Work Header

Cry Havoc

Work Text:


Cry, Havoc......


Two times, the blood of your people soaked battlefields. Two times, Thanos and his Black Order monsters were repelled. But this time you knew, that the third time would be the charm. The world had become weary, harder, meaner, colder. And you knew your people would welcome becoming charred rose petals floating in Thanos’s sea of blood. A sea of blood, spanning the entire universe and was nothing more than a drawn bath for his lover, Hela. She, who called herself the Goddess of Death. 

Everyone thought he would have retreated for the first time, when his daughter, Proxima was felled in battle. But he returned with vengeance, not for his daughter, no the monster had put his other two to death as traitors. No, he came back because of the audacity of mere mortals opposing him. He, an immortal titan, bested by pests! It was an affront to his ironic sensibilities. 

And you had been there on the front lines because of your gifts. You cursed your magic because you always saw too much. You, as a little girl would lay on the damp green grass and watch the kaleidoscope of colors of the Earth’s soul dart across the sky like shooting stars. You, as a woman, on those blood-soaked battlefields, watched as the hopes of the dead were suffocated like fire in a windstorm. Magic was the product of your buzzing genes and lodged in the honeycombs within your bones. And because of this power, that you didn’t understand, you were chosen to carry on the stories of a dying people. 

After the second time of defiance and renewed hope, Thanos bargained. He promised to give salvation to those that would bring him the heads of the gifted warriors that opposed him. He had turned the cities into rabbit warrens and the forests into abattoirs. Many died; the witch twins, the X-Men, Scott, among them. Few turned traitor. Some willingly like Osborn, Billy, and Hydra. Some unwillingly like Frank. It broke your heart to see him covered in fire and chains. 

More hid. You were dragged to a cave at the end of the world by Doctor Strange, sorcerer supreme, to live and guard Earth’s paltry and insignificant treasures. 

“Y/N,” he said through blue lips and a mouthful of frozen blood. “The answer is in there.” Frustration and doubt were the most present emotions on that first day. Then failure and anger grew like vines with each passing day because the only answer to find was that this cave would be your tomb. 

A year had gone by and your supplies had dwindled to nothing and so you foraged on that windy mountainside, hunted in the dense forest at the foot, and cooked in that dark cave. The only luxuries were your spell books and the hot spring at the back of the cave.

You had made your way through a significant portion of the dried scrolls and ancient books. Today, you turned the page of the storybook. It was a basic book with the surface myths about the gods walking among their worshippers. The parchment had been rebound several times and hid the treasures within. The calligraphy and gold leafing was a marvel as they flashed like fireflies in the gloom of the cave. You could use a god or two. You could use a Hail Mary. But the Old Gods never were.

You slid your finger along the edge of the page. “Fuck,” you yelped, letting the book fall. You stuck your finger in your mouth and clamped down on the paper cut with your teeth. You tasted new pennies on your tongue and down your throat for only a second. The throbbing ceased and then inspected the hurt digit. It wasn’t too bad. Then movement, out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

The pages of the child’s storybook were alive with ants. You picked it up and shook it to dislodge the angry little monsters. When you turned the book over, what you thought were marching ants were crawling letters. The red letters danced around each other like wolves circling, burning the black letters and gold pictures away in a hungry fire. 

You closed the book. Books especially magical books were apples on the tree of knowledge and had a measure of life within them and from that kernel sprouted good and evil. You threw the book away into the darkness beyond the circle of light. It was for the best, you thought. You didn’t have time to fuck with interdimensional demons summoned by blood and seared words on lambskin. 

You prepared yourself for bed, fed the fire more logs and went over to the hammock with your piles of furs. As you drifted to sleep by the gentle swaying, the last thing you saw were the dying embers turned to ash by the winter wind. 

Now, you often dreamt of old memories that were, during the day, black and white smeared sketches. At night, your old memories were sharp rainbow-colored daggers piercing your heart. Bloody sorrows and each one a horror show of normality; Natasha laughing, Tony eating, Frank playing, Clint watching, Fury crying. 

Before, you dreamt of all the possibilities of the now and later. Some gushed with sweetness like a Georgia peach. Others were bitter lemons that left lightning ricocheting around your blood and thunder booming in your chest. You often wondered if your child self dreamt this world into existence, that your magic blood was the acid that burned this possibility into stone.

