Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You sauntered through the house at a casual pace; past experience told you that being ostentatiously slow and quiet would only draw attention, no matter how distracted your new housemates seemed to be, flirting over shared memories in the other room. You could hear Druig laughing. Through their cracked door, the fluctuations in the color and brightness of the light suggested that the TV was on; they always watched it on mute, since they didn't want you hearing "grown up things", like the news or action movies. (Even with supervision, you weren't allowed to watch anything as intense as Finding Nemo; you were still working your way up from Winnie the Pooh and occasionally Care Bears. And forget about network television; they had to be in control of exactly what you watched, at all times.)

Between the hallway and the house's front rooms, there was a transition from carpet to hardwood floors. Your frog slippers were waiting for you right at the threshold, and you stepped into them; you weren't allowed on hardwood floor without your slippers on, lest you stub your toe or step on something uncomfortable. It was an actual rule. You had to wear socks just to walk on the carpet, which was why you'd put on your striped toe socks before leaving your room. In conjunction with the brightly-colored overalls and t-shirt you were wearing, the look was a markedly juvenile one. By design, of course, but not your own.

When you reached the kitchen, you opened the fridge, as a pretense, and then crept to the pantry and grabbed a bag of chips, hiding the sound of the bag rustling with the loud closing of the fridge.

You almost believed that you were in the clear, but before you could grab a chip, Makkari was speeding in and taking the bag from you with a chastening smile. "Healthy snacks," she stipulated, setting the bag down on the counter, "until we find a way to make you immortal."

"It's one bag of chips," you protested. You were whining, but they were actually more receptive when you whined than when you tried to sound reasonable.

Now Druig had made it into the room. "Trans fats are human kryptonite," he tutted, while taking the bag and beginning to eat the chips himself. Visibly smug about the hypocrisy. "Go eat an apple."

"I am old enough to decide what to eat!" you protested, though you knew how that was going to end.

Sure enough, the next thing you saw was Druig's eyes flashing yellow and then the inside of the fridge as you turned, opened it, and procured an apple. You bit into it once and then regained control of yourself. You contemplated spitting it out, out of spite, but instead you grudgingly swallowed.

"Very good," Druig praised condescendingly.

"Our parenting styles are very different," Makkari observed.

"They both get the job done, though, don't they?" Druig purred, pressing his forehead lovingly to hers.

"You're not my parents," you muttered, toeing the line.

"This again," Druig said mildly, and Makkari rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

In the past, back when they'd considered this a point worth answering, they had usually pulled rank on the grounds of age or heroism: "We're thousands of years older than your parents," or "The number of times we've saved the human race, we're everyone's parents." Things like that.

Now, Makkari only replied, "Be good. You just got your whole-house privileges; you don't want to go back to the nursery, do you?"

You sighed, "No, Mom," and took another bite of apple. (Maybe it was because she didn't have quite the same undercurrent of condescension and smugness as Druig, but it was easier to obey Makkari.)

She smiled.

No, despite your performances of rebellion, you wouldn't truly defy them. Not when you were finally allowed to wander the house by yourself and occasionally write with a pencil instead of a crayon and use normal scissors (during supervised crafts) and read things other than Berenstain Bears. You had only made it to middle grade fiction level, because Druig maintained that "The worst thing to give a human is dangerous ideas," but being allowed to read Lois Lowry books by yourself (albeit pre-selected ones, and they were not above using black marker to redact whatever they found objectionable) made a world of difference, when your last literary experiences were "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and having Druig read "Fudge A Mania" to you in bed when you had been "extra good" that day.

You were itching for outdoor privileges...even though the whole neighborhood was populated exclusively by Druig's devotees (new and old; he insisted that the broader human world was no place to raise a child, despite the many people doing so every day) and you were sure you'd be back to house-only as soon as you skinned your knee on the sidewalk or anything of the sort. But hey, maybe you'd be allowed to read YA fiction.

You kept eating your apple.

