That other fluff fic of Anissa getting cleaned up by Thula? Also revamped it and put it on Ao3;
https://archiveofourown.org/works/86192401
You can also just read it here;
Anissa drew the fresh air into her lungs in deep breaths, the wind helping to rouse her from her near-comatose state. It had felt like a small eternity since she had felt the freedom of the outside world, and for a moment, the euphoria of feeling the wind on her face distracted her from the fact she wasn't flying of her own accord.
It was like she was in a dream, where you move not because you want to, but because it is simply what your mind's script has declared you should do. Her head lulled from looking at the sky and came to rest against Thula's shoulder, who she was now aware was the one flying her.
“What is this?" Anissa asked her through a whisper, suppressing a cough as the blood from her lips dripped and stained Thula's uniform. "Where are we going—?”
Thula touched down on the balcony ledge to her home which resided on one of the highest floors of the complex. The lack of prying eyes made it discreet and the few that remain - if they would be to pass by, would think nothing out of place.
“You weren’t doing yourself any good down there.” Thula replied curtly, the stench of death still ruminating in the air around them. When she had pulled Anissa out of that room of the condemned, there were more bodies than there was living. The hall that was once cacophonous with the groans of the dying was now deathly silent. “I’m saving you your pride. Be grateful.”
Anissa's face scrunched up. It didn’t feel that way. Being carried in the arms of another because you were too weak to fly for yourself and then that weakness being displayed over the entire cityscape for all those below to look up and see felt like humiliation.
At least when Anissa was just another face among the dying she wasn’t seen. She was just that; another body. Another soon-to-be addition to the ring of uniforms and sightless eyes that existed just beyond the planet's atmosphere.
There was more pride in accepting death than… this.
Thula strode into her living room from her balcony, though it was more akin to hole in the wall. The room was a small minimalist space that presented only a bed in the corner and a few counter-tops for preparing meals. Standard living quarters for a Viltrumite.
She went to sit Anissa down on the bed. Her uniform was covered in spatterings of her own blood from coughing, every stain of varying age. Her hair was overgrown and stuck to her face at odd angles. Her eyes were sunken, though remained unyielding in their focus.
Thula, whilst holding her up with one hand, reached around with the other for the zip on the back of her uniform.
“What are you doing?” Anissa asked again, still persistent even in her exhaustion.
“You smell like death.” Thula said bluntly, the zipper buzzing as it was pulled down. “It’s unbecoming. I'm seeing to it that you're taken care of."
"Define... 'taken care of''." Anissa's brow narrowed in discomfort, her words carried on an exhale.
"I'm getting you into a bath. A thorough soak should see that you're cleansed of this filth." she replied.
The very little of what remained of Anissa's pride stirred like an ancient beast left in forgotten sleep. She gritted her teeth, “No— Stop.” and meekly reached out her hand to push Thula back from her.
Thula stopped, and regarded her for a moment. Anissa’s expression was set into a defiant frown, her eyes ruminating angrily, but the bags under them almost gave the impression that she was pleading with her. "I can do it myself..."
“Don’t be petulant. You can’t even hold yourself up.” Thula retorted, “You’ve already pledged your strength to the empire by being in the minority of survivors." She squeezed Anissa's shoulder, her tone becoming softer. "Please, let me prepare you for the future so you’re ready to assist in rebuilding once you’re well enough.”
Anissa’s eyes wondered down, contemplative, but her hand didn’t move from Thula’s collarbone. Her lips parted, but it took a moment for the words to flow. Even just speaking was draining for her. "Once I'm well enough..?" Anissa's mouth contorted into what Thula could only assume was a cynical smile. "You’re awfully confident that I’ll survive. Why?”
"As I just told you most of us are already dead." Thula leaned in, holding eye-contact as if to drive it into Anissa’s feverish mind her profound luck. Clearly fed up with her childishness. “I’m not, and you’re not. You’ve already proven yourself stronger than most. You'll live.” she drawled.
It wasn’t a lie, while Anissa was still weak the worst was over. The residual blood she was coughing up was from the result of scabs in her throat, not the illness itself. It’s just that the actual process of healing that was taking much longer than what should be necessary, and Thula blamed the miasma that had accumulated from the sick all being stowed together as the reason why she wasn’t.
She needed to be somewhere clean to get better. That’s why she brought her here.
Thula watched impassively as Anissa set her jaw, her lip upturning into a sneer of distain at her situation. She was running through all scenarios in her head, and it was clear she hated all of them.
Thula waited in silence for the all-clear to keep going, hoping that appearing unbothered would ease her onto the idea. She didn’t want her to think this would put Anissa beneath her in anyway. She should’ve used better words. She wasn’t bathing her— Thula was simply restoring a prime contributor to the empire to proper glory. That’s all.
