#some fluff?

You were treated as a monster and thrown out as you cried and screamed over her ashes.

As you got older, you discovered you could in fact touch things as long as you kept one or two fingers absent from whatever you were touching. But humans were forgetful and you would go days without disintegrating something until it slipped your mind and suddenly you were down an armchair or a cup.

You were lucky you hadn’t killed anyone else.

Then you were taken to Sakaar.

…………...

You didn’t know how you got there, but that was pushed to the back of your mind as the people of Sakaar quickly discovered your powers and put you to work in the gladiator ring. You had no fighting experience, but you learned quickly after learning that you would lose your life otherwise.

The first time you watched someone crumble before your eyes caused you to scream and cry much like when you had killed your mother.

You were undefeated for years, always ending fights quicker than they began, disintegrating and crumbling your opponents to dust and letting them blow away on the wind. You became a favorite of the Grandmaster, but you were tossed aside as the Hulk came into play.

He came barreling into the battle ring of Sakaar, shattering your reputation like glass, all anger and rage and a whirlwind of power.

You destroyed his weapon, he snapped your arm like a twig and beat you into the ground soon after.

That wasn’t the first of your injuries from the green gladiator, and it wouldn’t be the last.

…………...

The God of Mischief came soon after, suave mannerisms and the voice of a snake and all. Which described him perfectly in your opinion. He slithered his way into the Grandmaster’s good graces, sweeping the floor in his favor with faux smiles and silver-tongued words.

“This is ah, my champion, or- former champion I should say. Former champion, this is Loki from ah- where was it again?” He introduces you, you dip your head and receive a tight lipped smile and an almost imperceptible nod from the raven haired foreigner.

“I’m from Asgard.” Was all he said.

You can feel his eyes on you as you are forced into another battle in the gladiator ring. He watches as you run and roll from the opponent before you (it’s slimy and purple and has way too many arms for your comfort). You feel the tension rise as you finally get in close enough to grab ahold of the monster’s head and watch it disintegrate at your fingertips.

Before you would’ve cried at the fact of you killing someone.

Now you feel nothing.

The two of you form a strange bond over the weeks he is at Sakaar. He first initiated a conversation by inquiring how you obtained your power (demanding how a bug such as yourself came across such destructive power were closer to his exact words). That developed into you asking how someone of such high status as a Prince of Asgard fell to such low levels as Sakaar.

However, like everything else, you held him at arm’s length despite the yearning to get close and have some semblance of normal companionship. You didn’t want to hurt another person you grew to care about, even if he was a man with one too many lies and tricks at his disposal.

And like everything else, he left.

One night while you slept, he left with the man who claimed to be his brother, the man who smelled like ozone and lightning and carried himself much like Loki did; with confidence befitting that of a prince.

The worst part?

He didn’t even say goodbye.

…………...

You were asleep in your chambers (the Grandmaster had ‘gifted’ you such luxuries soon after you arrived on this damned planet) on a night when the moons of Sakaar were bright and full and lit everything in an almost whimsical glow. You held yourself gingerly, keeping your pinkies clear of the fabric of your robe as you watched the lights below you flicker and shine.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” You swallowed a scream at the familiar voice and whirled to see Loki in all his glory, emerald leather armor and sly smile that implied he was up to something. He stood next to you, arms leaning on the balcony ledge as he looked at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Not as beautiful as Asgard of course, but it is quite stunning.” He continued and you took a step back.

“You left.” He gave a slow nod,

“I did.”

“You left me.”

“I did that too.” A burning in your eyes reminded you how much of an effect Loki had on you. Clenching your teeth, you clenched your fingers into fists, carefully keeping your thumbs from brushing against your palms and causing you to lose your hands.

He pushed himself up and started walking towards you, you took a step back and he stopped, hands held out in an almost placating gesture. His green eyes swirled with an emotion you couldn’t and didn’t want to identify. Acting like you didn’t care was the best way to keep from breaking down.

“Y-N-”

“Don’t.” You stopped him before he could continue,

“You left me here without so much as a goodbye and now you’re back. Why?” You looked stubbornly at the ground, afraid of what you’d see if you looked up, looked at him.

“I- I had to see you… To apologize...” He said and you snorted, fists tightening at the words.

