#Saladin x guardian

[lordshaxxhandler]

Hi, I decided to make a separate series of Lore tabs for my characters and more from my story The Burden of the Light.

Just a little something I can work on between chapters✨

[phantomwarrior12]

Caged Wolf

It isn't often they're granted a respite.

They move from one hell to another, never quite catching that peace they seek. But right now? Right now, Commander Zavala has insisted they take a breather and Empress Caiatl, surprisingly, had agreed.

But Lord Saladin? 

Her Iron Lord thinks his own quarters more like a prison than a haven. 

It's why the Young Wolf is reclining in a massive Cabal chair while she watches Saladin pace to and fro - he looks like a caged wolf. Impatient. A touch aggravated. He doesn't like being still when there's much to be done to deal with the Leviathan.

But enough is enough.

She stands from the large chair, making her way across the room to his side. Arms lock around his waist and he stiffens.

She waits and finally, his hand splays over her own.

"What is it?" His voice holds a degree of concern, a whisper of apprehension.

She squeezes, burying her face against his shoulder blade and Lord Saladin seems to understand.

He heaves a deep sigh, gently disentangling from her before he turns. His fingers hook beneath her chin, tilting it up a fraction to meet her gaze.

"I missed you, too." 

A smile slips into place; an excited, warm, sort of smile that soothes some of the worry in his eyes.

The Guardian’s hand lifts, tracing along armor to the base of his neck. Fingertips ghost over skin until her palm settles against his cheek. 

The Iron Lord leans in then, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and she is all too eager to return it. Her free arm hooks around his neck to pull him closer and both of his arms are bound around her waist, tugging her flush against him.

It's intoxicating. Consuming. Soothing.

All she can touch, all she can feel is her Iron Lord. It's been so long. Too long.

She tries to back him toward the bed and he gives her a chuckle, holding his ground. She huffs a groan of irritation but relents, fixating on the gentle trace of his fingers along her spine. 

Soft kisses give way to lingering brushes until they part to rest only their foreheads against one another.

Words should be exchanged. Something to cement the affection but his embrace is enough. His hands splayed along her back is enough. His face so close to her own, his breath intermingling with her own - this is enough.

It will always be enough. 

Because although caged, he has her.

He will always have her.

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

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros​ @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @florence-and-the-machinegun @orbdotexe

[farmergilesofham]

The Vanguard Swimsuit Fic Part 5: Taming the Wolf

Oh help oh no it's the gruff-- oh hello

Caiatl's flagship was not a quiet place even at the best of times, but thanks to some modular walls and three layers of soundproofing, Saladin's bedchamber was about as quiet as the heart of an Earth forest, or indeed the old hall of Felwinter Peak. The only discernible sound was the low hum of the ship's engines, or rather the vibration of every flat metal surface connected to the walls, ceiling, or floors.

Saladin's bed was little more than a stacked accoutrement of blankets and furs, into which the old wolf could sink after a long day of manoeuvering around the Cabal Empress and her subordinates' laws and customs. It was not particularly difficult work, per se, but his advisory position was physically and mentally draining nonetheless.

At that moment, Forge was stripped down to the waist, working his way through the forms of the various martial arts he had been impressing upon young Cabal warriors over the past three months. They were good, certainly, but their size lended itself to different movements, and such had been the focus of the Iron Lord's teaching this past week. Now, as then, he was slick with sweat, dark skin shining in the orange light of the room's faux-candles as the old warrior slid smoothly into his next stance, low to the ground and ready for grappling. The quiet ping! of his communicator intruded upon the stoic silence, and the low gong of his doorbell shattered it completely.

Sighing, he toweled off his face and strode over to the door, expecting Ta'raun, the latest recruit to request a private lesson in technique. What he did not expect was the squeal of shock from a fellow Guardian, standing a little shorter than him, followed by an entirely unconvincing coughing fit. Once they were done, Saladin could finally take a look at them, and stared with mounting shock at the face of the Young Wolf themselves, cheeks so red they looked like an elseworlds Awoken, barring of course the glowing eyes.

"Uhm. Uh. Er, hummm..." the Guardian's eyes were locked on Saladin's chest, and their hand - clearly unconsciously - began rising to touch his scarred skin. Palm pressed against the Valus' chest, the Young Wolf's voice petered out into nothing, just staring.

By this point, Saladin had regained his composure, and laid a deceptively gentle hand on the Guardian's wrist, pulling their arm away and stepping back. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Guardian?" he rumbled, affecting ignorance of the situation.

It took a moment for the Guardian to realise he had spoken, and another few moments for them to figure out what had been said. Finally, though, they swallowed and stepped in, still blushing furiously, and mumbled something about having more privacy.

Saladin pressed the door's biometric key, locking them in the room.

"Is this private enough, Young Wolf? Now, what do you want?" his voice was like earth moving over stone, or perhaps silk sliding over iron. The Guardian was in no state to decide exactly which.

"Uhm. Well, I wanted to ask... uh, uhm. Well, uhh - can I see what you wear whenever you go swimming in a lake?"

Saladin stood there for a moment, considering. "Is that all?"

"Uhm, no. I've got something to ask as well, but I want to see your bathing suit first..."

Well, what can you do thought the Old Wolf, untying his leather belt and letting the rest of his clothing drop to the floor.

"AHHH NO THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT-!" the Young Wolf's yelp was almost a scream, and their red blush was now so deep it was almost purple, heat rising visibly along the base of their neck as well.

"Are you alright? Your neck-"

"NO MY NECK IS FINE, THANK YOU" hurriedly, the Guardian clapped a hand over their eyes, shielding their vision from the sight of Saladin in naught but his skin. Well, perhaps not so hurriedly, but certainly with a loud slap of hand against face.

Saladin was quite simply confused. One second he's asked to strip down, the next second he's told that's not what they'd meant? Ridiculous. All these New Age guardians, barely approaching 30, and their new-fangled ways of speaking, got on his nerves. One should say what one means, and be done with it.

"You said you wanted to see how I bathe, yes? Well, you don't exactly bathe fully clothed, do you."

From behind covered eyes came the response: "Granted, but I asked for your swimsuit. Not your bare..." they paused a second, swallowing "...body." The Young Wolf was visibly trembling, blushing, and trying very very hard not to look at the Iron Lord before them. Which was somewhat difficult, seeing as they kept peeking between their fingers and lightly yelping. And made even more difficult by the fact that Saladin made no move to cover up, only folding his arms and leaning back against the nearby seat.

"So. Uhm. Would- Hhhh. Let me... let me try again."

"Take your time."

It was was great difficulty that the Slayer of Gods schooled their face to stillness, closing their eyes for the moment it took to let their hand drop and, finally, opened their eyes to look at Saladin. The blush was back in a heartbeat, but at least this time they didn't squeal.

"Right. Would. You. Like. To. Help. Raise. Funds. For. The. Eliskni. Quarter." Every word was bitten off, the syllables exactly enunciated, as their speaker began to sweat with effort.

"What's this got to do with a swimsuit?"

"A Calendar. Photos. Of you. And others. Sold on earth. And NeoMuna."

Saladin sat on the chair he'd been leaning on, considering.

On the one hand, Saladin was not one to disparage attempts at helping humanity's new allies, whatever that attempt may entail. On the other hand, he did not relish the thought of distracting the denizens of the Last Cities with lewd perspectives on their current leaders, especially where this could easily slide into insubordination.

"No."

"What?!" The Guardian sounded genuinely surprised, as if expecting a different answer. The flusterment was mostly gone, now replaced with disbelief, and no small amount of annoyance.

"Saladin, this is for the Eliksni Quarter! You know how well this would sell among Guardians!" they exclaimed, now upset.

"Yes. That's precisely why I won't be doing it."

With an angry huff, the Young Wolf stalked over, flipped the end of a scarf around the Iron Lord's shoulders, and pulled him in for a hard stare.

"Now you listen here, you big naked oaf - these people bloody well need money, and a single photograph in a calendar is bloody well worth the trouble of getting them some! What, you think people'll stop listening to you just because they've seen you naked! Get over yourself!"

All through this tirade, Saladin's face grew ever stormier until at last he cut in:

"You'd have to do one hell of a job to convince me, Young Wolf." He bit off those last words, turning the title of honour into something close to an insult, bringing forth a completely different flush on the Guardian's face.

"Oh I'll bloody well convince you, you- you... argh! Bloody old bastard!"

