. The sting of tears threatened to humiliate her. “I…I do not want this, sister. I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want to die like this anymore.” 

All this time, Savathûn said nothing. Only the gaze of her piercing, judging blue eyes. 

“How much longer must we keep the act, before Brother finds the key to stop this madness? For Deep’s sake, he is dead! No, not dead, he is absorbed in his own mind, alone, seeking answers to a problem that we have spent universes– universes to find! And yet, he still tells us he needs more time. More time, to rid at least one universe of this endless strife. Do you—” She pulled Savathûn close. 

“Do you really think he wants to achieve this goal? Do you think he has…gone mad? That he only wishes for us to…live like this forever?”

By now she knew the tears were falling free. She sniffled pathetically, burying her head in her sister’s chest. “I'm tired, Sav. I want to go back. I want Mother, I want Father, and I want to see our home. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“...Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. But what is asked of us now is to keep the act. We mustn't let our minds slip more than they already have, dear sister.”

Xivu pushed her back, hands balling into fists. “All this, and you still want to believe in that fool…!”

“Because he is ALL we have LEFT!” Savathûn shouted. Xivu stepped back, tearful eyes wide in shock. Her sister huffed, seemingly spent from that single sentence. “I had lost hope for my own solution to this long ago,” she muttered after a long silence. “Oryx is the only one who has not truly fallen. Perhaps we have gone mad, and he is the last one left. Perhaps the one who crafted this convoluted world left long ago, and this loop is what remains. I do not know, and I no longer care. Perhaps it's time for you to do the same.” 

“But, sister, I–”

“No. We are done. Goodbye.”

Xivu could not get another word out, before Savathûn disappeared in a flash of light. Only she remained, alone with her brother’s resting body. 

Maybe she was right. Maybe whoever created this sick world abandoned it, left it to rot. At this point, she would accept that over a sick god, observing the plight of her and the rest of a select few chosen to remember. 

Chapter Text

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STARTING…

They awoke in the dark on a grandiose canopy bed. 

“My chitin is dry,” Savathun hissed.

“What are these infernal ornaments on me?!” Xivu snarled.

And most of all: “My horns itch…” Oryx whined. Though the Taken King seemingly laid on their bed, it was not his voice that came out. In place of a low rumble came a smooth, feminine hum as Oryx stretched. His satisfied smile turned to confusion when he saw the incredulous look on their faces. “Is…is something wrong, sisters?” Of course, things were wrong. It wasn’t every new run that they would wake in such an extravagant room, let alone together. 

Xivu glared at him, her three eyes somehow glowing even brighter in the dark. “You’re a woman again!” 

Oryx tilted his (her?) head. “...Oh.”

The sound of a door startled the trio. A gray-chitined Knight stepped in, marching forward to throw open the curtain separating the siblings from the outside world. “Good morning, my ladies,” he said, stepping to the side and keeping the drapes open. “Eramis and Ikora await you.” 

Eramis? Ikora? Oryx smiled, nodding in thanks. “Thank you, my knight. Please, leave us for the moment.” 

The Knight nodded, fiddling with the drapes to keep them open. He went out the way he came in, looking back to wink one of his piercing white eyes. Once he was out of earshot, Oryx turned to his sisters. 

“I’m all for helping our brother ease into being our sister, but I believe we don’t have the time for this,” Savathûn interrupted. Oryx would have protested, but she was unfortunately right. Besides, they had a meeting, apparently. He’ll put it aside for later. Maybe. Who knew? One never could in such a bizarre adventure. Come to think of it, none of their runs had ever been as…low-key as this. 

Just what was he, in this run? A few times he had been “blessed” with the opportunity to be of the opposite gender; likely confusion from princess Aurash of then and Oryx the Taken King. No big deal, he surmised. Sooner or later he’d be thrust out of this body into another.

Outside their rather gaudy home, Ecthar stood guard, his mighty sword hanging over his shoulder. He nodded again, rumbling a greeting. “Would you like me to escort you to the Tower?” 

The Tower? Oryx smiled, trying to appear normal. “Yes, of course. Lead the way, my knight.” 

Ecthar bowed, before urging them to follow. 

