A/N: Chap 45 review responses are in my forums. And now let's follow Narwhal as she gets drunk with the Irish god of love.
Chapter Forty-Six: Spirit Longed For War
In her 29 years of life, Narwhal had experienced many things. As a child, she was picked on incessantly because of her striking white hair and the fact she was always the tallest girl in her village—and eventually the tallest person period.
She found out that the first boy she ever kissed did so not because he liked her, but on a dare from his friends. She beat him and his friends up for that. They outnumbered her, but even as a child she was bigger and stronger than they were.
She triggered during her two-year stint in the Canadian army while on a peace-keeping mission in South Africa. She was part of a small U.N. Force that tried to protect Johannesburg during Moord Nag's first expansion into the remains of the nation. She still had nightmares about Aesdier, though she won both a medal and a decommissioning due to her newly triggered force fields saving her unit.
Her second trigger came two days after Michel proposed to her. They never found all of him, but it was during her fight with The Surgeon that she discovered she had triggered a second time, and just what that meant with her powers. Just as they never found all of her fiancé, authorities never found all of The Surgeon.
And now, she found herself kicked out of a god's domain.
"Don't you worry, love, she's like that," Angus said as he led Narwhal and his ridiculously attractive daughter back to the strange stone parking lot in a freezing-cold, rainy isle. The car that was really a horse was there waiting for them.
"We're just going to leave Taylor there?" Narwhal asked. "What're we going to do?"
"I know just the thing!" Aengus declared. "Hop in!"
"I ride in front!" Aideen declared.
"How old are you, little girl?" Narwhal asked.
"Old 'nuff to knack your melt in wee doll!"
Narwhal blinked. "I have no idea what that means."
"Get in, ladies!" Aengus said, pleading now.
The blink of an eye later, Aengus was getting out and Aideen followed. With a sigh, Narwhal followed and found herself across the street from a tavern. The cold, bitter rain and ice was the same. "Right. I'm in Ireland. Of course there's a pub involved."
"Don't be racist, ya feckin' gobshite!" Aideen said over the cold and wet wind.
Narwhal felt she should be offended, but still wasn't entirely sure about what. What she was sure about was that the moment Aengus walked through the door, every person in the tavern called his name and raised glass to him. And he responded in kind. "A round on me!" he declared to more raucous calls.
"Hoos da big cow then, Aengus?"
The raucous laughter tuned to a chorus of "Oooohs!" as a strikingly curvy red-head with porcelain white skin marched across the tavern floor. She glared at Narwhal like a fierce lioness about to protect her cub.
"Margaret, let me explain!" Aengus whined.
"Don't Margaret me, ye shite hawk, walking in here with that oversized geebag!"
"Right, I've had enough of this," Narwhal said. She stomped through the low-ceilinged, smokey tavern to the fierce-eyed woman.
"And what'll you…"
Narwhal grabbed the woman, all 5'4" of her, by the belt of her slacks, and picked her up one-handed until she held the woman against the ceiling. "Hi!" she said with a forced bright smile. "I'm Narwhal, head of the Canadian Guild. I hunt down and kill people for a living. Did you know I can generate a forcefield inside your brain and kill you with a thought?"
"Ah, don't do that, Narwhal," Aengus whined. "I'd never here the end of it from ma dear Aideen!"
"And don't ye have a fierce notion in that big head of yours," Margaret the red-head said, utterly uncowed. "Póg mo thóin!"
Narwhal couldn't help but frown. "You're not very smart, are you?"
"Nay, but she's a fine ride and that's to be sure!" Aengus said. "Margaret my love, this fine woman is no lover of mine. She came with a cousin p' mine. Staying with our dear Aideen's aunt, don't you know."
For the first time since she opened her mouth, Margaret the Red-Head's eyes bulged a bit as she that sank in. "Why didn't you say so, you feckin' big idgit?"
"And when would I have had a chance to, now?"
Narwhal put the woman down. Way down. Once she was on the floor, she stared up at Narwhal's white hair. The horn was gone, but then again Narwhal had to walk with her head being because of the low ceilings. "Why're you so feckin' tall, then?"
"My mother's a goddess," Narwhal said.
"Aye, that'll do it, I suppose. Liam, get this unholy great hoor a lager!"
Which is how Narwhal found herself welcomed into her first Irish bender. The lager wasn't that strong, especially not against the IPAs that Narwhal preferred. But when someone put a shot of whiskey in front of her five lagers in, that just seemed like a brilliant idea! These people were just…awesome!