Pulling hard on the scarf brought both Lightbearers toppling to the floor, right onto the stacked bed-pelts and furred blankets, muffling the next string of insults in the sound of shifting furs.

~~~~~~~

Saladin lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He'd never been wrestled to the ground before, and he'd never been beaten so soundly as to be out of breath. His joints ached, his back hurt, and his legs felt like water. The Young Wolf sat on the room's single chair, massaging their wrists and sipping on a glass of water, looking down at him in triumph.

And triumph it was - distracting though Saladin's lack of clothing had been, it hadn't made any difference in the fight. Point proven, the Guardian simply waited for an answer, staring pointedly at the Old Wolf.

"Hmph. Fine."

"You'll do it?" they instantly brightened up, jumping out of their seat.

"I'll think about it."

It was about as close to an admission as Saladin was willing to get, knowing full well that he was likely being quite unreasonable in his assumptions. Age did not always bely wisdom, as had so very often been proven to the both of them.

"Great! I'll see you there!" the Guardian beamed, face split by a sunny grin, before prancing off to the door, only to be blocked by the biometric lock.

"Allow me." Saladin rolled out of the bedded furs, standing up in a single smooth motion, before making his way over to the Guardian. The tension was palpable, but only for as long as it took for the door to unlock. Then, the Young Wolf stepped out briskly, and set off for the corridor - only to stop suddenly. Turning around, a wicked smile on their face, they whispered:

"Shaxx is bigger than you~"

And sprinted off down the hall before Saladin could make his reply.

"What the f-" he was interrupted, again, but this time by the short ping! of his communicator going off again. Two messages. One from Shaxx, the other from Caiatl.

He opened the one from Shaxx first.

<Make sure Germaine goes to the beach as well> was all it read.

Saladin stood there a long time, not moving until a passing Psion yelped, Sending the image of a midwinter oak. The Valus blinked, turned around, closed his door again, and sat down to think.

xxxxxxxxxx

And that's that for chapter 5!

Goodness gracious, I need to lie down.

That was hella tough to write

See y'all next time!

[calissarowan]

Anagam x Flora

I know you are not familiar with Forest Punk. So either of these: Cottage Core/Goblin Core/ Lagenlook.

A healer but never have the incompatible of healing magic, imagine Seunghyeon Kang from Life of a Quack Healer (if you read the manhwa). Excellent speedster and a fairy animal ranger, a guardian of fairy animals and nature (idea come from Pokémon Ranger)

When you requested this, I already had a Flora x Anagan daughter in the works, so I finished her and put her here, since @lonelybiscuits said they’d want to see her, so it’s two sisters.

This is Bryony Hiedra! I didn’t really understand what the manga you were talking about was, but as far as I can tell, you would like her to be a healer, but with no healing magic. So she’s training as herbal healer with her mom. Which is good, because her sister can get into all kinds of scrapes, so having someone with healing expertise around can be useful.

She’s a witch, the Witch of the Untameable Wild, and she has nature powers like her mother, but far wilder. Her magic is a lot closer to Diana’s in season 4, when she takes over the city with vines. Call it an effect of Anagan’s dark magic. She’s an absolute sweetheart, but people making unpleasant remarks about her family really rubs her the wrong way, and then someone may get hit with a tree.

She has super-speed, and she’s almost as fast as her father, but she prefers her nature magic. Super speed makes her feel a little dizzy. She’s been made one of the new keepers of the Alfea Natural Park, despite being a witch. She showed the best relationship with nature and fairy animals, and so the discriminatory barrier just had to deal with it. (Once her sister had finished yelling about the situation to Faragonda, there wasn’t much choice.)

And here’s her sister! Willow Hiedra! She’s a year younger than Bryony, and she’s got a fierce, loud personality you can hear from space. She’s a fairy, but she’s transformed about three times so far in her life. She’s even faster than her father, and she leans fully into physical combat, so when it came time to head to Magix after her sister, she marched right into Red Fountain and said this was her school, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. The school doesn’t admit girls, but after she owned Codatorta’s best students in combat, they had to rethink that policy. Since then, she’s got her own wind rider, a dragon, and a kickass pair of thorn whips. And she doesn’t wear the uniform, because she has her own clothes, thanks, and she fights better without a massive impractical cape weighing her down.

She’s way too up for a fight, and Bryony’s lost count of the times she’s had to patch her sister up after she underestimated a squad of the best Specialists in school. Anagan and Flora have been to Saladin’s office so many times…

Willow technically has magic, but it takes far more after her father, so she fits in just fine at Red Fountain’s wizard classes. Her only nature magic is thorns. Lots of thorns. She can grow roses, but she’s growing them for the thorns.

Her parents both have legacies, and she’s determined to leave a bigger mark than either of them, and honestly, she’s on her way.

Nobody actually knows what she’s the fairy of, since she doesn’t transform, but she always replies with ‘I’m the Fairy of Mind Your Own Goddamn Business’. Then maybe some…choice words.

Thanks for the request!

[glorious-kt]

O Soldier Mine

Young Wolf snarled as he swung his sword against the training dummy. Anger and frustration bubbled beneath his plating as the dummy fell to the snow, burning at the edges from the Solar embedded in the sword. The Hunter swung the blade once more to cut the rest of the dummy’s base down, shoulders rising and falling with his artificial breathing.

“Your rage makes you oblivious to your surroundings.”

Young Wolf snorted, saying nothing as he turned his helmeted gaze to look at Lord Felwinter who stood in the doorway of the training grounds. The Iron Lord was still, staring him down through the ram-like helmet he wore, the soft sound of the taller Exo’s vents opening and closing being the only indication that the man was alive and not a statue. So much different than his student, Osiris. The warlock had told him nothing of what Felwinter was like besides a short few descriptions. The man was… different than Young Wolf had expected.

“You haven’t seen my rage. You’ve seen my frustration and some mild anger,” Young Wolf signed with one hand, slipping his sword back into place on his back.

“Mmm. It still distracts you,” Felwinter hummed as he stepped forward, arms crossed behind him, helmet tilted in observation.

“…….What do you want,” Young Wolf sighed and he signed his next question, turning to face the Iron Lord, very aware of the type of threat the man represented.

“A proposition for you. I’ll spar you, and if you win, we will leave you to your exile in this castle. If I win… you’ll come with us to learn,” Felwinter offered easily, stretching out his hands in a small gesture.

“And a draw,” Young Wolf asked, shifting on his feet, because he had an idea of how the fight would go just based on what he had been told by Osiris and Lord Saladin.

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Felwinter answered with a very light touch of amusement on his time, a sound that was barely there but just detectable.

Young Wolf was silent. He knew it was selfish to want to ask for a single year of peace before he got to saving the system again, but a part of him desired to be selfish for just once. He didn’t want to be a soldier for someone else’s cause any longer. If beating Felwinter would grant him solace for just a bit longer then fine. He’d beat the man and move on.

“Challenge accepted, Iron Lord Felwinter,” Young Wolf said softly, voice modulator crackling static as he used his voice for the first time since making a Wish with Riven.

If Felwinter was surprised, he didn’t show it, and Young Wolf was grateful for it. The Dark Age was weird about Exo Lightbearers for some reason. For Felwinter, Young Wolf may have been his first encounter with another Risen Exo.

“Then I’ll see you at dawn in the field, Warlord,” Felwinter dipped his head in acceptance, seeming just a bit pleased.

“Guardian. Not Warlord. Never Warlord,” Young Wolf replied viper quick, causing the warlock to pause before nodding and taking his leave.

Young Wolf watched him go and sighed softly. Just a single win and he could take a break from everything. Just for a little while. It would be enough.

——————————-

Anyways I’m writing this series in snippets here and there so I don’t overwork myself since it’s a big one! Who loves time travel and YW x O14? I know I do!

You have questions? Ask them!

You have suggestions? Give them!

Wanna know about our YW here? Ask me!

Oh by the way @hidden-scarlet-whispers a snippet for ya

[hidden-scarlet-whispers]

I cannot stress enough the fact that I have read every published piece of o14, o14 x Guardian, o14 x Saladin, o14 x shaxx, o14 x Crow there IS on AO3 ughhhhhhgg I'm starving 😭😭

[thefangirlthatwaited]

Encounter (Chapter 169) - A Destiny Universe Story

Crow x Guardian

“ENOUGH!” I roared, my voice echoing through the cavern. The Witness chuckled but remained quiet.

“Ruby,” Stell whispered.

“I’m fine... Let’s keep going.” A few more winding corridors and we came across Crow’s Iron War Axe. I hadn’t seen this since Saladin gave it to Crow when he left with Caiatl.

“Crow believes he is resisting temptation, as do you. That material, is immaterial. Only purpose can cure his heart, and he believes his capacity for pain is that purpose. It is why he subjects himself so completely to your Traveler. This belief was taught. Conditioned into you. It can be unlearned.”

My fist collided with the stone axe, void energy radiating with my anger. “Crow would never agree to anything you offer.”

“Ruby?” My head snapped up when I heard Crow’s voice echoing from the next room.

I discovered Crow, his gaze fixed on the veiled statues, unaware of my approach. “Crow? Crow—”

He turned, holding his hand up to silence me. “Quiet. Listen.” 

I looked up at the Veiled Statue and heard unintelligible whispers.

“I’ve seen these veiled statues before. You have, too. It’s whispering something, but I can’t quite make it out.”

I went to say something, but Glint materialized out of my bag and got there first. “Stop listening to it!”

Crow glared at his ghost. “I told you to wait outside. This place is... I don’t know what kind of effect it’s going to have on you.”

“I don’t care. You don’t get to make those decisions for me. We’re supposed to be a team. Guardian and Ghost. That’s how the Traveler made us.”

Crow held out his hand and let Glint come to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever leave me behind again. Promise.”

“I promise.” Glint disappeared into Crow’s bag before he turned to me. Stell dematerialized my helmet, and the moment Crow saw my face, he opened his arms, and I ran to him.

“Ruby,” He grunted as I ran into him at full speed. After so many months apart, being in his arms made me feel like we already won. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” I mumbled into his chest as he held me close.

“I won’t.” Crow pulled out of the hug before kissing me. “I did tell you that you’d find me.” He teased me.

“I’m glad I did.” It felt like an eternity since we last kissed, and I wasn’t ready to pull away, but Stell appearing beside me reminded me we weren’t alone.

“Let’s set up camp outside. Cayde’s not far.”

Crow groaned and backed away from me. “Of course, he isn’t. Tell me you got the drop on him, at least?”

Stell chuckled. “You and Ruby both need better boots.”

Full Chapter on Ao3

[flowers-of-io]

2022 fic summary

January - Come in Time, chapter 8: Junction

“How did you end up here?” Tevis mocks his tone, still examining the flower.

“We’ve traced an object. A divinity.”

“You’ve come to the Black Garden to loot it?”

February - X

March - thoughts of alpha lupi

Could they even hear you, now, above the din of battle and roars of the Hive they tear down on their path to your dwelling place? It’s all smoke and gunfire, fumes covering the sky and keeping you from them, Light cracking like a mirror and covering the ground in splinters. Your child falls down to the ground. Your child stands victorious.

April - Prince of the Mountain

“I can’t imagine Saladin making this entire climb every time,” Glint twisted in the air to shake some of the snow off, like a dog after a bath. “There must be some easier way up.”

“Maybe this was supposed to be yet another test,” Crow gave a small smile as he glanced down at the datapad with the coordinates Saladin had given him. They were approaching the middle of the bridge and the Iron Temple towered above them like a silent watcher.

May - We Meet at the Point of Tension

The Witness flinches. They know what she is trying to do. Resonant hands lunge forward, locking her wrists in an iron grip.

—-You will not take him from us.-—

June - Small Knives

“A fair question to ask, Princess,” he mirrored the inquisitive tilt of her head, somewhat mockingly, “So tell me, if you were a foreign assassin from far away sent to dispose of the Osmium King, why would you do this?”

The girl mindlessly dug a pattern in the dirt with her foot, thinking. Rhulk watched her glimmering eyes and frowned brow, and when her silence began to bore him, he prodded,

“Would you not like to claim his power?”

July - The Aftermath

“Come to my ship tomorrow,” she says; Zavala looks at her and finds her gaze soft, wandering across his face as if she were memorising it, “and I will teach you to celebrate. As you said, this is not a failure, after all.”

August - Who Are You?

My mind strains from maintaining the illusion. How much easier it is to call upon the Deep, with runes and chants to buoy you, the Tablets like stepping stones under your feet; here, in this white silence, I float unmoored without direction.

September - X

October - The Rule of Absorption

“The Whisper Queen.”

Eris whirred around with the snap of an unsheathed knife, and the full weight of her body pressed Toland against the tunnel wall as the blade kissed the translucent-pale skin of his throat.

“Never call me that again,” she said in a low hiss.

November - Orbits

They run away from the chaos of the Scorn-flooded Reef (my fault, Variks finds himself thinking, my fault) and hide on Nessus, because it is quiet, because the Dusk forces there are scattered and barely motivated to fight for anything other than food. Seven of them sneak up to Variks’ camp and join him on the first night.