It was to their realization that the siblings were not just gods here–they were celebrities, revered by Lightbearers and all other mortal life in Sol. They lived extravagant lives, pampered by servants, heart-eyed Guardians, and the general public. Sure, there were plenty of strange things in their past runs, but peace… peace was unsettling. People cheered their names, smiled and waved whenever they made eye contact, or swooned. All of it felt weird. Oryx was sure his siblings felt the same, evidenced by Xivu’s barely-hidden disgust and Savathûn’s awkward attempts to return each greeting.  This clearly was no small deviation: there were Eliksni, Cabal, other Hive, even the occasional Vex creature. A Harpy with an ice-blue optic stared at Oryx, its tail swishing back and forth. A young Eliksni girl approached Xivu with a datapad, peppering her with awkward words. 

“Oh! Hi! Oh, goodness, it’s a wonder to meet you, Xivu Arath–ah!” A hand lunged out from the crowd to drag her back. The hand belonged to the arm of a purple-visored Captain, tugging the girl back. “Father!” 

The Captain ignored her protests, handing her back to an elderly Eliksni adorned in green robes and fur. “I apologize for my daughter. Eido can be a bit of a handful.” 

Oryx intervened before Xivu could threaten him with his life. “Ah, there is no concern. Perhaps she can meet with Xivu personally in her own free time instead of approaching us while we have somewhere to go?” 

The Captain nodded eagerly, bowing down. “Yes, of course, thank you, my ladies.” He quickly retreated back into the crowd. Oryx could make out him scolding the young girl, while the green-robed Eliksni watched with regretful eyes. 

After trudging through crowds upon crowds of citizens wanting to see the supposedly legendary “God-Sisters” (Ecthar’s words, not his), they made it to the looming tower that was once in the distance. Here, so close to it, he felt insignificant. He had to give respect to the tenacity of Earth’s denizens. For such squishy, feeble creatures, they stood strong in the face of disaster, and they would always return from the brink. Each and every time Oryx and his siblings woke up in a different time, humans would always be present, clawing their way back to the top of the food chain. 

The four of them crammed themselves into an elevator, Ecthar pressing a button likely to lead them to the top floor of the Tower. A soft piano filled the elevator as they rode up. 

“...You’re late,” Ecthar said, shuffling on his feet. His sword bobbed up and down on the floor. 

Xivu sighed, running a hand over her face. “Of course we are,” she grumbled. “You were the one who died first that last time.” She shuddered, remembering something. “Of all the things that kill me, it’s a Screeb.” 

“A Screeb? You’ve never been killed by your own leader before! Remember, Oryx? You had me killed for whatever reason. I still never got a reason for that, either.” 

Oryx laughed nervously. “I…do not remember doing that. Are you sure it was not one of my Echoes?” 

“It wasn’t! I’m sure of it.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past my dear brother to have him murder you out of love,” Savathûn interjected. “Isn’t that right, Oryx?”

He huffed. “I really don’t recall! Everything begins to blur after quite a while, you know. Do you even remember the ten-thousandth run?” 

“Of course I do. You had been married to a Guardian. I had to babysit with Xivu as you, Crota, and that madman terrorize Cabal. In fact, it was you that had suggested that idea in the first place. Seriously? Tossing them around like footballs was not on my list of things to see, but I’m glad you’re having fun with this.” 

“I don’t know if you’re the one forgetting, but that was our nine-thousandth run, Savathûn.”

Ding!

“Whatever you say, brother. I don’t suppose we have a meeting to attend?” 

…

“You’re late, sisters,” Ikora said, bent over a digital map. “Ecthar, if you would excuse us.” 

The knight bowed, leaving the premises. Oryx knew he would not go far though; Ecthar had a knack for eavesdropping on conversations. He turned his attention to the Warlock. “My sincerest apologies, Ikora.” 

“We have much to discuss, sisters,” Eramis snapped. “You being late only makes this worse. Come here, Savathûn. I need you for something.” 

As she was led away, Ikora smiled at Oryx. “I'll excuse your tardiness for now. I know you've been busy. I've got something that might interest you, though.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

She gestured to some data pads. “We've gotten reports of anomalies with certain Guardians. This one,” she nudged a particularly full pad forward, “has been…concerning. I’d like another mind working on this case.”

Oryx took a look. Exo Warlock, female, named Cassandra-11, nickname Cass. Reports of memories completely detached from current events, or even interfering with past ones. Examples included…Oryx, the “Taken King.” Xivu Arath, the “God of War,” and Savathûn, the “Cunning.” Clearly, their titles were different this run. What they were, Oryx didn't know, but he would get it out of someone later. 