Now that this possibility had come to pass, here at the end of the world, you only dreamt of old memories shredded by time and burned by grief. So when dawn came, you assumed the shadows in your dreams with their hammers, ax, and shields; trident and gilded horns; feathered wings, silver claws, and soft scaled; white stars and red stars; strong arms and thick thighs, were simply frayed memories stitched together by a blind woman. 

You went about your day, checking and rechecking your supplies. The smell that crawled inside the cave whispered of the storm. It was best to prepare yourself in case you were snowed in. You hefted your pack and gripped Clint’s bow to set out to hunt in the pale yellow woods.

It was dusk by the time you arrived back at the cave. You quickly built a fire with a battery, steel wool, feather down and tree bark. You could have said a spell but you had to be careful and didn’t know all the ways Thanos and his Black Order had hunted down the gifted. 

You made your way to the dark corner of the cave. In reality, your cave was but the entrance to the honeycomb network. Each alcove and cave was filled to the brim with Earth’s arbitrary things. The air was warm from both the fire and the hot waters rushing within the walls. Your treasures were towards the back, nuts and dried meat seasoned with the last of the herbs. In the spring, there would be berries, honey, and herbs. 

As you worked, your eyes were drawn to the storybook. Your mind had wandered to it all day. You didn’t want to read it but something deep inside wanted you to. Maybe the burning letters were just party tricks of an extra fool. 

So with your mind made up, you picked up the book and you settled by the fire. What you found were instructions on how to open the door, on how to summon the Old Gods.

It took a month to gather the ingredients and learn the spells. No room for error. This was your three Hail Mary wishes. Spells of this caliber would alert even the most insensitive person. The Black Order would come for you and this cave would be your tomb. 

But you had no choice, you either bled for hope or you bled for despair. All things started in blood, woman’s blood. This kind of magic was old, dangerous and unpredictable. Wild and alive like the darting colors from your childhood. So you had to triple check everything was in place. 

You opened the door. 

You bid come to the Gods of Thunder and Lightning with your woman’s blood in your cupped hands. 

You prayed to the Gods of Shield and Hammer on knees laced with pain. 

You sought blessings from the Gods of Justice and Vengeance with music in your heart and a song in your voice. 

You assembled yourself—dressed only in moonlight and fire—for the Golden Soldier and the Golden Prince, the brothers-in-arms, your Avengers.  



It was hours before you finally felt warm lips drink from your palms and hot tongues swirling along your fingers. You chanted in a low whisper then instead of the song of calling. The spell you chanted was for binding. They would hear your wishes, even if it was the last thing you did. And that would suffice, you always knew this cave—at the end of the world—surrounded by icy wind and full of fire, would be your tomb. 

At the end of your spell, the lips withdrew taking their heat and leaving your hands and thighs wet. 

“You taste of honey and trickery, Vӧlva,” a deep voice rumbled. You opened your eyes to find summer sky blue eyes and bloody lips smiling jovially. He sat on one of the wooden stools with his thick legs spread and his ax resting on his thighs. He wore black armor with rondels of old bronze. His muscular arms were covered in burned silver scales and his crimson cape pooled like blood at his feet. Braided golden hair drank the firelight and burned like the sun. He took his finger and wiped the corner of his mouth, stopping the last drop from reaching his beard. You shivered. The Prince.

Droplets of water rejoining the hot spring behind you, made you turn your head. His cornflower-blue eyes met your eyes as he washed the blood from his smooth cheeks. Silver spikes adorned his brown leather covered hands. Blue leather covered the expanse of his chest. A single silver star sat in the middle. Strands of his hair hung across his forehead wet and glittered with diamonds in the moonlight. The Soldier.

“You are a clever little fox but luck has made you a fool,” he said out of his red crescent smirk. 

You drew your eyebrows down in anger. You never had need of pride but you were hardly humble. “Foolish indeed,” the other said. 

You puffed yourself up by inhaling the humid air. You had a purpose in seeking this audience. “We..we have no right to ask,” you began nervously. A low growling stole the words from your throat. 

“Of course you do not, Vӧlva,” the Prince barked out in harsh laughter. 

“You locked us away and now you lure us here to seek salvation,” the Soldier growled. His voice echoed off the walls and made your bones tremble. He circled till he stood in front of you, armor clinking and boots shuffling. 

