Chapter Text
“NEXT.”
It was nine years ago. The cold sweat running down her back, fourteen-year-old Yelena crept across the room with a cat-like balance. Round with massive open windows, the room’s dark color scheme was outpaced by the stark white marble on the floor and the massive black chandelier on the ceiling. In any other context, she supposed it was intended to be a ballroom, yet here she was, five weeks after having her surgery, hiding in the curtains as she snuck closer her target. Feet in ballet slippers, her body covered head to toe in black, she inched her way forward.
There in the center of the room was a birdcage… In it, a small sparrow. Resting peacefully on its perch, it was none the wiser as the young girl began her approach. It’s small brown beak stretched as it yawned… the white speckled feathers rippling as it stretched and shook. Yelena took every step with a slow breath, practiced and perfect. The glint of steel in her hand giving way to a knife – five inches long and deathly sharp.
The sparrow chirped, twisting it’s head curiously, though Yelena was quick, ducking down to stay out of sight. Pressing herself against the ground, the bird quickly turned its attention to the hanging bell in the middle of the cage. Pecking at it slowly, it did not notice Yelena’s eyes widen, her speed increasing towards the cage.
Now just below the table, she twisted the dagger in her hand and jumped. The sparrow, squawked in terror, fleeing to the far side of the cage as Yelena opened the door. Hands shooting forward at a speed she’d never remembered having, she caught the bird and held it to the cage floor.
Now mute, the terror of the birds eyes reached hers, holding a knife just above the sparrows heart. Chest heaving, Yelena didn’t realize she was breathing so heavily until then. Eyebrows lowered, she frowned.
All she had to do was kill it.
The dagger was millimeters from it’s heart…
All she had to do…
“That’s TIME!”
“BELOVA!”
Yelena rose her head, turning to look towards the sound of the voice. A woman stormed towards her, black dress like a void as it closed in around the cage. “You FAIL!” The headmaster grabbed at her wrists, dragging Yelena away from the cage. The bird trembled, attempting to fly away.
As if mocking her, the headmaster grabbed the dagger from Yelena’s hands and threw it, pinning the poor bird to the wall and killing it instantly, blood splattering across the marble floor. “You hesitated!”
“I…” Yelena quickly shut her mouth, “Yes headmaster…”
The slap to her face was marred by the rings on the woman’s hand, tearing at Yelena’s skin and throwing her head back. Trembling, the young girl was dragged out of the room by her arm. Another young widow walking past on the way out, followed by another cage… with another bird.
Yelena closed her eyes, feet struggling to catch up as she was led to a horrible set of stairs. Behind her the room began to fill with terrified chirps…
“NEXT!”
Walking down the hallway, her feet stumbling under each other as she struggled to keep up with the woman holding her, Yelena bit back the urge to argue. She hadn’t wanted to kill the bird! What was wrong with that? The bird was innocent!”
“Go down.”
Yelena stared at where they had stopped. The door, black and peeling, loomed overhead them both. The headmaster’s long and bony fingers curling around the latch, lifting it with a heave. Surely the house was heated… seeing as how they were in paris.. in the spring… however that didn’t stop the hiss of frozen smoke from billowing out from within.
“I won’t ask again, Belova, GO DOWN!”
She shook her head, trembling. The basement. She couldn’t go down there! “Headmaster, please! I promise I won’t hesitate again!”
Another slap.
Yelena yelped, tears in her eyes as she grabbed at her face, the skin came back red as she gathered her strength. “NO ARGUMENTS!” Headmaster bellowed, throwing Yelena into the room and down the stairs without a second thought.
As Yelena stumbled down, bruises formed along her arms, something snapping in her wrist. The dagger fell beside her, it’s metal teasing as she was plunged into darkness, the door locking shut with a hiss.
“WAIT!” she cried, grabbing at the floor, looking for the steps. She found nothing but her own echo… “Come back!!”
There was no response…
…not the first time.