“Hmm. Interesting, indeed,” he hummed. “How widespread are these…memory discrepancies?”

“Quite many, I'm afraid. Uncountable. They all seem to recount the same details as our Warlock, but with less…certainty. Seeing as you and your sisters are the main focus of this happenstance, we've decided to…” Ikora paused. Wait for it…

“...track your movements.” 

Oh. Well, that wasn't so bad. Oryx let out a relieved sigh. “Better than detaining us, I suppose,” he muttered. 

Ikora gave a small laugh. “Of course it is. You'd have our heads if we tried.” 

They exchanged chuckles. “I suppose you have some ideas for why this is the case?” Oryx asked. 

“Well,” Ikora began, “The first idea coming to mind is, of course, the information we have from our Stranger.” Elsie Bray, certainly. She was the only other person truly aware of these runs. “Like…like leftover data. Guardians present in a previous timeline having some sort of bleeding effect wherein some memories are carried over. But that doesn't explain why it began now , or why it isn't an immediate blanket-effect. Could it be…”

SAVE FILE DAMAGES DETECTED. ATTEMPTING REPAIR…

Oryx’s head rang painfully. He winced, rubbing his temple. “Ugh…what…?”

SAVE FILE CORRUPTION DETECTED. REPAIRS UNDERGOING…

Suddenly, Ikora shook her head. “No…it can't be…”

SAVE FILE CORRUPTED. DELETE?

<y> <n>

<y>

DELETING…

“Is this just a sim–”

SAVE FILE DELETED. 

Chapter Text

Quite a bit of time had passed for Eramis. She had kept track of the days until she hadn’t, then suddenly she found herself one year, then two years, then many years ahead. One could not blame her; she had spent much of that in chaos. First was her journey to find Athrys. Things had gone uncannily smooth; the map she kept with her allowed for a swift reunion. Though heartfelt, Athrys expressed much concern, particularly over her actions as the Shipstealer. Such depths she had sunk to then, but now she knew she was quite above them. 

They had spent what then felt like an eternity, returning to a “normal” life and pretending it was not on the brink of another Whirlwind. Rather blissful–paradise, even. Her mate, her children, and the promise of a fulfilling rest of her life before another catastrophe befell them all. But oh, fate was not done with her and her family yet. Those blasted Lightbearers dared to reach out to her, to beg for her assistance against the Witness. What could she have done against that thing? It had brought worlds to ruin, had disciples that have done similar, and she was mortal . Obviously, she refused. It was the only logical option. 

Life was fairly peaceful after that, minus some news of yet another impending disaster. None of that mattered, though. As long as Athrys and their children remained in Eramis’ world, she was content. 

After so much time spent away from Sol, it was genuinely a surprise when a message reached her. It was from a familiar name: Eido. The young scribe had not forgotten about her, it seemed. 

“Come back, Eramis. Please.”

That was all it said. A plea to return. At her side, Athrys chittered in questioning. “Who is this…Eido?” 

Eramis hummed, brushing a hand over her mate’s. “A…friend I made,” she replied. 

“Oh!” Athrys chirped. “That’s wonderful! You should go, then. The children and I will come as well. I’m curious as to what this ‘Earth’ truly looks like. From the stories you tell, it must be even better in person.” 

Truthfully, Eramis wanted to return. At the same time, something stymied her voice. Why come back to a world that brought her so much misfortune? Not even Earth; Sol overall had brought her and her comrades nothing but loss. So many died in her pursuit for meaning. Siriks, Taniks, her council…it was just her and Athrys and the children. If something went wrong, if a Lightbearer confused her and Athrys for enemies and fired even one bullet their way–

She would truly be alone forever, if anyone looked at them and got the wrong idea. 

…

…

Then why, why did she find herself wandering the Last City with her mate, watching her eagerly bounce from stall to stall? 

“Oh, Eramis! Look here!” She held up a plush of a…a hatchling, bundled in cloth. “Isn’t it so adorable? Do you think we can…get one?” 

“I’m afraid not, love. Maybe later.” No way were they getting this…this caricature of a hatchling, pathetically adorable as it was. Those innocent, oversized eyes would likely haunt her dreams. 

Athrys deflated, placing down the plushie. She quickly perked back up though, remembering that there was indeed much to explore in this bustling city.