Time passes. Somewhere up there, in the evening sky, Petra is hunting the Barons.

December - Moonglow

"Two years," he says; there is some tightness in his voice, one the Guardian isn't fully certain how to interpret. "Since we were camping here, remember?"

[judgedreddthelaw]

Black Female Warlock Guardian x Shiro-4 (18+)

The Lost Part 2-A

*Note: I figured to make it easier for dialogue reasons you will have PURPLE dialogue, Shiro will have ORANGE dialogue and your new friend will have BLUE dialogue

Some people dressed in their normal everyday gear, some in regular people clothes, you were actually surprised on how many guardians were here. There some upstairs were Lord Saladin comes by when we do the events. You look to Shiro asking him what he would like to do, “How about some drinks. I’ll get us some for you taking care of me, I want to repay it back…….. it might be a bit there’s a small line, will you be alright?”…….. “Yeah, I’ll be fine Shiro, I think I’m going to stand over here, by the postmasters station, I’ll wait for you.”…. “What do you want to drink?”…… “Something strong.”………(in a slightly and I mean very slight hint of a flirty tone)“If my lady commands, she gets.” …….(you giggle and shake your head and in a amused tone) “Just go get the drinks.”…….he simply nods his head and walks towards the bar. You can’t help but as we walks away, god damn that ass of his…..is nice. The shirt you gave him just slightly baggie it honestly looks good on him too. You snap out of, stopping yourself from having these thoughts about your BEST FRIEND. It’s been about a good 8 minutes of you standing and waiting for Shiro to come back with drinks. You’re getting a bit bored waiting to be honest. That stops when a guy comes over to you. “Hey, I saw you standing here by yourself, you with anyone?” You somewhat weren’t paying attention to his face didn’t make eye contact when he walked over to you, you go to speak and look at him and kind of stop in awe. He was kinda hot, a bit tall and an Exo, that was a bonus for you because honestly you definitely MAINLY have a thing for Exos. Unlike your ex he was Awoken, he was attractive of course but relationships don’t work when you can’t get along. You were looking at him intriguingly, “Umm yeah I’m with a friend.” You shyly look down and blush a bit before he speaks again. “Ahhh, just a friend? Girl or guy?”…… “Yes, just a friend, and guy.”…..he nods his head “You hunter?”…. “No, warlock.”…… “Wouldn’t guess that you seem more of a hunter to me, I’m titan loud and proud.”……. “I can tell (you smirk), I do hangout with hunters though. Cayde-6 is……..was my best friend.”……….. “I’m sorry……he was a great guy to everyone……he even helped me out once and I’m a titan. It’s funny considering how he feels about us titans…………..you were “really close? In that way”?” ……….. “Oh no! He was just my best friend, I ,mean yeah he had a charm to him but I did not have feelings for him he was like my cousin. That would have been way too weird. You know what I mean?”……..(he chuckles at that) (oh no that was a dangerously adorable laugh)…….Maybe this can be okay you thought, speaking of having inappropriate thoughts about your friend, you think you need to move on from those feelings after all he doesn’t feel the same. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”………. He looks at you down then up again and his optics brighten a little like his eyes went wide for a bit. You definitely notice that and that feeling in your face comes again and you look down being very shy. “Why do you do that?”………. “Huh?” You look at him confused ………… “I said why do you do that?”……….. “Do what?” (You look down and away again) “That, why do you look away all the time?”…… “I don’t know I’m just a shy person I guess.”………… “A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be looking down like that, everyone deserves to see how beautiful you are.” ………. (You bashfully cover your face and giggle like a school girl)……. “Not gonna lie that’s pretty fucking adorable.”…………. He gets a little closer to you seeing if you’re okay with it. (You look at him and lightly bite your lip) He definitely liked that and it was obvious ho looked as if he was breathing a little heavy.

“Wow……wow…….wow…..I told myself not to just dive in but damn.” You definitely caught what he meant and you were wanting what he was suggesting. You looked him up and down and definitely liked what you saw his body was a little thicker than Shiros, from what you could tell ho wore a (metal band) shirt and it was a famous Exo band that you listen too as well (or whatever musician you decide if you don’t like metal), with black boots, with grey looking cargo pants overall the outfit actually looked good and he looked good. Yeah he’s definitely my type 150%. “You listen to _____ as well I see, I listened to the recent recording and it’s fantastic.” He looks at you astonished that you even like the same genre, you hit all of the points on his list of what he wanted, “Holy shit, never would’ve pegged you for that taste you surprised me. Beautiful and has good taste in music, my, my, where were you all my life?”……… “What can I say I’m full of surprises.”……… “Oh, that you are. I never got your name, mine is Eric-8.” ……… “Hi Eric, it’s wonderful to meet you. My name is Y/n.” ……… “I’ll remember it forever.” You look at him smiling wide, he can’t help but look at you all over again while sipping his exo drink, you noticed that his hand while he was drinking shook a little like he got nervous all of a sudden.

[lordshaxxhandler]

It’s officially here! The return of The Burden of The Light! Please enjoy the rewritten and retelling of my own world of Destiny. I am so excited to share!

MASTER POST

Character Bio’s below

Name: Thera Wylie

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Green

Hair: Dark Brown

Height: 5’10

Race: Human

Class: Lightless Civilian, Amanda’s right hand/assistant ops coordinator for the vanguard.

Love Interest: Lord Shaxx

Best friend: Amanda Holiday

Personality: Fun, outgoing, fearless, confidant, & girly.

Fun fact. Thera has an Exo arm starting from her elbow.

…

Name: Celeste

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Gold/Yellow

Hair: Snow White

Height: 5’5

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghost Name: Astral (Female)

Coms code name: Cityhawk 723

Best Friend: Ikora, Behemoth-29, Siph, & anyone willing to get to know her.

Love Interest: Lord Saladin

Personality: Kind, caring to the point of worrying about others before herself, & confident almost ignorantly. A bit pretentious.

…

Name: Behemoth-29

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: white

Height: 6’6

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Flare (Female)

Best friend: Siph & Celeste

Personality: doesn’t talk hardly at all unless necessary, Very intimidating but intentional and not, protective of his fireteam and friends, hides in the shadows and keeps to himself.

…

Name: Siph

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Spector (male)

Best friend: Behemoth-29

Personality: Friendly, funny but intimidating, focused to complete every mission perfectly, extremely protective of fireteam members.

…

Name: Momo-7

Pronouns: she/her

Eyes: pink

Height: 5’7

Race: Exo

Class: Hunter

Ghosts Name: Usagi (male)

Love interest: Uzec

Best friend: Sage & Usagi

Personality: fun, bubbly, kind. A crucible star, her name is well known in the community of the Last City. She has a large fan base and even does some PR for the Vanguard on occasion.

…

Name: Uzec

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Orange

Height: 6’3

Race: Awoken

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: Azami (female)

Love Interest: Momo-7

Personality: Extremely outgoing, pretentious, sees himself above others, friendly, nice, possessive and materialistic.

…

Name: Sage

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Orange

Height: 5’9

Race: Awoken

Class: Warlock

Ghosts Name: Lavender

Best friend: Momo-7

Personality: Sweet, loves to study rocks, crystals and bones. She has some Ahamkara bones she likes to listen to on occasion. Finds different materials in the wilds that she believes can help heal and send you into different worlds.

…

Name: Buck-2

Pronouns: He/Him

Eyes: Blue

Height: 6’0

Race: exo

Class: Titan

Ghosts Name: June Bug (female)

Good friends: June Bug, Devrim, Marc, & Hawthorn.

Personality: Friendly but intimidating, don’t touch his things, loves his animals and his homestead, prefers the rogue lightbarer life than the city life.

…

(More to come…)

Check out this link to learn about these characters lore

…

Lord Shaxx & his Ghost Moxie

Since the helmet always stays on, for written and story purposes. This is my idea of how Lord Shaxx could look. So, for this fic, this is Lord Shaxx, but feel free to imagine him any way you’d like. This is just my version or idea. Also since there is no cannon name, shell or personality for his ghost, I created one for better story flow. Please meet Moxie, a sassy ghost who isn’t afraid to match her Guardians energy.

[phantomwarrior12]

Back In Time

That's…not metal under her hip.

The Guardian slowly lifts her head even as it begins to throb.

Ghost?

The heel of her hand digs into the stone beneath her as she pushes to an upright position.

"Guardian! Are you alright?" Ghost transmats beside her, his shell separating and mending a gash in her leg she hadn't even felt yet. The headache ebbs beneath Light and she pats his shell affectionately.

"Where are we?" He asks cautiously as she stands, beginning to investigate.

She doesn't recognize the room until she stops beside a large carving in the wall.

Wolves–

"The Iron Temple," she manages, "but…it looks different."

"That portal could have sent us anywhere in time. We should get out of here before we're discovered."

"We need to get back–"

"The spear's power is depleted. We can't re-open the portal yet."

The Guardian starts to protest until she hears footsteps approaching. She secures the spear along her back and darts to the wall for cover.

An Iron Lord she doesn't recognize steps inside the room, making their way to the center. While their back is turned, the Guardian darts for the door. The Iron Lord turns at the sound of her footsteps but luckily, only catches a glimpse before she's out of sight.

They call for aid and she runs, managing to evade any other contact until she's nearly to the exit.

The doors begin to close, her eyes dart over her shoulder and she catches a bullet to her shoulder. She hurls herself through the opening just before the doors slam shut.

"Get up! Get up! Get up!" Ghost urges as she stumbles onto her feet and takes off toward the mountainside. Getting down is harder than she'd like, but she can't afford to stop and let Ghost heal her.

They're in danger until they're off this mountain.

And when they finally do make it into the forest below, there is the sound of gunfire and screaming.

The Hunter manages to find enough cover for Ghost to work and the instant he transmats, she's on her feet and charging through brush. They need somewhere safe, somewhere–

The shot sounds somewhere to her left and she trips, tucking and rolling down a small slope until she hits flattened ground. She shakes her head, sitting up only to realize she's just beyond a clearing.

Through the brush, there's a Titan fighting for his life and–

“Look! There’s Shaxx! Maybe he can–” Ghost jerks back as the Guardian reels. “He’s…disemboweling someone.”

The Young Wolf shakes her head, willing away the panic mounting in her chest. She leans forward a fraction, watching her Warlord drop the body before straightening up. His helmet turns toward her and she stifles a gasp.

“He knows we’re here!” Ghost starts to tremble a little and she snatches him out of the air, tucking him close against her chest.

She doesn’t dare take her eyes off Shaxx. She can’t even breathe. Her heart is pounding in her ears and there is a nagging sense of terror in the back of her mind that is only kept at bay by the firm hold she has on her Little Light.

Shaxx takes a step toward the foliage but a Warlock comes tearing into the clearing, rambling off an alert about another Warlord in the area and Shaxx takes off with her.

The Young Wolf releases her Ghost and sits back on her heels, taking deep breaths to steady her racing heart.

“...if he’s…then, we’re–” Ghost’s shell rotates rapidly, his eyes darting.

“In the Dark Ages,” she finishes for him, laying back with a soft huff.

“What do we do?”

She doesn’t even know where to begin. Her head is spinning. She’s never seen Shaxx so…crude and violent. She’s never bore witness to his brutality - the very same he’d told her of in the nights they spent in the Tower.

“We…can’t let him find us.” She slowly sits up, “Osiris has mentioned time travel…paradoxes, the like.” She strains to remember the relevant information that went right over her head during that six hour lecture. “We’ll have to find our way home on our own.”

“Well, Saladin is alive…maybe even Zavala? We could ask them?”

“And risk the future?”

“There won’t be a future if we don’t get back, Guardian! They’re counting on us to finish off that Vex!” He floats closer, “It…might be safest for us to ask for help instead of barging into the Iron Temple after we find a power source.”

That’s where this began. Saladin was away with the Cabal. The Vex - Traveler only knows why they chose the stronghold for this but Ghost is right. They need to get inside, the portal will activate when the relic - the relic!

She casts about, frantically searching for the spear.

“There!” Ghost darts forward and she follows his gaze.

It’s lying in the clearing in front of them. How Shaxx missed it, she doesn’t know but she is grateful for one small mercy today.

The Guardian pushes herself up to her feet, scanning the clearing before she steps out and darts to the relic. No more than a moment after she’s picked it up, she’s sent flying against the large tree behind her and it drops from her hand. The collision knocks the air from her lungs and she is barely able to lift her head to see her Warlord striding toward her.

“He’s back!” Ghost transmats away quickly.

The Guardian narrowly makes it to her knees, her eyes dropping to the spear and she lunges for it. Shaxx counters her advance and drives her a few steps back.

She doesn't have time for this.

Her hands ball into fists and she moves in to attack, anything to get around him and get the spear. Shaxx has little difficulty blocking and the instant he finds an opening, his fist collides with her chest plate, sending her hurtling back.