Cool palms touched your face and you looked up in shock, you hadn’t heard him move. Green eyes, lips twisted into a frown, he looked almost like a painting. His hands trailed down your face, past your shoulders, to your arms,

“No Loki don’t- you’ll-” Despite you trying to pull away, he finally held your hands.

You waited for the screaming, the crumbling, the falling of ashes at your feet.

Nothing.

He stood before you, holding your hands in his with a gentleness that betrayed his sharp witted words and scalding gaze. Your eyes widened as you waited for this dream to shatter,

“How- how are you not-?” it came out as nothing more than a croak.

A smile touched his face and he gave you that all-knowing grin of his.

“An illusion, my darling. Just a bit of magic. I cannot stay for long.” He whispered and the tears threatened to overflow, your lower lip trembled and you fought back a choked cry.

For the first time in years, you were able to touch someone.

Instead of screams you only heard soft words of comfort that seemed so unlike the man before you.

Instead of the withering away of dust between your fingers, you felt the solid magic allowing you to feel the cool temperature of his hands engulfing yours.

“Don’t cry my dear, please don’t cry.” Loki reached up and thumbed away the tears now streaming down your cheek, face contorting into something that looked like remorse. You pushed his hands away in favor of reaching up and touching his face, finally feeling another being without the fear of destruction.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise. I have to sort some things out first, things have changed drastically with my brother and I and our home. But I will return and take you from this place.” He said, leaning his forehead down against yours, making his promise as he brushed a lock of hair from your face.

He left you in a shine of golden light and the rays of the moons above you. Tears stained your cheeks and chilled your skin in the night air, but you felt a warm feeling in your chest as you repeated Loki’s promise to yourself.

“I assure you I am nothing of the sort” was what he wanted to say but in light of the recent events, he simply said “your welcome” and awkwardly patted the child on the back. He detached her from himself and sent her off to go find Maze.

“Oh, and by the way, mommy has a question for you.” Trixie then turned and headed down the hospital hallway in search of Maze.

Lucifer straightened his suit and entered Chloe’s room one last time.

“You look well.”

“Well I couldn’t have gotten to this point without you, so thank you again for saving my life.”

“Well, huh, like I said when you got yourself shot the first time. I can’t exactly let you die…you are far to interesting.” He offered a warm smile as he walked up to the side of her bed and sat in the chair that was placed next to it.

“If you had distracted me with the whole crossing the planes thing I probably wouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place.” She gave a teasing glare towards the man now sitting by her side, offering a soft gaze in his direction. He chuckled lightly at her statement before they both fell silent for a few moments.
“Beatrice told me you had a question to ask me? So tell me, what do you desire? And I’m not trying to use my ‘mojo’ as you so call it, I am just simply asking.”

“Well, as you know I don’t really believe in God, or Heaven and Hell. I only believe in good and evil and right and wrong.” Lucifer hummed in agreement, allowing Chloe to take her time in figuring out what she specifically wanted to ask. Not pushing her too much, she was still recovering from her near death experience.

“…but, when my nose started bleeding in my home the other night ago, and it wouldn’t stop I knew something was wrong. I had first initially thought that I had somehow gotten poisoned, perhaps at the college party or something. I soon dismissed the thought because it was perhaps just the change in temperatures from outside and inside. Then I heard you come in and I still couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. You came into my room and, well that’s how I ended up here.” She waved her hand around, signaling the room she was currently in.

“Seeing that I almost died I had a little time to think about my life and….” She swallowed, fighting the tears that were now threatening from escaping the ducts in her eyes. She hoped Lucifer wasn’t noticing the fact that she was on the very of tears, but he was a perceptive man when it came to her emotions.

“…and?” He gently pushed her further seeing how she was starting to become unsettled by whatever she was about to say.

“and well…I thought about how if I did die I would end up in hell for the countless number of people I have killed and all the stuff I did back in my acting days.  I wasn’t a perfect person back then, I was like all the other acting teenagers, I got into drugs a little, I would party hard on days I wasn’t working, and then once I became a cop…the number of lives I have taken. The people I have killed….Lucifer I took them away, from their families, there lives here on Earth. I don’t believe in God, but I don’t want to spend an eternity in He-“ Tears started running down her cheek as her breathing started to pick up its pace. Lucifer could tell that because of what she had done in the past would mean she would go to eternal damnation instead of the life everlasting.

“Detective…Chloe.” Lucifer said in a soft voice, reaching to take her hand in his.