Wizened as she was, age would never stop her from when something new and exciting was on the horizon. Eramis had to push past civilians to catch up with her constant prancing. Shop owners laughed when they saw her eager form darting between aisles, street vendors smiled sheepishly as she threw endless praise at what she could sample, and a few even spared Eramis a pitied expression at her growing exhaustion. In the chaos though, she thought to herself. Where was that young scribe? Was she even in the Botza District anymore? Clearly she was not dead , but Eramis expected that she would at least show up now that word of Eramis and her “unknown accomplice” had been seen walking the streets. 

By the time Athrys was done, she could swear her mate looked even more raring to go, an unmistakable glittering in her eyes giving it away. “Well?” Athrys took Eramis’ lower hands in her own. “Where is this Eido of yours? I’d like to meet her.” She spoke as if her mate hadn’t been on her tail constantly, begging for her to slow down. 

Eramis sighed, squeezing gently. “Eido isn’t here. We’ll find her soon, though. No doubt that she’s excited to meet you, my love.” They shared a light giggle. “Come with me. I believe I know where to start.” 

…

Lo and behold, Eido was right where she expected her to be, chattering away on a bench beside a familiar pink Hunter. The Lightbearer–to her relief–had not changed his ways, keeping the same blinding color scheme even if the armor and cloak were different. Wait, no, that wasn’t even armor. Those were casual clothes, as if he was on his daily stroll. His uncovered Exo face gleamed in Botza’s lights, his mouth lights occasionally lighting up when Eido said something he liked or had a response to. It seemed the two of them had only grown closer with time, if their coexistence here hadn’t yet proved it. 

“There they are,” Eramis said, pointing Athrys towards the pair. Her mate tilted her head, chirring in acknowledgement. 

They approached the pair, letting Eido look up. The Hunter contorted his face in confusion for a brief moment, but a sparkle of familiarity blew it away. He smirked. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite ice lady. What took you so long to get the hell back?” 

Eido gasped, squealing in delight and enveloping Eramis in a tight hug. “Eramiskel! It’s so good to see you! I thought you didn’t want to come; I didn’t get an answer back from you!” She buried her face in the former Kell’s chest, chirruping contentedly. Athrys looked on, amused but a little puzzled. Once the scribe felt comfortable in her grasp, she mumbled, “I missed you.” 

Eramis chuckled, patting the girl’s head. The goggles stationed on them wobbled a little bit. “I missed you too, scribe. Tell me, has that old man given himself a single break while I was gone?” 

Eido giggled. “Likely not,” she said, breaking out of their hug. “I haven’t seen Father in quite a while, truth be told. He is much busier now that more of our people are coming in. You should rest; I can tell you’ve had a long day. Come, I can have you rest while I let Father know–” 

“No need, youngling,” Athrys interjected. “We are quite fine. I’d like to know more about you; my mate speaks highly of you.” 

The scribe’s eyes widened. “...Really?” 

“Yes, of course! Oh, please,” Athrys guided her back onto the bench, “Sit. I want to see if Eramis’ words are true.” 

Before Eramis could join in, the Hunter clapped her on the back. “You gotta catch up,” he said in that all-too-familiar shit-eating tone. “You ditched us for your wife instead of doing the hard work with the rest of us. You came here just in time, too. The Dawning’s here. So…” He smiled, holding up an ornament. She could practically hear his next words. 

“...Mind helping us put these ornaments on our tree?” 

She rolled her eyes, groaning dramatically. “You never cease to inconvenience me, don’t you?” 

“That’s right.” The Hunter tossed the ornament up and down. Weren’t those things fragile? “I’m the one who beat you the first time, so I gotta bully you some more.”

“You’re just as insufferable as you were before I left this forsaken planet.” 

He continued, heedless of Eramis’ deriding. “And Athrys can help too.” He caught her confused expression before she could speak up. “And yeah, I know who she is. Variks told me some stories. Now come on,” he took her hand in a surprising vice-grip. “We’re gonna get a headstart before they catch on.” 

Eramis tried her best to protest, but the Hunter held strong, pulling her kicking and screaming towards…the largest, most decorated tree she had ever seen in decades. Her struggle ceased, her jaw dropping, and her stomach falling out of her ass in dread. The Hunter grinned, mouth light glowing a cheeky yellow. 

