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 Six: Struggles

"I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night."

- H.P. Lovecraft

The cold was growing stronger.

Shivering, Maeve tucked her arms into the sleeves of her coat as she followed her barbarian companion up the cyclopean stairway.

"God, it's freezing," she muttered, her teeth chattering. "Whatever you're gonna show me, Tusk, I hope it's worth it."

"It will be," Tusk replied, nodding, unbothered by the frosty air.

More and more the pair climbed upward, with Maeve lagging slightly behind his towering muscular form. Looking back behind her, Maeve stared all the way down, then raised her eyes toward the horizon line. In the distance, she saw more crashed ships, some of them suspended on rocks.

"Are there any people here aside from you and me?" she asked.

Pausing on a step, Tusk tilted his chin upward in thought.

"...It's possible there might be a few somewhere in hiding, but if there are, I've never encountered them. I was always under the impression that I was the only man on this island," he shrugged.

"Hm," she hummed. Glancing back to Tusk, she brushed hair out of her face as the wind picked up. "From the sounds of it, you live a lonely life."

Tusk considered it for a moment, then shrugged again as the two of them continued up. "I suppose. Then again, given what I am, the things that I do, the things that occur on this island...perhaps it is for the best."

He broodily stared up ahead, his face dark and unreadable. Finally, he resumed on, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

Maeve squirmed as she kept up with him, feeling uncomfortable with the silence.

"...When we had fought earlier," she began, drawing his attention, "you recognized my namesake. Did you...know her?"

Tusk rolled his shoulder back as he adjusted the grip on his sword.

"I did," he answered. "Queen Maeve of Connacht and I had been sparring partners for a time."

"Sparring partners?" Maeve said interestedly. "Were the two of you...lovers?"

The barbarian glanced down at her, his blue eyes penetrating her.

"You were, weren't you?" she said, feeling a bit bolder.

Tusk said nothing for a moment, then looked away, staring out at the ship-riddled horizon.

"...We were, for a time," he admitted slowly, wary of Maeve's reaction. "In life, she was beautiful, but...the last time I was married...it didn't end well."

"How many times have you married?"

"Twice," he answered. "The first marriage resulted in my wife and child dying together at childbirth. The second time I had married, it was with a shield-maiden named Diana."

Maeve blinked, stunned by the news. "Seriously?! Millions of years, and you were only married twice?"

Tusk shrugged. "Tis true. The first marriage that I had resulted in my wife and child dying together at childbirth. The second time I had married, it was with a shield-maiden named Diana."

Hearing the wistful tone in voice at the latter, Maeve couldn't help feeling curious. "What happened with her?"

"What happened with her?"

Tusk took in a deep breath and exhaled wearily through his nostrils.

"Time," he answered grimly. "In our first years of marriage, we were happy. Admittedly I was a little hesitant about taking a wife, mainly because...I had loved my first wife. But Diana..." A small, warm, ghost of a smile raised up slightly from one corner, causing his features to loosen and lose that harsh sternness, and for a brief moment, Maeve was struck by how handsome he was like that. "Diana was a woman who...believed in taking chances. We had several children together, and...for a time...part of me had actually believed that things would work. Part of me had believed that nothing could take that away."

The smile fell.

"...In later years, when all of our children had grown to adulthood... I continued looking the same as I had when I first met her." Tusk closed his eyes. "Diana...ended up becoming bitter and resentful the older we became. We did everything we could to preserve what love we had felt for each other, but..." He then shook his head in a despondent manner, wincing at the memory. "...It was never the same afterward. From then on, I followed and looked after our children, along with our children's children, and their children, along with all the children afterward."

The barbarian's ponytail wavered in the wind as he stared up to the sun, letting out a rumbling, deep-chested growl that sounded almost feral as he rolled his shoulders and his neck, producing an audible crack. Satisfied, he lowered his eyes back to the stone stairs.

