Wolfboy_

I’m new in Warframe so maybe some stuff it’s wrong but I will try my best!

The tag is #Aetherion vs the void

Fell free to ask or comment if you wanna! ✨

Hey, it’s me again! I really hope you like this one, I had a lot of fun writing it! hehehe

TW: severe burns, graphic injury description, medical trauma, blood, panic attacks, implied self-blame / guilt, violence.

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His mouth was dry, so dry his tongue stuck to his palate and peeled off, leaving behind that viscous pull. At first, he didn’t feel pain. Honestly, it surprised him not to feel pain after being hit by a rocket launcher. But then he noticed it: the way his throat clenched in a silent snarl, nerves exploding all at once. Even the faintest touch of air made his skin prickle, nerves laid bare like magma—red, burned and blistering hot. Hot enough to bubble the flesh, with no blood left because it had all been burned away. He couldn’t move, not when he felt them shifting him, and the pain was so sharp, so overwhelming, he couldn’t even pass out. It had gone past the point where death even seemed possible.

The sharp clack of metal boots echoed through the ruined mall, mixed with Arthur’s desperate shouts telling survivors to clear out, and Lettie barking for space. Soon the sting of antiseptic filled the air, mixing with the stench of burned flesh and salted fat that made anyone nearby retch. But Lettie couldn’t let herself gag. Couldn’t let her hands shake, even as the rhythmic sound of metal tools blended with the broken, muffled whimpers coming from the victim of that cruel blast. It had to be mechanical, methodical, steps drilled into her from militia training. This wasn’t the first time she’d treated burns this bad—but it was the first time she truly feared she might fail.

“Call Vell. No, I need him” Lettie’s voice cut through the noise. Sure, forceful, edged with a desperation that meant she didn’t even look at anyone when she said it.

An almost animal growl ripped through the air. “What the fuck do you mean by that? We ain’t got time to bloody find—” Quincy’s words were slapped out of his mouth by a single sharp strike. His eyes, wild with rage, met Aoi’s, and that fury dissolved into raw confusion.

“If Lettie says go get Vell, then you go get Vell” There were tears in Aoi’s eyes, caught on her lashes, threatening to fall. Maybe it was the way she looked at him—like they’d already lost, that finally pushed Quincy into motion. If Vell was anywhere, it’d be with Amir.

He reached the arcade. For the first time, it stood silent, lights off except a single lamp in the back office that threw moving shadows of those inside. Quincy made sure his steps were loud so he wouldn’t startle them. Inside were Amir, Eleanor and Vell. The sight twisted something sharp in Quincy’s chest.

Amir, shaking uncontrollably, clung to Vell and Eleanor, crying so hard static sparked across his skin like racing lightning, fingers twitching as they dug into Vell’s jacket. Quincy knew Amir needed them more than anything. He’d been in that same dark place, guilt turning your insides rotten. Except unlike him, Amir’s guilt still breathed—for now.

“Hey, they need you outside. Now” Maybe he sounded calm. Like he wasn’t seconds away from tearing himself apart from helplessness. Vell’s look was clear as day: Not moving. Even at gunpoint. Quincy dragged a hand over his scalp, breath ragged. “I’ll stay with him. Lettie needs you. She asked for you, herself”

Vell studied him. He knew how complicated things were between Quincy and Amir, enough to say no outright. He was about to, when Quincy slammed a hand into the wall, voice shaking. Quincy’s eyes burned with desperation, not hate. Hands trembling. A breath so ragged it might break. And in his gaze, a plea so raw it nearly split Vell in two. Eyes so close to tears that Vell had never seen before.

A sigh was Vell’s only answer. He turned to Amir, pressing kisses to his tear-wet cheeks, hands brushing trembling skin. He promised he’d be back as soon as possible. Amir collapsed to his knees, clutching Vell’s clothes, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he whispered broken words, begging Vell to stay.

Eleanor had to pry Amir’s hands free, gripping them firmly, while Vell ran off, bile rising in his throat at leaving Amir like that. Only Eleanor, Amir, and Quincy stayed behind. Maybe Quincy had never shown what Amir truly meant to him, that bond, that quiet brotherhood. But now wasn’t the time to hold anything back. They needed each other as badly as lungs needed air. They fell into a desperate embrace: sniper and runner, holding each other like drowning men while Eleanor quietly slipped through their minds, humming lullabies to soothe them. None of them were usually physical, but in that moment, they stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, facing the unknown together. Like the family they’d become.

The next twelve hours crawled by, heavy with dread so thick it felt like it dug under the skin. Hunger gnawed at them, but the real weight was fear… fear that the doors would open with the worst news. When the makeshift infirmary doors finally opened, Arthur was waiting.

“How’s the drifter?” Arthur’s voice was rough, weary, but edged with hope. “He’ll live. Should wake up in a few hours. Though if it were me… I wouldn’t want to” Vell answered, peeling off blood-soaked gloves, tossing them into the trash.

Vell felt drained, not just from the surgery, but from the thought that kept circling him: maybe it’d be easier to reset him, to let Aetherion forget what lay ahead. But he couldn’t do that. Not without talking to everyone first, to his pillow, to Amir. Lost in thought, Vell didn’t even realize his knees were about to give out, adrenaline gone. It wasn’t the hand on his waist that pulled him back, but who it belonged to. Amir.

“Hey pretty boy, you look like you could use a break” Amir’s voice was playful, like he hadn’t just almost torn the arcade apart in panic. Vell exhaled, shaky, surprised but grateful, pressing a kiss to Amir’s lips. “We both should” Amir added, quick as always, dragging them off toward their room, ducking away from everyone’s eyes, especially Quincy’s.

