Vero Ramona

—Once his eyes opened, you had never missed those dark orbs with wide white pupils more. The first thing he gave you was a smile, a trembling, tender smile that brought you immense relief.

—Out of respect for his condition, you didn't rush to his arm to hug him, but Qin did try to sit up in the pod he was on, though pain shot through his body from head to toe. You stopped him abruptly, and he gave in, something he rarely did, even with you. However, the first thing that came from his lips was nothing more than a question.

❝Are you okay?❞ His synesthesia makes other people's pain his own, so he needs to know that you haven't suffered unnecessarily for him. His victory is secondary to yours.

—As soon as you told him you were better, since he was at least conscious at that point, his body seemed to relax under the sheets. His hand still rested under yours, so you took the opportunity to stroke his knuckles, an action that prompted him to reciprocate the touch and, finally, raise his arm to cradle your face.

—Qin's thumb traced your cheek as if he needed to remind himself that you were still with him, that he hadn't lost you again after a battle. Though utterly exhausted, his gaze was only ever so proud and tender when he was with you. He didn't say it aloud, but it was palpable in the air between you two: your presence was his refuge, his strength, his beginning after the end.

—Sadly, the moment came sooner than expected to an end as the nurses entered the room to continue the treatment of the first emperor of China.

—Your more reserved nature, especially when you seem to blush at some of his displays of chivalry, strikes him as terribly adorable. Although Hermes doesn't openly admit it, it's evident in the sparkle of his eyes how much he's fascinated by your moments of genuine shyness.

—There are also times when, faced with your sudden outbursts of anger, he takes pleasure in gently provoking you with various comments here and there. He doesn't do it maliciously; he doesn't want to upset you, after all, but he can't help finding amusement in your very human and vibrant emotions. He does find you so interesting that he needs to study you in detail.

—Hermes is a god; that's something we all know, so don't be surprised if he uses his unique abilities to protect you at all times, whether you're aware of it or not. He levitates near you, manipulates objects at will, and moves with enviable elegance, all to keep you safe from any danger he perceives as imminent, without unnecessary drama.

❝Relax,❞ leaning in front of you, he placed a delicate kiss on your forehead. ❝I've already taken care of it before you could even worry.❞ A smile graced his lips once he pulled away and saw your tender expression.

—We're talking about the quintessential scientist of the human fighters, so it's no surprise that Nikola Tesla ends up analyzing your mood swings as if they were a scientific phenomenon—which, in a way, could be understood that way—but that's another story. He sees this approach not as something cold on his part, but as a genuine curiosity to learn about you and a growing affection for everything that comes with loving you.

❝Fascinating… Your emotions fluctuate like an unstable electrical field. Let me help you stabilize it.❞ He said this as if he weren't already jotting down notes on the ideas that were popping into his head.

—Tesla's not particularly good with his emotions, leaning more towards the rational side of his brain. However, that doesn't stop him from giving his all to be there for you when you need him. Learning to hug you, awkwardly enough, it must be admitted, when you get shy or nervous. If you ask him, he'll say he's improvising as he goes along, which is quite sweet of him.

—His talent for invention is as clear as the sky, so much so that he found in it the brilliant possibility of dedicating little things to you to make you smile during your relationship. They may seem like useless objects at first glance, but their intentions are adorable: a light that seems to change colour based on your current mood, an automaton programmed only to bring you flowers at certain times…

—Don't be bothered if you see him taking notes when your emotional changes lead to anger. Tesla's not trying to study you like an experiment, not at all, but he still likes to write down what he sees and what makes you react in certain ways so he can learn to understand you better in the long run. He has a specific notebook just about you, noting everything from why you got angry one summer afternoon to how you cried in April over a blooming flower in your garden.

—In another note, you can find him more than once looking at you intently as if you were living proof that humanity deserves to exist. Your inherent sweetness and vibrant emotions deeply inspire him to fight for the cause for which he'd later be recruited, at Ragnarok.

❝If humanity can create hearts like yours.❞ His eyes seemed to shine with an undeniable love you had never seen in them before. ❝Then our future is bright!❞ He raised his fist to the sky, smiling more radiantly than the sun itself.

Loki would approach you, a sharp smile etched on his face, heavy with jokes and provocations, waiting to see you tremble or blush. And you always denied him that reaction; instead, you responded with wit, sarcasm, or such calm that you made him doubt himself. And when the sound of your laughter reached his ears for the first time… Oh, Freyja, protect him. It felt just like that time Brunhilde smiled at him, like a direct blow to a part of his chest he'd rather ignore.