You knew this wouldn’t be easy. Too much bad blood. These bringers of battle were heroes when they walked among mortals. But the cruelty and maliciousness of the others forced humans to lock them away. It was all or none. All were chosen and the Age of Mortals began. 

But now there was a titan that had been let loose upon the universe from hell. Gods were titan-killers. Why couldn’t they see that this was their duty?

You closed your eyes to think. What could you say to convince them to help? “They…will…come for you,” you whispered. Rough fingers wrapped around your jaw. “What was that little fox,” the Soldier hissed. His breath washed over your skin. 

You opened your eyes and stared at the angry daggers. “Thanos and Hela will come for you,”  you repeated. “They believe themselves gods, death personified,” you added quickly. He had long gold lashes that swept angrily over his cheeks. His cherry red lips were pulled into a sneer.

You deflated in the wake of their laughter booming out like a storm. “You mortals have not changed, Vӧlva,” the Prince said in between laughter. 

He removed his bruising fingers and brushed them across your cheek. “And here I thought you clever, little fox. Enticing the wrath of the gods upon the arrogant is lazy,” the Soldier chuckled. 

You hated to be belittled. “I bound you,” you said in anger. The ‘you have to do what I say’, was left unspoken.

“No, you have arranged a trap and found yourself locked in it with us, Vӧlva,” the Prince observed. 

You climbed to your feet and with fist clenched, you snarled, “Gods’ Wife.” 

“You drank my dowry from my own hands, and I have wed you. So I demand my Morning Gifts,” you declared. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest like wild horses. Adrenaline steeled your nerves once again. This was your last card. Your last Hail Mary.  

They shook their heads humorously. “You know nothing of being a Gods’ Wife. You tend no altars. You do not sacrifice in our honor. You are a foolish child demanding a bride price when you do not even know that your dowry is incomplete,” the Prince bellowed. Thunder sounded. Lightning cracked like a whip. His anger clawed at your skin. 

“I have paid your blood price,” you asserted. What more do you want? The smiles on their faces told you that they read the question in your eyes.

“Your cunt,” the Soldier answered wistfully. Shock rocketed through you. The storybook never mentioned that. You had it understood that wedding a god was symbolic. You became his priestess and lived out your life in chastity, tethering his existence to the mortal plane. You were fine with such a bargain. 

“Do not become shy now, little fox,” the Soldier taunted. His dark blue eyes swirled. “You allowed us to taste your fertility,” he added. 

“What did you think would happen on your wedding night,” he teased tilting his head like a curious dog. 

That was a good question. Fucking was a frequent topic in the war camps. Battle and fucking went hand in hand. How else would you celebrate life and pass on hope to the next generation? And you had lain with a few, men and women, in hopes of feeling alive but it never seemed important to you. And you knew that gods were not celibate. Demigods had roamed the earth once too. You sighed because you were a fool for not reading between the lines. 

“My Morning Gifts will be their heads,” you stated firmly. They nodded in unison. “I am yours,” you whispered holding out your hand. 



A calloused hand pulled you against hard leather and sharp metal. You squeaked as the air rushed out of your lungs at the sudden movement. A thick arm wrapped around your waist. As you gazed upwards, the Prince’s eyes had gone from summer blue to dark winter grey crescents surrounding black pupils wide with lust. He wants to devour me. 

His other hand came up and pushed your hair behind your ear. His finger left fire blooming as he traced a path across your cheek and lips. His thumb caressed your bottom lip as he tilted your head upwards, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes. He was impossibly tall so he met you halfway, crashing his lips against yours. It was not a gentle kiss. It was teeth and fighting for dominance with dueling tongues. It tasted faintly of copper and iron. You raked your nails across his beard and made your way to his hair. A fever storm spread from your lips setting your nerves ablaze. As he drank in your sighs, his hand explored. 

Feather lite touches along the column of your neck went straight to your womb. You felt him smile. Then his exploration proceeded downward. He cupped your breast, squeezed and then rolled your nipple with rough fingers. Pain and pleasure from your sensitive breast danced down your body to pool in your womb. The throbbing in your cunt increased and you felt moisture gather between your legs. The throbbing dulled the ache of the cramps of your courses. 

Soon his stiff fingers skimmed across your hips and dipped past your hair and traced your lips. 