"I had taken the odd lover throughout the millions of years of existence. Not a lot, admittedly, just because..." There came a lengthy pause as he stared down at his feet. Finally, he spoke again, continuing from where he had left off, "...It is so...tiring, watching the people that I care for die around me. Watching the people that I love fade to dust and blow away while I remain forever standing over their ashes...you cannot imagine the pain that comes with immortality, Maggie."

He trailed off, his eyes lost in a haze as he seemingly thought back to all the friends and family that he had lost.

Putting a hand on his upper arm, Maeve offered a slight squeeze.

"If it means, anything, Tusk," she said slowly, "I think I do. Vought's wife, Stormfront, is a hundred and two years old, yet she looks thirty-nine. It's possible Compound V has given me immortality, if not an extended lifespan."

Tusk glanced over with wary dark eyes, his expression undefinable. For a brief moment, Maeve could have sworn that she saw a flicker of terror in his eyes, but...she couldn't be certain. Not entirely, anyway.

"...For your sake, Maggie, I pray, and hope, that you don't. The last thing you want is to be like me."

Lifting his head to the path up ahead, the barbarian nodded. "Our destination isn't far. Soon you will see, and know, the truth."

With that, he pressed onward with single-minded purpose, his heavy sword dragged upward with him with every step, while Maeve followed close by.

* * * * *

Climbing to the top, Maeve froze as she stared at what greeted her, recognizing the post-and-lintel structures that loomed before her. Looking around, the celebrity found herself curious by the layout of the structures. Everything was so puzzlingly perfect in its layout, so well organized. For a moment, part of her imagination couldn't help imagining that the various mounds were organized in such as to represent perpetually swirling spirals.

Shivering at the unexpected image, Maeve tightened her coat around her.

"I remember this," she said softly. "What is this place?"

Tusk approached the nearest stone structure, running a hand over it.

"It's a burial site," he explained, "one made in honor of fallen warriors from ages past. It is a holy place, one that is powered by their very essence. I often come here to train. It...also...contains some of the remains of my family."

Maeve felt her heart sank as she heard the admission.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry." Tusk stayed quiet as he eyed the post-and-lintel structures, glancing at the various mounds. "How did it happen, if you don't mind my asking?"

Maeve watched as the barbarian nodded quietly to himself, his eyes glassily wandering from mound to mound.

"We had been travelling together from the Americas when we found ourselves in the middle of a heavy storm." His eyes sagged. "All of my grandchildren and great grandchildren...none of them survived. All I have left of my family now is our ship."

At the mention of his ship, the celebrity hesitated.

"Was that...was that the beached Viking ship in front of your house?" she asked.

Closing his eyes, Tusk gave a solemn nod, causing her heart to sink even further.

"It was called the Wavewalker," he replied. "My children and I had built it together ages ago, and I have been holding onto it ever since."

Maeve put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh no," she breathed. "God, I 'm-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I had-I had no idea!"

Tusk shook his head, his ancient eyes betraying his exhaustion.

"It couldn't be helped, I suppose," he said lifelessly, making her flinch as he looked out to the horizon. His eyes glistened as he spoke about it. "Even though much of my memory is scattered like the damned snow here, I do still have some of them intact. That ship contained some of my fondest memories. I used- I used to repair it with my grandchildren. With their children...and...and all the other children afterward. And...and now I'm all that's left..."

Scrunching up his face, the barbarian struggled to keep his stony demeanor. He wandered around and gently traced his fingers along some stone mounds, each of them of differing sizes, his eyes watering with unshed tears. Pulling his hand away, seemingly lost in thought, he drifted from one spot to the next, as if recalling something from a distant memory.

"Tusk?"

As he was about to turn to face her, Tusk suddenly paused, then very slowly, almost carefully, approached an inconspicuous-looking mound, his sword lowered by his side, staring morosely at it.

Maeve cautiously approached, staring down at the mound beside him.

"These are the graves of your grandchildren?" she asked.

Tusk breathed out condensation.

"My great grandchildren," he answered, his voice strained. "At least, some of the ones that I was able to find. I couldn't bear to part with the Wavewalker, not with all the memories I have attached to it, nor could I just bury them down below. I didn't want them to become yet another damned meal for Old Grey Tooth. They deserve better."

