Fenrir's Binding: The Queen and The Barbarian

Chapter Five: Reflections

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.

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Chapter Five: Reflections

"There are two different types of people in the world, those who want to know, and those who want to believe."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

The descent down the mountain was long and uncomfortably quiet for Maeve. Looking out to the wintery landscape of this island, the celebrity found herself longing to be back home in New York again.

It was crowded, messy, and noisy, sure, plus it can smell sometimes, but it was home.

It was familiar territory; it was her mess. Her home.

She missed the glowing neon signs, the honks of passing cars, the flashing traffic lights, the food! God, the food!

Closing her eyes, Maeve's mouth watered at the thought of an Almond Joy, or even just a good old-fashioned New York hot dog.

Hearing a pause in her companion's step, she opened her eyes to see Tusk looking at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

Swallowing back saliva, she nodded to him, unconsciously wiping her lips.

"Yeah, I was just thinking of home, that's all. I kind of miss the food there," she admitted.

Tusk nodded sympathetically. "Just a few more days, Maggie," he assured. "Just a few more days, and then you will be able to leave this place once and for all. That I promise you."

"I'll hold you to it," Maeve replied.

Looking back out at the ocean, she watched the dark cold water as it swelled like a horrible blister ready to burst.

It was hard to imagine anyone or anything wanting to make a home here.

While perhaps the same could be said of New York, this island...this..."Isle of Demons", as Tusk had called it...it was without a doubt the single most dreary and uninhabitable place she had ever been to.

It was a harsh, rough and cold environment to be in, so utterly desolate. So utterly hostile and bitter.

So utterly...empty.

'Like me,' came the surprisingly morbid thought.

Maeve shuddered, clutching her coat tighter around her form, thankful that Tusk hadn't noticed due to his lack of reaction.

Staring at her companion's muscle-bound form, the celebrity pondered the enigmatic man and his inability to stave off the cold.

How could someone have no reaction at all to this ungodly weather, especially when he wore little else but a loin cloth of all things?

More and more she questioned his reason for not leaving this place. While she was grateful for the fact that she wasn't alone here, the idea that anyone would make a home around here was mind-boggling. A person would have to be completely and utterly insane to willingly live in such a shithole.