Anissa’s seething simmered down. Not because she was any less upset, but because holding onto emotion for longer than twenty seconds whilst in this state was exhausting. Instead of a retort, her anger gave way to a silent despair. “Fine.” she said through a laboured breath. “Just make it quick and get it over with.”
“It can either be done quickly or properly. I’m opting to do it properly.” Thula replied, pulling the zip all the way down and just pretended she didn't see Anissa's utterly demoralised face. Choosing to instead to focus on pulling her arms out of their sleeves one at a time.
The more of Anissa's body that was bared to the air the more clear it became what the neglect of being left to suffer in that stuffy uniform in such a weakened state for such a prolonged period of time had wrought on her. Her neck and underarms were chafed, she was littered with sores and rashes where sweat had been left to pool and marinate and surface-level scabs plagued the sections of atrophied skin.
All while the scourge, even while now fighting a losing battle, had still left her a shadow of herself. It had physically thwarted her. She was gaunt, her muscle mass much lesser than what was healthy. Unable to keep food down and no ability to retain nutrition, her body had eaten itself to keep her alive.
After making sure Anissa was steady, Thula figured it would be a good time to step out of the room to begin running the bath, giving Anissa some much needed time to gather herself. She was leaning forward on her knees sluggishly, her upper-body on full display as she stared daggers into the floor. Now all that remained was her tights and boots.
Only after checking the temperature was what she hoped would be satisfactory did Thula decide to resume Anissa's undressing. Judging from her vacant gaze when she returned, it would seem that leaving her to gather herself had just ensured that the humiliation that brewed within her had time to distil into something evermore potent.
Thula's calmness made Anissa uneasy, it always had and it especially did now. It made her hard to gauge, hard to predict. A brilliant skill to have in the midst of battle, but not so much when it came to establishing social standing amongst closer peers. Being hard to read on purpose often meant deceit, but it was strange here.
Why be hard to read if she's already made her intentions clear? The mask may have been obvious, but what lay beneath was not…
Thula had tossed Anissa's clothes into a pile, she would dispose of them later. Anissa, whilst tense, did little to prohibit Thula from lifting her naked body into her arms, and just waited in dread and anticipation for the plunge as she felt them grace from one room to the next.
Thula set her in gently, the water rippling beneath her. Anissa sighed deeply, the pinch in her forehead relaxing the deeper she sank. The water was tepid, cooling her fever and soothing her pain far better than any mediocre medicine ever could.
"See?" Thula's hushed voice interrupted her basking, as if to remind her of her oncoming fate. "All that fuss and for what? Nothing…"
Anissa's head lulled to the side, eyes watching half-lidded as Thula upturned a bottle of body-wash and let the soap pour into her hand before setting it off to the side. Lathering both her hands together, Thula reached out towards her.
'God this is really happening?' was Anissa's first thought as she watched Thula take her left arm into her hands, leaving a trail of suds from her hand up to her elbow, massaging her way up her forearm and bicep with gentle squeezes before stopping just short of her shoulder. "Don't tense." Thula ordered, causing Anissa’s rigidness to falter, her focus unbroken as she then reached out to do the same to the other arm.
Both hands worked their way up Anissa’s shoulders in circles. As Thula palmed at the sore flesh, Anissa let out little hisses of pain as she ran her hands over the inflamed areas of skin.
“I know…” Thula said in a hushed tone, though her hands remained unyielding in their duty. They worked their way from her shoulders to her chest before reaching her collarbone, then around her neck. The pressure of her hands relaxed her as they sought not only to wash her, but undo the knots that had accumulated in her atrophied muscles - eventually reaching all the way up to the back of her head and behind her ears. Her fingers tangling in Anissa's messy hair.
Anissa hated it. She hated it because of how nice it felt. It was wrong. It was humiliating, and yet, it was everything to her.
She didn’t understand why she felt this way. It felt like she had been starving her entire life and didn’t even realise it until she finally took her first bite of food.
It made her miss her mother, who she barely even knew or even remembered for that fact. Yet here she was, staring off into nothing, wishing, longing— to be held by someone she could now only ever recognise inside of a dream.
“Sit up.” Thula said, guiding Anissa from a laying to sitting position and she did so without complaint, much to Thula’s surprise before realising her expression. Her eyes far away, her brow pinched in deep thought - Thula decided at that moment just not to say anything. Leaving her to her deep contemplation if it meant less fuss.
She re-lathered her hands and moved to work on her back which was the worst of it; a collage of grime and contorted flesh. Anissa twitched at the sting as Thula methodically palmed her shoulder-blades, moving up and down her spine and in small circles behind her ribs. Scrubbing away dirt, sweat, blood, and loose scabs from her paled skin.