Somehow she gets her footing and avoids tumbling. That's when the pain registers. A quick glance down reveals a sizeable dent in her chestplate from his fist. Her ribs ache and she chokes out a cough as she struggles up to her feet.

He’s on her in an instant, slamming her back against the tree by her throat and she lets out a strangled cry. Her vision is already blurred by the concussion he’s no doubt given her, but she watches in horror as he stoops, snatching up the spear.

She reaches out, he holds the relic out of her reach and adds pressure to her throat. Her fingers tear at his gloves, the sharp prick of his talon drawing blood around her neck. She can’t breathe, she can't–

“Warlord Shaxx!”

His focus is broken and his hold eases. The Guardian gasps for breath, lungs burning in protest from the lack of air. Her boot slams against his knee, throwing him off balance enough for her to break his hold but she lacks the strength to do more than scramble a few feet away before her strength gives. She hits the ground, chest heaving as she barely braces herself on her elbows.

Through it all, her eyes lock on his visor from beneath her helmet. Shaxx has risen once more, grasping the spear firmly in one hand before he pivots to look toward the source of the voice.

It’s…Saladin.

Thank the Traveler. This will save her the trouble of tracking him down but her most pressing issue is avoiding Shaxx’s wrath now.

She can’t make out what’s being said, her head is spinning and she doesn’t dare call upon her Ghost. Her head drops for an instant, she shakes it, trying to chase away the fog over her mind and then she feels a hand on her shoulder. She bolts back out of instinct, her blade in her hand and it’s only after her wrist is seized that she realizes it’s Lord Saladin.

“Easy, Hunter.” His voice cuts through the haze.

She blinks rapidly, willing her vision to clear.

“Careful, Saladin,” Shaxx warns over his shoulder.

“She doesn’t bear his sigil. It’s closer to yours actually,” the Iron Lord retorts evenly, taking the blade from her hand but she offers no protests.

In fact, she drops back down onto the soft grass beneath her, closing her eyes for a moment.

“You’re safe. Your Ghost can–”

Ghost wastes no time in transmatting in, mending her body and when she opens her eyes, she can see clearly again. She’s slow to get her elbows beneath her, a faint twinge lingering in the nerves along her neck from Shaxx’s claws.

She gives an appreciative nod to Saladin as she sits back on her heels. Over his shoulder, Shaxx brandishes the spear before inspecting it. She starts to push up to her feet but Saladin grips her arm, keeping her there.

“Not so fast. We need an explanation from you."

She looks between them quickly and then to her Ghost. He tilts forward in a show of encouragement. The Guardian nods finally, sitting back on her heels and forces herself to relax a fraction.

“There was a surge of energy on Felwinter’s Peak. You know anything about that?”

She nods.

“Your armor matches the description we were given. You were spotted stumbling out of there, is that right?”

She nods again.

“Use your words, Hunter.” Shaxx orders sharply and it takes all she has not to flinch.

He’s never used that tone with her. She’s heard it before but never-never been on the receiving end of it.

“She doesn’t–” Her Ghost starts but Saladin holds up a hand to silence him.

“Tell us.” He urges and the Guardian’s hands clench into fists in her lap.

“I can’t reveal much.” She begins, squaring her shoulders as her head lifts. “The power surge in the Temple was…a time portal opening.”

Shaxx steps closer, “A portal? From where?”

“A few hundred years from now.” She looks up at him. His domineering presence has faltered, replaced with that curiosity she loves so much. “The weapon you hold is from an enemy you have yet to encounter.”

He looks down at the spear.

“And what brought you here?”

“I was fighting it. It was losing.” She repositions, tucking one leg beneath the other, her arm planted on her knee. “It opened a portal, threw me through it. I woke up here.”

Saladin exchanges a look with Shaxx before speaking. “This enemy…what are they called?”

“I can’t answer that. Doing so would offset the timeline and–” her voice falters as her gaze shifts to Shaxx, “Irreparable damage could occur.”

“Why did you flee the Temple?” Saladin stands.

She slowly gets to her feet, aware of Shaxx’s stance change - he’s on the defense now.

“I needed to get my bearings. Find out where and when I was sent to. We were going to seek you out when–” She doesn’t dare look over at Shaxx.

“When you encountered Warlord Shaxx.” Saladin snorts softly, shaking his head.

She nods in confirmation.

Shaxx takes a step closer, she jerks back a step, prepared for a fight but his head tilts and she knows it better than anyone - not a threat, just curious.

“I should apologize for…” he nods to the tree and then back to her, “I mistook you for an enemy.”

She tries a shrug, tries to ignore the subtle pang in her chest. “Honest mistake,” she manages softly, holding her hand out for the spear.

“We’ll hold onto this,” Saladin cuts in.

Her eyes dart to him and she’s sure they both can read the flash of indignance in her stance. Her shoulders drew back, her chin lifted and her spine straightened. Saladin does hand over her knife though, as it were an acceptable substitute for the spear.

“We just need to get home,” Ghost tries to argue but the Iron Lord shakes his head.

“You understand why we can’t just hand you something like this. Not without checking out your story.”

“With all due respect, Lord Saladin,” the Guardian’s tone is sharp, irritated even, “There is no way for you to corroborate this. You can escort us back to the Iron Temple and see for yourself but I can’t afford to wait here long.”

Shaxx steps closer. This time it’s menacing, meant to intimidate but she has been on the receiving end of that in every sparring match. She usually diffuses it with a hug but she doesn’t dare touch him now.

“You’re in no position to make demands, Hunter.”

She squares herself to him, “And I don’t have the time to beg, Lord Shaxx.”

Ghost’s panicked whir sounds in the back of her mind but she doesn’t back away.

Shaxx’s helmet tilts, his frame leaning down a fraction - he’s going to strike if there’s another provocation.

“That’s enough.” Saladin steps between them, his back to Shaxx as he meets her gaze. “We’ll take you back to Shaxx’s fortress for now and decide what to do from there.”

Her jaw clenches, gaze flickering to her Ghost who bobs forward.

“I think that’s the best we’re going to get for now,” he says softly.

Finally, she nods and her Ghost transmats away.

She slides her blade back into its sheath and Saladin nods approvingly. Shaxx hands the spear off before stepping beside her and gripping her arm to escort her.

His touch was always so gentle but this? It’s harsh, forceful. She doesn’t like it but she can’t exactly protest at the moment. Instead, she tries to focus on his presence. It’s still…aggressive, menacing, and overwhelmingly dark but she is pleased to know some part of him - the part she knows in the future - is in there even now.

The three of them walk in silence for a time. Saladin up ahead and Shaxx at her side. At some point, he releases her arm and lets her walk on her own. But the silence between them? Suffocating. Intolerable. Not at all like it would be in the future.

She needs to stop thinking like that - like this is her Shaxx. This is the monster he told her of, the part of him he regrets the most.

“You’re staring…again.” Shaxx bites out lowly.

She stiffens, diverting her gaze.

“Why?” He presses abruptly.

She could tell him she knows him…quite intimately in the future. She could explain how much they mean to one another. But would it change things? When she beats the Gatekeeper, when she returns to the Tower, would things between them be the same as she left them? Could telling him, reminding him of what is in essence, their present, would that change future Shaxx? The armor she bears will be the same he’ll see her in when they next meet, so he'll know.

His grip is back on her arm and he jerks her to a halt, turning her to face him.

“Answer me.” He orders sharply.

“I know you…in my time.” She manages softly.

“Do you?” His head tilts, some of the irritation ebbing from his voice. His head tilts down as if he were taking in her form, “It would explain the armor’s likeness to my sigil…and it is a relief to hear I live that long.”

She smiles slightly, fighting the urge to step closer. “You, Saladin…Zavala. All of you.”

His head lifts a fraction before he looks toward the Iron Lord up ahead, “Come on.” His grip is a touch gentler than it had been as they continue up the path. “What’s the future like?”

She hesitates, angling her head away slightly to note the scenery. When she doesn’t answer, Shaxx seems to understand the reason behind her reluctance and falls silent. Hours tick by before they reach the fortress and it doesn’t reassure her that they’ll make it back to the Iron Temple quickly.

When they step through the gates, Shaxx reclaims his hold on her arm, keeping her at his side. She tries not to think too much about it, taking in the fortress in its…functional grandeur?

It doesn’t compare to the City but that doesn’t come to fruition for some time yet. Still, she catches herself almost leaning into the Warlord as they walk. His presence and temperament may not be the same, but his Light? Well, that’s not the same either but she has to hold on to something.

She’s led to a larger cottage in the center of the fortress - presumably Shaxx’s home. At least they’re not tossing her in a cell or something similar…unless Shaxx has one of those? He never mentioned a prison cell in his home, but he very well could have been keeping it to himself.

She’s so lost in thought, she’s startled by a loud clatter of swords to her right. The Guardian jerks, pressing close to Shaxx out of instinct, her free hand firmly grasping the fabric of his sleeve.

He stops. The weight of his gaze is locked on her but she doesn’t dare look up now. She should let go of his arm, but again, uncertainty grips her and she just stands there, clinging to him as her head lowers.

“Are you so easily frightened you’d cling to your captor?” Shaxx sounds…almost amused, actually. But there’s also a twinge of disapproval. How very like him.

And there goes her dignity.

She lifts her head, looking up at him. She doesn’t exactly have a defense that doesn’t involve a “I’m in love with you in the future and therefore, feel safest in your arms so shut up”. So, she just releases his arm and tries to start walking forward again without offering anything but he tugs her back.

“You’re very selective with your words.”

She tilts her head, silently prodding him to continue.

“Either all or nothing, I see.” His head lowers and she almost shies away, heat rising in her cheeks. “I wonder how I haven’t broken you of it in the future.”

Fuck.

“You’ve tried. I’m very persistent.” She clears her throat, looking toward the Iron Lord stepping inside the cottage, “Saladin is–”

“Not going to save you this time. You’re going to answer my questions or–”

She snorts, leaning her helmet against his chest and closes her eyes. She prepares herself for a blow, something but the Warlord is…stunned.

“Are you so easily flustered you’d hold your captive, Lord Shaxx?” She asks with a degree of smugness and Shaxx shoves her away in the direction of the cottage.

He’s mad now. Good. He’s off-balance when angry.

They step inside, he pushes her toward the back room and there is a wall of chains there. So, he did have a torture room. Intriguing but unfortunate for her.

She could fight him but there isn’t a chance in hell she would escape unscathed with him and Saladin already on high alert. So, she cooperates. She allows the Warlord to bind her but it’s no more than her wrists. It’s a small mercy, but she’ll take it.

It’s been a day, after all.

Saladin lingers by the door, still inspecting the spear, “Are those necessary?”

“Unless you’d care to keep watch?” Shaxx’s tone betrays his irritation and Saladin looks less than pleased.

The Iron Lord steps closer to her as she leans back against the wall, her bound wrists resting in her lap. “I will speak with the others and discuss this…development. In the meantime, you’ll remain here under Shaxx’s watchful eye. I’ll return in the morning with our answer. I wouldn’t advise any escape attempts.”

She snorts, holding up her wrists half-heartedly and gestures for him to leave. Shaxx nudges her leg with his boot in a silent reprimanding but she doesn’t particularly care.

He frightened her in the clearing but now? Now he’s just Shaxx. Her Titan, albeit darker but it’s still him. He can still be flustered so he can be diffused. She’s not worried now but judging by Saladin’s wary look between the two of them, perhaps she should be.

The Titans step out a minute later, the door slams shut and she’s left in both darkness and silence. Ghost remains hidden, it’s the wisest course of action - in case Shaxx does somehow go off the deep end and try to kill him.

She sits and listens for a time. It’s clear Saladin has already departed but it’s unclear whether Shaxx is or is not in the house. So, she settles in, tries to make herself at least somewhat comfortable.

Eventually, her eyes droop shut and she drifts off into a light sleep for a while.

The next time she opens her eyes, the door is being dragged open and there’s this horrible shrill groan of the hinges.

She can make out Shaxx’s horns just before he’s kneeling in front of her.

“Drink,” he lifts her hands, pressing a cold metal cup into them.

It takes a moment for the sleepy daze to ebb but when it does, Shaxx has grown impatient and tugs her hood back. His hands move to the base of her helmet and out of instinct, she grips his wrist to stop him.

It’s too dark in the cell to see much but from the light cast from the door, she watches his shoulders draw back indignantly.

“You intend to drink that without removing your helmet?” His tone is sharp, irritated even.

She shakes her head.

“Then,” he nods to where she’s holding onto his wrist.

A moment’s hesitation before her hand releases his wrist and he unseals her helmet, setting it aside.

“Hm, Awoken. Seems the Light found its way to even your kind.” He remarks, straightening to his full height as she cautiously eyes him. “Drink. I haven’t the time for you to sit idle.” She snorts but does as he orders, downing the cup almost too quickly. Her throat is dry and yet, she holds the cup back out for him to take. He snatches the cup from her hands and turns to leave.

“Shaxx–”

He stills, his head angling toward her but makes no move to turn back.

“...any word from Saladin?” She asks hesitantly.

“No. He’ll have only just made it back to Felwinter’s Peak. Have patience.”

She hasn’t the time for patience. Time is one thing she can’t afford to waste.

