Fenrir's Binding: The Queen and The Barbarian

by evolution-500

Two broken people from two different worlds cross paths on the Isle of Demons. Queen Maeve, an embittered and disillusioned member of The Seven searching for meaning as a hero. Tusk, the eternal watchman of the gods, tormented by immortality and a lifetime of horror. Together, the two of them find solace in one another as they struggle to overcome their demons. Tusk/Maeve pairing.

8. Chapter Seven: Season of the Serpent

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 Seven: Season of the Serpent

Maeve let out a groan as she weakly opened her eyes and found herself lying in bed, completely covered up with blankets.

"You are awake. Thank the gods, I was getting quite worried." Turning her head, she spotted Tusk as he knelt by a fire.

"Tusk?" she said in surprise. "What-what happened?"

"You were lost," he commented, his eyes focused on an iron cauldron that hung over the fire. "It was a mistake to have taken you out so far, especially in such dire weather. You were lucky that I found you, otherwise those Dark Young would have eaten you."

Maeve shivered as she pulled the blanket closer to her.

"G-g-god, I'm freezing," her teeth chattered. It was then that Maeve suddenly became aware of a welcome aroma that made her mouth water. "What is that?"

"Stew," Tusk answered. Grabbing a bowl, he then scooped some up with a spoon-like utensil that appeared to be made from bone, pouring its contents into the bowl. After three scoops, he approached Maeve and handed it to her. "Here, eat this, the broth especially."

Sitting up, Maeve took the bowl and spoon, then took a hesitant sip. Surprised by the delicious flavor, the celebrity started to dig in, completely famished.

"Do you like it?" Tusk asked as he got a bowl for himself.

She nodded. "It's good. Thank you."

The barbarian grunted as he scooped up some stew. Once he finished, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

"Nothing better than having a warm stew during a cold winter day," he commented as he raised a spoon and started to eat.

The quietly ate in silence as they both listened to the wind howling outside, the hearth crackling with small fiery pops.

"So," Maeve began, "are you going to explain why you wanted me to grab your sword?"

Tusk stopped chewing, swallowing his food.

"It is nothing," he waved as he continued eating.

Maggie frowned, leaning forward in her seat. "Come on, Tusk. Don't bullshit me. You know something. What aren't you telling me?"

The barbarian's spoon froze in his seat, his eyes dark.

"Given everything that you have seen, everything you know now...do you truly wish to know more?"

The way the question was phrased had a hint of warning, one that seemed to suggest that it was something better left alone. For a moment, Maeve considered pressing, just for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, but as she recalled the dark details that Tusk unveiled to her earlier, the celebrity held back from shuddering.

"...On the other hand," Maeve said ponderously, "...maybe it can wait. I have a feeling that whatever you're holding back is going to make me lose my appetite."

The barbarian neither confirmed, nor denied. Looking down to his bowl, he resumed eating his stew again.

"Perhaps later I can tell you my thoughts," he suggested, "after you have recovered. For now, though, let us just enjoy each other's company, and wait out this filthy weather."

Maeve shrugged as she took another bite of her stew. "Fine with me."

---

Night quickly came, and with it, nightmares.

Maeve's dreams were far from restful as she lay beside Tusk, nor were they reassuring.

That night, she dreamt of blood.

Maeve dreamt that she stood alone in the middle of a war-torn and blood-drenched battlefield, the sky dark with an orange sun setting overhead.

Pools of blood and viscera lay spilled by her feet while before her were countless bodies that lay in huge, mountainous piles that reached up to the sky.

Strange birds flew all around her, pecking at the ruined cadavers, with one tearing off a lengthy strip of intestine while two others were fighting over a plucked eye.

Pulling its head out from a dead warrior's mouth, one bird tore out a tongue, causing Maeve to put a hand over her mouth in disgust as it ate its grotesque meal.

Hearing a wretched chorus of screams, the celebrity turned as a loud squelch filled the air, the noise followed by a distinct crunch...and immediately started to regret it.

The creature was enormous - a massive, ogre-like being with a club in its hand and a horned, split head with a pulsating brain. Its stomach was horribly distended and bloated with gas, its skin rotting with exposed bone.

Letting out a deep, bubbling and gurgling laugh from its cyclopean heads, the creature stomped and clubbed at the comparatively tiny human figures as they all pitifully sought to attack him with spears and swords.

One or two warriors merely grazed its legs and belly, drawing small papercut-like slivers of crimson, the beast barely seem to noticing the wounds.

Picking up one fleeing figure with its enormous hand, Maeve watched in horror as the creature placed the man into its split maws and ripped and grinded him to pieces with its teeth.

Pools of saliva, gore, grinded up bone, armor and tissue spattered down into its chest cavity while the rest fell to the ground.

As the beast slaughtered the remaining soldiers, pursuing after them like a voracious wolf after a tiny fleeing hare, a large dark shadow rose, causing the creature to pause and tense up, its hand clutching onto its club.

Turning to where the ogre-like being stared, Maeve found herself staring open-mouthed in awe as an enormous, tan-colored gargoyle flew down from the sky, a thing that looked like a man born from a bat with a pair of enormous leathery wings on its back. A pair of tusks jutted out prominently from its lower jaw, its teeth razor sharp. On its powerfully built humanoid torso was a bald, concave head with a strong, pronounced chin, a short nose, a pair of long pointed ears and a receding forehead, giving it a vaguely tiger-like countenance.

What made this particular being more terrifying than the ogre to Maeve, however, were the horrible, glowing, yellow lantern-like eyes that gleamed with a wicked intelligence, which seemed to be staring directly at her.

Upon seeing its rival, the ogre-like being challengingly slammed its club to the ground, creating a small crater as it let out a deep, guttural snarl.

In response, the gargoyle-like entity sneered, then tossed its head back and let out the most horrifying laugh that Maeve had ever heard, a deep, mocking sound that caused her to tremble all over.

The celebrity then watched as the battle ensued, watching in horror as the fight escalated, causing fires, floods, and storms of such magnitude and power that it made Maeve feel ill.

Maeve considered herself someone who had seen everything, that there was nothing that would have surprised, let alone even terrified her as much as Homelander...but she was wrong.

So very, VERY wrong!

The sheer amount of devastation was unlike anything she had ever seen! Not even Homelander at his worst would even be comparable!

She watched the fight escalated as the two enormous beings fought one another, destroying everyone and everything unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle.

She heard the screams of men, women and children as they were all set ablaze, trampled and eviscerated.

She smelled, and felt, the burning air as flesh was seared, watched as whole cities were destroyed by shockwaves caused by every blow struck against one another, every discharged energy blast causing people to explode or disintegrate into ash and/or gore.

Such power!

"Horrible, isn't it?" A strangely alien voice said beside her, as if replying to her thoughts.

Letting out a gasp, Maeve found herself looking at a shadowy human silhouette that stood nearby as it stared out at the battle.

"Who-who are you?" she asked shakily.

The shadow chuckled in amusement.

"Who, ME? I am, uh, merely a spectator enjoying the show." Turning away from the creatures, it regarded her, tilting its featureless head. "I have to say, it is a real pleasure meeting you - your story has been of GREAT interest to me, Maggie Shaw."

Letting out a startled gasp, Maggie felt her breath caught in her chest, taking an anxious step back.

"H-How do you know my name?" she asked shakily.

The shadow's laughter grew. "Oh, come now! Who hasn't heard of the world-famous Queen Maeve? I am your biggest fan, actually!"

Blinking in confusion, Maeve stared at the dark figure, uncertain if it was playing with her or not.

"Y-you are?" she said in surprise, uncertain.

"Certainly! I enjoyed ALL of your TV programs and movies, the bad ones especially. Your life's story has also been amusing as well."

Maeve squinted. "What do you mean?"

"So many ups and downs. All that pain. All that anguish you carry with you. The people you have lost, the sacrifices you have made..." The shadowy figure then made an unidentifiable noise that made the celebrity recoil in revulsion. It reminded her of a beast licking its chops, but sloppier-sounding. "Delicious!"

She eyed the strange being, her form tense as she balled her hands into fists.

"What...what do you want?" Maeve tried to say in an assertive voice, the celebrity trying to muster every ounce of courage that she had.

The shadow folded its dark arms as it regarded her, stroking its dark chin.

"What do I want? Hm. What a question. I suppose...for myself and others, it would be what ANY audience wants - a good story, with a compelling cast of characters, and a conclusion that ended with a bang," it answered. "Of course, it's just a matter of finding the right pieces. You can't just throw crap together and hope that it sticks, after all. Every detail, no matter how small, has to be carefully tended to."

Maeve stared in confusion, uncertain how to respond.

"You're...you're a writer?" she said slowly.

The shadow chuckled.

"I suppose you could call me that," it answered enigmatically as it regarded her. "Yes. Yes I am. You cannot imagine the amount of work that has gone into your story. Every line that you speak, everything that you have endured up to now, every tragedy that you have experienced. All of your victories. All of your failures. The things that will happen to you in the future..." The shadow shivered all over in excitement. "Ohh, what a masterpiece! Thirty-six years, Maggie. Thirty-six long years of hard work went into YOUR creation, and it is all coming together BEAUTIFULLY! The role you will play in what's to come...Oh, I am so excited to see it play out! I ESPECIALLY look forward to the final encore."