“You are by far one of the most annoyingly righteous person I have ever known. You are an amazing mother to a brave and wonderful girl. You go out every day working hard to keep the people of LA safe from drug lords and everyday criminals. You are, as I said a couple of weeks ago, selfless, to a very, very high nauseating degree.” He managed to get a small laugh from Chloe from the last statement, the same line he used when he was explaining his ‘worth’ to her on the beach. With her free hand, she wiped the tear that had now stained her soft cheek, while she blinked frequently to keep more tears from escaping her aqua orbs.

“We all have a past we are not proud of….we all make mistakes. However, what we did in the past does not define who we are now unless we want it to be that way. You are defined by what you do now and that is clear to everyone, Trixie, Maze, me, and even including dear old Dad. Every day you risk your life to help seek justice for those who cannot. You have taught me so much in these past few months and to say that you honestly believe that you could go to Hell? Well, hell I’d storm the gates of heaven and bring war upon the Silver City before I’d let anyone of my siblings take you there. No Detective, when your time comes, which won’t be for many many years I’ll make damn sure of that, you will live a happy, eternal life in the Silver City where you will reunite with your father and other family loved ones. So don’t you ever let anyone believe, or tell you, that for the people you have had to shoot due to protecting those who are innocent, will condemn you Hell, because they are wrong.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before standing up from the chair once more. He leaned in and placed he palm against her soft, wet, cheek. With his thumb, he stroked away and remaining tears. Chloe leaned into the warmth that was radiating from his hand, closing her eyes she remembered how he had done the same thing for reassurance when she had first been shot.

“Well, you did keep your promise so far, though you were cutting it awfully close mister.” She laughed as she opened her eyes and took hold of his wrist with her free hand.

“I am true to my word Detective, I will not let you die. Father is going to have to wait a very long time before he can have you. Now, why don’t you get some rest? You have had a very eventful couple of hours and you need your strength so you can handle the amount of energy you spawn has seemed to keep within her. Honestly, I don’t know where she stores it all?!” He stroked her cheek one last time with her thumb before retreating away from Chloe to allow her to sleep. He turned and headed towards the hospital room door one last time. He placed his hand on the handle before his movements were stopped by Chloe’s soft voice.

“Lucifer?”

“Yes, Detective?” Chloe had so much more she wanted to tell Lucifer, she wanted to tell him how she really felt about him and how grateful she was for him, but she was so tired she decided to tell him at another time.

“Thank you,” was all she could muster for now. Lucifer turned his head to take a look at Chloe one last time. To memorize her aqua eyes that shined so bright like the first star, to remember her face and her smile that she used whenever they were together. He memorized what the sound of her voice was like when she called his name. He memorized every bit of detail and feature that made Chloe, Chloe, so when he couldn’t see her in person, she would always be in his mind and in his heart.

“You welcome.” He gave her one last warm smile that was full of unrequited love and he could feel his eyes start to become wet with tears. If he didn’t leave now he would not be able to leave Chloe behind but he had to remember that this was all of Father’s plan and that Chloe’s feelings for him weren’t real. Nothing they had was real therefore to ensure her free will he needed to be as far away from her as possible. Turning the door handle he opened the door and walked out. The door closed behind him but he didn’t dare look back, looking back meant being a pawn in Fathers plan. He couldn’t do that, it wasn’t fair for Chloe and he cared way to much too do that too her. He followed the signs that marked ‘EXIT’ until he was outside. Placing his hands in his pockets he walked away from the sun that brightened up his life, all that was left now was darkness and a broken heart.

You don’t drown by falling in water, you drown by staying there.

The two men barricaded the door, unaware of the woman behind them, whispering to each other about failed plans and what they could possibly do to strike fear in Falon’din’s cold, dead heart. While they moved and talked she could feel them draining the magic from the air, filling their depleted mana, leaving a vacuum that was readily filled in like water filled an empty cup.

One of them, the unmasked one, the Shadow, saw her first. He froze, eyes wide as he looked her over, at her hiding from them as best she could against the side of the bed. A hand reached back to grip the ornate-yet-simple robes of Fen’harel, tugging on them. He was ignored for a few moments until the tugging grew so strong the Shadow was jerking his body back a step or two. The bark on his lips fell silent when he finally saw what the Shadow saw.

