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Destiny Drabbles/One Shots

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The Awoken Warlock let out a sigh of relief as she sat down at her favorite spot in the Tower Plaza. As far as she could tell, she was the only one that would jump over the railing onto the overhang and sit down nearest the edge. She needed time away from her fellow Guardians, time to think, and this was always the place to do so.

A Vex Gate Lord head. That's what the Queen of the Reef wanted. Yet it was the Queen's Brother she couldn't get out of her head. In her mind, she recalled hearing of the Queen of the Reef and her Brother, but even that memory, recent it might be, was a hazy conversation she wasn't part of.

Honestly, it was probably nothing, since she had instantly disliked (and that's putting it lightly) the pompous brat the moment he spoke. It wasn't until he had his knife at her throat that she felt some kind of... spark. Anger and panic, but there was something else. She believed the Human Guardians called it "sexual tension" (and a lot of female Guardians took to it, but she wasn't so sure the male Guardians felt it).

Of course, she played it off that it was just a lack of sexual activity that made her read the air wrong, and she kept her cool when the Queen of the Reef appeared. Beauty, grace, a commanding presence. Everything she imagined this illusive Queen to be. So much unlike her Brother. Pompous, self-righteous, though she couldn't deny he was rather sassy in delivery of his insults.

However, try as she might, she couldn't erase the fantasy that dared play out in her head the moment she was alone, nor the feel of his grip on her wrist, keeping her from pointing the gun she grabbed at the Fallen. It was light, and firm, and she was sure he could have broken it were it not for the Queen's intervention.

One would think she would think that way of any male (or female, in some cases) she passed, but no. Not even Commander Zavala, or Master Rahool, and they were fellow Awoken! To her, one was a Vanguard, the other a cryptarch, not love interests. A few Awoken Guardians had made passes at her, but she felt nothing. And she couldn't ask around for reasons why. She was a Guardian first and foremost, her duties should be to driving back the Darkness in service to the Light and to the city.

So, why was it her repressed sexual urges reached out graspingly for the pompous Prince of the Reef, rather than someone closer to home? Perhaps it was just her eagerness to get that Gate Lord head, to prove him wrong. That would surely get him out of her head.... right?

She sighed. Something told her this "attraction" was only going to worsen the more she thought on it. And the sunset was much more worthy of her attention than the so-called Prince of the Reef.

"Designated Douchebag is more like it." She muttered darkly to herself. She could feel Ghost (he refused to be called "Little Light") giving her a look, but she said nothing. "He never bothered to ask my name."

"You didn't ask his, either." Ghost reminded her, and she rolled her eyes. "What is your name, anyway?"

"Galea. Galea Britella."

"Galea. Pretty."

"Thanks. Do you think the Speaker knows who that pompous ass is?"

"Probably." Ghost gave a robotic sigh. "It wouldn't do to call him that, though. He is royalty, after all."

She smirked, "I'll call him what I wish. The only royalty worth respect in the Reef is Her Grace, no one else."

"Whatever you say, Guardian." Ghost said, and she could hear the defeat. But she didn't mind. The pompous Prince would be nothing more than Designated Douchebag in her head, and not even the Traveler itself could stop her from calling him otherwise.

"The fantasies you have about "Designated Douchebag" are rather disturbing though. I didn't think one of the Awoken would even think about that kind of stuff."

"Hey!"

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Lavender. How she used to hate the color lavender.

Lavender was the tint of her skin, unusual, and rare, since she rarely saw an Awoken with skin like hers. Lavender was her hair. Lavender was her lipstick, the only vanity she allowed herself. Lavender that clashed with her teal blue irises, that clashed with pretty much everything.

Purple was the color of her Voidwalker abilities, shades so brilliant and dark, she would stop and stare if she weren't clawing for her life. In those shades were lavender, and she both loathed and loved it.

After a while, she stopped hating the color lavender. Lavender was, after all, what made her who she was.

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Lavender haunted his steps. Lavender haunted his dreams.