Surveying the carnage made Thula's heart ache. She shouldn’t have waited as long as she had to get Anissa out of that forsaken place. It didn’t matter if she would’ve fought her all the way for trying— she still should’ve moved her sooner. Both their prides be damned...
Anissa didn’t even feel herself beginning to lean when Thula started on her hair. The sensation of her fingers massaging her scalp had subdued her, much to her own embarrassment as Thula slapped her cheek once in order to rouse her. “Don’t fall asleep! You’ll have all the time in the world for that after we’re done here.”
“I wasn’t-!” Anissa gritted her teeth, her shout cutoff by another sharp intake of breath as Thula’s hand grazed another patch of raw flesh.
“Keep your head up.” she said, reaching to tilt Anissa’s chin to keep her looking skyward before using a cup to scoop up some water before dousing Anissa from above. Falls of soapy water cascading from her hair down into the water below that had now since gone murky…
The only other time Thula could recall giving Anissa a fraction of the kind of attention was receiving now was after her coming of age ritual. Without parents of her own, Thula was the one that stepped in as substitute. Even though Anissa was the one who won, Thula was still the one to patch her up before sending her to the barracks to begin proper training. It was a close battle, and it had shown on both of them.
When Anissa struck her down, Thula remembered feeling a genuine pride at the fine warrior she had created. A pride she had felt only once before, though its re-occurrence was bittersweet.
Thula missed her daughter. She never found out what exactly happened to her on the day of the Great Purge. One moment they were fighting along side each other, then Thula was dragged away by an opponent, that, soon thereafter, met his end. Not by her, but by another Viltrumite that crushed his skull like a bullet whizzing through the air.
By the time Thula had gotten to her feet, her daughter was nowhere to be seen, and after that day she never saw her again. She was lost amongst the chaos and was reduced to just another of the numerous undefinable bloodstains and body parts strewn across Viltrum’s surface.
It broke her not being able to find her and not knowing how she died made it even worse.
So, when she found Anissa digging her way out of the rubble, one of the few children to actually survive the purge— she was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and everything after that day was written in the stars.
Thula pushed Anissa’s soaked hair out the way of her face. She took her by the shoulders and once again guided her to lean back, Thula’s frame momentarily guarding Anissa's eyes from the overhead light.
She re-lathered her hands once more, and reached down towards Anissa’s left leg, lifting it up by the underside of her knee to get full range to clean it thoroughly. Her inner-thigh was chafed so she made an effort to be delicate as she soaped the area. Working her way down methodically towards her knee, then down to her shin, not too dissimilar from what she did with her arms.
Thula wasn’t doing all this because she believed Anissa would survive, but rather because she needed her to. She couldn’t face that pain again, she couldn’t lose another daughter— she just couldn’t.
Anissa was the source of all of her strength. Without her she would just, cease to function, like she almost did the first time. She had to live, because if she didn’t, Thula wasn't sure she could either. It was a pathetic thing to admit to herself, but it was true...
She cast a glance at Anissa whose gaze was fixated on the murky water like it personally offended her, her nose wrinkling. Though, she still said nothing.
“We’re almost done here. You can stop sulking.” Thula rolled her eyes, reaching over to pull Anissa’s other leg out of the water. “I'll admit, you've done quite remarkably.” she continued, her expression softening for just a moment. “I look forward to seeing you back to full strength."
Anissa didn’t respond, her unwavering gaze remained fixed on the water, and her expression seemed to be worsening at that. The longer she stared, the deeper set her scowl became; her teeth bared, her body tensing like she was ready to lash out at something.
Thula watched her cautiously, stopping to gauge what she was doing before her stare of pure hatred gave way unpredictably to a quiet cry of anguish. Anissa tried to suppress herself by biting down into her wrist but the feeling overflowed from her eyes in rivers. Opting to hide her shame in the crook of her elbow instead.
Thula reeled back in surprise. Her expression hovering somewhere between frustration and worry. She looked over her shoulder instinctively, even when she knew she was inside her own home she still expected to see someone standing there, watching them.
She let go of Anissa and craned her head out the open bathroom door, the view of Viltrum visible from where she sat in the doorway. The air flowing in from the balcony was silent, the sky was dark. And there was no one. Everyone else was still fighting for their life, or busy picking up the pieces elsewhere…
'We're like insect scrambling in the dirt after a storm.' Thula thought, feeling rather silly for having let a sudden bout of paranoia get the better of her.
If Anissa were to be disgraced for her display of weakness, then so would every remaining soul on this desolate planet forced to grovel at the mercy of nature. To bring punishment, would be to bring death to all of them. So, for the good of their species, Thula decided it was just best, at this moment, to bow their head and admit defeat.
Just this once, if it meant a fighting chance later on...