Shock was on what she could see of his face, plush lips gaped open, then there was anger, lips thin and curved down. She whimpered at the sight, trying to press herself into the living Ironbark of the bed, hiding her face in the heavily brocaded coverlet and blankets. When they left, if she still lived after they took what they wanted of her, Falon’din would punish her for touching what was his without permission. Both thoughts made her cry, silent sobs into wood and fabric.

Something was said, twining in the air, but the emotion was lost in the heartbeat pounding in her ears. When she looked up Fen’harel was crouching at her feet, hands up and open in a placating manner. Another whimper escaped her, too far terrified to feel ashamed of the noise, aqua eyes as round as the moon, tears still spilling down her cheeks. His lips moved, words unheard, but she could only guess at what they were as one hand slowly moved towards the shackle.

The slave hid her face again in the blankets, tense and prepared for pain, for something, yet only felt Fen’harels’ magic roll over the metal bond. His magic pricked and pulled at the runes carved into silverite, Falon’dins’ magic rising from them to push and shove against the intruder. How long it took she didn’t know or care, shaking and crying like a newborn babe as the two Evanuris fought in silent warfare over a simple piece of metal. It came to an end with a vicious pop, causing her to yelp, and the clatter of the metal band falling from her flesh was like the abrupt clang of a heavy bell.

Fen’harel gently laid his hand on her leg, trying to calm her, but she only shook that much harder. The hand was quickly retracted, and she curled up in a ball against the wall. Unwilling, unable, taught never to move from the Gods’ bed lest she wished to forfeit her life, but why would she when Falon’din prized her so highly for her beauty and her womb? This bed was her life, the only constant, her body belonged to him, her womb the fertile field his seed would root in. The bed was her life, bearing children for Falon’din her only purpose.

Slowly, she calmed when no further touching came. A hand stroked down her calf, her fingers finding the roughened, bruised skin where the rough and biting edges of the silverite had eaten at her skin. When the red-haired woman started to uncurl, more to slowly reach for the shackle than anything else, the wolf-head elf drew a sharp breath, making her freeze. Aqua stared into shadow staring back at her, and the rage she saw on the rest of his face made her return to the wall, hands over her head, mouth spilling sounds of apology. No words, just keening mewls that begged not to be harmed.

The ‘God’ had seen what Falon’din had done to her body. The bruises that laced her flesh, from the inside of her thighs from his affections, the dried semen that ran in rivers over the mottled work, around her wrists and throat like jewelry. Bite marks littered her breasts, dried blood on the edges of nearly infected open wounds. Nail marks left strips of red over her ribs and hips, more blood spilled there. The woman was nearly a skeleton, given enough food to live until her belly grew with a babe, too weak to put up a fight if she wanted to or to use her magic.

That she was not dead was a testimony to her value.

Anger cooled in the flow of magic, and Fen’harel crept forward, trying not to startle the poor woman again. If Falon’din stood before him now he would not hesitate one heartbeat to strike the son of a bitch down.

He sat at her hip, she could feel the heat of him burning her. Gently, slowly, an arm slipped under her knees, another around her shoulders, and before she could even react he was on his feet in one fluid motion, her tight against his chest. She grasped at the fur, the robes, screaming in his ear full of fear, struggling like a snake in the talons of a hawk.

The Dread Wolf merely kept her against his chest, bearing the brunt of her terror-fueled strength, the fists, nails, and flailing feet, until she had worn herself out.

The slave panted into his clothing, fresh tears on her cheeks, and accepted her fate at the hands of these monsters. Falon’din would miss her, would be so enraged by the gall of the Wolf, that maybe… maybe he might think of her fondly. It was her only hope.

A blanket was placed over her by the Shadow, pity and sorry on his lips. She was carried out of the bedroom, out of the Keep, moving swiftly past dead and dying, every face blazoned with Falon’dins’ marks, just like hers was. They talked, lips moving as quickly as their feet did. The Eluvian in the Courtyard blazed with life, guarded by Elvhen wearing wolf-head pendants. Cries of welcome rose warmly in the air and looks were given to her of curiosity, then repulsion.

The trip through the Eluvian and the Crossroads was blissfully dark, spelled to sleep to protect the path taken.

For many cycles of sun and moon, she spent time in the care of Healers, Fen’harel and the Shadow visiting from time to time. As her body was healed and fed they learned that she was not deaf like they originally thought, but a spell had been woven into her very being that allowed only Falon’dins’ voice to be heard by her, and that she was not mute.