Maeve sensed the shadow make a slight pout, even though it technically didn't have any facial features.

"But alas, the show must go on, as the human saying goes. Try and stay alive as long as you can, and be sure to put on a good show for the audience - they love a good story! Until we meet again, Maggie Shaw."

---

Lifting herself up from the bed with a startled gasp, Maeve quickly glanced around the room.

"Maggie?" Tusk murmured beside her. "What's wrong?"

Maeve sat up stiff like a board, her whole form shuddering as the memory of that dream, of that horrible voice, lingered.

Pushing himself up, the barbarian sat up on an elbow. "Are you alright?"

It's just a dream, Maeve. Just a dream, that's all.

Cupping her face into her hands, Maeve massaged her forehead.

"Are you unwell?"

As she felt the warmth of Tusk's hand on her shoulder, Maggie pulled her hands away from her face, placing one over his.

"...Yeah," she murmured, sweeping the other hand through her hair. "Yeah, bad dream, that's all."

Tusk grunted. "Dah, bad dreams are a regular occurrence here, unfortunately. I can't really recall the last time I've ever had one that's pleasant."

Lying back down beside him, Maggie nestled herself against Tusk's muscled body, wrapping his arm around her as she settled back into bed.

Outside, she heard the strange alien cries of the Dark Young, followed by other strange, otherworldly sounds.

Tusk uttered an annoyed growl. "For fuck's sakes."

"What's going on?" Maeve asked as she listened.

"Like I said, it's the Season of the Serpent," Tusk muttered, his face scrunching up like one confronted with a bad odor. "At night, all the horrors that lurk on this island come out to hunt, mate, or what have you. They're singing praises to their blasphemous gods."

He was settling back into bed when a change came over him. It had occurred when Maeve heard strange chants, the words distinctly clear and unnervingly audible. She had no idea what they meant, but it was enough to make her give notice and turn to face the door itself.

"Iä! Iä Nyarlathotep! Iä Nyarlathotep!

Iä O great deceiver!
Iä to thee that maketh itself man and descendeth unto the realm of mortals!
Iä to thee that guides us into the cold embrace of the cosmos!
Iä O outer god that drives us into madness!

Iä O Crawling Chaos, heir to the throne of Azathoth and great ancient Pharoah of the Universe!

Nyar shthan, Nyar gashanna!"

As the word or name was uttered in repetition, she heard Tusk make a strange, animalistic growl beside her.

Looking over at her lover, she saw the dark outline of his muscular frame as he sat right up, the warrior drawing his arm away from her.

"Tusk?"

Getting out from the bed, Tusk grabbed his sword as it lay propped by the wall nearby and stood tall, his eyes dark and fearsome.

Lying there on the bed, Maeve tensed up as she saw this new side to her companion. Every part of her was tingling with goosebumps, her breath hitched in her throat as she fearfully clutched the blanket.

In that moment, Tusk didn't seem like the man that she had bonded with at all anymore. Maeve was tempted to say that he seemed more like Homelander, but that comparison in itself didn't seem to encapsulate the sheer terror she felt in his presence.

In truth, he seemed more like...a beast.

Like a wild animal.

He didn't seem to even notice her. Instead, he was focused on the door, his face contorted with animalistic fury.

Part of her wanted to call out, if only to snap him out of it, but upon seeing his eyes glance over in her direction, Maggie felt all of her strength leave her as she violently shook in the bed, unconsciously drawing more of the blanket up.

As he loomed before her, Tusk wordlessly turned away and stormed out the door, clutching the sword in hand, the door crashing back into its frame behind him.

Once the door closed, Maggie let out a shaky breath, her form still on edge as she waited.

She didn't know how long she waited for - it could have been minutes. It could have been an hour, hour and a half. Regardless of the duration of his absence, when Maeve heard the monstrous chants turn to cries of pain, she visibly flinched as she heard the screams accompanied by a heavy thwacking.

Part of her felt tempted to block up the door, to seal up every entrance in the building, but another part of the celebrity, however, was too terrified to even move from the bed.

As the otherworldly cries screamed in unison, Maggie brought her hands to her ears and sat curled up in a fetal position, the blanket drawn over her own head as she desperate sought to drown out the awful, awful sounds. She suddenly felt as if she were eight-years-old all over again, the little girl hiding from the horrible monsters that lurked under the bed and in the darkest parts of night.

When the chants finally ceased, three long hours had passed.

Feeling her heart heavily thud against her chest, Maggie kept staring at the door, drawing her blanket protectively close to her like an infant, the celebrity swallowing anxiously.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Tusk's distinctive muscle-bound form as he stepped inside, his entire body glistening wet under the moonlight.

Maggie cautiously watched the barbarian as he placed his great sword down against a wall before setting himself down into a chair, his form shaking and trembling all over, his breathing harsh and ragged.

The wild look in his eyes were gone, now replaced with something closer to human. He had a fearful, thousand yard stare on his face, as if he had witnessed something so horrible that merely describing it alone would have been too much for him.

Getting up from the bed with the blanket wrapped around her, Maggie tentatively approached the seated barbarian as he shivered.

"Tusk?" Stepping closer, Maggie saw the man trembling all over. "Are you okay, Tusk? You're shivering."

Tusk shook his head. "It is always the same. Whenever I deal with those nameless things, I always come back feeling like this. Tis strange, Maggie - I have fought in wars so horrible that the human mind cannot even begin to fathom. I have fought many an adversary and feared none. But this island...the things it hides...the horrors that inhabit it..."

He let out a slightly incredulous laugh, his eyes betraying a hint of his fear of whatever he had seen.

Moving closer to him, Maggie wrapped her arms around him along with the blanket, catching Tusk by surprise, her body pressing against his.

Turning to face her, Tusk raised up a hand and gently traced her features with his thumb, brushing it against her lips.

Maeve kissed the thumb, then kissed his calloused bony knuckles, then pecked him on the cheek.

Finally, their mouths met, locked in a hungry embrace, the barbarian lifting the celebrity hero off her feet as they returned back to the bed with renewed and frenzied energy.

---

Several hours later, Maeve lay her head contentedly beside Tusk, trailing a finger along the ornate snake tattoo on his back, her smaller form wrapped by one muscled arm.

"That tickles," he rumbled.

Maeve smiled, giggling slightly. "Funny, I never figured you for a tickler." She then lifted her head up, her eyes meeting her lover's, "How do you feel?"

The barbarian hummed contented, taking hold of her hand.

"Better," he acknowledged, the immortal looking far more relaxed and at ease.

"Would you like to talk about what happened out there?" Maeve asked. "Sometimes talking helps."

Tusk clicked his tongue distractedly, exhaling as he stared at the door.

"Truth be told, Maggie, I would rather not," he said in a drowsy voice. "All you need to know is that it is a regular occurrence around here for the lurking things to crawl out and utter praise to their masters. Many times I have gone out to kill the miserable fuckers, but for reasons unfathomable to me, they always keep coming back. It's a never-ending cycle."

Maggie watched as Tusk stared at the door for a long time before finally rolling over onto his back, settling his head on the pillow.

Lowering her own onto the barbarian's chest, Maeve sighed as she held his hand. "Your home is a scary place to be in."

Tusk ran his thumb along the back of hers, giving a slight squeeze.

"Tis true, unfortunately," he merely replied.

As the two of them lay quietly together on the bed, the last things they both saw before drifting off to sleep was the dark frame of the front door as it trembled underneath the cold wind.

---

The next morning, Maeve stepped outside with Tusk, then froze, taking in the view.

"What...the..." she trailed off, staring at the sight before them.

Like Tusk had claimed, the land around them had completely changed. The hundreds of bodies and ships that had decorated the beach had suddenly vanished, leaving no trace of their ever having been there.

"The bodies...the ships and planes...where...where did they all go?"

Tusk shook his head. "I have long learned not to question such things. Come, we have much to do."

Looking around uncertainly, Maeve closed her eyes and sighed, then followed after the barbarian, wondering what else this new day had in store for them.

---

As the two of them gathered up supplies such as wood, berries and whatever other food they could find, Maeve was surprised to find that much of the island's layout had changed as well, with all-new alien features and pathways that she was certain hadn't been in existence before.

She saw towering, glowing emerald spires arising high out from the water, along with various new temples, structures and architectural features that she was certain that the human eye and mind had never before conceived of.

She saw strange geological formations that she had trouble identifying, along with those that, at times, seemed to completely disregard the known laws of physics and perspective. Parts of the land even freely floated up in the air without gravity, while up in the sky were multiple suns of differing sizes.

But even more, she saw statues of various beings in different locations, all of them strange in their contours, proportions and features. None of them were remotely human, with some possessing features more beastly and alien.

Only Tusk's land, home, the Viking ship and its fallen crew remained untouched, bringing some measure of comfort, and - to a certain degree - security to Maeve as she struggled to cope with these newfound changes.

Thankfully, however, the barbarian helped distract her from by having her focus her attention on other matters.