Lavender intrigued his sister greatly. He wasn't too fond of Lavender. He wasn't too fond of Lavender's ball. He especially wasn't fond of Lavender's plan to turn the Black Garden into a battleground. Were all Guardians so unimaginative? Perhaps.

Lavender also had a name, but why should he bother asking it? His crows could always do the research. And he would continue calling the Guardian Lavender. Like their hair, the tint of their skin, even the tone of their voice, soft and melodic it might be.

When he thought of it that way, perhaps, just perhaps, his sister wasn't the only one intrigued with Lavender. Not that he would admit it.

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"Hey, Ghost, think you can answer a question I have?"

"I technically am."

"And they say Ghosts don't have a sense of humor."

"Ask, Guardian."

"Have you ever wanted a name?"

Ghost was silent for a moment before speaking, "Not that I can recall. What brings this on?"

"I've noticed a trend of Ghost naming, and I just had to wonder."

"Your curiosity will get the better of you one day."

"There's a reason I enjoy the Warlock class. Curiosity isn't a bad thing if one is a Warlock."

"Curiosity isn't a bad thing overall, Guardian."

"True. But I've found that other Guardians are more understanding of it if you're part of the Warlock class."

"Well, you do know that the Guardians who name their Ghosts get defensive of them on a whole, right? Should I expect you to threaten other Guardians if they mock me?"

"I would, because they've no right. Just because they treat their Ghosts like mindless property doesn't mean I plan to. I can't even count how many times you brought be back from the brink because I did something stupid."

"Such as when we faced that Vex Gate Lord? I believe I brought you back four or five times."

"You probably did. Kinda why I want to name you. You're my partner in most aspects, so you deserve a name."

"Just don't call me Designated Douchebag."

"Sure thing." She chuckled. "How about Spec?"

"Preferable. Spec I shall be, then. Shall I refer to you as Galea?"

"If you want. I wanted to call you Little Light, though."

"Don't."

"Fine. Spec it is."

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It was a calm day at the Tower, which was nice. Galea had just picked up a package sent to her, and she had to wonder who sent it. As she was walking over to the vaults in the plaza, she bumped into someone.

"Watch where you're walking!" A voice, female, cried in her general direction. The Awoken Guardian turned with a sigh to face a Titan. Human, dark blue hair, gray eyes, and purple paint on her face.

"Apologies." She said coolly. "Are you new?"

"Yeah, so?" The human woman said. "Who are you?"

"I am Galea." She said. "I've been here for a while, so I know most of the ropes. Guardians bump into each other all the time. It's nothing to fret over. And you are?"

"Roselyn. At least, I think my name is Roselyn." The woman paused, thinking. "It's the only name I remember, so I may as well go by it. Nice to meet you. You're the first Warlock I've met."

"I'm honored, I suppose." Galea smiled. "Well, I must be off. I have things I need to put away and an engram for Master Rahool. Good luck with your missions, Roselyn."

"You too!" Roselyn said before bounding off. An odd woman, Galea thought as she went about her day.

 

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Perhaps I was once human, but now I am more. I am more, and I am less. I am a Guardian. A dead being brought back to fight a losing war. Hope is my asset, and my weakness. The enemy is great, so I must be greater.

Memories flash by in snippets, fleeting, gentle caresses. Another time, another place, another face. Maybe even another name, one that was once mine. It is one I do not claim anymore, however. I go by a different one now.

I do not recall what it was like to feel more romantic emotions. Such things were deemed beneath me, beneath Guardians, beneath those that serve the Light. Yet I saw it burgeoning all the time. Between Guardians, with their Ghosts, same-species, inter-species. Slow-burning, or all at once, some realizing in an instant, others needing clues to understand. I envied them that.

Envy. Another thing beneath me. Anger, to be channeled against the Dark and its armies. Gratitude, to be shown to my superiors. Desire, to be hidden away in public, or repressed, to cut down on distractions. My concentration was meant to flow towards forcing back the Darkness, not in more earthly pursuits.

So what was it about him that made me wish to forego my duty? That caused me to linger in the Vestian Outpost? And why him? He who caused a fire in my gut and a clenching in my heart. Who caused my blood to boil the moment he spoke.