She had never been taught how to speak at all.

What Falon’din had hoped to gain from her, her very purpose for existence and that she had bred for it had caused both men to walk away lest they harm someone in their potent rage. The Shadow, especially, stayed near her after that to make sure she was comfortable, that no man try to take advantage of her even in this place of safety.

His name was Kel’aan, she was told, and he was Fen’harels’ spymaster.

After the healing was done, and the spell unwoven, she was taught language and how to use her magic. Every day the lessons imprinted upon her as a slave was being slowly undone, great strides made towards autonomy. With every piece of knowledge consumed she learned the truth of Fen’harel and Kel’aan, fear lessening until she could look at them without shaking.

The vallaslin was taken from her face at the peak of the moon’s cycle, kneeling in front of Fen’harel as he kneeled before her. Cool, purifying blue streams of mana washed over her features, taking with it the vile green that had marred her face, a daily reminder of everything she had been through, everything she wanted to leave in the past.

‘Ar lasa mala revas.’

She smiled, for the first time in her life and finally took a name of her own.

No longer was she ‘da’len’ but Lae’na.

The Shadow still lingered nearby and she watched him frequently when he gave orders to the warrior-mages. When he saw her watching him he would turn bright red, his confident voice would falter into stuttering and sputtered words. It amused her, and the teasing he received – good-naturedly – from his men and women made her like him all the more.

It wasn’t until many winters had passed that her trepidation of Fen’harel truly passed.

In the wooded hills surrounding the temple, there was a small grove no one set foot in. It was serene and beautiful, chocolate brown and white marble benches scattered around the edges, and flowers bloomed year round in violent arrays of color. Vines crawled and crept around trees and abstract statuary. Whenever she needed to be alone, when the crush of people down below became too much, she came here.

A new group of freed slaves had arrived, and the healers she helped found themselves fighting to keep them all alive. Their wounds were grievous, all seemingly administered by Andruil herself. No matter how hard they fought they had lost too many to the Void, the temple floor littered with blanket covered corpses. Anger, pain, disappointment, filled the air to a choking point. When she was finally able to get away her feet carried her to the grove.

The moment she stepped into precious solitude she realized that someone was already there, and that was the reason why none came here.

Fen’harel sat on a bench, the black fur of his cloak clutched in blood covered hands. He must have been healing as well even after the battle he took part of to release the dying slaves. The man was bent over, staring at the mossy ground. He seemed… worn out, stretched thin like a blade that had been reforged too many times. The lines on his face were drawn; worry, sorrow and fatigue etched deep.

He didn’t notice her, too lost in his thoughts and secure in this private place to imagine someone else would come along.

Wisps of all color danced around him and a spirit of Sorrow hovered over his shoulder. Wisdom lingered nearby, floating through the vines and flowers. The life-green Spirit watched her, ageless eyes weighing her, considering her. A hand was raised, beckoning her to sit by the Dread Wolf.

She wanted to leave, to seek another place and leave him alone. The gesture to her made her look at him again, and this time she saw the loneliness that sat at the fringes of his emotions. It drew her in, curious and sad at the same time. For a man so loved by all around him, he held himself away from them, unwilling to get too close. The only one who was allowed in seemed to be Kel’aan, for he was his Oath-brother, bound by magic and soul for longer than he’d been Fen’harel.

Lae’na took a seat at his side, hands sweaty clasped in her lap, and waited.

The moon rose in the sky and started to dip to the horizon before he moved again. He straightened, letting out a soft groan, and accidentally bumped his shoulder against hers. His body froze immediately, drawing magic from around them for a barrier or attack before storm blue eyes slowly turned towards her.

Sorrow welled in her chest at his reaction, that he prepared to defend himself, that he was unused to others being so close to him.

A smile was offered and his face turned to surprise and shock. He couldn’t seem to think of what to say and they stared at each other for a time. Finally, she moved first, moving slowly so that he would not take it as an attack, and slipped her hand into one of his.

The cloak was immediately released, his fingers lacing with hers. Shock had died away, replaced by something she wasn’t sure had a name: gratitude? Hope? He held tight to her hand, the deep lines of his face smoothing away into something a bit more peaceful. For once, he seemed to really smile. No words needed to be said and they sat like that until the sun painted the sky.