Eleanor’s voice reached everyone’s heads, a soft warning: They’re here, just before a loud crash echoed from the loading bay. Everyone except Amir and Vell ran to see what happened, smoke curling away. There, in the center, stood two young, hooded figures. One with a long braid, posture sharp and threatening; the other just behind him, calmer but not timid. “Where is he?” asked the one with the braid, leveling a pistol at Arthur. Behind them, something that looked like an alien dog growled low.

“Identify yourselves!” Arthur barked, sword raised. The rest of the Hex held still, not wanting to provoke the beast.

“Aetherion. Where is he?” the braided one demanded again, lowering his hood to reveal a face that looked exactly like Aetherion’s, only younger. Quincy felt the blood drain from his face; he couldn’t tell if it was shock or leftover adrenaline. Because when the other figure lowered his hood… he looked just like Vell.

An explosion was the first sign to Arthur that something had gone wrong. They were almost there, but the unmistakable sound of a blast forced them to hurry.

> A story about my Drifter crossing paths with the Hex! There’ll be romance, pain, scars and so much more… maybe even another Drifter, haha.

A little drama! hehehe

Pt 3 here

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An explosion was the first sign to Arthur that something had gone wrong. They were almost there, but the unmistakable sound of a blast forced them to hurry. 

“Lettie, stick close behind me. Quincy, keep your eyes sharp, no surprises. Aoi, open us a path” He didn’t need to tell Eleanor to shield them; she already knew.

They advanced cautiously, firing at the Infested emerging from the clearing smoke. Then they saw Sevagoth kneeling on the ground, holding something, Amir, clinging desperately to Aetherion’s metal frame. Amir trembled, electricity running through him like a pulse, a heartbeat keeping him alive.

“I’m alright!” Amir shouted first, trying to keep the team from worrying, old habits never die. Aoi, Lettie and Arthur closed in, kneeling beside him, brushing off the dust and checking for wounds. “We’re alright… Aetherion got us covered with his frame” Amir added, his voice tasting of metal, joy and pain mixed together.

“Arthur, get Amir outta there, now. He don’t need to see this…” Quincy’s voice crackled over the comm, stopping Arthur and Lettie, who went from looking at Amir to staring at the smoke rising from Sevagoth’s back. Lettie’s mouth opened slightly, finally understanding why Aetherion hadn’t moved or spoken.

From the front, the warframe looked mostly normal, just streaked with ash and smoke. But behind, it was badly damaged, a hole burned clean through its back where it had taken the rocket blast to protect Amir. Eleanor moved to hold Amir so he wouldn’t look as Aetherion’s body ejected from the warframe, hitting the ground, revealing burnt flesh and the acrid scent of cooked meat filling the air.

Hi! I’d like to share a short story about Aetherion and the Hex! I hope you enjoy it. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize if you notice any mistakes I did my best to keep the characters close to canon. Comments are very welcome, and I’m planning to continue the story soon!l

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No one could blame him for feeling immortal, in some ways, he truly was. Not everyone could walk away alive after being run through with a sword, decapitated, or from any of the long list of reasons he had died before. Besides, how could anyone not feel indestructible when your body was protected by tons of metallic armor, armor that was not only incredibly tough but also built for killing. He had different warframes to choose from, but none compared to his favorite: Sevagoth. Nothing felt quite like crashing against the ground only to rise again, diving straight back into the bloody frenzy.

Usually, he watched from the rooftops, striking from a distance and clearing the perimeter for the Hex. But there were times when his mind seemed to race faster than reason, his heart pounding as he hurled himself like a starving beast into the enemy army, moving as light as a feather in the air, sharp claws shredding opponents effortlessly. It wasn’t easy to show expression through a warframe, but it was clear in a dark, twisted way how much he relished standing at the front of the battle. No matter how heavy that metal beast was, it moved like his own skin.

“Aetherion” A voice snapped him from his frenzy, stopping him cold. He looked around, noticing the torn bodies scattered across the ground. “You’re getting too far ahead” It wasn’t an observation, it was a reproach.

“Ain’t gettin’ ahead, you lot are just slow” His chest rose and fell, lungs drawing air back in as he steadied himself. He stretched slightly, wiping his hands on the warframe’s metal, hoping the blood wouldn’t stain it forever.

He lingered where he had stopped, allowing himself the grim luxury of stepping among the bodies one by one, draining them, even studying them closely to see where his claws had cut. He wouldn’t deny the morbid fascination in seeing what his weapons could do. Sometimes he wondered if this was what Tenno felt inside their warframes too, unstoppable, or perhaps, more like beasts. Aetherion still couldn’t quite name what he felt, but at least he knew it wasn’t something negative.

The electric hiss warned him before Amir arrived at his side, letting out a groan that was obviously put on for dramatic effect.

“Not all of us are slow”  Aetherion let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head to show how amused he was.

He checked his map, the others were definitely a bit further back, maybe no more than five minutes away, at least he wouldn’t be waiting long. Resting for a moment wouldn’t hurt; sitting on one of the benches in that infested metropolis seemed fitting. Amir seemed hesitant, not because it was dangerous, but because standing still seemed harder for him than fighting.

“Suit yourself. It’s not like anyone else is going to take the seat” the drifter muttered, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back against the machine. The bench creaked quietly, as if complaining the warframe was too heavy for the old wood.

He let himself close his eyes. He couldn’t feel the snow on his real skin, but he could sense it through the borrowed shell . Snowflakes melting on metal, the freezing air burning his nose, that strange feeling of his own body heat melting the snow even though it remained cold, so cold it burned. Silence truly was a luxury in this world, in all worlds. 

Yet Amir interrupted it gently, humming a tune. He opened his eyes, even if the warframe didn’t show it, and looked at Amir, posture betraying a faint annoyance. But it all happened too quickly. 

Part 2