Turning her head, Maeve gave a look of surprise. As Maeve saw the unmistakable fresh tears fall down from his clenched eyes, Maeve did the only the human thing that she could - she stepped close behind him, placed her hands on his biceps, and hugged him from behind.

"I'm so sorry, Tusk," she whispered. "I'm so sorry!"

The barbarian didn't crumple to the ground as a normal person would - to be honest, Maeve didn't believe Tusk to be the type of person who would in the first place - nor did he utter a sound. Instead, he stood tall and firm with his back toward her, an imposing, indomitable, ageless monument that refused to crumble, the perfect, unmarred muscles and skin deceptively belying whatever untold layers of pain and sadness he had kept hidden from view.

As she rested her head against his muscled back, Maeve heard his slow breathing, along with his powerful heartbeat. Part of her thought to have heard another ill-defined noise coming from him that might have been a sniffle, but the celebrity wasn't entirely certain. Regardless, she held onto him, not moving from the barbarian as he wordlessly placed his rough, calloused hand on one of hers, giving a small, appreciative squeeze.

Maeve squeezed back, holding onto him as much as she could.

Finally, he wiped his eyes, then exhaled a small cloud.

"Maggie," he spoke.

"Yes, Tusk?"

She heard him swallow. As he spoke, he pulled away from her grip, turning around to face her directly.

"Listen close to what I have say, for what I am about to tell you...will change everything that you know."

And so began Tusk's story.

After the deaths of his wife and child, he revealed, the barbarian had wandered alone throughout the world, where he became known by various monikers he had acquired throughout history. For some, he was Theseus, Heracles, Thor, Finn McCool, Beowulf, Freyr, and other heroic figures. Others, however, referred to him by more ominous and foreboding names such as Surtr.

He saw the rise and fall of countless empires, was even instrumental in the destruction of some of them, including Rome, much to Maeve's shock.

Wherever he had traveled, death was certain to follow.

"Well, that's all very interesting, Tusk. It sounds like it would make for a great movie and all, but...what does this have to do with Vought and this island?" she asked, somewhat nervous about the answer.

Placing his sword down, Tusk rested it on the floor, his palms pressed over its pommel as he silently loomed before her like an oversized statue as he considered the question.

"When I had received my...gifts..." he spoke, "...I was only given a small glimpse of the nature of things. During my many travels throughout the world, however, I would often stumble upon ancient ruins hidden in remote regions, many of them often inaccessible. I had uncovered various artifacts along with hieroglyphics about the gods. Among those, however, were references to a war."

As the barbarian began his account, Maeve listened with rapt attention, but the more she heard his story, the more an existential sense of dread seeped into her being.

Billions of years ago, he revealed, when the Earth was in its infancy, a great and terrible war was fought all across the stars by beings of immense power. Tusk wasn't certain as to where or how the war began, the reasons for the conflict in the first place, nor for how long the war had been fought for. Nor was it certain as to who had started it. Regardless of such details, however, what had been certain, though, was that it was a battle of such ferocity that countless species and civilizations had ended up becoming extinguished in an instant.

But as horrifying as this war sounded to Maeve, nothing prepared the celebrity for the dark knowledge that Tusk was about to share.

She learned of Great Azathoth, the Blind Idiot God whose dreams created all of reality.

She learned of the Ichoriens, beings of light that were responsible for creating many races and species, including the Elder Things.

She then learned of humanity's origins, the result of a cosmic accident created by the Elder Things themselves in their attempt to colonize Earth billions of years ago, after their own homeworld had ended up being destroyed.

She also learned of the Great Old Ones and the Outer Gods, ancient races of god-like beings of unimaginably vast power that had ruled over the planet, beings that were so utterly alien and terrifying in their aspect that just merely gazing upon them alone would drive one insane.

Maeve anxiously brushed her hair out of her face.

"These...gods that you worship...they-they told you all this?" she asked with a hint of skepticism in her voice, trying to keep her fear out from her voice.