Margaret was planted firmly in Aengus's lap, matching Narwhal shot-for-shot, while Aengus himself was on his second bottle. Aideen was gone, probably sucking her boyfriend's face off, and as far as Narwhal could tell, everything was right in the world.
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
Hanna Ulrikab never knew if her minor regeneration power was a result of her parentage or her trigger. What she did know, though, was that a consequence of having it meant she'd never suffered from a hangover in her life.
The smell of sausage that woke her did so without any of the spins or nausea she should have had. The door opened and Margaret, Aengus's lover, strode in. "You're awake now, I see." Her voice carried none of the challenge and anger from the night before.
Checking herself to make sure she wasn't naked (she was wearing a button up plaid shirt that, surprisingly, fit), she sat up in a bed much too small for her. "I have no idea where I am," she admitted.
Margaret laughed. "Never seen a woman drink Aengus under like that, not and live," Margaret said. Her accent was noticeably…less. "He's a beautiful man, my Aengus. Every woman's eye follows, and I spend half my days beating the cows back, don't you know? Bath's through the door there. Found some of Aengus' old things might fit you. Breakfast be ready soon."
Like that, she turned and left. But in that brief burst of mostly intelligible English, Narwhal understood why Margaret acted the way she did the night before.
The bathroom looked like a little pearl of new in an oyster as old as time. The cramped house had low ceilings made of heavy wooden beams and walls made of old red brick. But the shower was a pre-fabricated stall, and the nozzle set high enough that she didn't have to bend over too much to wash her hair.
The clothes consisted of a pair of trousers that were tight in the hips and too short, and a woolen sweater. Dressed, she looked like an extra in a porno. The sweater didn't hide her chest, it just made it obvious that she was well endowed.
Hanna firmed herself up with her forcefields and followed the smell of food. The dining space was set across a huge stone fireplace from the kitchen, which like the bathroom appeared to be a spot of modernity set within an ancient house. Aengus sat at the head of the heavy wooden table with Margaret opposite. Between them sat Aideen wearing a bleary expression.
"She lives!" Aengus declared in a booming voice. "Come, lass, join us!"
Having spent a few weeks in the UK, Hanna had come to accept that the concept of breakfast was different. Breakfast for her was cereal with a cold latte, usually around lunch time. Here? Platters were spread across the table with fried eggs, baked beans, black sausages that she knew were called blood puddings, and even fried tomatoes.
She sat at the waiting chair, and at Aengus's motion, helped herself.
"Why aren't you sick?" Aideen demanded blearily.
"Mild regeneration power," Hanna answered honestly enough. "How badly did I make a fool of myself last night?"
"I pulled Tom Cooke off ya before you broke the lad," Aengus declared.
"Cute hoor, that one," Margaret said. "You hear he backed out o' the round last night? Good thing ya threw 'em out, Aengus."
Hanna had a hard time following most of that, but it didn't matter. "This is really good. Thank you."
"That's me Margaret," Aengus said with a happy, proud smile.
When her phone rang with Dragon's crescendo tone, it took Hanna a moment to realize it was hers. It seemed such an alien, intrusive sound within the home. Looking around, she saw it sitting atop the hearth where either she or one of her hosts put it. "I'm sorry, that's a dedicated ring tone," she said before walking over to answer.
"Dragon?"
"Where have you been? I lost track of you for four days!"
Hanna lowered the phone and stared at the date in confusion. "Aengus, my phone says it's been four days since I came to Ireland, but I arrived just…oh. Right."
Aengus just gave a nod to confirm what she realized. "Sorry, Dragon, I was inaccessible. What's wrong?"
"The Simurgh moved yesterday afternoon. Telos's father has decided it's time for him to return to America. But he's insisted we visit Ireland first. We're ten minutes out."
"Telos…wait, what? Taylor's father is coming here? Now?"
"WHAT?"
Aengus's alarmed shout brough the god to his feet, and had both girls standing in alarm. "What'd you say?" he asked again, in a more modulated tone.
"Taylor's dad is coming."
"Taylor? You mean Telos? Her father? The fecking deicide is coming here?" Aengus actually looked alarmed at that.
He didn't have too long to dwell on it. The ground-shaking roar of a Dragon suit announced the arrival of Hanna's friend. Aengus rushed to the door and Hanna followed, with the two red-headed women a step behind. They emerged in a snowy open field bordered by a low stone fence. The space was just barely large enough to fit the giant mecha suit.
Aengus turned to face his family. "Margaret, love, listen here. A bad man's a comin'. Don't give him no cause for anger!'
"Gobshite! You'd smack him down!"
"Love, I've tried to smack 'em down. This one smacks back far harder."
The ramp opened and the God of War walked down into the snow.