After they collected the necessary materials, the two of them waded through an icky and unusually warm fog and moss-filled marshland, where she heard the croaks of strange frogs and cicada-liked insects before coming upon a clear stream.

Standing by a tree on the bank, Maeve watched as Tusk set his sword down into the earth and waded into the water with a spear in hand.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Catching food," Tusk replied a he glanced slowly from side to side, standing knee-deep in the water, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he glanced around. Lunging forward suddenly, he stabbed the spear down into the water, drawing up a large fish with a pleased look on his face.

Maeve nodded, "Nice." She then smirked, "I bet I can catch a bigger one."

Tusk raised a brow, then gestured to the stream. "You are welcome to try."

Shrugging off her fur coat, Maeve placed the coat next to the sword, then stepped into the water, surprised by its warmth.

"Something wrong, Maggie?"

She looked around, "Given how cold this place is, I kind of thought the water would be freezing."

Tusk shrugged, "It can be, but this island frequently changes." He then handed her the spear. "You have fished before?"

"Not this kind of fishing," Maeve admitted, taking the weapon. "Back home, we'd use fishing rods rather than spears. When I was a little girl, my dad used to go out and do some fishing at a pond close to where we lived. I went with him once or twice on some of those excursions, but I was never really good at it, to be honest." She brushed a bang behind her ear, "Those moments, um..." She sighed, "Those moments were...actually one of the few happy times that I had with him."

Tusk quietly regarded her, letting out a thoughtful hum before turning his eyes to the pool.

"Would you like me to show you how it's done?" he asked, gesturing to a fish. "It is not as easy as it seems-"

"I got this," Maeve waved him off as she leaned forward, lunging with a splash.

"Ha ha! Got-" She paused, frowning as she realized her mistake. "Fuck."

Tusk crossed his arms, gloating. "Are you sure you don't want help?"

"No no," the celebrity insisted as she wiped her bangs aside, readying her spear again. "I got this."

Seeing the fish, she lunged again, stabbing where she spotted the fish, only to find that she missed the mark again.

She tried a third, fourth, and fifth time, the superhero tripping before falling down with a splash.

Tusk merely stood there, trying to refrain from laughing at her misfortune.

Huffing aside a long strand of hair from her face, Maeve met Tusk's eyes with a glare, then huffed. "You're a dick, Tusk."

The barbarian let out a hearty laugh as he approached, holding out his hand and helping Maeve back up to her feet.

"It can be a little tricky. The light of the sun can sometimes cause distortions and confusion depending on the angle it's hitting, so you have to learn how to better position yourself along with your aim."

After several attempts, Tusk then showed her how to stand and hold the spear, adjusting the positioning of her arms and stance. Maeve blushed furiously as she became aware of how close he was to her, the feel of his muscular body lined up against hers.

"Now," he said in a low voice into her ear, "try again."

Swallowing, Maeve guided the spear over to the fish with Tusk's help, then moved the tip upward just a few inches above it.

"And here...we...go!"

Thrusting the spear forward, Maeve felt it strike its target, causing her eyes to widen.

"Ah! I-I did it!" she said excitedly.

Tusk let out a rumbling chuckle, gently clapping her on the back. "Well done, skrýtinn. We'll make a fisherwoman out of you yet."

Maeve smirked. "'Queen Maeve, Empress of the Netherworld and Fisherwoman.' Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue easily."

As she admired her find, the celebrity paused, her mind lingering on one of the words she spoke of.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

She then turned to face him. "Tusk?"

"Dah?"

The celebrity felt uncertain how to respond.

"Is there...well..."

"Dah?"

Maeve glanced around, staring out at the water.

"With all these creatures actually existing," she began slowly, "it had...it had never actually occurred to me to even think about this, nor to even ask about this." She then met Tusk's eyes, fearful of the answer. "Is there...an actual Netherworld?"

Tusk gave a hard steady stare. Finally, he gave a slow nod.

"There is," the barbarian answered, his eyes dark. "That is all I can, and will, say, for I do not wish to discuss that place. All you need to know, Maggie, is that it exists." He shook his head warily. "Do not pry any further, Maggie - some things are best left untouched, and some questions aren't meant to be answered."

Stepping out from the stream, Tusk grabbed his sword, heaving the great weapon onto his broad shoulders while he carried his prize fish.

Looking to her own, Maeve followed after him, her heart troubled by this newfound knowledge.

---

Back inside Tusk's house, Maeve winced as she pulled the bones out the fish she caught and placed them onto a plate.

"Ugh! This is disgusting!" she groaned.

Tusk let out a deep laugh as he deboned his.

"You get used to it after a while," the barbarian answered.

The celebrity shook her head. "God, I can't imagine a whole lifetime of this."

"Bah!" he waved dismissively, "This is nothing compared to the other things I had to do. I've known worse."

Maeve merely shrugged. "I don't doubt it."

---

In the days that followed, Maeve found herself becoming closer to Tusk. Part of it had to do with the overwhelming feelings of apprehension and fear that this island stirred within her, but also because she was increasingly becoming more use to his presence, which brought her a great deal of comfort to her.

The vast majority of the time had been spent exploring and scavenging for supplies, but every so often, though, the two of them would confront something new. Some new land feature. Some new change to the environment.

In some instances, there were some close calls with the very forces that ruled this island, a painful reminder of its sinister and deceptive qualities and how small and vulnerable Maggie was in the face of it all.

---

It was the sounds of gunfire that woke her up.

Blinking in confusion, Maeve sat right up as she saw Tusk peering out the door.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Is that-?" Hearing the roar of a plane engine as it flew overhead, Maeve smiled, her heart leaping. She couldn't believe it. Someone had finally come to the rescue!

Leaping excitedly off the bed, the celebrity pushed past Tusk as she stepped outside, her heart racing as she eagerly ran to greet her would be rescuers, the barbarian calling out to her.

Maeve couldn't hear what he was shouting, but she was just too excited - finally, a chance to leave this insane place! Goodbye shithole, hello New York! No longer would she be expected to shit in a bucket. Hello, Soap. Hello, Toilet Paper. Hello, Television. Hello, Hot Dogs, Cheeseburgers, Ice Cream and other wonderful morsels calling out to her. This place can kiss her ass and die.

As she stepped fully outside, Maeve suddenly froze, her smile falling as she suddenly heard a loud whistle.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Maeve barely had time to react as Tusk tackled straight into her, knocking her to the snow-covered ground as part of the beach exploded nearby, the celebrity's ears ringing from the impact of the blast.

Wincing, she massaged her inner ears and sat up as she took everything in, then froze as she took everything in.

She saw old American and German ships, biplanes and soldiers in old uniforms firing on the land, in the water, and in the air.

"W-what is this?" she stammered. "Tusk, what's happening?!"

"It's like I said before, Maggie - the island is dreaming. From the looks of things, it seems to have taken us sometime back into the past."

Maeve stared open-mouthed as she witnessed World War II take place before her very eyes, the celebrity watching with numb horror as the battle unfolded.

---

It was a confusing yet horrible experience for Maeve, one that felt more akin to a nightmare. Part of her wanted to believe that everything had been a bad dream, that it was the result of indigestion brought on by shitty airport food, for what she saw chilled her.

She saw soldiers mercilessly stab and club one another in brutal fashion, staining the beach itself with their spilled blood.

She saw men eviscerated by shrapnel and machine gunfire as they were all mercilessly blown to smithereens and gunned down.

She saw burning planes and bodies fall out from the sky, all of them crashing to the ground below in horrible mixtures of metal, gore and bone.

As men were burned alive and dying by the droves, Maeve watched on in horror beside Tusk the scenario escalate even further with the appearance of the island's monstrous denizens as they appeared in all of their terrible glory.

She saw men screaming in terror as they were suddenly dragged into the cold watery depths by something she had trouble identifying, what appeared be clusters of fish people.

She saw enormous tentacles reach out from below and wrap themselves around whole ships as sailors dived overboard in order to escape.

One or two of the men, in the midst of their terror, had ended up going insane as they laughed and cried at the same time, while those seeing the inevitable outcome took the more merciful route.

In the air, she saw night-gaunts and other nameless horrors claw their way through engines and metal as they violently snatched screaming pilots out from their cockpits, dragging some of them face-first through the glass. Ripping them violently out from their seatbelts.

Some of the debris crashed onto the beach, with a couple bodies, body parts and bits of plane exploding into Tusk's home, knocking down the runic posts that offered protection.

It was a senseless massacre, one that became worse with each passing moment. Those that managed to drag themselves out of the water ended up being skewered and mauled by Dark Young and by Old Grey Tooth as he appeared from the mountains, with one or two soldiers being inadvertently stomped on.

Maeve for her part had tried to join in the fray by taking a fallen officer's sword and save at least some of the soldiers and sailors by fighting some of the fish men and creatures off, but the creatures were so overwhelming in number and strength that she could only watch as those men were dragged to their doom.

One by one the men were consumed, leaving only Tusk and Maeve alone with a horde of monsters to deal with.

---

Maeve panted heavily as she and Tusk found themselves back to back with a dense wall of enemies on all sides, her face, hair and clothing matted with sweat and blood, the sword feeling slippery in her hands.