The Young Wolf manages a nod yet the Warlord lingers. She has a sense he has a question - one she won't relish answering.

"You've made it clear you cannot reveal our future," Shaxx pivots, the dim light of the hall casting along his helmet.

He stands tall; proud, a culmination of confidence and strength.

She has always loved that about him.

"Your eyes," he takes a half step closer, her focus on his helmet visor. "There's no resentment there. No anger. In fact," another step and he's crouching before her. He reaches out, gripping her chin gently. "Your eyes are filled with warmth. Why?"

She was dreading this question.

"...we're close, in my time." She whispers, his grip harshens as he leans in.

"Try again. The truth, this time."

She swallows, hands balling into fists around her pant legs before she can find her voice.

"We're…partners. We live together. Sleep beside one another - in my time, Shaxx? You are all I have." She manages, a knot forming in her throat as her Warlord studies her intently.

His fingers ease, his thumb brushing over her chin before he withdraws. He doesn't utter a word as he rises, heading for the door.

"Shaxx–"

He stills at the threshold.

She isn't sure what to say, just that she wanted him to stay a moment longer. He looks over his shoulder at her and she wonders if he can see the mild panic in her eyes.

She wonders how this Warlord could ever become the one she loves.

Then Shaxx departs, that shrill groan of the hinges stirring something truly unpleasant in her chest. The instant his steps are indiscernible, the Guardian pushes aside the storm of emotion and shifts up to her knees, scanning through the darkened room.

Ghost materializes beside her, “He realizes you could transmat out of here, right?”

“I imagine he has precautions against that, Ghost.” She tests the restraints; they’re irritatingly tight and well-secured to the wall. Her gaze flits toward the door.

There is no window. What kind of cell has no window?

Well…Shaxx’s evidently.

She has half a mind to chastise him if they return home. Dark Age Shaxx is an insufferable prick and she’d like nothing more than to lay into him.

But again, she doesn’t have the time.

She works a small band of metal from her belt and sets about picking the locks on her cuffs. It’s slow going and incredibly uncomfortable given the angle she has to wrench her wrist to make it work but in the end, she’s met with that satisfying click and she carefully lowers them against the wall to avoid any loud clatter.

She stoops to snatch up her helmet, securing it back in place with a relieved huff.

Next, to get out of this room.

The Young Wolf steps up to the door, testing the knob cautiously. She gestures Ghost closer to the knob and she can make out the other side of the lock.

Something else she can pick.

She crouches down, easing the band of metal inside the lock and carefully sets about her task. Through it all, she strains to listen for the Warlord’s return but when it’s clear he won’t venture near his would-be dungeon, she’s confident enough to click the last mechanism. She remembers the shrill hinges and hesitates, eyeing them thoughtfully for a moment before gathering a cool whisper of Stasis in her hand. If this doesn't work, Shaxx will be on her in an instant but she has to try something. She presses her palm near the hinges, ice beginning to gather along the metal and hopefully, lubricate them enough to prevent any noise. Stasis is, afterall, not just ice.

She does the same to the other two hinges before bracing herself and carefully opening the door. Inch by inch she holds her breath, focus fixated on the hinges until the door is open just far enough to allow her to slip out while Ghost transmats away.

It’s nightfall.

Shaxx waited hours to rouse her with water.

Bastard.

The Guardian scans the hall cautiously before chancing a step forward to get a better glimpse of the front portion of the house.

The front door is far too risky. She’d noticed his study on the way in - if she leaves through the front door, she’ll be spotted in an instant.

She carefully eases back toward the rear end of the house, eyes flitting and darting for any movement until her hand finds the wall. She dares to take her eyes off the hall to scan the space before she spots light filtering through around the corner. The soft moonlight reflects off a sword lodged…in the wall.

She doesn’t want to think about why it’s there but she does move toward it. Thank the Traveler, there is a door just beyond it but - it’s within eyesight of what might be his armory. She peers in and curses in the confines of her own mind; Shaxx is in there.

Perhaps the front door is still plausible?

She slips back into the main hall, turning her back toward the front door to eye the back hall. She can’t go invis right now, he’d hear it but if she doesn’t get creative–

The floorboards squeak behind her and her entire frame goes rigid.

There’s a clatter of something metal meeting the wall and she barely contains her cry of surprise.

For once in your life, ignore it, Shaxx! Please–

She’s frozen in place, eyes locked on that back hall. She doesn’t hear any movement, no call, no grate of metal over wood. Silence. Perfect silence.

But that means he’s listening now, straining to hear any movement in his house and she doesn’t dare take a step.

There’s a Sentinel shield that bounces around the corner in that instant, hurdling toward her and she has no choice. She darts to the side, tucking and rolling and colliding with a bench in the hall.

That she knew he heard.

Fuck!

The Guardian makes a break for the front door. She isn’t prepared when Shaxx barrels into her from the corner off to her left, slamming her against the hall wall and pins her there by her throat.

How did he get in front of her?!

“Going somewhere?” She can hear the anger in his voice but there’s something else there, too. Effort.

He’s…restraining himself. No doubt from killing her and she’s about to test his resolve.

This isn’t the first time Shaxx has pinned her. In the clearing, she was still wounded. She wasn’t at full strength but here? Here she can put up a fight.

She recalls a move she used on him not long ago in the Crucible. He really does like using his size to his advantage and that much hasn’t changed in two hundred years.

Her hand clamps around his wrist as her other arm swings upright and slams down against his forearm. He growls in pain and it gives her enough of a chance to slam her boot into his knee - he was expecting that blow. He doesn’t even waiver.

He hoists her up into the air, beginning to cut off her airway but she brace her feet against the wall. She narrowly gets a chance to swing again at his arm but this time-this time she pushes off the wall as she strikes.

Shaxx is thrown off balance and his hold falters. She wrenches his hand from her throat, his claws drawing blood but she ignores the pain and scrambles a few feet away. Her chest heaves for air as she eyes the Warlord.

He straightens up, drawing a sword from his back and she retreats a few steps.

They never disarmed her. Probably assumed she wouldn’t try to escape if they placate her into believing they’d help her return to her time.

Ghost transmats her sword into place and she drags it over her shoulders and drops into a defensive stance.

Shaxx’s helmet tilts before he charges.

Traveler, he doesn’t pull his punches. She retreats more than she can attack. He’s relentless and what blows she does land chips away at her strength.

She doesn’t have time for this.

Her eyes find the door over his shoulder and her grip on the sword doubles down. She’s going to have to hurt him. Imagine he’s someone other than her Warlord.

Same height as a Hive Knight? That’ll do.

She charges this time, tucking and rolling to grant herself a closer space of attack. Somehow, she manages to get around him. She slashes her sword between two armor plates and Shaxx cries out in pain.

It wrenches her soul.

She hears him hit his knees but she’s already running for the door. It occurs to her he hasn’t used his Light but she doesn’t have a chance to reason out why.

Her sword slides back into place along her spine as she tears through the fortress. She goes invis, making her way up the wall platforms and hurls herself over the wall into the forest below.

She needs to get back to the Iron Temple and worry about a power source later. Saladin had to have taken the spear with him to study it. Why did that Vex have to send her to an era she knew?

Hours tick by as she makes her way back as rapidly as she can manage. She stopped long enough for Ghost to mend her neck before pressing on. She strains to listen for movement behind her, any indication Shaxx was close by. But it occurs to her that she has a head start and although Shaxx is resourceful, he’d no doubt prefer to spend his time beating his prey to their goal.

He’ll be at the Temple when she arrives or lying in wait to spring an ambush.

Her strides falter for an instant and she stills in the middle of the forest.

The Young Wolf has to be smart about this. Lord Shaxx is not to be trifled with and if she can’t best him and whatever forces he’s rallied? This will be a short campaign.

Perhaps it’s best to find a power source first? But that gives them more time to prepare and the odds of success grow more daunting.

What is she supposed to do?

She leans against the tree off to her right, touching the edge of her helmet as her eyes dart over the foliage.

If she goes for the Temple first, she’ll still be short a power source. She wouldn’t have a chance in hell of breaching the Temple twice. But what if Saladin has agreed to aid her? It would eliminate one problem but judging by his tendency to distrust and…well, her escape, he won’t be as forthcoming with help.

So, it’s settled. The power source and then she ventures near the Temple.

It’s her only hope.

Now, where can she get something strong enough to power a Vex spear?

The Traveler! Of course!

She recalls where that shard of Traveler is. She’d sought it out during the Red War to reclaim her Light, there must be a way for Ghost to channel a shard’s power into the relic for a brief period - just long enough to get home.

She has a plan.

Now all she needs is some luck and a shard.

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

It’s there, beaming in the waning moonlight.

It’s nearly dawn but the Guardian managed to make it. Neither the Iron Lords nor Warlords alike know of it but she’ll still have to be quick. She can’t afford them tracking her here - if they could track her at all.

But there is one complication - the Fallen.

There are so many of them.

She can’t pick a fight. She can’t try and reason with them.

Her best option lies with sneaking past them and trying to secure a shard that way but this is a house she doesn’t recognize. They're not House of Light, but that means nothing. Even if they are from the House of Devils, she can't risk killing any of them. One misstep and–

No. There won't be any missteps.

She'll find a way in without killing any of them.

The Young Wolf gathers herself, checking the barrel of her hand canon before sliding it back into its holster. She begins the descent toward the fragment, weaving to avoid brush until she's just beyond the pond.

Crossing it silently will be problematic. Especially given the number of Dregs about.

The Guardian watches them for a time, trying to decipher their movements to grant her an opening. Sure enough, there's a small one toward the back of it. The guards never venture too close to it, just venturing far enough to see the stone a few feet beyond it before circling back.

Another moment and she slips from her cover, going invis almost immediately. She traverses the pond as quietly as she can manage, the currents of each step dissipating as they lap against the ankles of Dregs. She presses herself against the fragment and slips behind it, finally letting her cover fall as she inspects the newest complication before her.

She can't shoot it out and carving would also draw attention.

Ghost materializes beside her, scanning the fragment for himself for a weak point while she keeps watch. She's almost afraid to breathe but she's hoping nothing else can go any more wrong tonight.

"Here," Ghost whispers, floating down near a small chiseled indent around a small shard. "Your blade should just fit."

The Guardian draws her knife, scanning the pond cautiously before she notches the tip of her blade in the groove. She carefully works it in deeper, shimmying it side to side until she's sure it's far enough.

There's a sound of steps off to her left and she snatches Ghost out of the air, tucking him close to conceal the subtle glow of his eye as she strains to listen.

There's the chittering of a Dreg and then sharp blue eyes that are barely visible around the corner before the footsteps recede.

She stays still a few moments longer before releasing her Little Light.

"That was close," he mutters, "You'd better hurry."

The Young Wolf is a little less careful in her movement of the knife, working through stone until the shard jostles free and she snatches it up.

Ghost vanishes and she carefully creeps toward the side of the massive shard.

She watches the Dregs move about, a few congregating closer than they had before.

She should wait it out.

But she hasn't the time.

Tracking the Dregs had taken longer than she'd like. It's late. After midnight some time and that means Shaxx has had the time to catch up, if not surpass her on the road to the Iron Temple thanks to her tremendous detour.

She needs to get moving again.

The Young Wolf carefully creeps back, squeezing between the massive shard and the stone wall behind it. It's close, her chest plate grinds against it and she can only hope those Dregs can't hear it.

She emerges on the other side, scanning the darkness before she bolts. Going invis four steps in, the Guardian is keenly aware she's splashing too loudly through the pond, drawing the Dregs' attention.

There's a ring of chittering as she pierces the treeline, tearing through brush as quickly as she can.

Her steps only slow when she reaches a large clearing more than five miles from the Traveler shard. Full speed sprinting in pitch darkness, she's surprised she didn't trip.

As she sinks against a broad tree, her hands find the shard along her belt. Her chest heaves and still, she manages half a smile.

It was worth it. They have a power source. They can go home.

"Good work, Guardian." Ghost materializes beside her, shell rotating in a show of excitement.

He scans over it, "This should do the trick! Once we recover the spear, I can show you how to channel the power."

She lets him transmat it away for safekeeping just before he settles in her palm in its place.

"You should rest–"

"We can't afford to–"

