Fenrir's Binding: The Queen And The Barbarian

By evolution-500

Genres: Romance/Angst

Feedback: Always welcome

WARNING: This story contains violence, coarse language and mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Disclaimer: Killer Instinct" is a property belonging to Rareware and Microsoft while "The Boys" is a property by Garth Ennis and Dynamite Comics. I do not own these characters.

* * * * *

Chapter Five: Reflections

"There are two different types of people in the world, those who want to know, and those who want to believe."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

The descent down the mountain was long and uncomfortably quiet for Maeve. Looking out to the wintery landscape of this island, the celebrity found herself longing to be back home in New York again.

It was crowded, messy, and noisy, sure, plus it can smell sometimes, but it was home.

It was familiar territory; it was her mess. Her home.

She missed the glowing neon signs, the honks of passing cars, the flashing traffic lights, the food! God, the food!

Closing her eyes, Maeve's mouth watered at the thought of an Almond Joy, or even just a good old-fashioned New York hot dog.

Hearing a pause in her companion's step, she opened her eyes to see Tusk looking at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

Swallowing back saliva, she nodded to him, unconsciously wiping her lips.

"Yeah, I was just thinking of home, that's all. I kind of miss the food there," she admitted.

Tusk nodded sympathetically. "Just a few more days, Maggie," he assured. "Just a few more days, and then you will be able to leave this place once and for all. That I promise you."

"I'll hold you to it," Maeve replied.

Looking back out at the ocean, she watched the dark cold water as it swelled like a horrible blister ready to burst.

It was hard to imagine anyone or anything wanting to make a home here.

While perhaps the same could be said of New York, this island...this..."Isle of Demons", as Tusk had called it...it was without a doubt the single most dreary and uninhabitable place she had ever been to.

It was a harsh, rough and cold environment to be in, so utterly desolate. So utterly hostile and bitter.

So utterly...empty.

'Like me,' came the surprisingly morbid thought.

Maeve shuddered, clutching her coat tighter around her form, thankful that Tusk hadn't noticed due to his lack of reaction.

Staring at her companion's muscle-bound form, the celebrity pondered the enigmatic man and his inability to stave off the cold.

How could someone have no reaction at all to this ungodly weather, especially when he wore little else but a loin cloth of all things?

More and more she questioned his reason for not leaving this place. While she was grateful for the fact that she wasn't alone here, the idea that anyone would make a home around here was mind-boggling. A person would have to be completely and utterly insane to willingly live in such a shithole.

Between this place and the shittiest parts of New Jersey, she would rather live in Jersey, and that was saying something!

So why wouldn't he leave?

Turning her eyes away, Maeve glanced out at the horizon, then paused as she seemed to notice some peculiarity in the perspective, causing her brows to knit in confusion.

The hell?

Blinking several times, she rubbed her eyes, then squinted through the hail.

It was barely noticeable at first, but the more they climbed down, the more Maeve became convinced that there was something...off. The celebrity couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was that had bothered her so much, but some part of her was certain that there had been a...change.

Closing her eyes, Maeve scoffed. Whatever.

Dismissing it as a mere trick of the light, she rolled her eyes and thought nothing of it, turning back to her giant companion, who continued to remain ever so quiet as he glared with hard distrustful eyes at his surroundings, his weapon always ready to lash out in a moment's notice.

Occasionally she would pause at the sight of some bizarre land feature or exotic-looking animal that she had never seen before, which would not only make her think longingly back to her home in New York, but also remind her of how treacherously perilous this land truly was.

At one point, the two of them had to stop in their tracks entirely when a giant...thing the size of an elephant crossed the path right in front of them. Its body was a sickly yellow and covered in lizard-like scales, supported by a pair of slimy membranous bat-like wings, but its head...

At first, Maeve thought it was some type of condor or something due to the pinkness of the head and the presence of a kind of beak, but...the head was so utterly swollen and deformed, so disturbingly...fleshy!

Like the head of a skinned horse.

Looking over to her companion, the celebrity silently mouthed the words "What the fuck is that?!" to him, only for Tusk to raise a stern finger that silenced her, his sword drawn and ready to strike.