He doesn't know how to love gently. His nature is obsessive, distorted and intense. And all of that extends to the feelings that haunt him.

Loki started looking for you "by chance." Writing about you in his journal. Appearing upside down above your head when you least expected it. Creating little replicas of you, studying every gesture and expression, as if you were a riddle he needed to solve.

And you, without even knowing it, had become his favorite pastime… And something much deeper that neither of you could name at that moment.

The confession came almost as a double shock. His reputation preceded him, and not only that, but his elitist view of humanity didn't help his case either. He didn't have to hear you speak because your face showed your consideration of his words as a cruel joke.

❝Why would someone like him notice me? He must be playing with me,❞ your mind kept repeating. Your thinking was quite logical, which led to a subtle anger slowly coursing through your veins. Things like that shouldn't be played with; neither you nor your feelings were a joke for his own amusement.

That's when he became genuinely confused. For the first time in his eons of existence, someone was accusing him of something he hadn't done. Soon, that confusion enveloped him in a dark, burning aura. His strong emotions were nothing more than cannons waiting to be fired, and your audacity had become a sudden target.

Before Loki could even measure his own words, he launched himself and blurted out whatever came to mind.

❝How dare you doubt me? Do you think I need to play with you for my amusement?"

Amid his outburst of hatred for being rejected, something in the air stopped him once again. It was a mere second, an instant in which his eyes met yours, and what he glimpsed in those depths, he recognized as pain. You weren't angry, you were hurt, and that was even worse.

His gaze, once overflowing with rage, lowered in unison with his chin. To prove it wasn't a trick, he did something he would never do, jokingly or not. Swallowing his pride and silencing his disdain for vulnerability, he finished floating, his feet touching the ground. It was a slight descent, but for someone of his stature, it was symbolically enormous.

Silence reigned in the room, deep and somewhat uncomfortable.

❝I'm not playing with you,❞ he confessed, his intentions now clear, devoid of any theatricality that had once accompanied him. And that's when you began to honestly believe him.

It was a gradual process, because when you finally accepted his feelings and admitted your own, everything about him seemed to light up. A pause of excited surprise passed over his expression, followed by a loving smile. It wasn't physically possible, but he felt how your simple smile melted him.

❝Ah…❞ He sighed, ❝so this is what it feels like.❞

From that day on, Loki promised a thousand things. He would protect you, he would annoy you, he would worship you, and he would watch over you with a devotion that no one would ever have expected from the god of deception.

—Because of his particular ability to see the light of the soul and the fluctuations of will, Buddha can read you like an open book, waiting to be fully understood. Words aren't necessary when he can already discern your moments of tiredness or insecurity. He doesn't pressure you to talk about it, opting instead for silent companionship and, once again, reaching for his stash of sweets to gently coax a smile out of you.

❝Do you want to talk, or would you prefer I stay here with you?❞

—I don't think I need to mention it, but he wouldn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat to defend you. His sense of justice is fierce, and he doesn't let anyone disrespect you. The best part? His smile never truly leaves. That familiar grin of amusement stays on his lips.

—On that note, I want to emphasize that he rarely gets angry, but if someone were to threaten you… It's on sight.

❝If they touch you, I'll cut them down.❞ His voice was soft but clear, so much so that everyone understood he wasn't joking at all.

—Buddha deeply values ​​everyone's personal freedom, placing great importance on the pursuit of one's own happiness. Therefore, he'll encourage you to follow your own dreams and desires, leaving the opinions of others aside, even his own."

—He's extremely extroverted and speaks with constant freedom; it doesn't matter who he's talking to, he'll say whatever he wants. So, more than once, he's introduced you to others with a passionate air about you.

—(m! reader) Needless to say, Buddha's attracted to your masculine energy, but don’t even think about trying to outdo him in that regard. Let me explain: he's confident and rebellious and doesn't let anyone boss him around, not even you in many cases. If you try to challenge him in skills like strength, speed, or stubbornness, he just laughs, flicks you on the forehead, and goes on with his day as if nothing happened.

❝Hah, aren't you the cutest?❞

You lowered your gaze. You looked at your hands and thought they were enough, that you were enough. But the thought didn't quite take hold.

Is everything you've done, everything you're doing, actually enough?

You didn't cry. You weren't capable of crying. That was what frustrated you most. The falling tears, at least, would be a physical manifestation, a visible sign that the pain existed as a whole. But the suffering was silent. A voice inside you seemed to know everything: everything you weren't, everything you should be to deserve something.

