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The Mercenary
One of Nesta's paramours on her trip towards the Middle.
Such interesting eyes—not just one shade of black, but... many, with hints of brown that glimmered amongst the shadows.
"...Maybe it'll kill me one day, maybe it'll cripple me. But at least I'll go knowing I killed it first."
for @sjmsapphic
Chapters: 1/6 Fandom: Top Gun (Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell Characters: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Mythology References, Half-Divine Maverick, Canonical Character Death, Found Family, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Protective Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Self-Discovery, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Friends to Lovers, death personified, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Demigods, Mild Sexual Content, Oblivious Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, The Book of Death is Named Stacy Summary:
After Goose’s death, Maverick has nowhere left to turn. Haunted by powers he barely understands, shunned by a Navy that mistrusts what it can’t control, he teeters between defiance and despair. But when Ice refuses to let him spiral away, Maverick begins a reluctant, uneven path toward reckoning with his heritage: a son of Death, raised in secrecy, now forced to face what that means for the living.
In which Maverick discovers the only thing stronger than Death’s pull is the hand that refuses to let go.
arthur: “I don’t want to be alone.”
Arthur stood in front of her, all bluster and bravado gone in that moment. The sun was streaming in from the windows in the hall, that beautiful golden light of late afternoon casting long shadows of the pair in the corridor. Aria knew she should go, make an excuse to go back to her room... but she knew in an instant she wouldn't leave him there. She couldn't leave Arthur there.
"Come..." Aria held out her hand or Arthur to take. He seemed to hesitate for a few moments before reaching out and wrapping his hand around her own. Silently, mostly hoping not to attract any attention to themselves, Aria let the pair up the stairs and down a rarely used hallway of the Citadel. "This is where I used to hide when I wanted to read and not be disturbed..." Aria pointed up when they had reached their destination. Above them was a window alcove, which sat about four feet off the ground. She let out a bit of a laugh and looked back to Arthur. "It seemed much higher when I was a girl," she explained.
"I hid a crate I stole from the kitchen behind the curtain..." Aria paused in her speech, pushing the curtain back to find a rather dusty wooden box. She smiled. Something of her old life had managed to survive the Varmont invasion.
"Come on then, Your Highness," Aria gestured towards the crate. "You're not going to make me move this myself, are you?"
"What?" Arthur frowned, confused.
"I am taller than I was as a girl but there's no way I can get up there without something to stand on," Aria explained, pointing again to the window alcove. Arthur nodded simply, reaching down and grabbing the box to move it nearer to the window.
Once Arthur had helped her up onto the window ledge and hoisted himself up as well, the pair found themselves sitting nearly knee to knee, facing one another. The stared at one another in silence and then, almost in unison, the pair started to laugh.
"I suppose the window also seemed much larger when I was a girl," Aria admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest. Arthur shrugged, mirroring her move.
"I don't mind."
Aria stared at him, waiting for Arthur to say anything else. So often he seemed to have so much to say, but not today. Arthur was looking at her, but Aria wasn't completely sure he was really looking at her. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere else.
"Tell me about somewhere else you've been," Aria blurted out suddenly. Arthur's gaze focused on her then, but he remained silent.
"Like when you told me about the market-- the market in... Malakarta," she continued. "It-- it doesn't have to be a market," she added quickly. "It can be anywhere. You spoke so... vividly of that place, it was-- it was like I was there with you," she paused. "And I think it might be quite nice to pretend to be somewhere else, just for a bit."
"It might be good for us both," Aria thought to herself.
Arthur was silent again, his eyes focused on something distant. Aria cast her gaze down. What was she doing-- he must think she was mad, bringing him to crowd into a windowsill that was barely big enough for the pair! Aria was about to make an excuse to leave, but Arthur spoke just then.
"... You've never tasted fruit as sweet as what you can pick right from the trees that are plentiful across the islands..." he began. Aria turned her eyes back up to meet Arthur's. He had a smile on his face and Aria couldn't help but smile as well, relaxing back against the wall behind her as Arthur spun his narrative for her about the islands of Aotepo.
(source)
Letter || solo
[ the letter would be written in French but for accessibility it will be in English here <3 ]
Grand-mère,
We should visit you soon.
Glimmer
It was time.
After what seemed like lifetimes, and in reality it had been, Locien no longer needed to hide in plain sight; his visage had been deeply altered for so long he had nearly forgotten his true form. Now that the Dragons hand gone home and the Dracthyr were now out in the world, the sight of a Dragon walking the capital streets would not be as surprising as it was in the past.
What a secret to carry, what a lonely life. When so few know your true self. Only Locien's Daughter Drissa, and his Ward Antasia, knew the true face of the man.
No Lover.
No Friend.
No one to carry this with him.
But now the face of the world had chanced yet gain, and it was time for the Baron to be true to himself.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“I hope the Amazons never go to war against your country, Martha Kent. What a mighty weapon they wield.”
“...we can’t go to war against you—the Amazons are indestructible.”
“We are. Except for one weakness.”
“Hmm? And what’s that?”
But Hippolyta just gives her a secretive little smile and says,
“Little humans.”