As the creature lazily sauntered in front of them, it dopily turned its deformed pink head in their direction, looking at them curiously for a moment with its dull eyes.

Finally, it turned away and continued forward, ignoring them both. Neither Tusk nor Maeve moved as the thing waddled on its wings. It kept crawling a good forty feet away, then leapt up and flew off into the sky, disappearing from view.

Once she was certain it was gone, Maeve felt her muscles relax.

"The hell was that thing?" she shivered nervously.

"A Shantak," Tusk answered. "A beast from the Cold Wastes of the Dreamlands. Lord Nodens and his night-gaunts like making game out of them on occasion."

Maeve gave a curious side-glance at the barbarian.

Dreamlands?

"Is it dangerous?"

"Very," he replied, his eyes locked on the skies, searching around for it. "That said, however, the fact it didn't pay us any heed suggests it may have eaten already. I know that they can be used as mounts, but they are damned unreliable, in my opinion. They're more likely to abandon their riders at the first sight of trouble. Where there is one Shantak, there's bound to be more. They tend to have their nests high up near the edge of a cliff."

Upon hearing that, Maeve looked worriedly around.

"Keep calm, Maggie," Tusk said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Try to keep calm as much you can, they are attracted to prey that exude fear, so remain. Calm." He emphasized the words, speaking each word slowly as he eyed the skies and cliffs. "Besides, it's not them that has me worried."

"What does?" she asked, trying to control the tone in her voice.

"Where there are Shantak, there are bound to be night-gaunts on the prowl, and I would not want to encounter one."

Maeve hesitated, giving him a look. "What? But...I thought you're buddies with them!...Aren't you?"

He scoffed. "You are greatly mistaken. Besides, Lord Nodens isn't the only one with night-gaunts."

She blinked. "He isn't?"

"Dah. There are others who have them as well." A frown formed on Tusk's features as he glanced around conspiratorially. "...It is best...that we...not discuss this. Not now, as merely thinking about a night-gaunt or Shantak is likely to draw their attention. Come. Let us leave."

Maeve hurried her step as she followed Tusk down the mountain, sticking close by his side. She heard and felt the wind flutter, and for a moment, she had the very distinctly uncomfortable feeling of being watched and followed.

* * * * *

Long stretches of time passed, and Maeve found herself disquieted by stillness of everything, the wind's hollow-sounding whine letting out a long groan like a dying animal, sending flurries that spiraled in all directions, the celebrity adjusting her coat on her lean form. Staring out at the wintery surroundings, all that she saw was a mixture of ice, snow, and jagged pieces of rock. She didn't see a single shrub or tree for miles around, while in the distance was the ocean, which swelled and looked blacker than ink, the water crashing against the shore.

Shivering, Maeve looked back to her companion, deciding that she had had enough, wanting desperately to make conversation, if only to break the uncomfortable spell of silence between them both.

"So, what did happen with the Minotaur?" she pressed.

Tusk gave her a side glance.

"I have been hoping that you had forgotten," he muttered. "You still wish to know the details?"

"Well, yeah!" Maeve replied. "Growing up, the story of Theseus and the Minotaur had been one of my favorite myths."

"Was it now?" the barbarian said in a flat, disinterested voice.

"It was," she admitted. "And now here I am, with the real-life Theseus, only you come out with the news that the Minotaur is actually a hero and that you killed him. I want to know more. Why? Why did this happen? What made you do it?"

Tusk gave her an annoyed look.

Maeve flashed a smile.

"Please?" she asked in a voice that sounded hopeful and younger than how she had meant to sound.

The two stared at each other, Tusk's giant form dwarfing hers, his eyes piercing hers. For a moment, it seemed as if the barbarian was going to refuse. Finally, Tusk relented, looking away from her, speaking to her as they walked together in the hail.

"...One of Minos' daughters, Ariadne, had fallen in love with me," he said, drawing her attention, making her stiffen in jealousy. "She showed me how to navigate the Labyrinth using a ball of thread that their own mother would use to visit her...'brother'."