“You are so wet already, Wife,” he breathed, breaking the kiss. You gushed, moaned against him and found his lips again. Then he circled your bundle of nerves and lightning arched through your body. You pulled back to catch your breath but then let your head fall against his armor as he rolled the bundle between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck,” you panted against the leather when he searched out your slit and curl in. He added a second finger and began fucking you. You rocked your hips to force your clit against his palm. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his long fingers. The throbbing increased, matching the pounding in your chest. How could you be this close so quickly? Then he curled his fingers, smashed down on your clit and you felt electricity jolt down your legs and to your toes. You came with a surprised scream. 

Your legs gave out but your back hit hard muscle and thick arms went underneath your arms to hold you up. You lay suspended–toes dragging on the floor–between them as your Prince fucked you through your orgasm with deft fingers. 

He brought his hand up to his face and you could see it covered in crimson blood. You watched as he sucked on his palm and made loud slurping noise as he cleaned each digit. His beard glinted garnet and gold as he smiled. 

You were brought up and pressed between leather and skin. You felt your soldier’s hardness between cheeks and your prince’s on your soft belly. Your soldier trailed his hands to breast and rolled your nipples while your prince left bloody kisses along your jaw before moving away. Your soldier slipped up and down between your cheeks as one hand gripped your throat and the other tortured your cunt. Beads of sweat burst out of your skin as the heat from the fire grew with the throbbing in your womb. 

Then suddenly you were over his shoulder. The world turned again as he set you down on the bed of furs. His sweat and scars glistened over creamy white skin. He was not perfect, you mused. Your eyes traveled to his cock that was long, thick, and red with ecstasy. He watched you breathe with hungry eyes. Then he sank to his knees when you opened your legs for him. 

You tried to relax because you knew it would burn when he entered you. But that was not his plan, he laid himself down and grabbed a hold of your thighs and pulled you towards him. He threw your legs over his shoulder to kiss along you wet thighs. A loud whimper pushed out of you when he dragged his tongue slowly through your folds. You gripped the furs, digging in your nails as he swirled his tongue over your clit. When he stuck two fingers in your slit, you grabbed his hair and pushed him into your rocking hips. 

“Fuck….oh my god,” bounced off the walls of the cave and you barely recognized your own voice. Whimpers and moans accompanied each exhaled breath as he sucked on your clit and fucked you with his fingers. 

“I…need…,” you tried to say between spikes of pleasures. 

“What do you need, wife,” your prince asked. His voice crackled in your ears like snow. 

“I…need…you…to fuck me,” you gritted out in a pant. You needed either one, it didn’t matter which. Your soldier applied pressure with his teeth your clit, curled his fingers and stroked your special spot. You screamed. You were violently shaking as the orgasm rolled through your body like a tsunami, crashing against your nerves and overloading them. Black dots blossomed in your vision and you would have given in but you were jerked up and onto to your knees. 

You met your soldier’s eyes, they were dark blue like the night sky. Streaks of blood glistened across his cheeks and down his chin. He licked his lips like a wolf that had just finished its fresh meal. You would have been frightened or revolted at the gleam in his eyes but a god’s honor was bought with blood. These were not mortal men, notions of morality or taboo did not constrain them. 

Your soldier’s bloody hand curled around the back of your neck and pulled you into his lips. Copper and iron melted over your taste buds when his tongue invaded your mouth. You raked your nails through his hair again and he wrapped his hard arms around you and pressed you into his chest. 

Fingers danced along your spine and hot lips sucked along your neck and shoulder. You sighed into his mouth because your prince had finally joined you two. His devilish fingers danced around and sought your cunt. It took only seconds for the throbbing and the moisture to gather as he tickled the sensitive tissue. He rubbed and he pinched. You broke the kiss with your soldier to catch your breath but threw your head back and moaned. 

You reached down and gripped your soldier’s cock and slid your hand along the length. He was so very big and thick. You circled the tip gleaming with pre-cum and he moaned. Your walls fluttered when the fingers in your cunt entered you. 

“She’s ready,” you heard one say. He sat back on his heels and in one fluid motion, you were picked up and settled over his thighs. Calloused hands around your hips held over him while he positioned the head at your dripping entrance. 