You're not enough. You never were. You never will be.

You didn't hear him come in. So focused on your sorrow that you didn't notice your partner's arrival in the room. However, he did notice you. His eyes carefully scanned your figure, taking in every detail that revealed so much about you without your even realizing it. He didn't need eloquent words or actions; he simply knew you like the back of his hand.

He approached you slowly, maintaining a safe distance for your own comfort. He respected the fragile silence that surrounded you, not wanting to intrude abruptly when you still seemed lost in thought. Even so, after a moment of proper self-meditation, he spoke.

❝It seems something hurts you more than usual today.❞

A small smile touched his face. He stood in front of you when your gaze finally fell upon him. There was no urgency in his actions, in the way he knelt down and took your hands.

❝I don't think I can convince you of anything right now,❞ he said, gently squeezing your hands in his, ❝but I can stay with you until you learn how valuable you are.❞

That seemed to be the trigger that unlocked your tears, for they soon began to flow freely down your face.

He wasn't trying to change your opinion of yourself. Instead, he was offering you another possibility, even more special in its rarity. He was offering you his time, a gaze that didn't seek to compare, a touch that invited you to relax… He promised you a safe place where you could feel understood.

And, even though you still doubted yourself, for a moment you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you weren't broken, but simply tired.

simeon, barbatos, satan (obey me); buddha, hermes, hades, jack (ror/snv); leon (resident evil); megumi, nanami (jjk); sanji, sabo, mihawk, (one piece); v (devil may cry); diluc, zhongli, neuvillete, flins (genshin impact); jade (twisted wonderland); bruno (jojo's); your fav ones...

Working four 12 hour days in a row can be tiring, but it’s worth it most of the time for the following four days off that you’re able to get. Four days off of freedom—which usually means catching up on errands. Laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning.

It’s just you now, so things tend to pile up much more quickly.

As you feel the rumble of movement beneath you, the momentum causing you to sway a little in your seat, you stare unblinking at the opposite window. Flashes of advertisements and thick concrete tunnel walls speed by in a blur, and you allow your mind to wander.

Maybe you could go to that new cafe in the morning that opened up on College Street. It’s been a while since you’ve taken a moment just for yourself. Or maybe you could take a book to the park after cleaning your apartment. The weather was supposed to be nice, and that used to be your favorite thing to do before…

The train slows to a stop before you continue down that line of thinking. With a droning chime, the doors open to signal would-be passengers to either depart or climb aboard.

A pleasant female voice erupts from the intercom system. “This is Freedom Park Station. Please stand clear of the doors.”

It’s not unheard of for others to be out so late, particularly on a Friday night, so to see a man walk aboard doesn’t immediately surprise you.

What does cause you to do a double take is the state of him.

The first thing you see is the insignia of the wings of freedom, a symbol you immediately recognize on the back of the green cloak covering his upper half from one of your favorite shows, Attack on Titan.

The second thing you notice is that he’s soaked.

That’s odd. You don’t remember it raining earlier in the day, but it could have been a brief downpour in another part of the city. And he’s clearly coming from an anime convention. Those were usually held at the convention center on the other side of the city.

The man heavily slumps forward against the railing. His back is turned toward you, but you watch him thoughtfully, admiring the impressive handiwork of his costume. From under the cloak, you see the intricately wrapped belts of the omni-directional gear, as well as the boxes along his thighs that are used in the show to store blades. When you see a reflection of an advertisement briefly glimmer off of the surface, you realize that they’re actually metal.

Those must be heavy. Did he make them himself?

The train begins to move again and your thoughts are stopped short when the man stumbles, nearly falling. That’s when he turns and you notice the blood.

His face is covered in it.

You’re on your feet before you even realize it. “Excuse me.”

He turns at the sound of your voice and you see the source: a rough cut just above his right eyebrow.

The man sways unsteadily on his feet against the movement of the train. The look he gives you is immediately distrusting, but he doesn’t back away.

You stop a few feet from him. “Sir, are you okay?” When his eyes narrow, you point to the badge pinned to your work scrubs. “I’m a nurse, see?”

You wait as his eyes study your hospital badge for a moment.

“Where the hell am I?”

Okay, that’s potentially a cause for concern. “Uh.” You try to remember what stop he got on from. “Freedom Park.” The look on his face doesn’t resemble recognition. “You’re not from around here?”

For a moment, he seems to think. “No.”

There’s a sharp jolt from the train car and you both sway a little, him more than you.

You gesture to the empty seat next to him. “Here. You should probably sit down.”