"Your Uncle Kingo is coming over later," Makkari informed you. "He'll be showing us his new movie, but he'll also be here for dinner, so you'll get to see him before bed." (Of course, you wouldn't be allowed to stay up to actually watch the movie with them, even though none of Kingo's films were particularly inappropriate.)

"Is he bringing Karun?" you asked. Both Kingo and Karun were nice, but on the subject of your predicament, Kingo had only passingly remarked to Makkari and Druig that 'You two are messed up in the head. You know that right?' to which Makkari had cheerfully nodded and Druig had shrugged. Karun, on the other hand, seemed more sympathetic, though he seldom spoke up about it, out of respect for the fact that they had saved the world. (Not that he would be likely to sway Druig and Makkari much, anyway. Though they never said anything against Kingo or Karun, you got the impression that they viewed the relationship between the two as if Kingo were a parent who was giving his child far more freedom than was safe or ethical.)

"Yes," Druig said. "Are you going to be on your best behavior, or will we have to put you to bed early?"

You huffed but replied, "I'll be good." And then, because you knew he'd make you say it anyway: "Dad."

He patted you on the head and ate another chip. "Excellent."

...

Despite your increase in privileges, it wasn't quite true to say that they were letting you grow up.

After months of inundating you with only soft, childish things, they were simply letting you indulge in a small amount of independence, now, in order to flush out all that grown-upness they'd been making you suppress. After all, it wasn't so easy to just erase the fact that you had been acting as an adult before you'd met them. No matter how innocent they made your environment, you had still lived a life, or a piece of one anyway, in which it had been expected of you to know what war was, and what was happening in politics, and how to support yourself. Letting you microdose on maturity every now and then was a good outlet for those things. That kind of catharsis made it easier for you to relax back into the soft things when the came time.

For example, now that you had let out a bit of defiant energy, now that you had skimmed your fingers over the boundary of what was allowed, you sat calmly, watching Care Bears in Wonderland while Makkari brushed your hair.

Druig watched from the doorway. In the corner of his mind, he was conscious that a mile away, a stranger had made a wrong turn into this town, and he was directing one of the neighbors to send said stranger (a young woman, driving a Chevrolet) on her way by politely telling her how to get back to the nearest main road. Keeping the outsiders out was a chore that required minimal maintenance; though significantly more connected to modern society than his old home, this new one was still quite out of the way.

He focused, with a quiet fondness, on your face. Having lived among the same set of humans for generations, and watched them die and be replaced by new humans with similar faces, Druig had become attuned to details. He knew the proverb, "The devil is in the details", but he would argue that a better one would be "The ghosts are in the details." After all, he had seen the way a young man could raise his eyebrows in exactly the same way his great-grandfather always had, despite never knowing the man. The minute ways that the humans alive were similar to and different from the ones who had died. You were someone whose ancestors he had never met, of course, so instead he was noticing the changes in you, over time.

Specifically, he remembered that when you'd first been brought here, you had tended to make a point of looking away from the TV whenever they'd put one of the saccharine children's movies in front of you. Not so much opposed to the movies themselves but refusing to be so demeaned as to watch them. Now, as you were being made to angle your head back to give Makkari better access to your hairline, you were also struggling to keep the screen in your sights. Not being allowed to watch television or movies without supervision and approval from them had made you more intent to watch when you could. Despite your belabored sigh when Druig had chosen the movie, you didn't want to look away.

Makkari met his eyes and grinned, and he winked at her in return.

You were pressing your lips together, in one of your lengthy pauses between commenting on the narrative flaws of the cartoon and humming along with the music. Your wry commentary didn't break any rules, so long as you didn't reference any of the usual forbidden topics, like death or violence. This was another example of a small concession on their part that ended up putting you in the right headspace, in the long run; you were allowed to be sardonic about the children's movies, but any sentiment like "A fall from that height would definitely kill them," had to be expressed as something like, "They're acting like that's a little ouch, but that's a big ouch." Which necessarily meant that any quip like "The Care Bears just murdered that man," (when the characters used the Care Bear Stare), couldn't really be translated in a way that maintained the same comedic tone, and so you didn't bother saying it.