Not the tenth…
Walking until she found a wall, Yelena sat down beside it, shivers wracking her spine as she cowered in the dark. She had never liked the dark… ever since she was a kid… when her family fled from their house and went on the run… it had been night. She’d lost everything… and then when Natasha had been taken from her? She’d been put in a truck like a dog, plunged into darkness, not a single care for her wellbeing as they brought her here to this place…
Curling in on herself, she felt a warmth flood over her, her eyes opening in the dark to see a figure standing above her. Surely, she was going crazy… the door to the basement had probably opened… and some empathetic janitor was checking on her…
Sucks for them, Yelena huffed, they’d be dead for doing so…
But still, she leaned into the warmth, a feeling flooding her senses, reminding her of sunlight. The figure too… looked like they were glowing…
She felt them wrap their arms around her as she drifted off to sleep, something calm filling her dreams; Yelena relished in the feeling of peace… and then the voice spoke.
“Calm yourself child, do not fear…”
…I will not let the fire in you burn out…”
.
PRESENT DAY
.
Slipping on the dark brown top Layla had given her, Yelena took a moment to adjust herself in the mirror. Black jeans, green jacket. She looked more like a tourist than ever… even with the blonde hair partially hidden by the way she’d pulled it up in a bun. Regardless, Layla had insisted… the rest of her stuff was in the London Airport and seeing as how Marc – and his god of moon and time – didn’t want to transport them back with Harrow’s cult on the loose – they were stuck in Cairo until they figured out what was going on.
Thus, new outfit.
It wasn’t terrible, Yelena decided, lifting her arms slowly to adjust her hair. The scar was still sore too… though seeing as how she should’ve been dead; sore was quiet an upgrade. Tugging at a few loose strands, she flinched as a small flash of light flickered behind her in the mirror.
Glaring at the room with an assassin’s scrutiny, she turned back to the mirror, and sighed. It was getting ridiculous how paranoid she was. Her phone buzzed then, the message lighting up in the still-sunlight room. Yelena was quick to dismiss it, knowing good and well who was texting her, and for what. If that shady American coward really wanted to punish her for seemingly leaving her post, then she’d have to come and do it herself.
Hopefully she’d do a better job than whoever put that blue thing in her hair.
Tugging her jacket into the right place, Yelena opened the door to her room, left the apartment, and found herself exiting the building in a small alleyway. It was odd, granted, that they were so out in the open. Lined with sun and moon styled lanterns, the road was almost too pretty to be inconspicuous… Though—as she walked towards the bar where Layla and Marc were waiting—she figured that was the point.
Open air, with motorcycles and small cars parked along the road, there was a thin sheet separating the bar from the main walkway. Yelena ducked inside, finding a lively little space. A soccer game playing on a television in the corner, while a card game swindled its way in the center of the room.
“There she is!” Steven’s voice emerged from the din, his expression joyful as he rose from his seat politely to allow her to sit. They were sitting in a booth against the wall, Layla’s back to the door, while Marc/Steven seemed to have picked the spot that could see all the exits…
Interesting.
She took the seat, letting Steven slide back in and trap her in the middle of the booth. It was still rather disconcerting to know that there were two very different people inside that man’s body. Marc was nice, in a military sort of way, and Steven was a full-on historian! Yelena half wondered if there were any more personalities Marc was aware of or if that was it…
“How do you like the outfit?” Layla asked, drawing Yelena’s attention back from her thoughts. Said woman was sipping her drink as the three huddled together inside their space, a sense of security only grown by the closed off nature of the booth’s walls around them. “Better than red?”
“A hundred times better,” Yelena nodded, taking a beer from the center of the table. It was newly opened; Steven had probably gotten one for her. “Thanks…” She nodded towards him with the beer in hand, sucking down the alcohol in seconds before slamming the bottle down on the table with a grin.
“Jeepers, they teach you that at assassin school or…”
“Shit, no.” Yelena chuckled… glancing around the room, at the people. The twitch of her nose gave her nervousness away, “Are we sure Harrow can’t find us here?”