His frown deepened. "With this knowledge, I had then made my way to Asterion's den, where I found him tending to the youths that had been sent there to die. Every single person sent had been spared by him. Cared for tenderly by him. He had been...he had been teaching them how to make nets and catch fish. I was..." He licked his dry lips, "...I was completely stunned by what I saw. He had genuinely cared for those people. Each and every single one of them. And in return, they had offered him nothing but love and affection. Neither Ariadne nor I had known. Her mother and sister, Phaedra, knew, though. They knew about his gentle and kind heart, but...they had kept silent about it, letting everyone believe that Asterion was a monster."

"Why would they let everyone believe that?" Maeve asked.

"As a way of protecting both him and the people he cared for," Tusk answered. "To Minos, the youths were meant to be a sacrifice in his honor as king of Crete. If Minos had known how gentle the beast he was, he would have slain it sooner. As much as he abhors Asterion, it was useful to have a monster under one's control."

"But you said that he feared retaliation from the gods," she pointed out the inconsistency.

"Dah, he did. When it was born, Minos had been fearful of their wrath," Tusk confirmed. "But...as time passed, those feelings of resentment and bitterness grew stronger the more he allowed his wife's humiliating indiscretion to live." His eyes drooped. "When I found out how honorable Asterion truly was, though...I...admittedly had been reluctant to kill him. At the time, I...I honestly couldn't do it."

"So, what changed?"

He licked his dry lips. "While I was off by myself," he said slowly, "contemplating my next course of action, Asterion had gone away to collect more fish for everyone." Tusk then clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring, "Ariadne...murdered...everyone."

Maeve's mouth dropped.

"What?!" she said in an incredulous voice, not bothering to hide her shock at the revelation.

Tusk shook his head in disgust. "She had drugged their food while we were away. Once everyone had been rendered unconscious, Ariadne had slit their throats and bled them all out like animals. Even the youngest of them. Mere children."

Maeve watched as his hand holding the huge sword twitched in agitation, the man looking like he wanted to put his oversized weapon to use. The tattoo started to glow orange, his skin heating up, startling the celebrity as steam rose from off of his muscular body.

"By the time I realized what had happened, it was too late." He gave an animalistic snarl, his eyes hardening, his features contorted and bestial. "The little bitch thought me an simpleton, claiming that Asterion had butchered them, but I've seen enough death to know what a knife wound looked like!"

The barbarian tightened his grip on the handle of his sword, punching a nearby wall, causing Maeve to flinch.

She watched as he panted loudly, his body trembling and smoking.

"I wanted to kill her for what she had done!" he confessed. "Even now, centuries later, part of me still regrets not doing it when I had the chance."

"Why didn't you?" Maeve asked.

She watched as the orange glow dimmed. Once the steam cloud dissipated, he slowly pulled his arm away from the large crater that he created, the warrior lifting up his head and breathing in deeply.

"I was just about to...when Asterion had returned," Tusk answered. "He saw the bodies of his friends as they all lay scattered and bloodied on the floor, and then he saw me, holding his sister by the throat. From there..."

As he spoke, his features softened along with his voice. "He knew that he wasn't any match for me. He knew that between us that I was the better fighter. And yet...he fought valiantly regardless, with everything that he had. Asterion died trying to save the sister that despised him. When the fight was over, he was lying on the floor, bleeding to death...begging me...not to kill her. Even though Ariadne hated him as much as their own father, perhaps even more so...Asterion loved her just the same. He loved all of his siblings, and would have done anything for them. It boggles the mind how...a being so wretched and despised has such capacity for love and affection. And loyalty. Asterion...he told me that he didn't want his mother and father to cry. Even as he lay bleeding all over the floor...even when all he could do was crawl on his own hands and knees with his guts hanging out...he was still willing to fight for Ariadne. He was begging for her life. Crying for her..."

Maeve felt her heart painfully ache by his account, watching Tusk as he stared to the ground, his eyes full of sorrow. Even though thousands of years of had passed since that fateful day, it seemed that that event had left its mark on the barbarian warrior, forever haunting him.

Putting a hand on his upper arm, Maeve offered a light squeeze to his bicep.

"I'm so sorry," she said softly.

The man remained quiet, not paying her any heed.

"...You want to know the strange part?" he said in an uncharacteristically low voice, his volume so low that for a moment Maeve had to strain her ears in order to hear him. "Even...even though I had been tasked with killing him...even...even as he was dying in my arms...I...I considered him a friend."