He doesn’t argue as he takes a seat.

Looking him over, you consider your options. It isn’t too late to take him back to the hospital, but you don’t exactly want to after spending the entire day there already. From the looks of it, it doesn’t look like he’ll need stitches, but it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone in the state he’s in either.

“Can you tell me what happened?” you ask.

The man looks around for a moment. The look on his face turns apprehensive. “I don’t remember. There was a flash… and then I just woke up here.”

You raise your brows. Something about the way he says it feels like he isn’t being completely honest, but you suppose the bleeding itself is a more pressing concern right now anyway.

“Okay,” you say. “Well, that cut doesn’t look too deep, but you should get it cleaned.” You pause for a moment, debating. “My apartment is at the next stop.”

You had meant it as a suggestion, but the man doesn’t seem to follow.

“I can look at it for you,” you add. “Maybe help you find wherever you were supposed to stay.”

He seems to consider it for a long moment, looking from you to around the empty train car and then back to your badge.

“Alright,” he says as the train begins to slow. When it comes to a stop and the doors open with their loud hydraulic hiss, he follows you back out onto the platform.

It’s quiet for most of the walk back. You go through the motions of exiting the station—swiping your pass and leading the way up the winding corridors to street level while the man follows, watching your movements and your surroundings with a puzzled sort of awe.

It isn’t until you’re pulling out the keys to your place before you turn to him again.

“So, what’s your name?”

He gives you a subdued look. “Levi.”

You smile.

“No, really…” you press, looking over his clothes again. It’s obvious that’s what he’s going for now that you see him up close—the scout uniform and the way he’s styled his hair. Come to think of it, he has Levi’s frame as well. And his eyes.

It’s a damn good cosplay actually. If Levi Ackerman were to magically come out of the television screen as a flesh and blood person, he’d look exactly like this guy.

But judging by his expression and the complete lack of response, he isn’t interested in giving you any sort of real information.

You turn then, your smile dropping, and lead the way into the apartment building. “O-kay.”

It’s possible, you guess, that his name really is Levi. Just a very bizarre coincidence that he happens to look and act exactly like your favorite character from an anime and also likes the anime as well. There are billions of people in the world though. Stranger things happen all the time.

Reluctant to piss him off further, the rest of the walk up to the second floor is done in more silence. You unlock your front door and lead the way inside, smiling when you hear the telltale trill of your cat greeting you at the door.

“Hello, Luna,” you greet, bending down to run your hand between the shorthair’s ears. She pushes herself up into your hand a little further with a chirp.

Still at the door, the man—Levi—watches.

“Luna?” he asks in a flat tone.

You straighten back up, noting his hesitancy to walk forward. “You’re not allergic, are you?” That would be some cosmic bad luck on his part to deal with a head wound and an allergic reaction in one night.

But thankfully, he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s affectionate but she’s harmless,” you say, sidestepping around your cat to walk further into your living room. When Levi joins you, you gesture to the sofa. “Have a seat there. I’ll be right back with some supplies.”

You don’t wait around to see if he does what you say, instead dipping down the hall toward a small office. It’s mostly just a place for all of your trinkets—a desk filled with a few figures and a computer. Some bookshelves line the walls, collecting dust. It’s been months since you’ve picked up a good book or did much of anything in this room, really. But you know exactly where to look for the supply kits you’ve managed to stock up on from the hospital.

After you find the suture thread and some wound wash, you grab a towel from the bathroom next door and return to the living room.

Levi is there, sitting on the edge of the sofa as if he’s afraid to get comfortable. His gaze keeps jumping around the room, taking in the layout and decor, and his fists rest stiffly on his knees. Luna is next to him, tentatively sniffing at his knuckles with a curious stretch of her neck.

You shoo her away gently and take her place on the sofa. The angle of light allows you to see the source of the drying blood on his face a bit better.

Quietly, you look him over. “How are you feeling?”

He watches as you slip on a pair of gloves. “I’ve had worse.”

You snort lightly and begin to prep the fresh towel with wound wash.

“Do you have stuff like this happen to you often?” you ask, now reaching to press the towel to his face.

At your question, he pulls his one uncovered eye from you, surveying the room again. “Nothing quite like this.”

“What happened?”

Levi is quiet for a moment before he says, “It was nothing. I fell.”

You pause your movements, frowning. “This doesn’t look like the kind of cut you’d get from a fall.”

“Why does it matter?”

Judging by his defensive tone, he knows more than he’s letting on, but you can’t figure out why he isn’t being honest.