I dare not ask around, though. Who could I ask, that would understand? I see the way others stare at those who find love with another species. The idea is foreign to them. The stares are less when it's same-species, though the stares are there all the same.

An Earth-born Awoken-which Spec believes me to be-and a Reefborn Awoken just wouldn't fit in most circles. Include me being a Guardian, and him the Prince of the Reef, and the odds would never be in my favor. And yet...

When I gave them the Vex Gate Lord head, I could see the barest hints of emotion (other than contempt and anger). What confused me was the way he spoke when the Queen offered the Vex eye (from my understanding) to me, to help me. There was almost a hint of... fear. Even as my heart clenched with emotions unknown, I had to wonder; did he truly fear... for me? Concern for my well-being?

When he gave the coordinates, he had erected a stony exterior, one that I could not see past. Perhaps he was just as haunted by me as I was by him? Was that even possible? With so many other women wishing to earn his heart, I doubted he would pause to think of me. And so many more worthy than I could easily win it.

I couldn't muddle long, as I could see the impatience on Petra Venj's face. I hadn't given an answer as to whether I would help with the House of Wolves rebellion. I simply nodded, got my mission, met the others, and fled the outpost. My head hurt with all my confusion. I dare not question Master Ives on such a matter. I doubted Variks would be much help either.

He managed to make me smile, though. Perhaps he would be a more worthy owner of my heart. He was rather handsome for a Fallen (Eliksni, he would be wont to correct others, even myself).

"He would be a distraction, you mean." Spec said as I climbed into bed before heading off to Venus. I frowned, not because he was wrong, but because he was right. In the end, Variks would simply serve as a distraction while I pined after Designated Douchebag. It would be unfair to him.

"And you suggest I tell Designated Douchebag how I feel?" I inquired. "When I myself don't know how to describe this? Don't you dare say it's love, either. Love would mean I actually bothered to get to know him."

"Then what would you call it?" Spec inquired in turn.

I had no answer for that.

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He frowned when he spotted Lavender walking towards them, loud, proud steps on the metal floor. He glowered as Lavender left, the eye of the Gate Lord in their grasp, a delicate, gloved thumb running over the dulled glass.

His sister gave him a hint of a smirk when their eyes met. There were no secrets with her. She knew. She would always know. That she did not reprimand him for it was odd, but it wasn't his place to ask.

He didn't think he would see them again. But he did, when he spotted them among the Guardians at the Vestian Outpost. He used his Crows to spy on them as they fought the Wolves. Trading with Variks or bringing engrams to Master Ives. He did the same with all Guardians but Lavender was among the select few he watched even closer.

Perhaps he ought to pay a visit to the Vestian Outpost. See just what Lavender was up to. It would prove better for watching the other Guardians on a whole as well. And Variks. He didn't like how close the Fallen was to the Guardians sometimes. Nor the ease with which Lavender smiled when around him.

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Lavender always managed to shine brighter than any star. Especially so when she smiled.

His eyes followed her every step through the Vestian Outpost. His mind reached wantonly for her's, like a child reaching for a much wanted gift. His lips dipped into small smirks whenever their eyes met, and heat rose noticeably in her cheeks. He had only been observing the Outpost for a few weeks.

There were others, as well, other Guardians that made him wonder, made him think. Others that captivated him in the same way Lavender did. They didn't shine the way Lavender did. Not really, not truly. They shined, yes, but their shine didn't leave him blinded.

Funnily enough, she had actually bothered to tell him her name, the one time he called her Lavender aloud. It was a mistake, one that gave away his position. Folly, to think none would hear his musings.

"Galea." She said, a smirk of her own on her purple-painted lips. "My name is Galea Britella."

He had given his name in return, and she game a smile before being distracted by her ball. He frowned slightly as she walked away, ball floating in her hand. It became full-fledged when she disappeared into her ship.

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He loathed it. Despised it. If he was in the mood, he would even say he hated it.

What's "it," you ask?