“Eh, it’s not that simple I’m afraid,” Steven sighed, “Unfortunately, Harrow has eyes everywhere with his disciples still running about… as I told you previously, so it’s less about avoiding him, and more about avoiding where we know he’ll be…”
“He can’t travel as quick as Marc or Steven,” Layla added, “So it gives us a little buffer room to work with—” “What do you mean travel?”
Steven smirked at her question, “It’s dubious, and really not a very good idea in the long run, but Khonshu is much stronger at night. I was able to get to cairo before you and Layla to procure our safehouse because Khonshu slowed down the rotation of the night sky… allowing me to move somewhat faster than time itself.”
“You’re right.” Yelena propped her head on her fist, pinching her nose. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I prefer my method of travel.” Layla hummed, “I know people in cairo; I got us out of London in two hours top by telling people I was the new Egyptian superhero.”
Steven scoffed, “You?! Marc’s been an avatar way longer.”
“I don’t have a mask love…” Layla teased, leaning forward with her Cheshire grin. Yelena hated to interrupt… whatever was going on, but she had to.
“But what about his spies?”
“He’ll receive word of our whereabouts,” Layla shrugged, teasing look still on her face as she leaned back into the seat, “But it will still take him nearly a full day to figure out where we are going… especially since he doesn’t have direct access at the moment…”
Yelena glanced between the two of them, “Which is?”
“It’s a bit tricky to explain all at once…” Steven grinned sheepishly, “What do you say we fill you in, in the car?”
“Only if you tell me where we’re going first,” Yelena countered, “I’m not really a fan of being led blind.”
Steven sighed, standing from his spot and reaching over to Layla. Squeezing her arm, he moved to pay the tab at the bar. Layla, meanwhile, swiveled around to face Yelena, shielding their conversation from view, while making it look like they were close friends. “What do you know about Ammit’s Tomb and the Scarab of Ammit?”
“I was hired with a photo and a description… something about it being found and brought to London for Exhibition… but from what your implying it’s not there is it?”
Layla nodded, “Ammit is a very dangerous goddess… and for years, she’s been sealed away in her tomb with the power of the other gods keeping her there…” she explained, “Until recently…”
Steven returned, offering a small grin to them before— Yelena watched with shock as his eyes rolled back, and he shook his head. It only lasted a few seconds… but when he returned to normal, Marc’s voice came out of the man. She didn’t have time to be shocked, as Marc’s words sunk in; “Last year, Harrow and his cult managed to use the Scarab to open Ammit’s tomb and free her… millions of souls died… millions.”
“What? Why didn’t I-”
“There was no real news coverage of the fight or deaths,” Marc interjected, “Because someone on the American side of things claimed the deaths were from an outbreak…” He rose a brow, “People stayed far away from the city after that… whatever they have in London isn’t the real thing or else Harrow would’ve bombed the museum already…”
“What aboutHarrow?” Yelena frowned, leaning back in her chair. She had a feeling she knew who the American was… “What happened to him?”
Layla shrugged, “Marc dropped him off at a mental institution after Ammit’s spirit was trapped inside him… but I’m guessing he managed to escape… or his goons got him out; either way the man is dangerous now that Ammit’s trapped inside him…”
Something flashed gold behind Yelena, the young woman staring for a moment before she pinched her eyes and sighed, “Alright, so what’s the plan? Hmm?”
“We protect you.”
“What?”
“He’s after you Yel, until we can figure out what his plan is—” Marc rose his glass, dark eyes narrowing into the reflection, “We have powers… but we can’t do anything that will draw his attention too quickly. Ammit’s power has corrupted him in a way I don’t think is healthy for the human soul.”
“Shit.” Yelena frowned.
The three sat for a moment, Layla downing the last of her drink with a single gulp. Slamming the glass down, she squeezed Marc’s hand before stepping away, “Come on, we should get going before it’s too late in the evening…”
“Where are we going?” Yelena stood, watching as Marc swiped a set of car keys from another person in the bar, his expression pensive as he moved.
Layla, luckily, was quick to fill her in. “We can’t draw too much attention… so we are taking you to see the tomb.”
“What?”