But with him already in your apartment, you don’t want to do anything to unnecessarily antagonize him. Even in his current state, he looks strong and capable enough to hurt you.

Probably best to just change the subject.

“Did you have somewhere you were staying?” you ask, returning to your task.

You gently dab the towel down the curve of his jaw and feel the muscle tense beneath your touch.

“No,” he finally says.

“You came all the way here for a convention and didn’t book a hotel?”

“A convention?”

“Yeah,” you nod, gesturing to his clothes. “You’re a scout, right?”

At your words, his expression becomes a bit more relieved. He nods. “Yes. I got onto that... train thing because I hoped it might take me to headquarters.”

You blink as you listen to him. Did he hit his head hard enough for him to think that he is Levi Ackerman?

Maybe you should take him to the hospital anyway just to get him checked out. He seems perfectly lucid otherwise though, if a bit confused.

You reach forward and check his head wound again. Just like you thought, it’s too shallow to need stitches and isn’t bleeding anymore, so that’s a good sign. Maybe it could wait until morning.

“Do you feel sick?” you ask, searching his expression for any lack of focus or disorientation but find none. “Nauseated? Dizzy?”

“Other than the stabbing pain above my eye?” he deadpans, glaring at you. “No. I feel fine.”

You sigh. This is insane, considering letting a complete stranger stay in your apartment. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go and he’s still soaking wet. You’d feel guilty if you just let him go and he got into trouble. At the very least, you could make sure he has somewhere to sleep. 

You get to your feet and look over his clothes once more. “You can stay here tonight if you’d like. I think I might have some old clothes you can sleep in, and there’s a shower down the hall.”

He gives you a distrustful look. “You’re putting a lot of faith in a stranger.”

You raise a brow. “I guess we both are. But if you’d rather sleep out in the cold, then be my guest.”

That seems to give him pause, and he looks around the room once more.

“Where did you say the shower was?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” you tell him. “I can get you a towel and some clothes.”

You dispose quickly of the bloodied towel in your kitchen trash along with your gloves and turn back down the hall again. When you return, Levi is standing awkwardly next to your sofa. He seems to be pointedly ignoring Luna, who is still curiously sniffing him from the armrest.

“These should fit,” you tell him, patting the folded up sweatpants and an oversized shirt tucked beneath your arm. “Just leave your things in the bathroom and I’ll make sure your clothes are washed in the morning.”

He takes the items from you with another skeptical glance. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I have to do laundry anyway,” you wave him off. “It’s no trouble.” Quickly, you point at him. “Just don’t scrub at that cut. You’ll just make it bleed again.”

He doesn’t move immediately when you back away to let him pass by, but the promise of a hot shower seems to eventually override whatever keeps him fixed in place. Without another word, he retreats down the hall, right to the second door on the left like you told him.

What a strange man.

It takes fifteen minutes before you hear the shower turn on.

In that time, you busy yourself with finding a spare blanket and a pillow and leave them on the sofa. You tidy up a little next, grabbing leftover drinking glasses off the table and discarded socks that had been pushed under the coffee table. It isn’t much, but you’re left feeling slightly less anxious about the state of your place by the time you’re finished. You like to keep things tidy to begin with, but the place certainly looks lived in right now.

Curious, you sink into a chair and pull out your phone while you’re waiting and click on the search engine, quickly typing in a few keywords to check on any local anime conventions happening in the area.

There are no ongoing events, and the next one isn’t happening until six months from now.

Well, that eliminates your theory. So then what the hell was he doing cosplaying on the street on a random Friday? If he was with someone, he wouldn’t have been wandering around alone and he said he wasn’t staying anywhere in the area.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is some sort of trap to lure unsuspecting women into vulnerable positions, preying on a person’s compassion. But then, that was very real blood on his face and a very real wound, and he has had ample opportunities to attack and rob you if that was truly what he was after. He might look intimidating, but there’s nothing about him that screams that you’re in any sort of immediate danger either.

Maybe you can get some real answers out of him in the morning when he’s less grumpy.

You’re feeding Luna in the kitchen when Levi reappears.

With silent relief, you note that his wound seems to still be fine. He looks healthier in general after cleaning off, but he also looks… well, even more like Levi Ackerman. It’s kind of uncanny.

“What?”

You jump when you hear his voice. He’s watching you from the living room, looking about as confused as you feel.

Shit, have you been staring? “Nothing.” You sigh and rub at your eyes. It’s been too long of a day to start questioning your sanity. “Are you hungry or anything? I have some leftovers I can heat up really quick.”