She heard the crashing waves of the ocean as the fish creatures stared at her, some of them sporting massive erections.

"Quite the predicament we're in," Tusk commented lightly.

"Any idea what the hell these things are?" Maeve asked as she eyed the fish men, her sword ready to strike.

"Dah," Tusk answered. "They are known as the Deep Ones, the hateful children of Dagon and Hydra. A vile race that tends to interbreed with human women, often against their will."

She frowned. "Great. Sounds just like a guy I know."

Tusk tilted his head thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I recall Frederick had been fascinated by them. I think he might have taken a sample of their flesh."

Maeve's frown grew.

"Well, that would explain some things if true." She then tilted her head in his direction. "Any ideas of what we should do next?"

The barbarian gripped his sword. "I will need some time to erect the barriers back up again, but first, we should clear this place of these bastards." He then glanced at her. "Will you be able to manage?"

Maeve offered him a confident smirk. "Will you?"

Tusk grinned broadly.

"I like your spirit, girl." Dropping his smile, his face hardened as he raised his sword with one hand high into the air. "Koma, þú óclean! með lorð nodens' geirr, ek munu gut þú allr hvere þú standokr endi þú, fyrir ek em watchmaninn ór godsrinn!"*

---

The battle that ensued was, to put it bluntly, chaotic. Maeve had fought with everything that she had, killing anything and everything that got in her way.

While she had a few close calls every now and then, with her receiving the odd bite or scrape from claws, she fought tooth and claw for survival. Heads and limbs were hacked and split open as the celebrity used every trick that she had learned since was a child.

Every slash of her sword, every guard, punch and kick quick and precise.

Never before had Maeve been put through such strain as she battled long and hard, using every ability and skill that she had. Never before had she ever fought so many enemies, and with each opponent that fell to her feet came a renewed effort. Bodies were piling up more and more around her, until finally the mound became so large that it practically formed a dense wall of limbs, heads, entrails, and cadavers.

As Maeve turned to see how her companion was faring, part of her was startled by what she saw.

The manner in which Tusk fought against the horde was an experience she would never forget; contrary to a lot of depictions of heroes in battle, there was nothing graceful in his movements. There was nothing inspirational nor heroic about the fight. It was not a battle where man overcame monsters, but one where he wholeheartedly embraced them; it was a battle that was fought between monsters.

While Maeve's techniques were quick and efficient, Tusk's attacks were hard-hitting and brutal, a perfect reflection of the barbarian himself. He demonstrated proficient technique and skill with the sword that he wielded, even in spite of its overwhelming size, and yet, at times, he also demonstrated a surprising degree of speed and athleticism. It was all horrible to watch, for he was often stabbed, clawed, and mauled, with whole chunks of his flesh stripped from the very bone.

Despite the grotesqueness and what should have been debilitating, even fatal injuries, Tusk had fought on with renewed vigor as he miraculously healed within mere moments, much to Maeve's shock. But even more, the barbarian had fought with an unhinged and explosive ferocity that matched, if not exceeded that of his attackers in its intensity.

Dashing forward, Tusk turned on his heel and did a violent backward stab, skewering four fish men at once before following with hard kicks and shoulder rams before swinging his sword in a series of violent overhead arcs like a windmill. Limbs, tentacles and heads were lopped off, coloring everything, including the man himself, in crimson. Those that fell to Tusk's feet were then bludgeoned and stomped, coating the ground with brains and bone as he then followed up with series of rising spinning slash that lifted clear him off the ground.

Once he landed, Maeve saw him backhand one opponent away as it charged him and delivered a strong boot kick to another. As one creature bit his arm, Tusk bit back, biting straight into his attacker's throat before tearing away a large chunk of flesh, the creature letting out dying gurgles as it fell, staring lifelessly to the sky. Spitting away the scaly flesh in disgust, Maeve saw Tusk roar at his enemies, his long blonde hair wild, his face and teeth drenched in red as he gave a bloodthirsty, animalistic grin, the warrior letting out an unhinged laugh as he held his arms out in demonstration.

Shuddering at the sight, Maeve turned away with sword in hand and let out a roar of her own as she slaughtered her way through the horde as best as she could, fighting for so long that every part of her became coated with gore.

---

"The barrier has been erected," Tusk announced.

Panting heavily, Maeve she watched the fish men struggle to make their way through, their forms pressing against an electrical barriers that charred their bodies. Giving up, the creatures indignantly huffed, then receded back into the water.

As the last of the fish men disappeared from view, the others followed suite, until only Old Grey Tooth remained, the dinosaur-like beast staring at both humans in indecision.

Maeve tensed up as the creature took a step toward them, the beast pausing as it felt something against its foot. Letting out a questioning grunt, Old Grey Tooth glanced down and spotted a fresh human cadaver by its toes, then glanced up to regard her.

Maggie felt minutes pass as the creature indecisively glanced between her, Tusk and the body on the ground, the very air still as they all waited, the ocean waves crashing against the gore-drenched shore.

Finally, Old Grey Tooth glanced down and picked the body up in its mouth, then turned around and departed, as if deciding that it had enough action for the time being.

Once it was gone, Maggie untensed and let out a shaky breath as she collapsed down to her knees in exhaustion.

"...Jesus Christ!" she breathed.

Hearing Tusk approach, Maggie said nothing as she stared at the blood-covered waters, at the burning debris and fires, and at the various bodies that littered the ground.

Letting out a tired sigh, Tusk settled down beside her, sitting on the gore-drenched snow as the two bloody figures both stared out at the ocean.

"You fared well," he commented, nodding to himself. "Not many are able to fend off a horde of Deep Ones like that."

Maeve said nothing, her eyes staring at the water.

"...It's not going to get any better, is it?" she asked her barbarian companion.

Tusk exhaled through his nostrils, not saying a word as Maggie stared at the burning wreckage, the fire and smoke coloring the air.

"...How do you it, Tusk?" she asked quietly.

"Do what exactly?"

"How are you...how are you able to...keep it together? How do you deal with all of...this?"

Turning to face her, he offered a wry smile, uttering a low, mirthless laugh.

"What makes you think that I have?" He then looked back at the burning and bloodied ocean, his eyes lingering on the bodies as they all bobbed up and down in the water. "It is not easy living on this island, Maggie. One of the things that I came to learn as a watchman is that...in order to survive...sometimes one needs to become as bestial as the beasts that wander here. If not more so."

Lifting his eyes to her, Tusk gave her a tired yet steady stare.

"If it brings you any consolation, Maggie," he said slowly, "today was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. It could have been worse. A lot worse."

Maeve scoffed incredulously. "You're kidding me. Worse than this?"

"Dah," Tusk nodded. "Trust me, I should know." Getting back up, the barbarian stretched as he arched his back, producing a loud crack. "It would be best for us to make repairs to my home while we still have daylight, preferably quickly. It would be unwise to stay out at night."

As the barbarian departed, Maeve stared out at the burning wreckage, watching the bodies in water. Letting out a deep sigh, she got to her feet and slowly followed after her companion.

She should never have gotten on that fucking plane.

---

Though the days that followed were relatively uneventful, they did not put Maeve at ease. If anything, the unnerving stillness of the island had only served to remind her to always question what was going on beneath the surface.

Ever since that day, the celebrity opted to steer clear entirely from the ocean itself, even when it was covered with ice and while accompanied by Tusk.

On a few occasions, the two of them had the odd encounter with Old Grey Tooth, but for the most part, it was a somewhat monotonous experience.

The nights, however, proved to be the most frightening for Maeve, for every night she heard those same awful chants repeated over and over again, uttering the same strange words and phrases.

" Iä! Iä Nyarlathotep! Iä Nyarlathotep!

Iä O great deceiver!
Iä to thee that maketh itself man and descendeth unto the realm of mortals!
Iä to thee that guides us into the cold embrace of the cosmos!
Iä O outer god that drives us into madness!

Iä O Crawling Chaos, heir to the throne of Azathoth and great ancient Pharoah of the Universe!

Nyar shthan, Nyar gashanna!"

Every time those words were uttered, the more Tusk negatively reacted. It was a continuous cycle, one where he would go out in the middle of the night and disappear for hours on end to deal with the hateful things that spoke that name or word, only for him to return back in a shaking, terrified state.

Every time he came back, Maggie would do her best to console and comfort the barbarian, which inevitably lead to sex.

Not that she minded the latter at all - far from it, actually! It was some of the best sex that she ever had with anyone!

That said, however, Maeve couldn't help feeling sorry for Tusk, and part of her wanted desperately to find some way to help him, to find some way to ease his pain.

As she lay beside Tusk on the bed, Maggie traced her fingers along his sculpted features.

Only one thing kept her from going insane. Though he was not knowledgeable on current events, fashions and etiquette, the celebrity hero had to admit that Tusk was a good companion to have. She was surprised by how much she had found herself opening up to him, although in retrospect it probably had initially been her way to combat the intense feelings of homesickness, if not as a way to distract herself from thinking about their predicament.