He steamed. Hanna stared as actual steam and vapor poured off his skin as if he were a living fire amidst the cold. Though he wore military-style fatigues, over it he wore what looked like lizard-skin pauldrons that left his vast expanse of muscular stomach bare. A massive axe hung from the pauldrons on his back, while massive, wickedly shaped blades of some kind hung from chains at his wrist.
The bearded, bald god stopped a few feet from Aengus. Somehow, between him leaving the house and now, Aengus had acquired a silvery sword. "Are ye comin' in peace, war god?"
"Yes." Even his voice sounded like mountains grinding against each other.
The sword disappeared with a flick of Aengus' wrist. "Then be welcome in my home." With those formal words, Aengus motioned for the door. Suddenly Hanna wasn't the only one who had to duck to get in.
Without a word, Margaret fetched another chair and placed it beside Hanna's. Kratos sat and began helping himself as if he'd been born there. He didn't take a lot—rather a little bit from each platter. Only after he'd eaten a few bites did Aengus seem to relax.
"You shouldn'a be here, brother," Aengus said. "I can feel the demon's eyes on us."
"Time grows short," Kratos said. He placed the utensils down, having quickly demolished his meal. "Will you fight with us?"
Aengus leaned back in his chair. "We rode out to meet him. Of all the gods of the mortal realms, we thought to find you at our side."
"I was armed and ready," Kratos said. "Even weak as I was after centuries of peace. Freya stayed my hand, as did this one's godmother." He pointed a thumb at Hanna. "For them I held back, and with them I saw why. You fought well, and bravely. But it was a battle you could not win."
"But Telos can?"
"Such is her doom," Kratos said.
It took a moment for Hanna to remember her lit classes and realize that he meant the word as 'fate' rather than a pessimistic ending.
Aengus, of course, understood. "I'll fight with you, brother. But I'll ask a boon of you in return. Not for myself, but for my sister. For the work she does for your kin, we'd have you free one of ours."
Kratos, oddly, turned to look at Aideen. The girl withered under his glare a moment, before stiffening her spine and lifting her chin. "What, then?" she asked.
Kratos actually chuckled before turning back to Aengus. "I know of this child's cousin. What you ask will be difficult. But it is a worthy boon. For Brigid and her work for my daughter, I will accept this price."
"Then our business is concluded?"
"Indeed."
Kratos and Aengus stood together. The god of war extended his hand, and Aengus accepted it, grabbing by the wrist instead of the palm.
Kratos turned to leave, pausing at the door to look back at Hanna. "Are you coming, child?"
"What? Oh, yeah! Yes, I'm coming!" She looked at Margaret and Aideen. "Thanks for breakfast!"
"Off with ya, now," Margaret said. "Right pretty thing like you's too much for my Aengus to resist."
That was as much a compliment as she was going to get. Hanna followed Kratos back out into the cold. At least it wasn't raining. "You know who I am?"
"Your Nana talks a lot," was the only answer she got.
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
"We'll be landing at the New York Protectorate in five," Dragon announced.
After a long, silent trip, Narwhal found herself desperate for the god across the way to say something.
"So, ahh…did you ever meet Hannibal?"
Kratos stared at her a moment. "Yes."
"What was he like?"
"A good soldier."
"He died during the Punic War, right?" She was proud of herself for knowing the term.
"There were three such wars. Hannibal died in none of them. He took his own life many years later in a town called Libyssa, not far from what you call Istanbul. Even at the end, he spited his Roman pursuers. A good soldier."
"Did you…you know. Where you there? During the wars?"
"Yes."
And…that was all she was getting, it seemed. The mecha around them roared as it settled down on a landing pad on top of the majestic steel and glass tower. The ramp lowered as Kratos stood. He started down the ramp without hesitation, and didn't seem to blink at all when he saw Alexandria and Legend waiting for him.
"Welcome to New York," Alexandria said. "We have a room prepared. If you'll follow us?"
Narwhal had known Alexandria for enough years to hear the tension in the woman's voice. Narwhal wondered if she could take Kratos in a fight, until she glanced at the axe on his back. She, too, saw his fight against Moord Nag's forces and realized that his weapons were divine. The normal rules didn't apply to them.
The executive conference room sat just below the helipad in top floor of the tower that served as the national headquarters for the Protectorate. PRT agents were finishing up a modest buffet when they entered. There was also a bathroom.
"I'll be right back," she announced.
When she returned, Kratos was standing with his arms crossed watching as the wall-mounted monitor opposite centered on the Simurgh in orbit.
"…can feel the demon's gaze," the god of war said.