The number of Guardians that dared to near Lavender. His Lavender (though he'd rather parish than admit he thought of her in such a way). Awoken, Human, Exo, each attempting to touch her, flirt with her, "hook up," as the Humans so eloquently put it. Did they not know where her heart lay? It had been obvious to him from the beginning.

He finally snapped after yet another Guardian attempted to touch her. It had seemed light at first, but then the Guardian wrapped an arm about Lavender's waist with such an ease, he nearly saw red. But, as Prince of the Reef and brother to the Queen, he kept his cool. He walked over, and tapped the Guardian on the shoulder.

Lavender immediately blushed when their gazes locked, and the Guardian beside her was most likely angry underneath his helmet.

"If you would be so kind as to keep your hands off Galea, we won't have any trouble." He would say he was surprised at the calm in his voice, but years of practice had trained him to keep his emotions in check, and the pure intimidation factor managed to drive the Guardian off.

"Thank you." Lavender spoke, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before dashing off. He kept his head down as he stalked off to his usual surveillance spot, to hide the heat on his own cheeks.

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Replaying that moment, that one single moment, again and again in her mind, she wonders just why she did something so impulsive. Did she think she could get away with it? The answer would be no, because now she's being marched to Designated Douchebag's private study to face the consequences of her actions. At least, she thought as much. She'd been made to send Spec back to her ship, which frightened her greatly. What's a Guardian without their Ghost? A Ghost without their Guardian?

She entered the study slowly, Designated Douchebag's back to her, and the doors slammed shut.

"Tell me, did you think you'd get away with it?" He asked, still facing away.

"Get away with what?" Stupid question. They both knew what. It got a chuckle out of him, though, which surprised her.

"Come now, Galea." He turned, his orange eyes landing on her teal ones, some hidden emotion behind them. "I don't stay where I am solely due to my blood. And don't think I've been ignoring the signs, either. You and every other Guardian I've the displeasure of meeting have given me hot-blooded looks."

"I would be the first to act based on these emotions, I presume?" She asked, and he nodded his head, stepping around his desk towards her.

"You... haunt me." He finally said, their faces mere inches apart. He lowered his head so that their foreheads touched, and she was suddenly very thankful that Spec wasn't with her. "I've met few others that are as infuriating as you, but you... You've no idea the effect you have on others. On me. You've the gall to tease me with all your glances and giggles, and not expect me to do anything?"

"Kiss me." She replies. "Kiss me, or stop this, because I can't. I refuse."

He seized her lips then, a slight growl emanating from his. This was not a run-of-the-mill kiss, mind you. This was the release of months of emotional tension and longing, one that would make older women blush and tongues wag. His tongue slipped pass lavender lips with zero resistance to dance with hers. Her gloved hands clung to him as her knees weakened.

Just as soon as it started, it ended. The kiss broke, the two breathing hard, eyes alight with desire. She sighed through her nose, wiping her lip-paint off his lips, a light smile on her own.

"I'll be back here in two weeks time." She informs him. "If I've still your favor, meet me at your usual spot." Another kiss, and she steps away, her heart lurching in her chest. She stops to wipe away any smudges, fix her hair, and straighten her armor before exiting the study, and going back to her ship.

"Progress at last." Spec said upon their departure. She gave him a look, but said nothing.

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Week One was, to put it simply, hell.

It wasn't actually hell, but being away from Lavender was rather akin to it at times. He wouldn't admit it, of course. Prince Uldren Sov would not ever admit he missed his Lavender.

But he did. Terribly. Rather annoying, that.

There were still Guardians to deal with, either wanting to enter the Black Garden, or to hunt down the House of Wolves. Also annoying, but at least Her Grace kept them to the outskirts of the realm. Their numbers were few on Earth, from what his Crows had garnered, but how that was possible with so many arriving at the Reef was beyond him.

Some of the female Guardians-and some males now, come to think of it-all attempted flirty banter, but never got far. Not to say they weren't attractive, but Lavender occupied his thoughts more often than not by the end of the week.

One more week to go...

---

Week One was what she imagined Purgatory was like.