“Good luck, Eramis. You’ll need it.” 

Chapter Text

Oryx yawned, roused from his view of Titan’s seas. A Hunter–no, the Hunter that first approached him on his first day of resurrection quietly transmatted in behind him. “Welcome, my Hunter,” he rumbled. He could hear it slinking around his left side, and situating itself on the ledge. He did not look, for he was far more interested in his sister’s legions and their constructs. From a distance and up close, her little pests were still something to be reckoned. In her absence, they still remained steadfast, pursuing her goals. He was grateful for it; he would not be alive if it were not for her subordinates. 

“It took me a long time to sneak around the security here. I think I deserve a lot more than a ‘hello,’ mister.” 

Oryx huffed. “Indeed. Welcome to my humble abode, Hunter. Thank you for… sneaking your way around my sister’s and your Vanguard’s dutiful, sharp-eyed armies. There. Does that suit your unending ego?” 

“Of course it does,” the Hunter replied. “You know I love it. But I'm here for something different.” It sounded like it was rummaging through a bag.

Oryx looked down, momentarily pulled by its proposal. “And what might you have for me?”

The Hunter chuckled, its head inside its supposed gift bag. “It's the Dawning. I've baked some goodies for all of my friends.” 

“Including me.”

“Yes. Including you. You're getting some treats.”

“You needn’t be so worried about disappointing me, Hunter. I didn't even remember that it was this so-called Dawning.” Really, there wasn't much to do but peer into the methane seas and occasionally chat with disconnected Guardians and curious Lucent Lightbearers. It was a little boring, and Oryx could use a bit of a stretch and some daylight, but he’d manage. 

True to its word, the Hunter produced a box uncannily resembling Oryx’s face. This wasn't a crude mockery; there was legitimate effort put into crafting such a container. It was rather small for his liking, but deep within, he appreciated the effort. The Hunter offered him the box. He laid out his palm. It unceremoniously dropped it in, and he bowed in courtesy. “I accept your gift, my Hunter. I'm unsure if I can even taste whatever morsels you have in there, but I will enjoy your food.” 

“It’ll be fine even if you don't eat it. I just like giving things to my friends. And it's Dawning; who wouldn’t?”

Oryx had no answer. He turned his attention back to the Lucent Brood in the distance. He caught a few odd ones out: Guardians mingling with some Knights. He spied one of his former retinue, Ecthar, supporting a Warlock hanging decorations. Where was Alak-Hul, actually? He knew his old foster son received a Ghost much like he did, but what purpose did he have? Short discussions with Lucent Lightbearers said that he defended a temple of sorts, but he hadn't gotten anything new. 

He decided to use that for a new topic. “Do you know what Alak-Hul does? I had heard he was resurrected a while ago.” 

“He guards a temple dedicated to you in Savathûn’s Throne World.” Ah, so that was why they looked so uncomfortable when he asked! “Why do you ask?” 

“Nothing. I'm merely wondering.” 

Another long wave of silence followed. Hmph, it was even more boring to have company that had no words for him. He could handle it when his court had more things to do than stand around and do nothing–even his daughters had their gossip when they thought he could not hear them. 

“...Why don't I file a request to let you out for the Dawning?”

“What?” Oryx whipped his head towards the Hunter. “Are you daft?”

“Duh. That's why I'm gonna try and get you out of this boring shit. I stood in here for five minutes just to talk to you after years and I KNEW this looked like a damn horrible place to live in. Do they even feed you down here?” 

“I don't really require material sustenance. Savathûn occasionally brings tea, though I find it bland sometimes.”

“ Tea? You've got to be-” The Hunter cut itself off, hands covering its helmet and a string of inaudible sounds coming out. “I've gotta get you to eat some good City food,” it declared after gathering its bearings. “You're missing out.”

“One cannot miss out if he is content with what they have,” Oryx retorted. In reality, his Lucent guards did bring some human foods, though their culinary arts were so lacking that even two of the same meal tasted wildly different. 

“Mark my words,” the Hunter said as it got up, “I'll get you outta here. You'll see.” 

Oryx laughed, shooing it off. “Whatever you say, Hunter. Farewell.” 

“Toodles!” The Hunter vanished with a flash of light. Just after the remaining particles dissipated though, a pair of ominously colored Guardians sweeped through Oryx’s cave. Likely they were after the Guardian that just left. 