Sharply inhaling through his nostrils, Tusk stared up to the clouds, wiping from one of his eyes, either to remove tears or bits of snow from his eyelashes.

"What a world it is to live in, where the line between men and beasts, heroes and monsters, are so blurred that the two become inseparable, indistinguishable from one another," he shook his head in tired incredulity.

Maeve nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah, I know the feeling very well. Sometimes...sometimes when I look at the mirror...I can't help shuddering every now and then, just because-" She swallowed. "Just because I can't even tell who or what I am anymore."

Tusk raised a hand, placing it over the one touching his arm.

"At least you are able to look at yourself in the mirror," he murmured, his eyes flat, staring off distantly, as if recalling every conceivable horror and action that he had witnessed and committed in his gods' names.

Maeve felt his rough fingers clasp around hers, the two of them standing together quietly as hail pelted them, the wind causing their clothing to flutter.

Stirring from her thoughts, she looked up and began to realize that they were close to the base of the mountain, not far from Tusk's home, but the barbarian gave no acknowledgement at all as he let his hand drop, his mood now black. As they descended down the mountain, Tusk suddenly halted.

"Tusk?" Maeve called.

The barbarian's features were largely concealed by the snowy hail, but she could see his features scrunched up, as if he were deliberating on something, the warrior looking somewhat conflicted. He then looked over in her direction and stared. For a moment, though, she could have sworn that they were shining with some sort of light. Something about the way he looked at her made Maeve apprehensive, causing her form to tense.

And then the light was gone, making her wonder if she had imagined the whole thing or if it was a mere reflection of the light.

Maeve watched as Tusk indecisively glanced between her and the path back to the house. Finally, he swerved to the left past some bushes, making his way down a concealed pathway.

Maeve blinked in confusion, puzzled by his behavior. "Where are you going?"

"Come," he said simply. "There is something I need to show you."

Knitting her brows together, Maeve hesitated for a moment as she looked back to the building down below.

Honestly, she'd rather be back inside where it was nice and warm. Shrugging, she followed after the warrior, tightening her hold on her coat.

* * * * *

The path that Tusk took was dark and gloomy, filled with all sorts of strange sights that made Maeve feel like a child as she stared in wonder.

"Wow!" she gasped.

Greeting the pair was a long, curling, semicircular snow-covered parabola bridge that hung over a frozen stream, the bridge itself made of what looked to be either stone or basalt, its arch so perfect that its reflection in the ice gave the allusion of it forming a ring. From the ice underneath, she saw a long spire of ingots protruding out and upward like a great tooth. Taken together, it genuinely looked majestic and otherworldly, like something from out of a fairy tale.

"This is beautiful!" Maeve said excitedly, feeling like Alice stepping into Wonderland for the first time.

Tusk grunted distractedly, his eyes staring down at the pool below.

"What is this place?" she asked without looking at her companion, completely taken by the setting.

He merely shrugged. "I'm not sure. The Norsemen had called this Jotun's Point after that spire. In terms of who made this bridge, or how old it is, even I don't know the answer."

Maeve glanced over the edge, staring down at the ice water below. "Is it safe to cross?"

The barbarian nodded.

"It'll hold," he assured as he confidently strode across. Once Tusk finished crossing to the other side, he then looked expectantly back at her. "Your turn now."

Exhaling, Maeve adjusted the tiara, accepting the challenge.

'Just keep your eyes ahead, Maeve,' she told herself. 'Just look straight ahead. Just don't look down.'

As she crossed the bridge, the celebrity suddenly glanced down in wonder, watching the snow fall as a light, misty haze covered the ground and part of the floor. Looking from side to side, Maggie suddenly felt light on her feet, filled with an overwhelming sense of awe at her surroundings. The way the light interacted with the structures, combined with the snowfall...never before had she ever felt so strongly the presence of something...mystical, for lack of a better word. Maeve considered herself a stone-cold cynic and atheist, but...for one moment...part of her got chills. Not from the cold, but because she genuinely felt as if she were actually confronting something truly fantastical and ethereal.

Like as if she were actually stepping into something truly out of this world.

Once she finished crossing, Maeve glanced back at the bridge and at the ingot spire, then wordlessly looked back at Tusk, who merely watched her with a patient and knowing, if not understanding look.