Part of her craved a bottle of alcohol, if not a cigarette. With both of those options removed, she vented her frustrations through sex, and while it was true that the sex was great, part of her couldn't help craving more. Somewhere along the way, she found herself caring a great deal about her barbarian companion. They had both shared a great deal of their own experiences and stories with each other, their own hopes and dreams that they both had in their youth, along with their own pains and sorrows. Even though they both came from very different walks of life, Maeve saw within the barbarian a kindred spirit, and she relished her experiences with him.

At least, the pleasant moments, anyway.

Maeve was not one who liked sharing stories with other people, let alone one to open up. After all, Queen Maeve to everyone was the strong pinup girl for everyone to beat off to, the world's literally strongest feminist and lesbian (bisexual).

And yet, with Tusk, she found it easier to talk with him. Perhaps it was because she was no longer in the spotlight and just found it easier to lower down the mask since nobody was around to see her at her lowest and most vulnerable. Perhaps the insane and terrifying nature of this island has made her insane herself. Or perhaps she was experiencing some form of suspension bridge effect and was in turn misattributing her fear of the unknown and the monstrous with arousal.

With - God help her for even thinking such a thing - love.

Brushing her bangs aside from her sweat-covered forehead, Maggie stared at the man that lay quietly beside her in his sleep.

There was no denying it - despite her attempts at refutation, despite her telling herself that he was nothing more than a good fuck, she couldn't help feeling...something more for Tusk.

They have shared so much with each other about their respective lives and adventures, their misadventures especially. Neither of them judged each other for what the other had done, and she greatly appreciated that. Maeve in her accounts had tried to keep things light and humorous, partially as a way to help create a counterbalance for Tusk's tales, which, by and large, tended to be grim.

Tusk rarely smiled, if at all.

And who could blame him? The more Maeve heard his stories, the more she pitied the barbarian and his everlasting solitude.

How was it possible for one man to endure so much suffering? How was it possible for one man to deal with all these horrific things on a daily basis and not break from the mental strain of it all, if not choose to end it all?

While there were moments where he revealed a sort of dark, if not at times crass sense of humor, those moments where Tusk genuinely smiled were fleeting at best.

Which was a shame, in her opinion.

'If only there was a way to preserve it,' Maeve thought as she recalled Tusk laugh at something she had said earlier.

Seeing him at ease with a smile on his face...it was amazing how a simple smile could have such a profoundly transformative effect on one's features!

Maeve had never thought in her wildest dreams that she would ever want to see more of something, but she was surprised by the amount of effort she had made in trying to get him to smile more, if not laugh. Not all of the jokes landed, much to her disappointment, but the few times when they actually would land...wow!

If only she had a camera.

Maeve stared at Tusk as he quietly slept on the bed, her hand tracing along the golden Celtic knots of the serpent tattoo on his chest.

A person shouldn't have to live in constant fear all their lives, shouldn't have to come back with such fearful expressions on their faces every night.

She frowned. This damned island...she swore that it was eating away at him. Eating away at her. The longer they stayed here, the more certain she was that Tusk was bound to suffer. A person can only take so much before they crack completely. And the fact that he had been stuck here for centuries...

'If only I could do something for him,' Maeve thought.

As she watched Tusk sleep beside her, an idea suddenly occurred to her.

Maybe...maybe I should take him with me!

After all, what was stopping Tusk from leaving this place? Why should he have to suffer? There was no reason for him to stay here.

Caressing her lover's cheek, Maeve leaned forward and gently planted a kiss, then cuddled up beside him, resting her head on his chest.

The good thing about tomorrows was that there was always another day to look forward to; regardless of how good or bad the prior one had turned out, there was always the hope that tomorrow would be better than the one before that.

From what she knew of Tusk, the man had suffered for a very long time, and what better way to see more of his smile than to take him away from this awful place?

As Maggie drifted to sleep, for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to hope.

---

The next day, Maeve watched from the sidelines with her arms crossed as Tusk practice with his sword, his target, a large block of stone that had been propped up.

Tusk swung his blade in a whirlwind-like arc, cutting straight through the make-shift prop as he got into a side stance.

Maeve gave a thumbs up. "Good form."

The barbarian gave a smug grin and a mock bow. "My thanks to thee, my lady. I have had thousands of years' worth of practice."

She rolled her eyes. "Show-off."

He gave a hearty chuckle before resuming his training.

Maeve brushed some strands of hair aside. "Do you mind if I practice with one of your swords?"

Tusk nodded and gestured to his home. "By all means."

Once she got a sword of her own, the two of them started their practice. Both fighters took note of each other's stances and techniques, both fighters learning from one another as they showed each other their own respective moves, at times making a light game of one-upping one another.

As they practiced their guards and parries side by side, Maeve spared a glance over to her companion. "Tusk?"

"Dah, Maggie?" Tusk spoke, his eyes faced forward as he resumed practicing.

"...I...I was wondering..."

"...Dah?"

Maggie bit her lip. "What would...what would you say if you were to come back with me to New York?"

Warg-gram stilled, the sword wielder blinking in surprise. Turning to face her, Tusk gave her a serious look.

"Is this a jest?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm really being serious, Tusk. What would you say if...if I wanted you to come with me?"

The barbarian was quiet for a long time, his expression unreadable. Looking ahead, he resumed swinging his sword.

"I thought you would have had enough of me," he spoke. "Why would you want to take me with you?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

The words came quietly out on their own, and yet, regardless of the low volume, the words were so clear that it had startled them both. Even Maeve herself had been startled by her own forwardness. As Tusk stood silently before her, the celebrity allowed herself to continue.

"You have no reason to stay in this awful place," she spoke up, her cheeks warm as she tried to hide her blush and embarrassment. "I know you have been doing this for thousands of years or whatever, but...there's no reason for you to have to do this anymore. You have suffered enough."

Tusk frowned. "Maggie-"

"Don't you want to be free?! Even if those things crawl up and take over this shithole, you said it yourself, there's nothing they can do! They can't access the gates, nor can they awaken this "island" or whatever the hell this thing is! Nothing can stop you from leaving here!"

As Maeve spoke, she felt all of her passion seep into voice as she continued on.

"I have...I have already lost Elena and so many others over the years," she said slowly, her voice wavering. "I am tired of losing people I care about. I don't...I don't want to lose you too, Tusk. You don't have to suffer and be alone anymore! Nobody should have to live like this! You are a human being - you deserve to enjoy life! You deserve so much more than this! You deserve to-to smile and-and be happy." Maggie then looked imploringly at Tusk, her voice small and pleading. "Please, Tusk. Let me...let me save you."

Maggie let the heartfelt words linger, watching the barbarian as he conflictedly digested what she said.

Sighing, Tusk lowered his sword, and turned to face her.

"...I warned you not to fall in love with me, Maggie," he said slowly. "Do you not recall?"

Maeve shrugged. "I do, but...well...shit happens."

Tusk scoffed.

"Interesting expression," he commented. Planting his sword into the snow-covered ground, he ran his hand over his mouth, then ran it through his hair in exasperation before letting out a deep sigh, his hand resting on Warg-gram's handle. "You say that I deserve to enjoy life? That I deserve to be happy? To be...saved?"

The barbarian shook his head. "Nay, I am the last person on this earth who deserves such a thing, Maggie. While it is true that the beasts cannot access the gate nor do much of anything, the truth, Maggie...is that this place houses a dangerous creature. A creature that is far worse than any other."

Maeve looked at him in surprise. "What creature is that?"

He then looked directly at her, his piercing blue eyes shining. "Me."

Hesitating, she perplexedly stared at Tusk as one part of his mouth curled upward at the corner.

"Dah, Maggie. I'm afraid tis true. This place is just as much my prison as it is for the creature slumbering. It is the only place where a person such as myself can ever hope to exist." The barbarian looked away, his eyes old and tired. "I am too old and too dangerous to walk among humankind. Even if I decided to leave...even if I felt some...inclination in rejoining the human race..." He shook his head again, "...I wouldn't even know how."

Maeve stared at him pityingly.

"Let me help you," she pleaded. "Please, Tusk. It is not too late. You say that the opportunity to leave would be in a few days, right? Just think about my offer, okay? Just think about it, that's all."

Tusk stared darkly at the ground, his hand resting on the handle of his mighty weapon. Finally, he lifted Warg-gram and hefted it up, resting it on his broad shoulders.

"I will, Maggie," he promised. "I promise I will. In the meantime, I need to get some firewood for the evening."

As Tusk departed into the woods, Maeve stood by his home and watched until he disappeared from view before sighing.

God, she sounded like a needy schoolgirl.

Closing her eyes, Maeve pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassment.

"Way to scare them off, Maeve," she sarcastically remarked.

Still, at least he was willing to consider leaving the island - that was a good start. Stepping into Tusk's home, Maeve waited for him as she got everything ready.

---

Once Tusk had finished with his tasks, the two of them ate and continued sharing their life stories.

Maeve found herself telling him of the few funny moments in her life growing up, moments that brought her happiness before entering The Seven, along with stories about her early days as a crime fighter, and about her home especially.

Tusk, for his part, was a quiet and attentive companion, never once interrupting as he eagerly listened to her as she told him about life in New York. She told him everything about the city and her world - the sights, the smells, even the major technological feats that had been achieved.

---

"You say that your people have actually managed to land on the moon?" he said in awe.