“Relax, Ammits tomb is the last known place of the scarab in public knowledge… but Harrow’s already searched the caverns from floor to ceiling with no success.”
She smiled slyly… like a fox… like she knew something… “It’s not there, is it?”
she didn’t need an answer
Yelena walked with her outside, eyes widening as she took in Layla’s words. Gasping she grabbed the woman’s hand, pulling her back, “You?!—” “SHH” Layla hissed, shaking her head. Pulling Yelena along with a forced grin, they made their way to the car Marc was currently unlocking. “Get in.”
“OH! You bitch you knew this whole time?!” Yelena spun on her the moment the car door was closed, the Russian accent really coming out to play: “Harrow’s looking for me because he thinks I have information about that museum piece!”
“He’s what?!” Marc growled, steering the car towards the desert, “Layla, you have the scarab?!”
Hand’s raised in surrender, Layla frowned, “No! I don’t have it!”
Yelena’s eyes narrowed, “But you know where it is?!”
“Yes.”
Her admission filled the car with a sense of dread, Marc pushing the car faster through the town. “I took it from the tomb… after you died…”
Marc’s eyes shot to the back of the car through the reflection in the mirror. Something flickering across his face, he sighed, turning back to the road, “we’re sorry… Marc didn’t mean to accuse you…” Steven’s voice echoed low throughout the car. The change was sudden, jarring even to Layla. She slumped back against the door, looking out the window.
“It’s fine. The last I saw it, I was flying to the city to help Marc and Steven fight off Harrow… it was with my belongings; I snuck onto Harrow’s caravan and tried to kill him but Taweret warned me not to, and to release Khonshu from his prison instead…” She glanced over to Yelena, “Trust me, it’s been a long year, we can explain more later…”
“I thought you said it wasn’t in the tomb?” Yelena waved her off, looking interested.
“Khonshu’s Prison isn’t inside Ammit’s tomb…” Layla rose a brow, dark eyes sliding over to the driver seat. Steven’s expression changed, interest perking with a smile, “The Ennead Council Room?”
Yelena leaned forward, bracing herself against the car door as she looked around the seat to see Steven’s face, “Where’s that?”
Glee covered the man’s expression, “The Great Pyramid of Giza… jeepers, I’ve been wanting to see inside that place for some time now…”
Layla gave him a perplexing look as they rode along the dunes, “You’ve been before, no?”
“Marc has,” Steven explained, “He’s the original of us… right? Seeing as how Khonshu chose him, he’s always been the one fronting when we’d go there…”
Talking so opening about his condition caused Yelena to wonder, “Steven?” she tapped him on the shoulder, over the seat. “Is it rude of me to ask how long you’ve had DID?”
Steven’s eyes caught hers in the rearview again, “Nah, of course not. We’ve had it since Marc was a kid… you could say he had a bit of a terrible childhood… I was created to help him forget.”
“Shit.” Yelena breathed, “I’m sorry—” “Don’t be.” Marc’s voice reassured, “Took me years to figure out what was going on with me, and I’m all the better for it. The only reason I’m able to switch rather fluidly between is because… well…” He offered her a tight smile, “Steven’s like my brother… I need him just as much as he needs me…”
The car rocked as Layla tapped her on the shoulder, “Do you have any siblings, Yelena?”
“Sure, I did…” She leaned back, “A sister – a real hardass but she was a good one…”
“Was?” Layla’s eyes widened slight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Nah.” Lena shook her head, “Nat died fighting Thanos… that ugly guy?” She chuckled softly, “Have you seen him? I mean seriously, just so ugly, the guy needs hair plugs or someth—”
“Yelena?” Steven caught her in her rant, stopping her before she could spiral.