Venus had once been a beautiful planet with lush forests surrounded by molten oceans as far as the eye could see. Now, it still had lush forests, but it was also filled with Vex and Fallen. Both were an annoyance during her patrol.

And after this, she was to patrol on Mars, inhabited by Vex and Cabal (mostly Cabal). Thought she hoped that she would patrol on Earth (or even the Moon), with so few willing to patrol Mars (and Commander Zavala's rising rants that echoed throughout the Tower), Ikora had her going there after Venus.

Spec gave her a look as she sighed, leaning against her Sparrow as she observed a small patrol of Fallen. She felt him nuzzle her cheek as best he could, knowing that he was only trying to comfort her. One more week to go...

...and they could be together again.

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Week Two was easier, but still annoying.

Perhaps it was eagerness (that he kept disguised, of course) that kept his spirits high, and his tongue sharper. At the moment, he was enjoying the openly insulted looks that Guardians sent him when he'd the displeasure of conversing with them. Until Lavender returned, of course.

He had quite a few ideas about how to celebrate her return.

Some ideas were fully fleshed out, some were still only outlined, but such things take time. Time he planned to take getting to know every inch of the Guardian that captured him so utterly. Forward, to be sure, but this situation on a whole was precarious and forward. It was hard to admit, but he knew that he'd stumbled upon something that he couldn't lose. His loyalties shifted to encompass not just his people, his Queen and sister, but Lavender as well.

Soon enough...

---

Fuck Mars patrols, fuck Mars, fuck everything it stands for.

That was something she wished to scream out into the desert that was the Exclusion Zone during Week Two. The tedium of keeping her Sparrow, her weapons, and Spec free of the sand was a chore. Not even her armor kept her completely cool from the heat during the day, nor warm during the night. All in all: Fuck. Mars.

At least afterward, she had leave for the next three weeks... And Designated Douchebag to return to.

She'd be lying if she said she was nervous about her return. A man like Designated Douchebag, regal, pretentious, loving, selfish... Wait, did she just call him loving? Well, to be certain, he just might be. The downfalls of not really knowing someone, she supposed. But after this, oh, after this, she would know. Soon enough...

...she would return to him.

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Galea sighed, trying to gather her strength. She'd seen Guardians request to leave the Tower while on leave all the time. Most went down to the city below, wishing to explore its myriad of streets, meet the denizens they were protecting. But she'd never met a Guardian that requested leave on the Vestian Outpost. It truly hammered home just how precarious her relationship with Designated Douchebag was.

Zavala would deny her, should she ask him. Ikora would question it, and Cayde-6 would most likely be all for it. Stepping onto the floor where the Vanguard gathered, she walked over to Ikora, lightly tapping the Warlock Vanguard's shoulder. The dark-skinned Warlock turned, raising a brow, gold eye shadow glittering above dark eyes.

"Yes, Guardian?" She asks.

"I've come to request some time off the Tower." Galea states, squaring her shoulders. Ikora looks a little taken aback, before chuckling.

"Off to see a certain someone?" The Warlock Vanguard questions, a smirk on her lips. "So long as you don't cause too much trouble, I grant you permission."

"Permission for what?" Cayde-6 asks, looking up from the map. It was apparent that he wanted nothing more than to not talk about Vanguard business.

"Nothing you need worry about, Cayde." Ikora answered, her tone brooking no argument. "Two weeks is the longest I can give you, Guardian. I would give you all three, but..."

"Where is she going?" Cayde questioned, intrigue apparent in his optics, though Galea rolled her eyes.

"Might I tell them, Guardian?" Ikora looked to Galea briefly, before fixing her eyes on Cayde.

"I'm going to the Vestian Outpost." Galea answered, instantly on the defensive. "My... paramour, of sorts, is going to meet me there."

"For two weeks?" She heard Zavala pipe up, curiosity and incredulousness in equal measure. "We're losing this war as it is. Trips into the city, I can manage, but not the Vestian Outpost. That is the realm of the Awoken, and we are not Awoken. We're Guardians."