Maeve smiled, nodding. "Yeah! We have shuttles that can take us all the way to the moon and back!"

"Incredible!"

Sitting by the fire on the bed, Maeve gave Tusk a curious look.

"Speaking of traveling to the moon, tell me about these gods you worship," she said interestedly. "What are they like?"

Blinking in surprise by the change in subject, Tusk gave her a dark look, his eyes pensive.

"...They are...unlike anything you can imagine," he said slowly. Frowning, he folded his arms and put his hand on his chin. "To be honest, Maggie, I don't think there are even words capable of describing them. They are so foreign to me that it is next to impossible, the Ichoriens especially."

Maeve gave a startled look. "What- what do you mean?"

"The Ichoriens are..." He struggled to find suitable words, "...beings of light with no discernible shape. At least, as far as I can tell. Behaviorally, they are...they don't prescribe to any form of morality that I know of. Human morality, anyway."

The two quietly stared at the burning hearth, watching the hot coals as they sizzled.

Maeve tucked a bang behind one ear. "These gods sound stranger than the ones I heard about in school."

"Hm."

She then brushed some auburn bangs to the side.

"Tell me, Tusk," she said slowly, drawing the barbarian's attention, "how did you and Diana meet?"

Upon hearing the name of his long-departed wife, Tusk sighed as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"It was sometime after Rome's fall," he recalled. "After years of being held in captivity, where I was forced to fight in the Colosseum as a gladiator like someone's trained dog, I wanted to leave that vile place behind. I had already played my part in its destruction and had avenged myself a thousand fold for what they have done, but I wanted to get as far away from that hateful cesspit."

Maeve was surprised by the anger in his eyes. "You really hated them, didn't you?"

Tusk barked a harsh laugh. "Hated? I despised the Romans. They had some impressive feats, to be sure, but I couldn't stand them. I only regret not being able to kill them again."

As she watched him settle back into his chair, Maeve saw the simmering fury in the barbarian's eyes. Finally, the intensity lessened as he continued on.

"I had met Diana through her father, a smith named Erik, who I had saved from some wolves while he had been out in the woods. He had taken a liking to me, so much so that he had invited me back to his house and village as his guest. When he had introduced me to Diana, it was..."

He trailed off.

"'Love at first sight'?" Maeve suggested.

Tusk clicked his tongue thoughtfully, his brow furrowed. "I suppose you could say that."

"Did they know who or what you were?"

He exhaled.

"At first, nay," he replied. "I had tried keeping that part of myself a secret. Part of me at the time had...naively believed that perhaps my immortality would end. For the vast majority of my life, I had always kept to myself. While I had made friends in different regions, people tended to die around me, and so when the last friend I had passed on, I had opted to remain alone. After all, what was the point of even making friends when one knows that you will never age, that they will die?"

As Tusk spoke, Maeve saw his weariness, the exhaustion in his eyes, his eyelids thick and heavy.

"But," he continued, "...after centuries of being alone..." Tusk's shoulders sagged, "...part of me wanted to experience the novelty of having a family of my own. Part of me was tired of being alone. I wanted to know the joys people felt such as holding one's first-born child. I wanted to experience the joys of human contact and warmth, just because..." He then shook his head, "...isolation is no way to live. It's the connections that we make that make us whole, that help gives us meaning and strength. That tethers us to humanity. Because of that, I...had wanted a fresh start."

Tusk then grunted. "Then again, given how everyone dies around me regardless of what I do, perhaps it is for the best to sever any and all connections. In retrospect, it was selfish of me to have taken a wife, knowing what I am." His eyes softened. "And yet...part of me...doesn't regret it."

"What made you decide to tell them?"

He gave a low chuckle. "Violence was a part of Viking life, along with death. An attempted raid on Erik's home resulted in their learning of my immortality. Five spears to the chest, a cut throat and a sword to the head, with my guts hanging out." He let out a dark laugh. "The look on Erik's face!"

As he settled down again, Maeve watched as the barbarian glanced over at his sword, staring at the wolf visage.

"After that, I told them everything I knew. They didn't entirely understand my role, but...they were excited to accept me into the family. After all, who wouldn't want to have their own family name associated with the gods?" He exhaled. "Of course, if they had understood the exact nature of the gods I serve, perhaps they wouldn't have been so eager to accept me.

The celebrity turned her eyes over to the sword, its form glinting in the light.

"Those reliefs on your sword," she said slowly, "...was that Erik's work?"

Tusk shook his head. "Nay. Every smith that tried to lay their hands on my blade had all ended up getting burned, even with gloves on. It was I who had to do the blacksmithing. He and Diana were instrumental in Warg-gram's naming, however. They also provided input in terms of its design." He then regarded the mighty weapon as it lay resting against the wall. "This blade had gone through many shapes and changes throughout the centuries, but it had always been a faithful companion to me. Always there by my side. It has claimed the lives of many a victim, beast and person alike, and it shall continue serving with me until the end of time. It will never leave my side, nor will it ever be passed down. Nor shall I, for the burden is too great."

Maeved nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine." She then gave the barbarian a curious look. "Have they met these gods of yours?"

After a beat, Tusk quietly shook his head in answer.

She played with her hair as she considered what else to ask before speaking up, "How did you come to meet Nodens, if not work for him, out of curiosity?"

Exhaling through his nostrils, Tusk let out a deep chested hum as he considered the question.

"The first time I saw him, as you are aware, I had been a mere whelp," he said slowly. "It wasn't a proper introduction, mind you. I had met him centuries later when I was travelling through some mountainous region by the sea. I forget where it had occurred, but he was somewhat bemused by my presence at first, but then, upon recognizing me, he started to treat me more kindly. It was he who had assigned me the role of watchman, and it was he who had saved me when my ship had crashed on this island."

"That was nice of him!" Maeve smiled.

Tusk grunted.

"It was...but there was a reason for it." He curled his mouth in distaste, "Apparently, Nyarlathotep had taken an interest in me and my family, had attacked my vessel."

She wrinkled her brows in confusion, puzzled by the unfamiliar word. "Uh, sorry, Nyar-what?"

"Nyarlathotep," Tusk repeated, his visage darkening.

"What's that?"

"He is an Outer God, one of the worst of worst of that unholy lot, if not the worst. A being of many shapes and names, Nyarlathotep is an evil bastard who derives pleasure from suffering, spreading fear and madness wherever he travels. He is a god known by many titles. The Crawling Chaos, the Sower of Discord, the Dweller in Darkness. He is the appointed messenger and will of the Outer Gods, the only one of that horrible lot able to move freely at his own will."

The celebrity lifted her head, startled. "What?"

"Dah."

"But...how?" she asked. "I thought all of the Outer Gods were sealed away."

"They are, but Nyarlathotep is the sole exception, unfortunately." Tusk shook his head. "Lord Nodens is obsessed with finding him. Not out of any sense of moral compunction, but, well...I suspect it is merely because he enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Many times he had tried tracking and killing him throughout the ages, but Nyarlathotep is a dangerously elusive and cunning adversary, for he is a god that can assume a thousand shapes. Many had perished in the midst of Lord Nodens' encounters with the Crawling Chaos, with thousands often getting caught in the middle, if not slaughtered at a time."

Maggie blanched. "Thousands?"

"Dah," Tusk nodded. "Whole civilizations and colonies were wiped off the face of existence in Lord Nodens' hunts and battles with Nyarlathotep. Of course, if one were to include the various worlds and realities lost..." He trailed off, staring off into space as he recalled those dark times. "I had actually...witnessed one such event ages ago." He shook his head slowly. "It is...something that will forever haunt me."

She speechlessly stared at Tusk in horror, her mouth hanging uselessly in shock, her mind trying to fathom his words. It wasn't just the information he delivered, but also the unnervingly composed, almost dispassionate manner in which the barbarian stated such a horrible thing.

"How...how can a god be so...cruel?" she asked.

Staring at the fire, Tusk tusk a sip from his cup, merely shrugging his broad shoulders.

"I learned to stop questioning things ages ago," he admitted. "From what I know of the gods, however, they are not cruel for the sake of it. They just...do not care for humanity. They don't "hate" humanity, but...they are...indifferent, at best. Based on my few interactions with them, they don't view humanity on their level or as beings of consciousness. At least, so it seems. Humanity is but a dream to them, one that is only a few million years old. Like all species and civilizations, it too will be claimed by Obscurity someday. What is a million, or even a billion years, when compared to the vastness of infinity?"

She had to admit, when put that way, it was absolutely frightening to contemplate.

"And yet," Maeve said pointedly, "they made you immortal."

The barbarian laughed mirthlessly.

"It just goes to show your ignorance, girl. How I envy it so," he replied, shaking his head. "Nay, I may have some small standing with Lord Nodens, but it isn't much, I assure you. It does not give me any power over his night-gaunts. If it had, I wouldn't be so fearful whenever I'm in their presence."

"Why did he save you then?"

Tusk frowned. "Based on my own perceptions and experience, the only reason why Lord Nodens would save someone, anyone, as far as I can tell, would be out of spite for the Outer Gods. He holds them all in great contempt - that much was made clear through our conversations, brief as they were. I suppose he wanted to deny them their victory."