Ghost darts up, "You won't be any good in a fight if you don't rest, Guardian. Even before we arrived, that was the third mission in a row. You've barely slept and this thing with Shaxx can't–"

She drops her head back against the tree with a sigh, "Alright. You stay where it's safe."

"Done!" Ghost whirls, bumping against the edge of his helmet before he transmats.

Ghost is right. She is exhausted.

The few hours she got in Shaxx's questionable dungeon was enough to tide her over before but now?

Her eyes sag shut and she focuses on calming her racing heart, steadying her breathing as she listens to the forest around her.

She's far enough away from the Iron Temple that they won't be looking for her yet. She can get a half hour maybe before she has to fight again.

Once she gets through the Temple, she's back to the Vex fight. And from there, home.

In the end, the Guardian manages to drift off for a little while, longer than she intended. Her dreams are more like nightmares: her subconscious wrestling with potential repercussions of failure.

Worst of all, she sees him.

Not the one she flees, but the one she runs toward.

When she finally comes to, Shaxx's name is a soft cry and then she's upright.

He's…right there, propped against a tree just a few fleeting feet from her. The Warlord, not her Crucible Handler.

He tilts his head, "That's quite some dream you were having." He remarks, pushing upright and striding closer.

How could he have found her? She's far enough from the Temple–

Her mind is still reeling from the nightmares so when he crouches beside her, she doesn't have the sense to lean away, to move.

His touch registers against her shoulder and that's when she bolts, scrambling back against the tree but there isn't much space to begin with.

He laughs softly, rising to his full height before he offers her a hand up.

What is going on?

"You put up quite the fight back there. I'm impressed."

Shouldn't he be trying to kill her by now?

She looks from his outstretched hand to his visor. He offers it a bit more insistently and she finally slips her hand into his and lets him pull her up to her feet.

Once upright, Shaxx doesn't release her hand. It feels more like a precaution on his part but until she's given any indication of danger, she has no reason to try and free herself.

"What's going on?" She manages.

"Saladin believes you. We'll help you get home." He returns, angling his head. "I apologize for the–" he gestures with his other hand.

"You don't like to apologize, do you?" She smiles slightly.

He snorts but nods all the same.

That much hasn't changed in two hundred years.

"And this…?" She nods to his hand, still firmly clamped around her own.

He follows her gaze, lifting their hands. “Feels…right?”

Could it? Even this far back in time?

Her fingers curl around his slowly, eyes fixated on the contact for a moment before she steps a fraction closer and lays her head on his chest.

He wraps an arm around her and her frame sags into him. It’s all so familiar, the warmth, the comfort - she missed it.

“So easily disarmed,” he taunts and she hasn’t the heart to argue. "If only I'd known in the fortress. We could have avoided–"

She snorts, drawing her head back to look up at him. She gets to go home and now Shaxx wants to play nice. She squeezes his hand before gently pulling away and she's surprised he allows it. She stoops to grab her sword before gesturing for him to lead the way.

He lingers for an instant, holding her gaze until he nods and beckons her along.

They fall into a comfortable silence as they walk. The Guardian scans the forest absently, trying to ignore this nagging sense of unease in her stomach.

"Saladin has the relic?" She asks at last.

"He does." He confirms but offers nothing else.

The Guardian’s eyes dart to his helmet as she comes to a halt. Shaxx stops a few steps ahead of her, pivoting to meet her gaze.

"What is it?"

This is wrong. All of it–

"You're not taking me to the Iron Temple, are you?" She retreats a step.

"Now you're just being paranoid, Hunter." He holds his position, "Saladin–"

"Would have come himself if what you say is true." Her hand hovers over her handcanon.

Shaxx straightens a fraction, his shoulders drawn back as he tilts his head. "You overestimate your significance to him."

She tugs the fabric of her cloak aside for an instant, lifting the Iron Lord pendant for Shaxx to see. "I argue to the contrary. I know him better than you think."

Shaxx nods slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he casts his gaze over the forest. "You're clever, I'll grant you that. But this ends one of two ways; you come with me without a fight or I kill you here and drag your carcass back to Lord Saladin."

"Either way, I end up before Saladin?"

He nods in confirmation.

She needs to reach him either way, it doesn't matter if she's at Shaxx’s side or not when it happens.

She straightens up as Shaxx approaches her.

"Wise choice."

She juts her chin up a fraction, glaring at him from beneath her visor.

"You are such a feisty, troublesome thing, aren't you?" He grips her arm but she doesn't flinch. She doesn't so much as waver when he touches her chin gently. "You lost your fear of death a long time ago, I think. What's left knows what battles to fight, how to survive. Is that why I don't frighten you, Hunter? Because death is your friend?"

She scoffs but offers no words in return. She's too angry to answer. Too stiff to move. Too lost in his touch, despite her better judgment.

"Answer me," he coaxes though his voice is soft yet intense. She longs for the booming anger. That, she's used to. This? This sends a chill through her spine. This sets every nerve on edge and for a moment, she wonders if he truly could frighten her.

She gathers herself, leaning into the Warlord and guides his hand away from her jaw. "You don't frighten me. Leave it at that."

His frame tenses but she has enough of a chance to grip his wrist before he can even consider a strike.

"Lead me back to Saladin. We're done talking." She bites out lowly and Shaxx’s head tilts. He knows he can weaponize her affection for his future self, meaning she needs to be so much more careful about this. No more slip ups. No more momentary instances of weakness where she indulges him.

She keeps him at a distance and when she returns to her Shaxx…she can breathe again.

But for now, this Warlord doesn't get any closer.

"I can walk on my own," she jerks her arm away from him and waits.

"Stay close." He returns shortly, nodding in a gesture to follow as he starts toward the mountain.

The journey will take a few hours but eventually, the Young Wolf walks beside Shaxx rather than just behind him, if for no other reason than to ensure they are headed where he tells her they are headed.

And to Shaxx’s credit, he doesn't threaten nor manhandle her as they walk.

He's almost calm. Which should probably alarm her but after the last forty-eight hours, she will accept any reprieve she can get.

And as the sun starts to rise, the Young Wolf finds herself stealing a glimpse up toward the Warlord.

He notices, of course. But he does not ask. He doesn't press or demand, he lets it slide and that's all she could hope for.

But she has her own questions and she needs them answered.

"In the fortress," she begins quietly, scanning the forest around them, "Why didn't you use your Light?"

His head tilts toward her but his eyes remain ahead, "What does it matter?"

"You would've won if you'd used your Light."

"Saladin wants you alive. It's unlikely your Ghost would have been willing to rez you in that situation after I'd killed you." Now his gaze falls to her and she dearly wishes it wouldn't. "You're fortunate. Most die before they draw my blood."

She snorts skeptically. She's drawn blood from him multiple times…there's no way Shaxx holds back when they fight. Granted, it's not as savage and violent as this Shaxx fights but his strength is there. His intensity.

Perhaps he found a better way and it's not just "good sportsmanship".

Next question then.

"...how long were you in that clearing before I woke up?"

Shaxx snorts, "Why does that matter?"

"It matters."

He shakes his head, helping her up a steeper slope that he can cross in two strides.

"I deserve to know how long I was being watched." She tightens her hold on his hand.

"It's not relevant.”

She maneuvers in front of him, "It is to me."

Shaxx’s head tilts - a subtle reprimanding he usually employs - before he heaves a sigh. "If I answer, you'll stop asking questions?"

She nods.

He grumbles before starting past her, "An hour and a half."

The Guardian stops where she is and Shaxx pauses when he realizes she isn't right behind him.

"...you–" Her voice falters with an emotion she can't quite place.

"Know you have a fight when we return you to your time. You'll need all the rest you can get." He continues up the path and the Young Wolf slowly starts to follow.

Shaxx confuses her.

A near death first encounter. A tender brush in that dungeon before he nearly killed her a second time but chose to hold back. Now he keeps watch over her while she sleeps and–

“Stop overthinking it,” he continues with a sharp edge. “Keep up, we have much ground to cover before we reach Felwinter’s Peak.”

Her stride quickens until she’s at his side once more. Perhaps he’s right. Overthinking, trying to rationalize? It’s more energy than it’s worth. But he did say he knew she had to return to her time, so perhaps…perhaps they are on her side. Perhaps there was a modicum of truth to his words back in the clearing and Saladin is more willing to help than Shaxx is trying to let on.

Still, it’s clear that Shaxx will continue to block any attempt at getting answers and she doubts she'll be able to drag definite answers out of him anytime soon. So, she settles for silence as they walk.

They reach a smaller camp at the base of Felwinter’s Peak a number of hours later and the Guardian casts her gaze up toward the Temple. Shaxx’s hand eases around her bicep, tucking her a little closer to his frame and she sets her jaw in response.

He's ensuring she can't bolt. That she won't try to make it to the Iron Temple but she needs that spear first. The Temple is secondary.

So she doesn't fight him.

She lets him guide her through the camp, well aware of passing gazes of other Iron Lords and civilians. She doesn't recognize most of them, but a few - Efrideet, Felwinter, even Timur. Saladin had told her of them all, but it's surreal to see them now, breathing, prepared for a fight.

She presses a fraction closer to Shaxx, her fingers brushing against his Titan mark and it's enough that the Warlord looks down at her.

He is an anchor whether he likes it or not.

But his grip eases regardless, less forceful in his guiding until he moves a tent flap aside and leads her inside.

An instant later, his hold relinquishes and he lingers near the entrance of the tent. She stands in the center, uncertain as she looks up at him.

They're waiting.

For Saladin, likely.

So, she turns, scanning the space before taking a seat away from the back of the tent but close enough to Shaxx that he won't feel obligated to hover.

For a time, they hold one another’s gaze before the Guardian finally looks away. At some point, she lays down, adjusting the angle of her hood to give her head some cushion.

Shaxx paces closer, kneeling down to check on her for a moment before she bats his hand away blindly. She just wants to sleep, just for a little while. Just until things are settled and she can leave.

But the Warlord takes a seat beside her instead. He deliberately lifts her head and when she starts to bolt away, he hauls her back by her shoulder.

"Be still. I'm not going to hurt you." He grumbles, guiding her to lay back down, but this time, resting her head on his thigh.

She is rigid for a few minutes, trying to decipher his intentions until his palm settles along her shoulder in an almost soothing gesture.

She isn't sure what game this is but his leg is decidedly more comfortable than the ground. The Guardian readjusts a little, shifting a bit to accommodate the height change before her head lulls toward his torso, her helmet clinking lightly against his plating before she closes her eyes.

His hand drifts up, cradling the underside of her jaw and she suspects it's less a comfort and more a deliberate establishment of power. A warning almost, but a wordless one.

She's too tired to care.

She lets him keep his hand in place as she drifts off for a little while. At some point, her hand finds his in her sleep and she holds it closer as she snuggles her head down against it.

She's awoken only by the Warlord jostling her. She bolts upright, reality crashing back into place and for some reason, she still has hold of his hand. She looks from their hands to Shaxx and then the doorway.

"Well, you've gotten comfortable." Salading sounds almost angry even as she snatches her hand free of Shaxx’s and gets to her feet.

Whether that remark was intended for Shaxx or herself, she can't be sure. But a part of her doesn’t want to know because if she did, that would mean he is in there somewhere. He who is familiar and gentle and so much more of a threat to her because her guard falls instinctively when at his side. There is no danger in Shaxx's arms, but just this once, his embrace is what very well could get her killed.

So perhaps, perhaps that remark was just that - a passing remark. An idle observation drawn from just a fleeting instance of comfort. A humane consideration that means no more than that.

Because this isn't her Shaxx.

The Guardian finally notes the spear in Saladin’s hand and for a moment, the inclination to steal it back and run like hell strikes her. But then she notices Shaxx standing and that thought all but vanishes. She’d never make it out - not against the two of them and Traveler only knows how many Iron Lords outside in that camp.

"Shaxx tells me you have an Iron Lord pendant." Saladin’s voice draws the Young Wolf from her thoughts.

Her spine straightens, her gaze flickering between the two of them before she moves the cloak fabric aside to reveal it. Saladin leaves the spear in Shaxx’s grasp before approaching. His features are set in a hard line, his eyes flickering from her visor down to the leatherbound metal around her neck.

His fingers hook beneath the pendant, inspecting it slowly. "Where did you get this?"

"...it was a gift. From you." She returns cautiously, "A few hundred years from now."

His eyes lift to her visor for an instant before he draws his own from around his neck. The two are identical save for some wear on hers. Saladin narrows his eyes before he releases the pendant. His focus shifts back to her visor but he does not step back.

“If what you say is true–”

“Then your return is more urgent than we anticipated.” Shaxx supplies, earning himself a look of warning from his mentor.