"Nay," Tusk shook his head as he stared at a mound. "They only provided a...general understanding of what had occurred. During my travels across the world, however, I would often come across hints of what had occurred. A lot of my time aside from killing cultists and abominations was spent studying the hieroglyphics and trying to fill in the gaps. While much remains a mystery to me, I believe I have a better understanding than most."

The same sprawling war that had claimed countless lives, civilizations and species, he revealed, had ended with the Great Old Ones forever sealed away. Many such as Yog-Sothoth were exiled to the stars, with no hope of ever returning.

Some such as Great Cthulhu, who resided deep in his oceanic house within his underwater kingdom of R'lyeh, were forever trapped in a death-like sleep in different parts of the world, bound to this miserable state until the stars aligned.

Others such as Gargos the Cunning and Eyedol the Great and Fearsome were sealed off in the deepest planes of other realities.

All of the Great Old Ones and Outer Gods to this day remained forever bound and chained for all of eternity.

"But make no mistake, Maggie," Tusk warned, "even though they are imprisoned, they are not to be trifled with. They still have some power. Even as we speak, they are clawing at the door."

"Well, that's all very interesting, Tusk," Maeve nodded, "but, uh, I'm still not seeing the full picture here."

Tusk looked directly at her, his eyes possessing a dark intensity that made Maeve feel like a child.

"You will," he promised, the barbarian's blue eyes shined through the snowy hail as he silently pointed outward.

Turning to where he gestured, the celebrity stared out at the towering megaliths around her. She watched as the sun swiftly fell while clouds moved impossibly fast across the sky. Moments later, she saw the shining moon rise up from beyond the ocean, its form hovering over the shimmering surface as it quickly faded from view to the other end. As she watched in horrified wonder, Maeve found her mind reeling in dizziness as she saw what seemed like the universe unveiling itself to her in all of its infinite and horrible glory. Maeve watched as stars exploded distantly and near and stared out to nebulas and into space, startled by the vast gulf of infinity. She saw entire planets and strange worlds loom so close to the Earth itself that part of her had expected to reach out to touch them with her own hand.

"What's-What's happening?" she said in an uncharacteristically small and frightened voice.

"It is dreaming," Tusk answered enigmatically.

"What is?"

"The island," he replied. "I know not what it is exactly...but...I have my suspicions. The hieroglyphics made mention of how during the final days of that great and terrible war, when the last of the Outer Gods, Eyedol the Great and Fearsome and Gargos the Cunning, were cast into the furthest reaches of Limbo, the heroes of those days made the ultimate sacrifice. I wasn't sure how for a very long time, but...I believe that this very location that we're in lies the answer. I believe that, through some means that I am unable to conceive of, they had sacrificed themselves and used their very essence to chain this place in between realities."

"But why?"

Tusk stared at her, his expression dark and unreadable, looking somewhat...suspicious, his piercing blue eyes staring into her. Staring through her. Like as if he was trying to read her.

Maeve shifted uncomfortably, unnerved by the stare. "Tusk?"

Another beat. Finally, the barbarian relented.

"Because," he said slowly, "this island is...not an island."

Maeve blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I believe it to be either an Old One or an Outer God. I know not which it is," he admitted. "For all I know, it may even be something else entirely. What I do know, however, is that I have seen many strange occurrences here throughout the centuries, including shifts in space and time. You see this for yourself." He pointed at the changing horizon and landscape. "I believe that this...island or entity, whatever it may be, is struggling to awake. That is the only logical explanation that I can come up with that explains these strange changes. It is struggling against its metaphysical shackles, its consciousness searching across multiple dimensions and universes for something, a way to free itself somehow. Every time it struggles, every time it searches, I noticed, it creates ripples through all of reality, causing everything around here to become displaced."

"'Displaced'?" she questioned.

"Dah. Every time it struggles, the land changes in appearance and location. One moment, we might find ourselves off the coast of the Americas. At another, we might end up somewhere in Asia, or Africa, or somewhere up north. It is never in one particular place at any given period, nor in one particular time."

Maeve's confusion deepened. "What?!"