Finally, the two of them continued on in their path, making her wonder what other sights this island had in store for her.

* * * * *

There were bones everywhere.

Stepping through a narrow, snow-covered ravine, Maeve felt all trace of child-like wonder disappear and replaced with dread as she found herself in a great bone valley, her companion surveying the carnage alongside her.

"My God!" she breathed.

Skeletons of every imaginable shape and size littered the ground, a mixture of human, humanoid, and animal, all of them twisted, bent and broken.

So many people...

Seeing the skeletons before her suddenly made her recall the people on Flight 37, along with the countless others that she had failed to save throughout the years, the people whose blood had stained her hands.

As she recalled the various times Homelander made her kill someone, Maeve wavered unsteadily on her feet and turned away, leaning on a nearby stone wall for support, closing her eyes as she willed herself not to puke.

"Are you alright?" Tusk asked closely, his hand on her upper arm.

Taking in a deep breath, she swallowed, then exhaled loudly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." Looking back to her companion, Maeve focused on Tusk, trying to avoid looking at the skeletons. "What-what happened here?"

She watched as the barbarian glanced dispassionately at his surroundings.

"Cultists," he explained simply. "Worshipers of the Outer Gods. Before I had arrived, this entire island had been a haven for them, a place where they would all engage in all manner of debauchery and obscene practices, resulting in disgusting and monstrous progeny."

She shivered, clenching hold of her coat.

"Kind of sounds like Herogasm," she commented, drawing his attention to her.

"'Herogasm'?" he repeated, puzzled by the word.

"Yeah. Sometimes Vought would arrange for these huge parties where all the people with superpowers, be it "hero" or "villain," would come together and join in, just, uh...let loose. There would be tons of food, tons of drugs. Massive orgies with hundreds of people." Maeve explained. "Nobody would be aware of this, though - Vought would usually make up some sort of bullshit cover story like an alien or demonic invasion to justify everyone coming together, that it's for the safety of the entire planet."

She shifted nervously under his stare. "I, uh...participated...in...one or two such excursions..."

Maeve trailed off as Tusk's eyes remained focused on her, the celebrity feeling small under his intense stare. He was giving her a hard, scrutinizing, almost judgmental look that she didn't like at all.

"I see," he said simply, making her wince inwardly.

Even though he didn't say any form of disapproval, Maeve couldn't help feeling as he were disappointed in her.

"Do people die in these...excursions of yours?" he asked, his tone and expression neutral.

She brushed some bangs out of her face. "Not with me. Occasionally there would be a dead supe - ah, that's what we call people abilities. Supes."

"Hm."

"Occasionally there would be a dead supe or prostitute, but..." she shook her head, "not with me."

She knew how lame it sounded. As if she were somehow better than all the fuckups and fuck-offs under Vought's banner...even if she liked to pretend that she was, if only for the sake of saving face and from admitting to herself how much of a liar she was. She couldn't deny how pathetic she actually seemed.

Maeve opened her mouth to say more, only to falter.

Should she tell him the other details that she had omitted about herself? Should she come clean about everything?

When Elena found out the truth, it permanently ruined things between them - whatever they had was gone in an instant. To have a replay of that all over again-

Maeve exhaled, frustrated at having to justify herself to someone, to anyone.

Noticing her growing discomfort, Tusk glanced over at her.

"Is something the matter?" he asked concernedly.

'Tell him,' she mentally encouraged herself. 'Tell him the truth.'

Biting her lip, the celebrity struggled internally, tightening her hold on the fur coat along with whatever semblance of courage that she had...only to feel it mentally slipping away from her.

Tusk was now standing before her, his blue eyes peering deep into her own.

"What's wrong?" he softly pressed.

Maeve struggled with her dilemma, staying quiet for a few minutes. Everywhere she turned, she saw skulls staring at her, peering out at her from beneath the snow, their black empty sockets watching her every movement with keen interest, making her squirm. Maeve had never believed in the supernatural, and yet, some small part of her couldn't help feeling as if all of the skulls seemed to stare at her specifically, almost judgmentally. As if the ghosts of Flight 37 were watching and calling out to her from beyond the grave, screaming for her to confess.