“Oryx,” one of the Guardians commanded. “Have you seen a Hunter around here?” 

He smirked to himself. “No, no I have not. Is there an issue?”

“Nothing. Just got tipped off by someone that there was an unfamiliar Guardian ‘round these parts. Good day to you, sir.”

“To you too, Lightbearer. And happy Dawning.” 

The Guardian he was speaking to froze as Oryx’s words registered. It turned around, an incredulous look clearly behind the helmet. It stared for a good long while. “.....H…Happy Dawning to you too, Oryx.” 

“C’mon you idiot,” the other Guardian snapped, “We have a Hunter to catch.” 

“Right, yes! Uh, good day to you!” They both disappeared in the same flash of light the Hunter did. 

.

.

.

The days began to blend together, though Oryx knew things were being done behind the scenes. Each meal offered by the Lucent Brood became much more flavorful, and ten times more fulfilling. Occasionally, a few Guardians in the distance would stare back whilst he was observing them, either waving back or continuing their activity. 

A rather notable day was when Alak-Hul had apparently decided it was a good idea to visit. 

.

.

.

Oryx was busy thinking to himself when a transmat sound and a loud crackle of chitin greaves on the floor roused him. He turned to the sound, seeing alabaster armor and the familiar helmet of his once-Darkblade. Who he assumed could only be Alak-Hul bowed his head. “Oryx,” he rumbled. 

“Please, there is no need to do that. I hardly even know who I was, let alone who you could have meant to me,” Oryx said. While he knew Alak-Hul was supposedly a third second son to him, he couldn't exactly connect himself with the idea. He patted the ground beside him. “Come, sit.” 

The former Darkblade approached the indicated spot, but he hesitated when he got close. Was something wrong? What irked him from seating himself beside who was pretty much a father figure? “Is something the matter?” 

Alak-Hul seemingly stared at Oryx through his helmet. He could do nothing but stare back uncomfortably. His chitin suddenly felt prickly, the muscle underneath tensing. His chest tightened, his breathing increased, the forced smile on his face felt far too heavy and Light-above his lungs felt like they were going to collapse in on themselves–

“No. Nothing is wrong, Oryx.” 

He watched as Alak-Hul plopped himself down beside him, a wicked battle axe coming down to rest in his lap. Oryx let out a quiet sigh, forcing his shoulders to relax. “I was told you were like a…second son to me,” he began after Alak settled in. 

The…the Lightblade, Oryx supposed, let out a quiet “Hmph.” Ah. Perhaps he had wronged the Knight before. 

“What brings you to me, Lightblade?” He opted to ask instead. 

“A Guardian told me of your resurrection,” Alak-Hul answered. “I wanted to see for myself.”

“Ah. Is there something you'd like to ask of me, then?”

Quietness. Then: “How much do you know?”

“Mm…” Where to begin… “Savathûn claims we were brother and sister. I was the eldest, she was the middle, and Xivu Arath was the youngest.” He paused. “I know I've been at war once with the Guardians. I don’t blame them for keeping me down here.” 

“Indeed.” Alak-Hul fell silent again. Honestly, it seemed like he was more uncomfortable than Oryx. Such a clipped tone only made it clearer. He needed to get to the bottom of this. 

“I've wronged you in the past.”

Alak-Hul sighed deeply, leaning back. “You have,” he replied. “Quite severely, to say the least.” 

“Well…” What should he say? “Uh…I suppose what’s done is done.” Gah, was that too direct?! “Those were the actions of who I was then, and I don’t even remember who I am now.”

Silence was all he was given. “I can understand if talking to me is quite the taxing ordeal, given what sparse information I know–”

“Oryx, really, why do you talk about it like I can even recall clearly what happened? You fail to remember that you and I are quite the same. I don't actually truly know who I was, but instead merely told. You were supposedly a neglectful, conniving father. I fail to see that in you.”

“Goodness, then you should have notified me beforehand!” Oryx exclaimed, aghast. Gee, couldn't Alak-Hul have bothered to?? 

“My apologies. I merely needed to test you. Now,” Alak-Hul rose from his cross-legged position, picking up his weapon, “I will take my leave.” 

“Uh–leaving already? I haven't even–”

“In due time. Farewell.” 

Oryx couldn't get another word out before Alak-Hul dematerialized. 

.

.

.