“I’m fine.” He shakes his head and turns his attention to the blanket and pillow on the sofa. 

Carefully, he arranges it how he likes and sits down. He glances at the television on the other side of the room before looking around again, lingering at times on things like the lamps in the corners and over to the open kitchen.

His hands fidget in his lap.

“I’ll be out of here first thing in the morning.”

The sound of his voice surprises you.

“Where are you going to go?”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully. He’s a grown man, so it shouldn’t concern you what he does. But his comments about not being from here, and the whole thing about him trying to find ‘headquarters’? You’d feel better knowing there isn’t anything you’ve missed.

“At least let me take you to the hospital to get that cut checked out,” you suggest. “We can go first thing while your clothes are drying.”

He scoffs but the sound is entirely devoid of humor. “I told you I’m fine.”

“So it’ll be a quick visit and you can be on your way in no time,” you reply. “One of the doctors I work with can look you over before we open. He won’t mind.”

“Or I could just leave in the middle of the night.”

“I guess.” You shrug. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you, but that’s your choice. My conscience can be clear as long as I’ve offered to help you. I can’t make you take it, but I think it’s a good idea.”

He glares at you from the sofa, but doesn’t reply.

You get the sense that he doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. With the night he’s had, he probably just wants some rest, and you’re more than willing to get some sleep yourself.

Now that the shock of the night has worn off a bit, your body feels heavy as you get to your feet.

Levi stays quiet as you move around the room, shutting off lights and locking your front door. He moves to lay down once he gathers what you’re doing.

“I’ll get you up in the morning,” you tell him from the hallway. “Get some sleep.”

That earns you little more than a grunt of acknowledgement.

When you get into your room, you make sure to lock the door and find a baseball bat from the depths of your closet to sit by your bed. You’ve always been a light sleeper, so you hope that you’ll be able to hear if he decides to try anything.

You go through your nightly routine and climb into bed, then send off a text before closing your eyes—a message to one of your friends and fellow co-workers at the hospital.

Hey, could you do me a huge favor tomorrow morning? It’ll be quick.

From the moment he saw your name on the participant list, Hermes has been on edge. He tried to hide it from everyone else. While most Gods missed the way he moved more stiffly, those like Zeus caught onto it. Of course, why wouldn't Hermes be so tensed up? His lover was going to participate in Ragnarok! It wasn't like he didn't trust you and your abilities. He knew that you were capable of defending yourself. But... a small, irrational part of his brain told him that this was not going to end well for both of you.

Hermes stood with Ares as Heimdall announced the next round of Ragnarok. Hermes masked his uneasiness with neutrality. He watched as Heimdall introduced you... and then your opponent. Hermes was confident that you could beat them. But this little annoying voice in his head kept on pestering him, telling him otherwise.

Hermes watched the fight commence. The tension was grinding on his nerves. He watched every single one of your movements, explaining your techniques and skills to Ares. Even the God of War could see how stiff Hermes was, but he found no words to comfort his brother.

You dodged your opponent's attacks with ease, but somehow, it got increasingly difficult for you to do so. Hermes had to watch as your opponent landed more and more attacks on your body – the body he always worshipped was now littered with injuries.

His eyebrows furrowed in terror as your strength faded away. No... it couldn't be. The Gods watched in horror as your opponent landed one final hit on you. You stood there, blood pooling out of your wounds. Your body collapsed to the ground... and then dissipated into thin air.

No... no, this had to be a nightmare. There was no way that a measly human being... killed you. No. This was a cruel prank that Loki was pulling on him. But a glance at the God of Mischief convinced him that this was real. It wasn't an illusion. You were gone. You were actually gone.

Hermes was frozen in place. His eyes were wide. He couldn't take his eyes off the arena. No. It couldn't be true. He pressed his lips together, biting back the tears that threatened to leak. He couldn't allow himself to mourn and grieve... not now. It got increasingly difficult for him to keep his composure. His hands were balled into fists, trembling ever so slightly.

He ignored what the other Gods said and left. He retreated to his private chambers. No one dared to follow him. Of course, everyone knew of your relationship. Therefore, they could figure out that Hermes was... not feeling well, to put it mildly. No one dared to disturb him.

Hermes felt pure, unadulterated hatred for the human that killed you. They took you away... brutally. Ragnarok was a mistake. The Gods should've exterminated them without giving them a chance. But... there was nothing he could do about it. You were gone... and you wouldn't come back.

For the first time in his entire existence, Hermes fell into despair.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