So, taking a breath to calm herself, Thula wordlessly, and without fuss, pulled a towel hanging from the nearby rack and held it against her body, reaching out towards Anissa with her free hand. “Hey, come to me-“ she uttered, but Anissa swatted her away, pressing her body against the wall like she wanted it to swallow her whole.
“Hey.” Thula’s lip upturned into a sneer, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her in to face her. “I said don’t be petulant!”
Anissa couldn’t look at her. It had all been too much, and hated that she couldn’t hold herself together long enough to get this over with. Still, Thula persisted. “Give me your arm.” she said, her calm returning.
Anissa still didn’t face her, but her eyes darted up to meet hers. Thula urged her silently, and Anissa, though hesitant, eventually shut her eyes and moved toward her. Thula took her arm eagerly and looped it around her neck, then did the same with the other one.
“Good girl...” she whispered, so quietly that Anissa barely caught it. She expected Thula to lift her up into her arms like she had before, but instead she just heaved her out of the water, swaddling her in the towel before bringing her in for a close embrace.
Anissa could hear Thula’s heartbeat. Thula could feel Anissa’s breath against her neck.
“There.” Thula huffed, breaking the silence, “Was that so hard?”
“I…” Anissa trailed off a moment, her voice tired and stifled. Clearly ashamed. “I demand you never repeat the events of what occurred here. To anyone…”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Thula replied, quizzically. “Nothing happened to my knowledge. Unless you have something to report?”
“… No. Nothing.” Anissa steadied her voice, grabbing a fist-full of the towel to try and wipe her face.
“That’s what I thought.” Thula laid a hand on Anissa’s back to reassure her, and she sighed deeply like she’d just let go of something heavy...
Face hidden in the crook of Thula’s neck, feeling unobserved for one of the first times in her life, Anissa surrendered to her emotions, and resumed her silent keening.
It felt safe; being encapsulated in the arms of someone else. It was a funny thing really. On the day she became an adult, Anissa had spared Thula out of respect. Yet, despite being in the solitary presence of a weaker member of her species, she had never felt as safe as she did right now. It didn’t make sense to her - these feelings. It's why she tried so hard to ignore them, but now, they were too loud and Anissa was too weak to do anything about it. All she could do was feel.
Thula never forgot what it was like to be a mother. It was one of the very few things she did that actually felt good. Yes, she had her strength and her age and her refined technique of fighting she had become notorious for. She was feared by those lower, she was respected as an equal by the higher rank. She was everything a Viltrumite could hope to be.
But none of it felt good. She was content, but not happy. Having a daughter… someone she could bestow real wisdom onto and help to make grow. That felt good.
After losing the one good thing she felt like she truly had, that energy had to be spent somewhere. Otherwise she felt like she might become manic. So, Thula, giving into the same instinct that led her to pulling Anissa out of the rubble the day the world changed, let herself plant a kiss against her wet hair. Blinking away tears before abruptly getting to her feet as a means of retreating from her emotion.
Anissa groaned as she was lifted up into her arms, caught off guard like she was just awoken from a dream as she felt them grace from one room to the next. Thula set her down on her bed gently, pulling her onto her side, her hand never leaving her shoulder. The towel she was draped in was already speckled with blood from Anissa's mouth, her ragged breathing now the only thing to fill the silence between them.
She heard Thula sit down on the edge of the bed, just as she had all those times before when the scourge was at its peak. Thula let herself exist in the silence for a moment, eyeing her open balcony before returning her gaze down at Anissa, who seemed to be drifting off.
She squeezed her arm and leaned in ever so slightly. "Anissa, I must go now." she said. "They'll be expecting my assistance out there. We're already too few as is, there's no doubt my absence hasn't already been noticed."
'Don't go...' Anissa didn’t reply, she gave her a hum of acknowledgement, and then Thula stood, taking her hand from her shoulder, leaving it cold.
She took a momentary stance at her bedside, her arms crossed as she regarded Anissa from above with a stoic gentleness, "I give you my word that I will return. That it my mission to you, and I will ensure it is fulfilled." Thula then turned with a sharp precision towards her open balcony and Anissa listened sadly to the woosh as she took off from the ground, leaving her in silence.
An unpleasant feeling of loneliness quickly crept up but Anissa shut it down just as quickly. She grumbled and curled into herself, hoping to just sleep this trial of unexpected and emotionally taxing events away, which proved to be surprisingly easy...
The air that blew in from the balcony was soothing against her skin, the silence that had once felt foreboding now felt oddly peaceful. Absent were the sounds and smells of death, and absent was the constant sting of dirt on open wounds.
The little pain that remained once she had been washed and laid down was trumped by exhaustion, euphoria, and a genuine feeling of safety that allowed her to tune out everything around her. She drifted off quietly, comfortably, and with the weight of her humiliation having been pushed back, for the time being, into the recesses of her mind.