"Listen, um.." she spoke nervously, "...have you...have you ever done something...so terrible...that...that you stay awake at night?"

Tusk grunted as he single-handedly placed the great sword's blade down into the snow, his hands resting on the handle.

"More than once," he answered, the barbarian staring out at the boneyard. "I have no shortage of regrets in my life. The things I have seen... the things I have endured...the things I have done..."

Maeve shook her head. "It can't be as bad as that. Not compared to the things I have done and went through."

As the words fumbled out of her mouth, the celebrity put a hand over mouth, regretting her decision as the barbarian gave a curious glance.

"Is that so?" he said interestedly. "Do you care to elaborate?"

'Me and my big fat mouth!' Maeve screamed internally, mentally kicking herself.

"...Do you wish to talk about it?" Tusk pressed.

Maeve stood still, her mind trying to come up with an answer.

What should she do? Should she own up to everything? Should she come up with some sort of excuse.

"It's...it's nothing," Maeve said as she looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

Tusk stared at her, looking unconvinced. Finally, the barbarian looked away, continuing toward the path ahead.

'Way to go, Maeve,' she told herself. 'You never disappoint in your ability to make bad decisions. You are a well-practiced liar.'

Like Homelander.

As the thought struck her, Maeve felt her insides turn to ice, horrified and disgusted with the comparison.

'I am nothing like Homelander,' she told herself.

Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and shakily exhaled, hardening her resolve.

"Look um..." Maeve watched as Tusk paused mid-step, "...I'm...I'm not a great person, nor...nor am I a good person, alright?" she admitted. "I know that."

The celebrity shifted uncomfortably, looking away as he turned to face her again. "I've...I've done- I've done..."

"Dah?"

Maggie struggled to keep up the strong façade of Maeve, questioning herself about the wisdom of telling someone she had just met all of the uglier details of herself...but, after years of being alone, she was tired.

She was tired of wrestling with her conscience.

She was tired of dealing with her disappointments and shortcomings as a hero.

But even more?

She was just tired of keeping secrets, tired of bottling up all of that guilt and shame without any sort of outlet to vent her frustrations.

Closing her eyes, Maeve stared at her feet.

"...I've..." she started slowly, unsure of how he was going to respond, "...I've done some things I'm not particularly proud of while with The Seven."

Tusk blinked. "You've already told me about this, Maggie."

She tucked a bang behind her ear. "There's-There's more to it. You need to hear this," she insisted.

As the barbarian gave her his full attention, Maeve let out a shaky nervous breath as her fingers fidgeted, rubbing together nervously, the woman cautiously eying him as she braced herself, feeling as if she were on a cliff's edge and about to fall.

"I've...I've let Homelander...do things to me."

With that declaration, she watched as Tusk tensed up before her, his form stiffening as he waited to hear what else she had to say, making her feel even more self-aware and insecure about herself. As she struggled to continue, she felt the fearless persona of Queen Maeve slowly crumble little by little, leaving little Maggie Shaw exposed in her entirety to him, making her feel as if she were shrinking.

Folding her left arm across her chest, the celebrity reflexively clutched onto her upper right arm, hugging herself as her eyes stared down into the white snow. Swallowing, she continued, her words as shaky as she was.

"...There was a time when I honestly had been in love with him, you know? And...strangely enough, even now, some...small part of me still cares about him. I used to..." Maggie licked her dried lips. "I used to look past his violent aspects. I used to...believe, that there was good in him, you know? And...and I've let him...use me. One time, he had blindfolded me...and..."

The celebrity let out another shaky breath as she braced herself, her lips trembling. After years of keeping it all to herself, Maggie finally allowed herself to unleash her frustrations, feeling every ounce of anger pour out of her. She felt her face become heated as she let it all pour out like a burst dam, her face so warm with that she wouldn't be surprised if it was turning red. She could feel herself shaking.

"He...he let Black Noir...use me...as if...as if I were nothing but a common fucking whore while he took pictures of me naked! And then...and then he had the nerve to have those pictures spread around so that everybody knew what a complete slut I was!"

She raised her voice loudly at the last part, her cries echoing through the whole valley.