The assassin glanced between the two avatars with her, a reminder that she was still in danger, “Right… well. Her best friend – a guy I’ve hated until recently you know… he had a family… wife, kids… a life… the whole thing.” Yelena shook her head, eyes glancing out to the sea of sand beyond the window. “He uh… he was going to sacrifice himself to try and stop Thanos from getting one of the last pieces of his glove thing… and Natasha stopped him. Took his place…”
She leaned her head against the window, bringing her feet up to curl underneath her. “That was my sister… always saving the world…”
“She sounds like an amazing person…” Layla soothed, gently laying a hand on Lena’s knee. “She’d be beaming at you if she were here…”
Yelena stared at the sand, “How do you know that? She’d probably hate that I was still in the assassin business—” turning to look at Layla, she stopped. Layla’s eyes were glowing a faint gold, a harsh reminder that she was an avatar of a goddess connected to the land of the dead… “Oh…”
It was all she could say, staring at the woman for a moment in awe. Not that she really wanted a confirmation that Natasha was okay or anything…
“You’re lucky…” Yelena spoke absently, the words automatic despite what little sense they’d’ve made to anyone outside of the three of them. “To be connected with a goddess who’s so benevolent and kind…”
“Taweret and I have a temporary deal…” Layla supplied, “She has no real need for an avatar, seeing as how she’s not a majority figure within the Egyptian Pantheon… but what power she does supply me, I use to protect and aid others… My ceremonial costume has wings for defense; they’re not exactly weapons themselves… it’s not in the goddess’s nature…”
“But still…” Yelena sighed, “If it is true that I am somehow an avatar of a goddess… isn’t Sekhmet one of the major goddesses? What is her nature to me?”
Steven hummed, “She is known as the goddess of the sun, and a central part of the pantheon. The vengeful eye of Ra, as she’s sometimes called…”
“Vengeful?”
“Relax.” Layla sighed, “He’s just spouting what he knows from his studies…” She shook her head, leaning back, “None of us have ever met Sekhmet… or her other avatars, not in person…”
Yelena frowned, “Other avatars? But I thought…”
“The gods are picky when it comes to who they choose,” Steven supplied, “From what I’ve learned over the last year, they tend to look for people who will act without question… and really, it’s not too far-fetched to assume Sekhmet kept you as an avatar for years, while also having others do her bidding. In fact! I doubt any of the gods would want to remain silent for that long… they get antsy, you know.”
He stopped, glancing down to the side mirror, “Yeah… Marc says that’s about right…”
“All we’re saying,” Layla grabbed Yelena’s shoulder, firing a glare in Steven’s direction, “Is that you don’t have to worry… becoming an avatar doesn’t stop you from having your own morals, it just enables you to act on behalf of them in a more… powerful way. Sekhmet is a vengeful goddess, yes, but so is Khonshu… and look at them.” She nodded towards Steven, currently mouthing words silently to Marc as the two personalities conversed with one another.
In any other situation, Yelena would be relieved… her body curling into itself against the door as they sped towards what was sure to be an awe-inspiring visit to a tomb. But instead, as she took in Layla’s words, quietly listening to Steven and Marc talk to each other, she couldn’t help but think back to what had happened to her life in the last two weeks… Flying to London, being hired by miss shady blue hair, and getting arrested at an airport… all because some maniac knew she was linked to a goddess and thought she might have the scarab?
Her understanding of Harrow’s sanity was beginning to flutter to life here; clearly the man was not well in the head, and in need of a few too many pills… And besides, Yelena knew her personal morals were skewed, having been brainwashed for years to be a killer. There wasn’t a chance that Sekhmet didn’t already know what she was… so where did that place her in terms of sanity? Was she doomed to be a puppet for a goddess equally as crazed as Ammit?
Just then, the sunlight beamed through the window, the heat instantly filling her body with a sense of calm and wonder, she grinned at the feeling… a part of her wondering if she was insane for thinking it was Sekhmet's way of consoling her.
It was gentle yet fierce… like a furnace, eternally burning with its arms outstretched. Calling her to finally rest. Yelena twisted her hand in the light then, eyes glancing over to see Layla resting her head on the opposite door. To her wonder, the light moved with her. Dancing ever slightly… Grasping at her skin like a hand, pulling her in…
Vengeance… Retribution… Passion… What difference did it make if she was the driver? Until she could figure out how to talk to the goddess in person, Yelena could only wonder just how much she was bound to change.