"Tis true. It can exist in several locations at once without anyone realizing. Think of it, Maggie - multiple realities. Multiple timelines. Multiple planets. Multiple universes. All of those converging into one, single location at any given moment. It is the reason why I believe no one can ever find this place on any map - because this place - this being - is constantly moving between realities! Between space and time, struggling against its bindings, trying to find a way to free itself and its monstrous kin!"

Maeve's mind reeled in incredulity as she listened to the swordsman. Part of her wanted to laugh at the ludicrousness of his words, but as she stared up into the void above, the celebrity found herself unable to. Turning dazedly away, Maeve found herself looking at a nearby post and lintel structure as it shimmered. Blinking, she approached in silent awe as the air around the posts shimmered with a strange reflective quality. As she drew closer, Maeve was startled to see a reflection of herself staring back in shock before her, the doppelganger mimicking her every action and expression.

"What...the..."

Touching her face, Maeve watched in fascination as her very image shifted and distorted, changing in shape and contour.

"Are you-Are you seeing this?" Maeve asked Tusk as she felt her face, watching as her reflection did the same as it changed. "What is this?"

"They are you," Tusk answered. "Well, different versions of you that exist across all of the various planes of realities."

"Some of them don't even look a thing like me."

The barbarian shrugged his massive shoulders. "It is to be expected. An action in one reality can have an opposite effect in another. For every action and inaction made in one reality, there is an opposite effect in another. In one timeline, your mother never died. In another, it's your father who does. In yet another, you have different parents. In another version, you were never even born. In yet another, you were born a man. And so on."

Maeve stared at her ever-changing visage, studying all of the shifts in appearance before shakily looking back to Tusk.

"Does-Does that mean that-that in-in one reality...I...I could have saved those people on the plane? Those people on the plane could have survived somehow?"

Tusk gravely nodded. "It is possible. Countless and myriad are the possibilities for every given reality."

A small smile lifted from the corner of Maeve's mouth as she stared back at the reflection in wonder, watching as the images of herself changed, representing the various different possibilities and outcomes for her as a person.

From old to young, from blonde and blue-eyed to brown-haired, from thin to fat, from a sexy hourglass figure to emaciated and cadaverous-looking.

From suburban mom to country girl to 19th Century French aristocracy.

From pale to tanned to smooth-skinned to horrifically scarred or inhuman, Maggie stared open-mouthed as she saw every possibility unfold before her, feeling completely overwhelmed and at a loss for words.

Raising a tentative hand, she reached out to touch the image, then halted, as if afraid that her...image or doppelganger, would touch her back.

"Is it...is it possible for me to...?"

Tusk shook his head. "Nay. What we see are merely windows into other worlds, Maggie. Nothing more. The island is merely dreaming of these different realities."

Maeve looked over her shoulder. "Is it...is it possible to...visit these places?

The barbarian's mouth formed a grim line. "There is a way...but...the gateway must remain forever sealed, for to open it...would be to invite danger."

Taking a nervous step back, Maeve turned to Tusk in bewilderment as his blue eyes shined with an alien glare.

"...Why did you bring me here?" she said in a shaky voice.

The barbarian loomed like a statue, his sword resting in place by his feet. "You asked me why I believe Vought's actions to be consequential, Maggie. You asked me why Asterion had to die. This is your answer," he said, pointing to the perpetually shifting sky, landscape and reflections. "The Old Ones and Outer Gods have been using us, Maggie."

"Using...using us?"

"Dah. For ages, they have been trying to claw their way back into this world, using whatever means they have available, be it through their followers, or that slimy bitch Shub-Niggurath and her half-human brood. It was she who had created the Minotaur and the various half-human creatures. It was because of her influence and her blasphemous sexual rites that I had to put them all down. It is my duty to eliminate those marked by their unholy corruption. But you and these..."heroes" that fool Vought created from my flesh..." Maggie watched as his face darkened. "I fear that they may have found a way."

"What-What do you mean? How?" Maggie asked, despite fearing the answer.

She watched as Tusk stood still as his eyes ominously darkened and narrowed. Raising his sword, the barbarian took a threatening step toward her.