Tusk remained motionless, showing no reaction whatsoever to her cries, the man impossible to read.

Taking in deep breaths, Maggie allowed herself to rein in her anger, thankful for the cool air.

"...I've...I've let Homelander...I've let Homelander...murder people before my eyes...and-and I did nothing to stop him...just because I'm afraid of what he'd do to me if I refused."

The barbarian retained a neutral expression, and yet, some part of Maggie felt as if Tusk's opinion of her were dropping, and that bothered her greatly. She wanted to run away, maybe crawl into a deep hole somewhere and disappear forever.

"I've seen him...murder people...using nothing but his bare hands!" she continued, speaking quickly. "I've seen...I've seen...planes full of people...die! The one that I was in...that was the second time that I've seen that happen."

Upon hearing that, Tusk hesitated.

Maggie smiled weakly. "It's true. Transoceanic Flight 37. Homelander and I were supposed to save that plane from some...um...hired help, who had hijacked it. Homelander had accidentally fried the controls and...neither of us knew what to do. Homelander didn't think it was possible to save anyone, so..."

She saw Tusk's mouth tighten. "You left them."

Maggie felt sick at the glacial, accusatory tone in his voice, the blow of his sharp words leaving her feeling weak and unsteady on her feet. Part of her wanted to collapse down onto the snow or throw up, if not both, so it was a wonder that she was still standing and able speak at all.

"I...I tried to convince him to save at least some of them...but..."

Putting a hand over her mouth, she refrained from letting nausea take over, clenching her eyes shut.

"Every night...I have nightmares about what had happened. I constantly wake up covered in sweat. Sometimes I wake up screaming. My own girlfriend Elena broke up with me when she had found out about what we did." A corner of her mouth wryly rose. "She wanted nothing to do with me whatsoever anymore. The way she looked at me...I think about all those people every day, and every time, I try to figure out the different ways I could have saved them. Always asking myself what I could have done differently. I've cried so much that I don't really feel or care much about anything anymore. I just want to curl up inside myself and never want to come out, and if it means drinking every bottle of booze or fucking anybody I come across... well..." Maggie shrugged, "at least the pain will go away. If only for a moment."

She said the last part quietly, almost reluctant to make the admission heard. Pulling her hand away from her mouth, Maggie wiped her eyes as she sniffled. "So, if you're going to just stand there in judgement of me, you can kiss my ass and go to hell for all I care."

Turning around, Maggie was about to storm away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed, wanting to preserve what little measure of dignity she had. She couldn't bear to look at Tusk right now. She wanted to get away and hide, to be alone. As she started making her way back to the house, Maeve felt a mighty hand clasp her shoulder.

"Maggie-"

She shrugged off his hand, not bothering to look at him.

"Maggie stop," Tusk said, grabbing her shoulder. The celebrity struggled in his grip when she felt him hold it firmly. "Stop." Maggie was still as she felt his grip hold her in place, his baritone voice speaking into her ear. "It is not my place to pass judgment on you. I know your pain, girl. I know it all-too well. More than you can possibly imagine."

She heard him clear his throat. "...I myself have done things that I am not proud of. You can be assured that, whatever feelings of guilt and self-loathing you have, believe me, your sins are nothing compared to my own. By the time I have finished telling you all that you need to know, you will come to despise everything about me."

The ravine echoed with the howls of the wind as it groaned a low dissonant tune as the two of them stood together. As Maeve felt herself relax under the barbarian's touch, there came a creaking sound from nearby, drawing their attention, causing the latter to tense up and pull away, raising his sword defensively up from the snow, his eyes narrowed and dark.

Brushing some of her fluttering hair out of her face, Maeve looked warily from side to side.

"Is it, uh...is it safe here?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Tusk scanned the boneyard carefully, his eyes missing nothing.

"...Relatively," he answered. "I've cleansed this area thoroughly, but it is always possible some tiny remnant of the Outer Gods' influence or contamination still lingers somewhere."

Clenching his mighty sword, Tusk then let out a loud roar as he swung downward into the snow, producing a massive column of flame, the blast charring everything in its path. Raising her arm to cover her eyes, Maeve heard and felt the explosive shockwave of the blast, the sound so thunderously loud that it made her recoil and cover her ears. It was a wonder that her own eardrums hadn't burst, although her ears were still ringing.