Your prince moved your hips down slowly. You sucked in ragged breaths and dug your nails into his chest as your walls burned and stretched. “So…tight,” he growled. You only experienced a second of rest when he bottomed out before your prince guided your hips on your soldier’s cock. Each minute that passed he forced you to move faster. Pain gave way to pleasure as your soldier met your rocking hips with his thrusts. Ragged hoarse moans tumbled out of your mouth. 

Your prince had placed himself between your ass and you clinched your muscles around his aching cock. He would take you there when the time was right, he whispered into your ear under the moans and grunts of your soldier. Then he reached around and dipped his fingers in your cunt again. You came with a curse and sent the soldier into his own orgasm when your walls tightened around his cock. Wet noises sounded as he fucked you and him through your orgasms.

Exhaustion spread quickly along your muscles. Your chest heaved and your heart pounded. You went limp in your prince’s arms as he held you upright.

“It is not morning yet, wife,” he whispered in your ears. He picked you up and your soldier slipped out of you with a squelch. Then you were laying down on your side next to your soldier. Tiny beads of sweat rolled along the lines of his hard muscles. He laid there like a lazy cat smiling at you. His long lashes half-covering his eyes. 

Your prince traced circles along hips and thighs as you let sleep sink into your bones. But at the edge of darkness, you were jolted awake by a sharp slap to your ass. That had both served to send adrenaline careening through your veins and fresh moisture seeping onto your thighs. A chuckle came from your soldier. “You liked that, wife,” he purred. His voice sent shivers through your body. 

“Uh-huh,” you whined. Another slap to your ass and the sting coiled itself in your womb. Your leg was draped over your prince’s hip. He aligned himself and bottomed out with more ease but your walls stretched to accommodate his larger girth. He gripped your thigh and pulled your leg back which allowed him to hit your special spot. You trembled all over as he tortured you by thrusting into you with hard slow snaps of his hips. 

Your mouth had gone dry and your head swam but you gripped the furs with all your strength and screamed when you both reached your climax. Your legs were jelly, your cunt ached. Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes of all the emotions darting along your frayed nerves. 

“Drink,” a voice said and cool water was placed at your lips. You drank greedily as the water brought relief to the burning within you. Calloused hands caressed you as your heart slowed its pace in your chest. Then the black dots ballooned and you knew there was no escaping that other death, maybe there would be a chance that you would continue to dream sweetly. 

You woke up with a start, your eyes opening to the sun creeping over the rough stone of the ceiling. Your body awoke to aching muscles and empty furs. You expected to feel them, the three of you locked together in sweaty and exhausted. But your skin had been scrubbed clean and your hair washed and oiled. Then your body growled in hunger. 

“A woman after my own heart,” your prince laughed from the shadows. You sat up in surprise and looked around. It was not a dream, you thought when you found his laughing summer sky blue eyes. He was seated not far from you against the cave wall. The top of his golden hair was gathered in a knot at the back of his head. He wore only black leather pants and you appreciated the view of his Adonis belt and well-defined muscles. 

He smirked at you with lust. “Later wife, I promise you,” he murmured like a secret that did nothing to quell the fire inside of you. You groaned in dissatisfaction. 

“You make the most delightful noises wife,” your soldier teased as he sat down crossed leg on the furs next to you. He smiled warmly now. You picked yourself up and went through your morning routine as they watched you. You realized that you fascinated them. When you returned from relieving yourself, they were in the process of donning their armor. 

As you helped them lace their boots and clasp their armor, dread gripped your heart. Could they beat Thanos and Hela? Were they going to their deaths? Your hands trembled as you pulled on the clasps. Was it right to drag them into a fight that was not theirs? 

A hard hand tightened itself around your hand. “Do not fret, we will return,” your soldier said softly. “You are ours as much as we are yours,” he whispered. 

“We will not leave you alone,” your prince stated. The conviction in his voice made the fear break into tears down your cheeks. They wiped the tears from your eyes and kissed your cheeks dry. 

Then they stood in the embrace of the morning sun at the entrance of the cave. Your prince had summoned his ax, it’s blade rippling with lighting. Your soldier hefted his shield on his forearm and gripped the hammer tightly as lightning traveled up his arm. 

“When our hunt is done, we will start on birthing a new Age of Heroes with you as Our Queen,” your prince growled, eyes flashing. And in a roar of thunder and a crack of lightning they were gone.


                 ….and Let Slip the Gods of War! 

Originally posted by azureeblue