"What are you doing?" Maeve asked warily.

Tusk didn't say a word as he approached. He stared at her for a long while, and for a moment, Maeve wondered if he intended on attacking her. Minutes counted by as she waited with bated breath as he clutched the handle of his weapon.

Finally, Tusk planted his sword straight into the ground, then pointed at his weapon.

"Touch it," he commanded.

Maeve hesitated. "What?"

"Touch it," he repeated.

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "...Why?"

"I wish to test a theory," he said slowly in a low voice, pointing again at his sword. "Try to grab my sword."

Maeve looked at the massive weapon, then glanced questioningly back to the barbarian.

"Go on."

Turning her eyes back to the sword, Maeve exhaled, then placed her hand on the handle. Upon doing so, the celebrity let out a loud yelp as she quickly retracted her hand.

"ARRGH! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" She screamed, plunging her hand into the snow to cool it off. "Ow, FUCK, THAT BURNS!"

"Are you alright?" Tusk asked as he studied his sword.

"NO I'M NOT ALRIGHT, ASSHOLE! IT BURNED MY FUCKING HAND!" Maeve said between grit teeth, her eyes tearing up. "God...damn it!"

The barbarian approached, taking hold of her hand. "Let me see it."

Taking in several deep breaths, Maeve panted heavily. "Fuck, that smarts!"

Tusk studied the wound, frowning. "My apologies, Maggie. I was wrong in my assumptions. Let me fix this."

Reaching to his belt, he pulled up a small flask and removed the cork lid, pouring it onto her burned palm.

"AARRRGH!" Maeve screamed as she wriggled beneath Tusk's grip. "FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER! GOD FUCKING SON OF A..."

"Settle down, girl!" He scolded. "By the gods, the way you act and scream, one would think I was dealing with a newborn babe!"

"Well excuse me for screaming, but I didn't expect to get my hand burned by touching the handle of that sword! Christ, what is that thing made of?!"

"Only the gods know," Tusk answered. "I am merely their watchman."

As he put the flask away, Maeve felt the pain slowly fade until it was gone.

Running her thumb along her inner palm, the celebrity felt around, massaging the skin.

"I take it that stuff was from the hot spring?" she asked.

Tusk nodded in acknowledgement, causing her to shake her head in amazement.

"That's very handy," she remarked. Lifting her eyes from her palm, Maeve turned to face him. "Now, will you tell me what was that all about?!"

Tusk opened his mouth to speak when the wind started to pick up and let out a guttural moan, causing Maeve's coat to flutter.

Raising his hand to block out the snow from his eyes, the barbarian squinted through the hail.

"The storm is picking up!" he shouted. "We will continue this conversation when we're indoors! We must hurry back to my home!"

And so began their slow return back, the two struggling to maintain their balance and footing as they trudged on.

* * * * *

Maeve wiped the snow from her eyes, squinting to see through the relentless hail as the wind mercilessly pushed her, trying to knock her off balance.

Visibility was poor - all that Maeve could see were flurries of snow that blotted out her vision. The wind was so loud and fierce that she couldn't even hear Tusk, let alone see him.

"TUSK?" she called out. "Tusk where are you?!"

She heard a muffled noise, but the celebrity couldn't tell what direction it was coming from. The wind blotted out all noise, howling loudly in Maeve's ears as pulled up on the hood, trying to keep herself warm. Once or twice, she bumped into a wall or some branches of a tree.

At least, she hoped it was a tree.

Raising her hand, Maeve tried to peer through the hail, turning wildly in every direction as she called out for Tusk.

Everywhere she looked was nothing but blinding hail that got into her eyes, making her stumble wherever she went. North blended with south, east and west, making it impossible to know where she was going.

Once or twice Maeve thought she heard a noise through the wind, while at times she thought that she detected a presence.

Flailing wildly around, the celebrity shouted Tusk's name, her voice drowned out by the wind.

Taking a step forward, Maeve tripped and fell into the snow, too exhausted to continue.

As her eyes drifted closed, she saw a dark shape move toward her.