Pulling her hands away, Maeve massaged her inner ears and watched as the smoke cleared, revealing smoldering pieces of bones and debris lying scattered across the ground, an ugly black scar that contrasted with the soft white snow.

Looking over to her companion with wide eyes, the celebrity then gave him an annoyed look.

Meeting her gaze, the barbarian casually shrugged his broad shoulders. "You can never be too careful."

She frowned. "Next time warn me when you do that."

Tusk raised a conceding hand as he gave her an apologetic nod and wave.

Looking back to the path ahead, Maeve found herself staring at a flaming skull that grinned up at her with smashed teeth, the bony visage almost taunting her, causing the celebrity to look away in disgust.

Tusk remained still, waiting with his weapon drawn for several moments, his body tense as he studied his surroundings.

Once he seemed certain that they were alone, he then lowered his blade and relaxed.

"I think it's safe to say this area has been cleansed, but I'd be wary regardless around here if I were you, Maggie," Tusk nodded. "It is always difficult to know with any degree of certainty whether the Outer Gods' influence had been truly cleansed. They are as dangerous as they are unknowable. Always be on your guard on this island no matter what - it will save your life."

Maeve nodded back in acknowledgment. "I'll keep that in mind." Looking up, the celebrity then tilted her head curiously at him. "Has Vought ever been here?"

Tusk shook his head. "Nay. He preferred staying indoors where it was warm and safe," he answered.

She sighed wearily. "Of course he would." Maeve then placed her hands on her hips. "So, where to now?"

The barbarian pointed to the other end of the ravine.

"We climb. It is better that I show you in order to make you understand why Asterion had to die, why I do the things that I do. I don't know all of the secrets of this island, but...I know more than most," he answered, then looked back over to her. "Of course, it is up to you whether or not you wish to continue down this path. It is too late for me, but you...you can always turn back, Maggie. Sometimes...ignorance can be a good thing. You might not ever see things the way you used to after this. If you wish to return to my home, you may. I will understand."

He then looked expectantly at her. "So, what will it be?"

Hesitating, Maeve looked back to where they came from, biting her lip anxiously.

"...I'll do it," she answered.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "There is no going back after this. What you will see and learn will change everything."

Maeve quietly digested his words, saying nothing at first. Finally, she exhaled.

"Well, we already made it this far," the celebrity shrugged. "I can handle whatever you have to tell me. I'm a big girl."

The barbarian stared down at her in silence. Closing his eyes, he gave a slow nod.

"Very well then." As Tusk departed for the path ahead, he gave a glance over his shoulder at her.

"Are you coming?"

Maggie looked back to where they came from once last time, then back at Tusk again, then to the path ahead. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and sighed, then reopened her eyes as Maeve, taking her first decisive step forward, wondering what lied ahead.

* * * * *

At the end of the ravine was a long rock staircase that led upward, the steps cracked with age and continued usage, though firm and surprising durable. Once she was thirty steps up, Maeve couldn't help glancing down over the sides, then quickly jerked her head back with a gulp.

That was a long fall.

"Don't look down, Maggie," she told herself as she kept climbing. "Keep your eyes up ahead. Just focus on-"

As she climbed upward, Maeve just happened to glance upward toward the horizon when she suddenly paused.

"...What...the..." she breathed.

The sky was...shimmering, the air distorted, possessing a strange, reflective quality. Overhead, clouds swirled and moved at such a pace that it almost made her dizzy from watching.

Beside her, Tusk nodded as he too watched the bizarre phenomena before them.

"Dah, I told you this island has many strange sights. Don't focus on it now, though, Maggie," he said firmly. "It will leave you disoriented, and if you aren't careful, you'll end up falling to your death, though I suppose compared to some of the things that happen here... that would be considered a mercy."

As if proving his point, a couple of stones close by her feet crumbled, forcing Maeve to grab hold of her companion, latching onto his torso like a life preserver as she watched the stones clatter all the way down, disappearing through a smoky white veil at the bottom.

Swallowing nervously, Maeve looked back at Tusk, giving an appreciative nod.

"Thank you," she said.

He grunted, then gestured to the path ahead. "This way."