He shifted in discomfort. "That, and...because he also saw some use for me."

The fire crackled as the two of them stared into it, watching the coals pop and as the embers danced and flickered.

Wrinkling her brow in confusion, Maeve sat up in alert. "Wait a minute. You had said that your family died when your ship had been caught in the storm."

The barbarian gave a grim, almost knowing smile.

"Nyarlathotep was the storm," he affirmed. "He is a god who can take any shape he wishes. Human. Animal. The weather. The very elements. Even shadows. He can even take the appearance of multiple avatars, all at the same time. If it hadn't been for Lord Nodens, Nyarlathotep would have had his way with me."

As Maeve watched him look up from the fire, she saw Tusk's eyes turn to directly face her, their icy blue hues shimmering with dark knowledge.

"...What are you thinking?" he asked.

Maeve shifted on the bed. "How...How do you know whether or not you're in his presence?"

Tusk shrugged his great shoulders. "That is the problem - you don't. Nyarlathotep is as dangerous as he is deceptive, and I would advise you to always be on guard at all times."

The celebrity forced back a shiver as she swallowed.

"W-was that," she stammered, "w-was that why you had me grip your sword? To see if I was him?"

Tusk gave a conceding shrug. "Partly. The thought had occurred to me that you could have been him, but given how you were unaffected by the runes around here, it made me inclined to believe otherwise." He then looked over his shoulder at the door behind him. "One form that I do know he tends to favor as a human, however, is that of a tall, swarthy man, but it's possible he may have taken on other human guises."

The barbarian stared to the fire, then exhaled, his breath causing the flickering flames to waver.

"I don't know where he is," he said in and deliberate manner, "but I do know that he is out there, somewhere. He boldly hides somewhere among humanity, creating more cultists, continuing to perform blasphemous rites. Creating more half-human abominations."

"What makes you so sure?"

He then turned to directly face her.

"Because it was he who had sent Frederick Vought to this island," he answered, "in the same way that you found yourself here. It was he who had crashed your plane, Maggie. He was the storm."

Maeve reared her head back, startled. "What?"

The firm, grim line on Tusk's mouth tightened.

"You wanted to know why I had you hold my sword," he said slowly. "I will tell you. The Old Ones, the Outer Gods, Gargos, Eyedol, Nyarlathotep...I believe that we have been brought as pawns in a dark game, Maggie. I believe that they have been orchestrating events so that they could find a way to unlock the gate." The barbarian gave her a steady, dark look. "Do you believe it mere chance that Vought came to this island by accident? That he would somehow manage to survive unscathed? That he would manage to acquire my flesh?"

Tusk shook his head. "Nay. Through me, they were able to continue their unholy rituals in the form of this..."Herogasm", as you call it. Through me, they have extended their corruption. Through my flesh, they have forged their weapons, these..."supes", as you call them. Through my flesh, Nyarlathotep is looking to forge their key."

Maeve leaned forward, part of her dreading the answer.

"How?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"By creating a weapon with the power to unlock the gate. One capable of wielding Warg-gram itself."

"A weapon with the power to..." In that moment, Maeve's eyes widened in realization as she began to understand the implications. "Oh my God."

For the first time in her life, Maeve finally understood why things have turned out the way they had. For once, she had finally understood why she had failed. She started to see how everything connected together in a way that brought everything back in a horrible bloody circle.

Of course, it made sense. Only one man she knew was that evil. Only one man could potentially have the strength to wield the sword without being burned.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "Oh my God, it makes sense! I-I knew that he was a bastard, that something was wrong with him, but...Jesus Christ, it all makes so much sense now!"

"What does?"

Maeve looked directly at Tusk. "I think I know who Nyarlathotep is masquerading as! Or...well...who he intends to use."

Upon hearing that, the barbarian narrowed his eyes as he sat forward on the edge of his seat. "Who?"

Maeve swallowed. "...Homelander."

The room was still as the hearth crackled, the two seated figures digesting this new information.

Turning aside, Tusk stared with a dark look into the fireplace, his face unreadable.

"...Are you are certain?" he asked.

Swallowing again, Maggie nodded vigorously.

"If he isn't...he is the closest thing to him," she replied.

Maggie watched as Tusk sat back into his chair and crossed his arms as he stared down in thoughtful contemplation, stroking his chin.

"What-what do we do?" she asked.

Tusk was unresponsive at first. A few minutes later, the barbarian lifted his eyes from the hearth to meet hers, his eyes hard and determined.

"If what you say is true, Maggie," he answered slowly, "then I must inform Lord Nodens as soon as possible."

Maeve's heart skipped a beat.

"W-Will he be able to defeat, if not kill Homelander?" she asked in spite of herself, trying to mask her excitement.

"I have every reason to believe that he is more than capable of doing so," he nodded, gladdening her heart before continuing, "but...I am more concerned about how he will respond."

She knit her brows together. "What? Why? Isn't this a good thing? Nodens will get to slay his dragon and have his victory over the Outer Gods!"

Tusk shook his head. "I'm afraid it isn't as simple as that, Maggie. While it is true that this would probably gladden his heart, I fear that this will have more profound consequences for your world. Given the extent and nature of the corruption at hand...it is possible that he may even ask me to intervene as a watchman."

Maeve smiled.

"Well that would be great!" she said excitedly. "If anyone can step in and help set an example for all of the supes out there, I can't think of anyone more appropriate for the job! After all, who better to show the world what an actual hero looks like than Theseus himself?"

The barbarian blinked in confusion, then, upon understanding what she was suggesting, gave her a sad look, his eyes drooping.

"Oh Maggie..." he said in a low voice, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "You poor, sweet woman."

Maeve's smile fell as Tusk got up from his seat and slowly made his way to his sword, his eyes locked on the wolf relief.

"Has not a word I had said indicative of who and what I am?" He sighed. "Nay, Maggie. Though I was known by many heroic a name, I am not a hero." Stopping a foot away from his weapon, Tusk stared at the wolf relief, his finger tracing its way on the intricate lines. "Do you know what 'Warg-gram' means?"

The celebrity shrugged nonchalantly. "IIIIIII have no clue. Care to enlighten me?"

He grunted.

"It means 'Wolf's wrath'," Tusk answered as he regarded the mighty weapon. "During my time with the Vikings, I came to learn much of their culture and mythology." He gave a side-glance over his shoulder. "Do you know the story of Fenrir? Do you know of Jormungandr, the serpent who is represented on my body?"

Maeve tilted her head as she struggled to recall the names. Shaking her head, she listened as he continued to elaborate.

"In Norse mythology," Tusk explained, "Fenrir was a child of the Jötunn Angrboða and the trickster god Loki, one of three children in fact. His siblings were Hel, the goddess of death, and Jormundgandr, the World Serpent. All three of them had been born in Jotunheim, the realm of giants and Frost Giants. All three of them had been greatly feared by the other gods, for there had been a prophecy which stated that they would bring great misfortune to them all due to the nature of their parents, Loki especially. Odin had commanded the other gods to journey into Jotunheim for the purpose of bringing the children to him, and upon their arrival into Asgard, Odin hurled Jormungandr into Midgard's ocean and banished Hel to Helheim, where she was granted authority over the dead. The last remaining child, Fenrir, was kept in Asgard, but he had inspired such fear in the gods themselves that only Týr, the god of war, was brave enough to approach the young pup and give him food. However, as the years pass, the gods started to notice something unusual about the wolf. Every day, Fenrir would rapidly grow, his form getting larger, and larger, and larger with every passing moment, which made them all fearful due to the prophecy that the wolf would bring them great harm. Thus, the gods had decided to try and imprison Fenrir."

The celebrity stared at Tusk's muscled back as he told the story, her eyes drawn to the swirling Celtic knots of his ornate snake tattoo.

"And so the gods had forged a chain called Leyding," he continued. "Bringing the chain to the wolf, the gods suggested that he test his strength with it. Judging that the chain was not beyond his strength, Fenrir let the Gods bind him with it. With the first kick, the binding had snapped, and the wolf was able to free himself instantly.

'The gods had then forged a second chain, this one twice as strong as Leyding, which they had named Dromi. Confident that this chain would imprison the wolf, they had once again approached him, claiming that he would achieve great fame for his strength should the wolf break of this binding. Fenrir once again allowed the gods to place the fetter on him, noting that the chain was indeed very strong and that he needed to take risks to earn great fame. Fenrir had then strained hard against the fetter, eventually breaking it into many pieces which flew off into the distance."

Outside of Tusk's home, Maeve heard the wind utter a low, howling groan.

"Fearing that they could not bind the Wolf-Giant, Odin then commissioned some Dwarves to craft an unbreakable binding, one that even Fenrir himself would not be able to escape from. The Dwarves had crafted a chain using six mystical ingredients; the footfall of a cat, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. The resulting binding was as soft silk ribbon and was named Gleipnir. After it was delivered to the gods, they took Fenrir out onto an island called Lyngvi, which lay in the middle of a lake called Amsvartnir. There, the gods had presented Gleipnir to Fenrir, stating that despite the chain looking like a silk ribbon, it was such that even the gods themselves would not be able to tear it. As a demonstration, they had all pulled at the fetter with all of their might, but it would not break. However, Fenrir became suspicious due to the deceptive appearance of the chain and had refused to let himself be bound, for he had reason to believe the ribbon had been made with art and trickery.