"Commander Zavala, with all due respect, I'm going, so stuff it." Galea answered. "My word is my bond. If he doesn't return my feelings, he won't be there when I show up, and I'll be back here. I know, however, that he does."

"Who is he?"

"... The Master of Crows."

---

He had been sitting, waiting for three days. And that was all it took for the doubts to creep in, the worry to grip his heart. Proof, perhaps, that he actually has one. His Queen and Sister had simply smiled at him when he departed, but she knew. Knew, and allowed. He would question it, but there was no need to. Her reasons were her's alone, for now.

What if she died on Mars? The worry wormed into his thoughts. What if this was all a game, something to amuse a bored Guardian? The doubt was rarely behind when worry made itself known.

Then, he saw it, a flash of lavender, teal eyes burning into his, lips turned up in a genuine, relief-filled smile.

She was in his arms before he could blink. Her gloved hands slowly being placed on either side of his face, directing him towards her waiting lips. Their kiss was... hungry, to say the least. He had to admit, he felt like he had finally found the oasis in a vast desert. It was "corny" to say the least.

"What took you so long?" He demanded to know as they broke apart.

"Hold ups." She replied. "I've got two weeks before I have to return to the tower. I would have been given three, but Zavala wouldn't stand for it."

"Two weeks is more than enough."

"For what?"

"For worshiping every inch of your body. From head..." He trailed his lips along her jaw, relishing the gasp and barely concealed shiver. "...to toe."

"Uldren..." His name rolled from her lips in a purr, and he concealed a shiver of his own.

With a wicked smirk, he lead her through the doors, noting the pointed looks of the Guardians and the Royal Guard. For once, the Guardians didn't say anything, just went about their business. The Royal Guard knew better than to question. His sister would have no doubt informed them.

Two weeks was plenty of time to memorize the every last inch of his Lavender's body.

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So I legit lost muse for this story. For quite a while. Like, wow, when was the last time I updated this???

Long story short, I moved, so I don't get too much writing time, and I'm somewhat paranoid of just writing smut on Google Docs, even if that's legit the safest place for it. 

I mean, I'm gonna, don't get me wrong. I promised smut, and y'all are gonna get smut. 

But also wow, you guys. A lot of you seem to like my writing and it's... there are no words to describe how humbled I am. Even now, unfinished as it is, there's more of y'all appearing every couple of days.

So, here's the plan. I'm gonna do the smut (cause everyone loves smut), and then I'm gonna launch into a prelude for D2. Cause how else are we gonna know how Galea and Designated Douchebag deal with the separation? With the belief the other is dead? Not to mention Galea's sudden separation from the Light, the very thing that had defined her in her mind.

It'll be fun times.

So yeah. I love you guys. Sorry my shit ass made you wait on the sexay tiems.

Chapter Text

The sound of the doors closing behind her was what truly finalized reality for Galea. Kisses landed on parted lips, again and again. She wondered, idly, if this is what being drunk was like. Like the world narrowing to only a point, a thick fog one never wants to escape. She was certain she was stumbling behind him, despite knowing the contrary was true.

Just what had Uldren done to her, she wondered? Could Reef Awoken cast spells that got anywhere near this feeling?

Twists and turns, twists and turns. Urgent kisses that grew in frequency and intensity. A fire that built and built, heat encompassing everything in and around her. Two more sets of doors, but the third was the final.

The sound of air hissing as the doors shut and locked was a bounce out of the fog, and she blinked. They were in a bedroom, obviously. She didn’t expect it to be so… foreignly familiar. Teal eyes catch of luminescent orange, and she was struck shy.

Had she even been a virgin in her past life? Had she experimented in any way? She had no clue. A brow raises, and her eyes immediately dip to her left.

A delicate touch on her jaw, trailing to her chin. Her head lifts, eyes meeting his. Her smile is weak. Once again, he is a mask, one she can’t penetrate. Was he regretting this? Was he amused? His head leans down, black hair brushing against her skin. Had they been this close a moment ago?

He’s slow in removing her armor, sometimes stumbling on the straps. She giggles, the tension easing, melting into something else. A slow burn, pleasantly emanating to fill the room. When the last of her armor hits the floor, a chill runs down her back. Hunger devours her, memory eating each curve, each flaw, each scar and stretch mark.