Alak-Hul never reappeared after that, so he was left to his own devices while waiting for something to happen. Now that he thought about it, Alak-Hul never gave him anything related to the Dawning. Perhaps it was over? No, because his view of the outside world still had its decorations hung and lit. The Lightblade simply did not celebrate it, he guessed.

He'd have to wait then. Ugh, his mind was going in circles now that he had nothing to think about! The cookies that Hunter gave him were still there though. The box hadn't been touched since. 

Maybe he'd taste it. 

Or he’d rather go mad. 

Or he’d rather wait for his ever-so-busy sister to come by for another tea party. 

“Oh dear Hunter from the City, free me from this eternal hell,” Oryx muttered, clasping his hands together.

“God knows I need it.”

Chapter Text

The Tower, Last City

The Hunter leaned over the railing, feeling the wind pull back his cloak. Truthfully, the breeze up here was pretty uncomfortable; his face felt like it was going to freeze off regardless of its metallic appearance. If only he could find a way to turn off his sensors without nuking his sense of touch along with it. 

“Guardian.”

Oh, he forgot Zavala usually came here too. “Hey,” he greeted back, giving the man a short wave before returning his gaze to the city. 

“Something troubles you,” the Titan replied matter-of-factly. 

The Hunter sighed, unsheathing a knife to twirl it aimlessly. “It's almost a new year,” he began, looking up at the fleet of Vanguard, Awoken, Cabal, and Eliksni airships. “It's been an entire year of all this.

Zavala’s eyes darkened as the Hunter continued. “We're living in a pretty shitty world right now, I won't lie.” He smiled, his mouth LEDs flickering in amusement. “As much as I hate to say it,” he glanced at Zavala, “but I'm kinda glad it’s like this.” 

The Titan narrowed his eyes, a frown evident on his face. “Do explain your reasoning,” he grumbled. 

The Hunter laughed, tracing a line on the railing with his knife. “I'm just saying that I haven't done much for the Tower when I got my first rez. I'm meeting Guardians I've never seen at all every day, I’m making new friends, and hell, we're cuddling up to some baddies too. You won't admit it, but I know you've at least been curious about talking to an Ahamkara, and Riven’s right there. We've done a lot of shit that you would have thought were impossible.”

A moment of silence. Then, Zavala sighed. “Indeed I had,” he admitted. “Sloane and Ahsa, Savathûn’s Ghost, Riven; I never thought I would ever see a report like those at my desk. Not in a thousand years. But it seems our risky work has led to quite a few boons to us.”

“That it has,” the Hunter agreed, “and we're all gonna throw all that at the Witness and hope something sticks.” Shit was going to get real very, very soon, he figured. The Witness couldn't have been in there for that long and not done anything inside the Traveler. “We’re gonna get the fight of our lives soon, I'm not gonna pass a good time saving the universe.” 

“Your tenacity is admirable, Hunter. Your…positivity…in such a dire time is appreciated.” 

“Positivity?” The Hunter scoffed. “Hardly ever positive these days. I think it's a little bit of realizing the world’s about to end and trying not to panic over it. Besides, we've got plenty of people on our side. I think we've got this.”

Zavala went to reply, but the Hunter quickly interrupted him. “But if you'll excuse me,” he sheathed his knife, materializing his Ghost, “I have a meeting to attend. Toodles!” He vanished in a sparkle of light. 

.

.

.

Eleusinia, the Dreaming City

It was nostalgic to wander Mara’s Throne World and blast through the Taken to reach Dûl Incaru. It was quite the same every run, but the Hunter had grown to be familiar with the major Taken he needed to vanquish on the way to her. The game of finding the right symbol was a fun stroll. Vorgeth and his Wizard buddies were still assholes. The small army of Shadow Thrall were bulldozed through once more with his Strand abilities. 

He smiled as the familiar forms of Dûl Incaru’s Fatesmiths loomed over him. “Well, I missed you guys too,” he said as they raised their battle axes, “but I wanna talk to Incaru for a sec.” 

Surprisingly enough, they hesitated, lowering their weapons and tilting their heads quizzically at him. Though their hulking bodies were blocking the Hunter’s view of Dûl Incaru, he knew she was smiling. “What do I owe you this time, Light-and-Darkbearer?” She asked, light and sing-song in her tone. 

“Nothing in particular,” the Hunter replied, wiping his knife of Hive residue on his gauntlet. “I just want an audience with you for a quick minute.” 