'Ultimately, however, the gods had appealed to his ego, stating that Fenrir could easily break such a pitiful silken strip, as he had broken two great iron bonds made by the gods themselves previously. They also added on, that if Fenrir was not able to break the silken binds, then it would be very clear to them that Fenrir was no threat to be feared at all and that he would be set free immediately. Fenrir, still suspicious, responded that he would only allow himself to be bound if one of the Gods would place a a hand in his mouth as a show of good faith. If he broke free of the chain, then all would be well, but if he was unable, the god would lose their hand."

"Jesus," Maeve muttered.

"Dah," Tusk nodded. "Not ideal. Hearing this offer, the gods had looked amongst themselves, knowing that someone had to sacrifice their hand to the wolf if he was to be imprisoned forever, but none of them were willing to do so. Only Týr volunteered as he silently stepped up and placed his right hand inside the wolfs jaws. Once that was settled, the gods bound him up with the chain once again. As Fenrir kicked and thrashed to free himself, Gleipnir only grew stronger and tighter. Seeing that the wolf was finally imprisoned, all of the gods had laughed except for Týr, who ended up losing his right hand to an enraged Fenrir. The gods then took a singular cord called Gelgja, which hung from Gleipnir and fed it through the stone slab known as Gjöll, and fastened it deep into the ground, after which they put another great rock on top of it to act as an anchoring peg. Further enraged, Fenrir had attempted to bite the Gods, who then thrusted a sword into his upper jaw, so he could not close his mouth."

Maggie wordlessly parted her mouth, horrified and disgusted by the story.

"And there they left him," the barbarian concluded, "to remain forever bound like his father Loki until the coming of Ragnarok, where he will break free and join his family in the final battle against the gods."

The celebrity hero stared at Tusk's muscled back, listening to the howling wind outside, the sound akin to a dying animal's wails.

'Ragnarok,' she mentally repeated. That was a word she had definitely heard of. While Maggie was not an expert on Norse mythology, she was familiar enough with the word to know what it implied.

The implications alone were making her think of all sorts of terrifying possibilities, but she prayed that she was wrong, that Tusk had meant something else and through his clumsiness in speech misinterpreted.

"W-Why..." she swallowed, "Why are you telling me this, Tusk?" she asked in confusion. "What does this have to do with you?"

Turning slowly to face her, Tusk's dark eyes met hers, his features partially shadowed.

"You believe me to be a hero." He then shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Maggie, but...you are...gravely...mistaken. As a watchman for the gods, my task is not to save people, let alone humanity. It is not to save the world. It is to represent the will of the gods, for good or for ill. I am their appointed weapon for Ragnarok, the blade that will cleave the head of many a person, child, beast, world and/or reality should those ancient dark forces be allowed to prevail."

Maeve stared gobsmacked in shock and horror, her mind reeling from the admission.

"What?" she said weakly.

Tusk gave a solemn nod.

"I'm afraid it is true." His eyes drooped as he sadly regarded. "...You should have listened to me. I warned you against falling in love with me, Maggie. I'm sorry that you had to find out like this."

The celebrity hero wordlessly stood before the barbarian, her brave persona fallen, exposing the frightened little girl within that she kept hidden from view as she found herself trapped with the most terrifying monster of all.

---

*Translation from Old Norse: "Come, you unclean! By Lord Nodens' spear, I will gut you all where you stand and end you, for I am the watchman of the gods!"

Author's Notes: And that concludes Chapter Seven! Man this one was a pain in the ass to write! Originally, this story had meant to be a short piece, but over time, it just sort of ballooned into something much larger than what I had initially anticipated. For this chapter, this had undergone a number of changes.

Originally, there was going to be more exploration involved with the island, with Maeve encountering different types of environments, different types of structures, different kinds of creatures, as well a cult of modern-day pirates.

The idea was, centuries ago, pirates had ended up getting trapped on Tusk's island, where they would establish their own crude but slightly workable society over time that preserved a lot of their brutal customs with each successive generation into the modern era.

Admittedly, I was kind of influenced by Peter Benchley's "The Island" and the 1968 movie "The Lost Continent", both of which weren't great films and had slightly similar concepts, but the idea of something antiquated like pirates or Spanish Conquistadors creating their own twisted society that survives into the modern era is a fascinating concept to me. Even though those movies weren't necessarily "good", I think the ideas are definitely worth revisiting, if not worth exploring and expanding upon imo, and I would love to see someone do something with that concept.

Two characters that were considered to be included as a potential deities and guest characters for these pirates to worship were Spinal and Hisako, but the former had to be dropped due to the fact that it kind of contradicted my other fic "Zahn Und Klaue" and I wanted at least some level of consistency in my KI stories. I couldn't really think of a way of including him that made sense.

That, plus it seemed waaaay too soon for him and Tusk to meet, especially considering I want freaking Homelander to appear (bit of a spoiler, admittedly, but still, something to look forward to. ;) ). Hisako also had to be dropped, just because, like Spinal, I had trouble finding a way to include her that made sense as well. I suppose I could have found a way to have included her in such a way that it made sense, but ultimately the modern-day pirate angle had ended up being dropped altogether due to the fact that it kind of hindered the narrative imo.

An additional change was the inclusion of Eyedol and Gargos. Writing this, one of the things that I had trouble with was determining how to include these two characters, if not how prominent these characters should be within the story. With the inclusion of Lovecraft's pantheon, it became a little tricky figuring how where these two would fit within the context of the Old Ones and Outer Gods, but I think it turned out relatively well imo.

In terms of this story, one of the things I had often wondered about in relation to "The Boys" comic and show was, how would characters react when they actually have an encounter with the supernatural and otherworldly?

What would Maeve's reaction be to a legendary figure like Theseus and actual monsters?

I also kind of figured, given how Compound V produced such vastly different otherworldly abilities in a number of its hosts, it kind of made sense to me that the source could have been potentially otherworldly in nature.

While Compound V was a Nazi experiment turned corporate product, there was nothing to suggest that it couldn't be such a thing. After all, the vastly unpredictable results alone kind of suggests that the source itself was just as potentially volatile, so it kind of made sense to me to use Lovecraft's eldritch horrors as a potential source, if not the foundation for some of the stuff that happens within the comic and show, especially since their presence is often beneath the surface. That, and as a way of explaining some of the really, REALLY fucked-up things that happens in both mediums.

In terms of my decision to have the story based on Maeve, Maeve in the comic and show was such a sad and tragic broken character. She was kind of a bitch in the former, but at the same time, though, there was so much pain in her character that I began to sort of understand why she was the way she was, and I really felt sorry for her. So, I kind of wanted to do a story where she was able to achieve at least some level of happiness.

In terms of Tusk, Tusk is an interesting character to me as a KI fan. His design and theme in KI2 were unmistakably based off of "Conan The Barbarian", but the decision to have him connected with Vikings in the 2013 game was an interesting one imo, just because it kind of justifies, if not explains the snake/dragon tattoo on his chest. With his connection to wolves and snakes, in the context of Norse mythology, it does suggest that he is a dark apocalyptic presence with some connection to the divine.

One of the things I wanted to do for this story in relation to Tusk was to not make him a heroic figure, just because it's not quite fitting with either Lovecraft's world of eldritch horrors or that of "The Boys", or even the KI games. In the games, Tusk was described as "a barbarian killing machine from the cold wastelands to the north", and one of the things I wanted to avoid was making him into an outright superhero. Because of the Lovecraftian aspect, I wanted something a little darker and a more ominous direction to his character, and since he has those dark apocalyptic aspects already, I wanted to push that further.

There have been a number of stories that featured immortal warrior caveman characters - Vandal Savage, "The Man From Earth", the Immortal from "Invincible", etc - but I can't think of any that had distinct ties with Lovecraft and Norse mythology at the same time (although feel free to correct me if I'm wrong), so it kind of seemed like a potentially interesting road to go down on. In a way, it's almost kind of fitting as well since the author of "Conan", Robert E. Howard, had been friends with H.P. Lovecraft, even going so far as to include some of the latter's gods into his stories, while Lovecraft's story "The Nameless City" featured humanoid beings with lizard/snake/reptilian features. In fact, there have been assertions from some fans that Conan is part of the Cthulhu Mythos, which kind of brings things full-circle in a way.

And lastly, for those of you wondering, Old Grey Tooth is an original creation that was based on Lovecraft's work combined with a love of old Ray Harryhausen adventure/monster movies/lost world stories, albeit with its own creepy twists. Since Tusk in KI2 had a finisher that involved him summoning a dinosaur or dragon to eat his opponent, I kind of figured "why not?"

As a final note, I want to thank LunarAquarius, GameTitan, Captain Omnitron, Lil Hedgepig and others for their immense help - thank you so much, guys! I appreciate your help enormously, and recommend everyone checking out their work, as they are all wonderful writers.

Until next time, take care, and stay safe and healthy. :)