Dismantling his armor proves a challenge, and she burns with his teasing in her ear. Such little comments, flustering her movements. He must get a rise out of it, out of her. Still, she manages, immediately tackling him into the pile on the floor. That would bruise tomorrow, but it would only be one of many.

“You may be used to being in charge, Little Prince,” She purrs, letting her lips dangle on his earlobe for a moment. “But let’s not forget that I wield all the power here.”

And that, to her, rang true. In this room, this moment, she was at the helm. The sigh he lets out is all the permission she needs to ravish his body. Neck, collar bone, ribs, inner thigh, no part is safe.

They eventually find their way to a bed, and she allows him to ravish her the same. He is exacting in each touch, each kiss. As if this was their one and only chance to memorize all the ticks of the other. Perhaps it was.

She wants to say enough with the teasing, but his sudden entering her gargles her words into nonsense. His laughter burns into her being, and she growls. A kiss to the underside of her breasts silences her, and she damns him for his further teasing.

“What was that about power?” That smug grin that drives her mad flashes by. She’d show him power.

Their lovemaking is frenzied, raw and passionate. She bites where she can, when she can, when her head isn’t near slamming into the metal frame of his bed, or when she isn’t forcing him onto his back to ride him. It felt like they were trying to drink the starlight out of the other’s skin, each breath a step towards the heavens.

Closer and closer they marched, movements growing more frenzied, impatient. Like the tsunami’s she’d only read about, she could near see the insurmountable wall of pleasure, the approaching climax. And when it hit… she screamed.

And there, his name, tumbling unbidden, over and over until it was a lifeline to which she relentlessly gripped. And there was an answering name, her name, in return. An eternity passed between them, chests heaving in sync, eyes slowly clearing.

“You’re shaking,” She murmurs, concern in her tone. He moves to lay beside her, and she stifles the relief as he exits her. The only sound is their breaths, haggard yet in sync, and the sounds of ships flying outside. A world, a year, a universe away from this moment. And as she maneuvers her aching body so that she may curl around him, watching the light dance under his skin, she knows peace.

For the first time in her new life, contentment and satisfaction are hand in hand companions.

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He knows not where he is. He knows not where he has been. His body is weak, and he is so far… so far from where he should be. He should be with her. He should have been there. But, he was not. She had bid him go, to save himself, and wait for the quiet.

The panic had passed, once he had calmed. He knew what needed done. The Reef could not survive long without his sister. Without his Queen. And he would not survive long on Mars alone. Then, his thoughts wandered to what could be said was the inevitable end… to Lavender. How would she take the news, he wondered. Which emotion would flicker through her teal eyes first? Shock? Fear? Sadness?

Would the Guardians even bother with Oryx? Would they blindly charge in, as his people had? Would Galea fight to protect her people? Or, would she fight to avenge him, believing him fallen?

He wouldn’t have been able to say before. And not even now. He had to push all thought of her aside. He must push all thought of her aside. He could not let even Lavender - his Lavender - distract him. Not from the task at hand.

His sister needed him. Just as he needed her. Just as the Reef needed her.

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There was no measure to how her heart mourned. No words that could lift her spirits. No way out of this in between.

Was this the line between life and death?

Spec was worried. Every time she reminded herself of that, her spirits sank lower. Spec, her Ghost, worried incessantly for her. And nothing she could do could make it better.

He was gone. There was word that his ship had been found, Roselyn had been the one to find it. But he wasn’t there. He could be alive, he could be dead. He could be as she was, simply dwelling without living. Stuck, as she was, in the in between.

And when it was time to take down Oryx, when she and her fellow Guardians when doom-driven to his ship, was it so bad that she wished for death? To hope for an end to this feeling? She saw his ghost everywhere. Felt his touch with the wind. Heard his voice in the quiet.

Designated Douchebag. Her Designated Douchebag.

He haunted her every step, her waking moments, her resting moments. And she was so very tired of feeling. So she prayed for an end.