Saladin paces away a few steps and the Young Wolf tucks her pendant away. It seems Shaxx is more on her side now…or perhaps, it’s a ruse. She isn’t sure anymore. This era differs quite a bit in comparison to what her Shaxx had told her. He did omit quite a bit, but she can’t say that she blames him.

Saladin heaves a sigh and turns back to the Guardian, “Alright. Somehow, you’ve earned his trust,” he nods to Shaxx, “And despite my reservations, I trust his judgment.” The Iron Lord takes a step closer and the Guardian squares her shoulders. “But make no mistake. If this is a trick–”

“I’ll handle it myself,” Shaxx reassures him.

Saladin gives Shaxx another pointed look before beckoning them to follow. “Shaxx will accompany you up the mountain. I’ve already made him aware of the specifics of your arrival, so he’ll escort you to the proper location.”

The Young Wolf nods, “Thank you.”

Saladin grumbles something about not thanking him before brushing the tent flap aside and stepping out into the encampment. Beyond the tent, the Guardian hangs back a few steps, but she can hear a brief exchange between the Iron Lord and Warlord a few steps in front of her.

"You know better." Saladin reprimands lowly.

"She has a fight before her. A modicum of comfort would help her rest better, so I offered it. Do not presume to understand."

Saladin grips Shaxx’s forearm and the two stop abruptly. Arc ignites against Solar, a subtle flare of wills and tempers that alarms the Young Wolf enough for her to hold short of them, glancing between the Titans apprehensively.

Saladin looks to her and then back to Shaxx, "We'll discuss this later."

Shaxx squares his shoulders as Saladin releases him and moves forward.

The Guardian steps up beside Shaxx, watching Saladin go. "Thank you," she manages softly.

"Don't thank me." He returns as his gaze drops to her, "Just win whatever fight you're returning to."

She nods wordlessly and Shaxx beckons her to follow as he leads her up the mountain. He carries the spear, more a convenience, or at least, that's what they tell her.

She doesn't anticipate he'll relinquish it easily when they reach the Temple but this grants her time to find a means of attaining it.

Halfway up the mountain, Shaxx's pace slows just enough to keep him within a few steps of her. To the point his hand brushes her own and she begins to wonder about his motivations.

Then comes the questions.

"Hunter–"

"I can't tell you anything more, Shaxx." She interjects gently. "You're at risk as is. And I can't go home to an empty apartment tonight, my Titan."

"...why would you?"

"If I change anything here, Shaxx–"

"I'm not asking you to," he cuts her off both verbally and physically, her head snapping upward to his face. "I need to know…how is it I find you? Now?"

"You don't. I won't be rezzed for another few hundred years." She tilts her head.

"But where–"

She chuckles softly, shaking her head as she continues past him. "I can't tell you that."

He catches hold of her arm, pulling her back to him and she has no choice but to let him. Her boots had skidded against the rock she was stepping on and Shaxx took advantage of her loss of balance.

She looks up at him but then the hand on her waist registers and her head lowers. She wishes he wouldn't hold her like that - like her Shaxx would. Carefully cradling her form against him, fingers spraying firmly along her spine.

"You're stubborn." He remarks.

"Something you come to admire in my time."

His head tilts and he gently eases her back onto her feet. "How do I meet you?"

He's so curious about their future, she doesn't think he's even considered why.

"I'll tell you when we reach the Temple." She carefully eases his hand from her waist, "I need to–"

"Go. Yes, I'm aware." The Warlord sounds almost irritated as he recoils and starts back up the mountain.

He's being petulant. He is definitely used to getting what he wants but that won't work on her. It never has.

When they reach the Temple, Shaxx guides her to the room she'd portalled into. Her Ghost materializes beside her and begins to scan the room.

"The portal should be - ah! The residual energy is strongest here so you should have no trouble re-opening it." He turns and the Guardian looks over her shoulder at Shaxx.

She pivots, holding out her hand for the spear and Shaxx’s head dips a fraction. Reluctance permeates his entire frame but he still draws the weapon from his shoulders and steps up to her.

One hand curls around the spear before she looks up at him. Her other hand splays against his chestplate as a silent request to let go.

"Do you want to know the real reason I didn't use my Light back at the fortress?"

Not what she was expecting but she had to admit that she wae curious. She desperately wanted to know what spared her his wrath. So, the Guardian nods, tracing a scar in his chestplate.

"It's because I knew I'd regret it one day. Robbing myself of whatever haven I've found in you in your time. Killing you would mean I never find that…piece. The fragment clinging to the Light that finds solace in you." He steps closer. "I didn't kill you, Hunter, for purely selfish reasons. I hope they were well placed."

The Young Wolf pushes up onto the balls of her feet, lifting his helmet a fraction. Shaxx grips her wrists for an instant before the fight drains away, replaced by curiosity.

Her helmet transmats away and she presses a soft kiss to his lips.

His form goes rigid. His shoulders draw back in surprise but he does not pull away. He doesn't lean in either but he does return the kiss, gently, carefully. His hand cups her jaw and she smiles into the caress.

When they do break apart a few moments later, the Guardian smiles. She touches his hand, tracing along his knuckles.

"It will be."

She lets his helmet settle back into place and withdraws. She grips the spear, offering a smile before turning away from him.

She steps up to where the portal should be, running a hand along the spear before Ghost transmats the Traveler shard into her hand.

"I should question where you got that," Shaxx’s voice rings behind her, far more steady than she feels.

She looks over her shoulder at him, tilting her head and he chuckles softly, shaking his own.

"But I know better."

She smiles, turning back as Ghost helps her channel the Light into the spear. Just enough to power it before she plunges it into the stone and the portal rips open before her.

Wind whips through the room as she dislodges the spear and pivots to face the Warlord. Shaxx has taken a step closer, his hand half-raised and for a moment, she thinks he'll retreat but instead he closes those last few feet.

"Tell me before you go…how do we meet?"

She tilts her head, reaching up to cradle the edge of his helmet. "Telling you could change things."

"Please."

She doesn't have much time but she relents, "The first time I come to the Tower, you invite me to spar with you. That, my Titan, is how we meet."

He lowers his head a fraction. "I'll wait for you there, wherever this Tower is."

"I know you will," she clinks her helmet against his gently, "I'll see you soon."

The Young Wolf pulls away, backing into the portal and when she emerges, it is time for a fight.

And this time, she won't lose.

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

Stepping inside their home is the hardest thing she's had to do today.

Venturing beyond that threshold, silently searching the house until she finds Lord Shaxx on the back balcony. He's…without his armor, arms crossed as he gazes out over the City.

She should get cleaned up. She should do something to delay this but she can't think of anything else besides facing him and putting it behind them.

She removes her helmet, setting it on the stand just inside the door before she crosses that last barrier and steps out onto the balcony beside Shaxx.

His head turns toward her, his eyes flickering down along her frame. He reaches out, pressing a few fingers against the massive dent from his fist along her chestplate.

"So, it finally happened."

She swallows and nods, diverting her gaze.

"I knew this day was coming, I just…I had almost hoped I misremembered. That I didn't–" his voice falters, an agonized crack on the last word that spurs the Young Wolf forward a few steps to hug him.

"Guardian–" he whispers, gathering her impossibly close and squeezing. "I'm sorry."

Don't apologize. Please.

The words are trapped in her throat and all she can manage is a "No."

His hold doubles down and she buries her face against the crux of his neck.

I missed you.

He holds her for a long time, whispering affections and apologies in one mangled plea. She tries to reassure him, tries to find the words but she can't.

Finally, she can't hear anymore. She can't stomach the pain this has caused him.

The Young Wolf pulls free of Shaxx’s embrace, grips the collar of his shirt and drags him down for a harsh kiss.

Stop. Just, stop.

She swears she felt a tear slip between them before Shaxx gathers her in his arms, returning the kiss tenderly and she can finally relax.

It'll be alright now.

She won't lose him.

After today, losing Shaxx would be the one thing she couldn't bear. Her anchor. Her home. Her Titan.

Shaxx kisses her gently yet there is a desperation to it. An almost frantic exchange of affection as if he's trying to convince himself she won't vanish between his fingertips.

She manages to back him against the banister, press herself as close as she can manage and it steadies him. His hands begin to drift along her frame; that same tender, affectionate brush she had ached for.

No dangerous edge. No deliberate gripping. Just unadulterated exploration of something he knows impossibly well and could trace in his sleep. Every inch, every scar, everything.

That's how well her Warlord knows her.

And she'll let him.

As many times as it takes for him to remember that she loves him more than anything and seeing his past self? Seeing the man he's overcome? She's more proud than anything else.

Tomorrow, perhaps, she'll find the words. She will tell him how proud she is of who he's become. She'll shower him in affection and words of affirmation to remind him they are inseparable even by time and space.

But for tonight, they stumble inside. A blind frenzy of armor plates being removed and clothing being scattered along the floor. For tonight, Shaxx apologizes over and over with every kiss and caress. For tonight, the Guardian cuddles up in his arms after hours of love-making and listens to his heart thrum.

For tonight, it's the physical.

Tomorrow is for the heart and she'll ensure he never questions where they stand.

Because nothing has changed.

Nothing will ever change how she feels about Lord Shaxx.

Not even his past.

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

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Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @florence-and-the-machinegun @orbdotexe

Shaxx's Guardians: @tootiredforyourshit3963 @squirrel-stars 

[a-driftamongopenstars]

Hmmm...spicy Saladin fic 👀

hmmm... 👀 and spicy Saladin fic you shall have, under the cut. warning, it's h o r n y and longer than my usual ficlets; featuring m!guardian x Saladin

also on ao3

Who knew it would be so unbearably hard to remain calm in the confines of the elevator when Lord Saladin is also in it.

Hard. What a joke, the Guardian thinks to himself, feeling the growing stiffness between his legs. Perhaps, it is the rarity of sexual indulgence or, perhaps, a true attraction to someone like Lord Saladin, to Saladin himself, that stifles his breath. That fills the Guardian’s mind with swift filthy thoughts that make the situation no easier.

He wants to escape the H.E.L.M. meeting. He is already craving the isolation away from the prying eyes, just so he can get it over with. He strains his vocal cords, just so no moan might escape his throat.

Lord Saladin’s gaze brushes over him, and his cheeks flush indecent red.

“You look tense, Young Wolf.”

When he replies, his lips part dryly.

“I don’t look forward to the meeting.”

“Neither do I. Action over endless talking, that is my approach. That is how we’ve won battles.”

“Commander Zavala would disagree.”

“Perhaps,” Saladin replies, and nothing more is said.

A sudden shake of the elevator brings a much needed distraction to the Guardian. When another shake comes, Saladin tenses, looking around the room for the potential source of trouble.

With another shake, the elevator comes to a halt, and the Guardian finds himself flung against Saladin, his hands curling into his Titan mark to prevent the fall.

The light flickers and goes out almost instantly.

“Power outage,” Saladin states simply, and the Guardian finds himself in utter misery of arousal as in darkness and such proximity, Saladin’s voice crawls in every cell of his skin.

He was supposed to let go of the folds of the mark long ago, but his fingers are taut. His chest moves fast as his heart beats rapidly. It is more than a now-or-never situation. It is a breach of all unspoken rules, a step in a direction that would either be an utter disaster or a never forgotten embarrassment.

The Guardian closes his eyes, listens to the rapid heartbeat in his chest, to the quiet breathing of Lord Saladin. It feels as if hours have passed since the elevator stopped, but it must have been only seconds.

Caution thrown out of the window, anxiety stomped away by the hammering of a desirous heart, the Guardian thinks no more before finding Lord Saladin’s mouth and kissing it with fervor.

To an immense surprise and with a sense of relief, the Guardian finds his kiss reciprocated.

The fire of the Iron Lord is just as strong in the matters of love making as it is on the battlefield. His tongue coaxes the Guardian’s mouth open, and suddenly the lead is not in the Guardian’s hands. Saladin’s palms rove all over him, exploring anything that is on the surface and needs attention. The Guardian moans in the Iron Lord’s mouth as his hands grasp his backside, feel the hips and waist and tug at the folds of fabric that simply need to be done away with for everyone’s sake.

Friction, pressure, heat of bodies leaves no room for hesitation.

The Guardian pulls away from that heated mouth, panting as his fingers work the buckles and straps of the mark. Then the armor, too much of it, plates and connecting tissue. Saladin’s hands leave him with no sense of stability as those strong fingers dig into his hair and tug.

“Hurry,” Saladin whispers, and the Guardian huffs as another strap comes free from the buckle. He goes from the Iron Lord’s armor to his own, competing to have them both ready and unclad.

After a moment’s fumbling, desperate seconds later, the Guardian moans in relief as he pulls at his cock, a relieved sense of pleasure quickly replaced with needy strokes of his hand. He needs this, just a few, just to get the edge off and be ready enough to do whatever they might want to do in this brief moment of aroused madness.