"It followed you across the ocean," Legend said, sounding incredulous, as if he couldn't believe his own statement. "It appears that Leviathan lingered near Ireland, though. We have no idea where Behemoth is."
Kratos' shifted slightly. Narwhal noticed the huge knots of muscle in his shoulders flex. "That is unfortunate. Ireland was a risk."
"You'd prefer Leviathan to be here?"
"Telos must gain her weapons and armor. It was foretold. If they attack before she is ready, all may be lost. If they attack while she is distracted by trifles, all may be lost."
"Trifles like laws and rules?" Alexandria asked dryly.
"Trifles like Jack Slash and Heartbreaker," Kratos responded. "I have returned to clear the way for one greater than myself. But more, I have come to collect a favor owed to another."
Narwhal had no idea why the two Triumvirate capes looked so nervous at that. "How…what favor?"
"There are capes in the Birdcage that I intend to use. You will make them available to me."
Legend sputtered. Alexandria stared intently. "What makes you think we have that power?"
"A favor is owed. I act on behalf of the one who helped you save my daughter. This is not my favor; it is hers. My favor is more direct—you will tell me the secret of the Siberian."
"If we knew that, we'd have killed her already!" Legend actually sounded angry at the thought that they might know something.
Alexandria didn't move, and in that moment, Narwhal felt a chill. For all she'd known and liked Alexandria, in that split second, she realized just how much she didn't know about the other woman. Legend, too, realized something when she didn't respond. She just stood matching Kratos' unflinching stare.
"Lexi?" The head of the Protectorate no longer sounded so sure.
"We found out two years ago," Alexandria said in a dispassionate tone. "Cell phone footage of an attack in Idaho. An old bearded man in a VW van. We did a facial recognition scan and realized that the Siberian had the exact same face and figure as Jennifer Manton."
Narwhal had known Legend as long as s Alexandria. She met him during her first Endbringer Fight six years ago. In all that time, she'd never seen him struck so speechless. She herself was pretty shocked—though she had no idea who Jennifer was, the name Manton was well known among the parahuman world. He was the researcher to first describe the power limitations that even now bore his name.
"You hoped to turn this man to your cause," Kratos noted.
"Can you imagine what the Siberian could do against Leviathan or Behemoth?" Alexandria said.
The god of war nodded. His voice seemed deeper, filling the room. "When my daughter emerges, she will do so as a goddess of untold power. The being she fights is more powerful still. Even so, the demons will have no choice but to attack, as will the Destroyer himself. If you wish this world to survive, you will do as I say. Open the door to the Birdcage and do not interfere. When Telos comes, and our fate is decided, stand and fight with us."
Alexandria nodded, and the fact that Legend said nothing told Narwhal that everything she believed about the Protectorate leadership was false. She'd always assumed that Legend was in charge, but in that moment, she knew that he was nothing more than a figurehead. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.
Kratos achieved what he wanted, though. "Come, child," he said.
"Shouldn't I stay here?" Narwhal asked. "I have some questions as head of the Guild for my colleagues."
His eyes felt like actual weights on her as he studied her. "Do as you wish. If you stay, you will do so as a cape. If you come, you do so as the demigod daughter of Sedna of the Sea. It is another Demigod we seek."
Legend looked even more confused, though Alexandria was now staring at Narwhal with renewed interest.
"Will I do more good with you, or here?"
"Decide that yourself, child."
It then began to settle in, what he said. "You're going to kill the Slaughterhouse Nine."
"Yes."
"And Heartbreaker?"
"Yes."
With a fainter voice, she added, "Nilbog?"
"Yes." No hesitation. No doubt. He spoke his answers as statement of unavoidable fact.
Narwhal looked to Alexandria, then Legend. "We're not done, I have questions for you."
"You and me both," Legend muttered angrily.
Kratos walked out without further word, and Narwhal found herself caught in his wake. "Where next?"
"The Birdcage," Kratos said. "We are going to fetch one like you."
"What do you mean? About demigods?"
"Those gods who cannot fight the beasts directly delivered champions to fight on their behalf," he said as they marched up back into Dragon's mecha. "Such as Aengus' get. But we gods did not know the nature of the beast we fought at first. Most of the demigods were killed or perverted by shards of the Destroyer. Your fate was to be a champion of your people, not a cape. Moord Nag was meant to be a prophet and deliverer of her people, not a cape. And Ciara O'Callahan was meant to be a champion of her people, not Glaistig Uaine."
The name sent a chill down her spine. "You're going to go free the Fairy Queen? The psycho cape that kills other capes for their powers?"
"Yes," Kratos said.
In that one word, he made it sound simple.