“Oh, but of course!” Dûl Incaru laughed: a lovely tune that echoed in the Hunter's head. “Come to my side, Light-and-Darkbearer.” 

He obliged, shifting past the suddenly nervous trio of Fatesmiths that whispered among themselves. Spicy gossip? Were they talking about him? He ignored his thoughts, coming to a stop in front of Dûl Incaru’s robes. He had to crane his neck to look up at her, and when they met eyes, a sense of awkwardness tore his sight away. “Why don't you sit down a bit?” He asked. 

The Wizard hummed, lazily settling herself on the cold floor of the tower. “This satisfies you, Hunter?”

He offered no response, instead seating himself similarly. He sighed, taking in the view before him. Dûl Incaru never looked this relaxed before, even when she had not noticed his presence. Now, she stared at him, expecting conversation. 

“Well…happy new year,” the Hunter said, smiling behind his helmet. “Another year of putting you down every month.” 

“That it has.” Incaru’s eyes grew wistful. “To think a year has passed, locked in this eternal dance with you.”

“Been a wild ride, for sure.” The Hunter turned back, looking at the three Fatesmiths still chattering. “Do you think this cycle’ll ever be over?”

Another laugh and a shrug from Incaru. “I believe not. My mother hardly remembers me, Quria is dead, with Riven sharing the same fate. But why should I wish for such a lovely dance to end?” 

“I guess that's right. Y’know, you're a neat gal when you're not trying to kill me.” 

“Should you ever return to Eleusinia again, my study is open to you, Hunter. You may perform a different step, sing another song, but you will always find yourself at my side, a blade or your words piercing my heart. The outcome will always be the same.”

“Gee, that's cool. Well…happy new year. I don't have that much time.”

“Happy new year to you too, Hunter.” Behind him, he heard the clanging of axes being readied. He and Incaru rose from their seated positions. “Are you ready?”

They both readied themselves: the Hunter’s Solar-infused knife sizzling in his grasp, and Dûl Incaru’s hands crackling with Arc. “Sure I am.”

“Let us begin our dance.” 

Chapter Text

It’s a chat log consisting of a few familiar names. As you see the group chat members, you begin to wonder: how did any of these people coexist in the same chatroom? It's no wonder Ghost seemed a little weirded out forwarding the log to you. 

Eido

Hello world!

Rhulk

This was a mistake.

Nez

No, it wasn't 

Rhulk

How did you even get our numbers anyway. Who is this 

Eido

Uh

Eido

I asked around for some contacts 

Rhulk

That idiot guardian 

Rhulk

Never should have trusted him

nightmare daddy

Oh, if it isn't that young scribe 

Nez

What

nightmare daddy

oh sorry 

Oryx

is that better

Nez

No. It was fine

Nez

but I deserve to be called the REAL nightmare daddy

Rhulk

You all are immature miscreants 

Real Nightmare Daddy

Oh please

Real Nightmare Daddy

As if I haven't heard you whining about not having your perfect blend of coffee in the morning

Rhulk

That is different! We are boyfriends. Only you get to hear this side of me

Oryx

Boys

Oryx

Keep the arguments in the bedroom

Eido

I'm not done inviting everyone yet! 

Savathûn

Hi

Real Nightmare Daddy

If it isn't the Bitch Queen herself

Savathûn

Excuse me 

Savathûn

We have hardly quarreled 

Savathûn

What gives 

Real Nightmare Daddy

You stole my phone to impersonate me and then locked me in a closet 

Savathûn

What

Savathûn

It was a joke

Real Nightmare Daddy

A TERRIBLE ONE

Savathûn

Oh sweetie 

Savathûn

Going to cry?

Oryx

Please don't antagonize them

Rhulk

I apologize but your sister is, politely, a total bitch

Savathûn

You're the ones that can't take a good joke! Laughter is good for the soul 

Real Nightmare Daddy

Sleep with all three eyes open tonight.

Savathûn

What is sleep when I could spend all day playing with you?

Rhulk

I can't catch a break today, can I 

Eido

You can! DM me.

As you finish the excerpt, you begin to wonder…

Such caricatures of the people you've fought and defeated before. You think that you would much rather be beefing with these versions of your enemies. Getting locked in a closet would be much better (and give you a better laugh) than being senselessly slaughtered while trying to take down a god of the Hive.