“Both of us, Guardian,” Saladin urges him in a low hoarse voice, and the Guardian follows the stern suggestion with no hesitation, tugging at the fabric to free Saladin’s cock as well.

It is too much to have both in one hand, and the Guardian works them together at once with his hands, rubbing at hot skin. His limited vision swims, darkened by desire. He cannot truly see Saladin’s face, but he can imagine from that hard panting that there is dryness of hot lips and a foggy tantalized gaze.

The Guardian moves his hips slightly, finding friction all too pleasant right now, and that gets a quiet, urging response from Saladin as his hands tug on the Guardian’s hair again.

There is something so perfectly vulgar about it. The rutting of two cocks against each other, and the Guardian doing all the work. His want is muffled by the fur of Saladin’s cloak, all that is audible is the rhythmic and needy sound from the Guardian’s throat. How Saladin manages to keep it together is beyond his imagination, but he doesn’t need to. So he indulges, and ruts, and moans.

“Don’t you stop,” Saladin pants, holding the Guardian tightly in one place, so he might keep on indulging.

“Not planning to, fuck,” the Guardian retorts, pressing his hips against Saladins, so that they might feel each other more.

When energy runs high, yet the Guardian’s hips tire, he wraps his hands around their cocks again and strokes. He feels skin gather under his fingers, feels the slickness spread lightly, feels the hard veins over Saladin’s cock.

Saladin’s fingers curl into his hair, bringing his head up with pleasant tension.

“Finish,” the Iron Lord speaks, an insistent request, and the Guardian knows that neither of them can last too long. So he strokes them more, finding those unbearably hot and bothered spots, presses a thumb against Saladin’s frenulum, which sends the man spending over the Guardian’s hands.

He moans, feeling hot seed spilling between his fingers and smudging over his palms. Oncoming orgasm battles against the idea of prolonging the pleasure and simply getting down on his knees to clean Saladin off with his very mouth, but another rut, another hair tug - and it’s too late to do anything but come as well, following Saladin over that searing hot edge.

It is simply shattering. His heart pounds heavily in a tightened ribcage, and his throat feels dry from the stifled moans. His clothes are a sweat and come soaked mess, and his cock slowly softens, spent.

The Guardian’s limp body rests in Saladin’s embrace. He has not let go, not for a moment, and that surprises the Guardian. Neither hurries to make themselves look at least somewhat decent, and the Guardian works through thought after thought of what just happened, groaning quietly as post-orgasm pleasure simmers down.

“Perhaps, past this meeting, we shall reconvene at my quarters and see where that takes us,” Saladin speaks. His voice is level, and only a touch of hoarseness and odd fondness betrays the fact that he and the Guardian have just… fucked.

“That would be wise.”

Saladin tightens his titan grasp around the Guardian, and they simply breathe each other in.

Dealing with the elevator situation can wait a moment more.

[fireteam-survivor]

GUYS! IT IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE DARK SIDE OF LIGHT!

I know it has taken ages for me to finish this saga, but, TA-DA! It is done! I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks all! I am sure Fireteam Survivor will be back!

[bittersweetbiscotti]

Watching Crow mouth off to Saladin’s “face” Uldren-style has made things EXTREMELY awkward now for poor Lyko since she was raised by Saladin, and I am here for it. 

Lyko: You really don’t mind me dating?

Saladin, who actually really wants her to enjoy normal human things: As long as you keep your duties priority, you may do as you please. 

Lyko: Great! This is my boyfriend!

Crow: Hi, I think we’ve met. >8)

Saladin: 

[shaken-veil]

Back Home - One Shot

This is not proofread. I wrote this with a bottle of coconut rum in me. Bear with me xD

Saladin x Female Guardian / Iron Grandparents / Pure Toothrotting Fluff / Nothing else to tag / Spoilers for Season of Dawn

Around the time of the Dawning, Felwinter peak was one giant snowy mess. The Iron Temple was mostly closed and only opened in the morning and evening to make sure the wolf pack wouldn’t stay outside over the night. Aine was happy to be back, though. She missed her puppies, her own cooking, her tea, the library, her warm bed and of course her husband.

But when Ikora had asked for her to help with Osiris’ newest, glorious idea, she wouldn’t refuse. Especially with so much at stake. The Sundial easily could have ripped apart the web of timelines over the whole system. The Sunsinger never spoke much with her former lover, though working with him showed that they were still a efficient team. With Siobhan’s help they managed to redirect the timelines, stabilized the corridors of time and recreated the conditions on mercury how they should be. They didn’t need her help anymore, so Aine decided to return home. She had been gone for three weeks. 

She snow crunching underneath her boots set her mind and heart at ease. Pulling off her helmet, ginger hair fell down onto her face, loosened from the ponytail at the back of her head.A gentle smile spread on her lips and she approached the templegates with quick, but confident steps. Thanks to the weather the pack hadn’t noticed her yet, which was alright. She wouldn’t want to stay in the cold weather and greet each of the wolves. 

The door at the front of the temple already opened for her when she was only a few steps away. Aine walked inside and was instantly hit by the warmth of the fires lit. A faint noise of metal clashing against one another could be heard from the back of the temple. So Saladin was working. She smiled softly and moved to the flame in the middle between the two wolf statues, holding out her hand so Lugh could transmat a few flowers into her hands. She dropped them into the fires and looked up at the monuments of her friends around her. 

“I’m back. It is good to see you all. Thank you for welcoming me back.” In her mind she silently send a prayer up to the sky so whatever power may reside there would take care and watch over them. 

The first thing Aine did was retreating to the big bedroom she shared with Saladin. She got rid of her armor and dressed in some comfortable pants out of light fabric. As shirt she chose one of Saladin’s jumpers. It was far too big her for and revealed a little bit of her right shoulder, but that didn’t bother her. She was comfortable. Aine stretched her arms up and sighed happily. Finally back home. After weeks of dealing with Osiris even her social meter was full. 

She walked out of their quarters further down the corridor to the very back, where Saladin had his workshop. Even now he was still forging weapons for the young Guardians of the tower to earn in the Iron Banner. His newest project was a bow, which she found rather interesting but right now it sounded more like he was working on a new blade? The Warlock smiled gently and peaked through the door frame. The image that presented itself to her was quite pleasant. 

Saladin was indeed working on a sword. He was deeply focussed on the task at hand, eyebrows pulled together in a concentrated frown and the dark eyes sharp, almost glowing in the light of the forge in front of him. He was only wearing a pair of leather pants and boots. Aine’s eyes followed a small droplet of sweat making it’s way down from his temple, along the strong jaw and down the neck. She clearly enjoyed the view of his muscles working underneath the dark skin. While he had gotten visibly soft with his age now, Saladin was strong as ever. Maybe even more so now that he got proper food every day, except for the time she was gone of course. 

“Did you finally decide to make Shiro an Iron Lord? Maybe they stop bothering him about the Vanguard position then.” Her voice was loud enough to be heard over the clunking sound of the hammer, a smile tugging at her lips, while she waited patiently. Saladin stopped working and lifted his eyes. The frown vanished and was replaced by a look full of warmth and love. She felt her heart beating faster. So long they were together, but he still managed to make her pulse flutter. 

“You’re home.”, was all he said. Aine nodded and approached him. Saladin put the hammer down, reaching out to place one of his big hands on her back. He pulled her closer and leaned his forehead against hers. The Sunsinger laughed quietly and pushed his head away. 

“You’re all sweaty, Saladin.” She lifted her fingers and traced the line of his jaw gently. The light stubble on his cheeks tickled her skin and he leaned into her touch, before taking her hand away and pressing a light kiss on top of it, right above where her wedding ring decorated her finger.

“Welcome back, my Lady.” His brown eyes radiated with adoration. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” They shared a long kiss then, not letting go of one another for a good few minutes. Aine had to pull away eventually to get some proper breath in and looked up at her husband, heart bursting with happiness. “I will make some tea. Finish your work and get cleaned up. Then join me at the fireplace?”

“Very well. I won’t be long.” 

Making tea in their kitchen was well known and comforting routine. Every single movement was in her very blood and she didn’t even have to look anymore to find everything she needed. Shortly after she lit the fireplace in the library with her Solar powers. Aine settled onto the big couch, back against the soft pillows and watched the flames dance, claiming each piece of wood without mercy. 

Heavy footsteps announced Saladin’s presence eventually. He was completely redressed, much to her dismay, but at least freshly showered. The curly, short hair on his head was still a little wet, when she reached for him as he sat down next to her. “I take it everything went according to plan on Mercury?”

“Does anything ever go according to plan when Osiris is involved? We fixed his problem and repaired the timelines. The young Guardians are still out there fighting off the remnants of the Red Legion, though. But this is not my job.” She took a sip from her tea and examined Saladin’s face closely. “Have you been sleeping enough, my love?” It was wise to change the subject when it came to Osiris. No matter how much time had passed, it was still a sore spot for Saladin and he really, really didn’t like him. If one put it nicely.

“It is hard to rest without my sun at my side.”, he replied smoothly with a smile. Traveler help her, she loved this man. “But I’m well. Nothing to worry about.” 

“I hope so. No hiding!” There was nothing sharp to her words. Their relationship was built on trust, honesty and patience. Saladin and Aine had found perfect balance between one another and she cherished this connection beyond all others, maybe except for her friendship to Yvette and her motherly feelings for Shaxx, Zavala, Anna and Ikora. 

With a deep sigh, Aine put down the cup of tea on the little coffee table in front of the couch. The warmth of the fireplace pulling all of the cold from outside out of her bones. She moved a little and leaned against Saladin’s side. It was such a natural thing to do, that he lifted his arm so she could cuddle up on him fully automatically. A comfortable silence fell over them. Saladin absentmindedly let his fingers draw lazy circles over the small patch of bare skin his far too big jumper revealed on Aine’s shoulder. Her pale blue eyes looked up at her husband, finding him looking right back at her with a soft expression. 

Both moved in synch it seemed and their lips met. Gentle at first but growing more insistent over the passing moments. Aine made a move and got up shortly to slip onto his lap, not wanting to strain her neck any further. She cupped his face into her hands and brushed her thumbs over his cheeks slowly. “How much longer until we have to get the puppies back into the temple?”

He frowned slightly at her calling the pack ‘puppies’ but did not comment on it. “A few more hours.” 

She smirked. “Good.” And then kissed him again. His hands started wandering from her waist up to her sides and back, growing restless. None of them noticed the blue shimmer when their Ghosts materialized next to them. 

Skadi and Lugh exchanged a short look, before Lugh decided to be the bad guy and spoil their alone time. “Aine, Saladin. I’m sorry to interrupt you but we have an urgent matter at hand. Ikora says it cannot wait.” 

The two Guardians broke apart only slightly, breathing heavy and it took Aine a little bit to compose herself again, before turning her attention to Lugh. “What is it?” Sometimes she was wondering if anybody cared that she was actually retired. 

“Sio brought Saint-14 back with her from the Infinite Forest.”, he explained. “Ikora requests both of you immediately at the tower.”

[thefangirlthatwaited]

Encounter (Chapter 140) - A Destiny 2 Story

Crow x Guardian

I stared at the seating plan, wanting to pull my hair out. Why did this have to be difficult?

“I think we can put the Cabal back here. That way, they won’t block anyone.” Crow said, moving Caiatl’s name. 

“That would mean Saladin would be moved to the back too, and he might be a Titan, but he’s not Cabal-sized.”

“True, but it’s one person not being able to see versus a large group.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.” He chuckled, kissing my head. “Now, the real problem.” Crow held up Mara’s name. “Where do we want to put Mara, Petra and Jolyon?”

I groaned. “I wished they didn’t RSVP.”

“They did, and now we have to make a decision.”

My head hit the table. “I don’t know. Outside.” I grumbled.

“Ruby...”

“I know...” I grabbed my glass of wine and looked over the chart. “We should keep her close to Zavala and Ikora, but I don’t want her close to us.”

“Fair,” Crow furrowed his brow and then smiled. “Here?” He asked. “It’s close to the Vanguard but far from us.”

“Fine.” I took a swig of my drink. “Is that everyone?”

“Yep. We just need to glue this together, and it will be ready for the wedding.”

“In four weeks.” 

“In a month,” Crow confirmed.

I looked over our to-do list and felt overwhelmed. “We have so much left to do.”

Crow took my hand. “It’s the little things. The flowers, the twin’s outfits and the final selection for the cake.”

“We also have our final fittings and the rehearsal.”

“Artemis.” Crow sighed. 

“It’s been two weeks since we spoke. She’s supposed to be my unofficial maid of honour, yet she won’t even look at me!”

“Have you tried to apologize?”

“Why should I?” I hissed.

Full chapter on Ao3