Makkari tapped your head to indicate that she was done, and then she brought you to the mirror.

You merely stared dispassionately into the glass, so Druig straightened from his lean against the doorframe and took a few languid steps into the room. "Aren't you going to thank your mother for making you look so nice, for when company comes?"

"Thanks, Mom," you recited, in the blandly lilting tone of a child actor in a TV commercial.

"You're welcome, cutie," Makkari replied, with a knowing expression. "I have a few stops to make, before your Uncle Kingo gets here, so if you want to keep watching Care Bears, you'll have to ask your father to sit with you." With that, she kissed Druig's cheek and then she was off.

He stared after her for a second, wistfully. Makkari came and went so easily; her power, and the confidence it gave her that she could be where she wanted as soon as she wanted, made it easy for her to just leave sometimes. Made Druig realize that he had a bit of clinginess to him.

The moment passed, and he returned his attention to you, and your conflicted face. You did want to keep watching Care Bears, but you hated to admit it and you hated to ask for supervision. Druig took pity on your stubborn, pouting expression; he took your chin in his hand and said, "Want me to help you ask, sweetie?"

"No," you said firmly, freeing your face from his grasp, and before he could raise his eyebrows, you were already correcting yourself, "No thank you."

"No thank you what?"

"No thank you, Dad. I'm just gonna read my book," you mumbled. Pointing to Gossamer, by Lois Lowry, which was sitting on the bed with a colorful bookmark in it.

He shrugged, turned off the TV, and closed and locked the TV cupboard. "Suit yourself. Have fun. Daddy'll be watching the news, if you need me. Don't mess up your hair." He left the nursery, patting the empty doorframe on his way out. He could leave you somewhat unattended for a bit; he always knew where you were and what you were doing, anyway. He wouldn't venture more than two rooms away; he didn't have Makkari's speed. But he wasn't too worried.

You didn't have it in you to get into real trouble.

When first he'd seen you, you'd been out with friends (or relatives, or coworkers) at some park; someone's birthday or some other sort of special occasion. He didn't know or care to know the details of the outing; even now, it had never occurred to him to ask. He had tuned into your group because the conversation had been lively, and he was used to paying special attention when humans started to use impassioned tones. (Breaking up fights had become so second nature to him that he could catch them before a single blow reached its mark.) Granted, the group hadn't seemed genuinely confrontational; they had been arguing, but jovially, about something minor. More in the vein of friendly banter. Still, he'd kept them in his periphery, in case that changed.

So when the group decided to go ziplining, he was already paying attention enough to notice that not everyone was enthusiastic about the idea. He noticed your discomfort.

But you'd agreed to it, at first. You wanted to try.

Anticipating what was coming, he'd followed at a distance as you all ascended the steps, and he watched your dismay when you saw the height from which you would be falling.

"I can't," you'd said. "I'm sorry, I can't...I can't do this." Your voice quivering a little, poor thing.

Druig had always been utterly weak to human fear. Human suffering in general; these fragile, vulnerable, short-lived, passionate little creatures, so full of possibilities. He had spent centuries intent on protecting humanity and humans as individuals, and he couldn't help that his nature and his ability made it difficult to let go. Difficult to surrender to the idea of things being outside of his control when they really didn't have to be. And he had been half-paying-attention to your group for a while, now; he had seen your stubbornness, and your chattering, clumsy style of arguing. He had seen roughness and abrasiveness, but now you were just...you were afraid of heights. Just a little human scared of falling.

Your friends or relatives or coworkers or whoever, already buckling into their harnesses, had tried to persuade you to join in. It was all light and playful, but Druig felt it was time to step in.

He hadn't said a word to the group at large; just sent them a little mental instruction to get on with their fun without involving you anymore. To you, he'd said, "That's alright; you can just follow me back down." Offering a hand and a sympathetic smile, nodding his head imperiously in the direction of the stairs from which you'd come.

You appeared to recognize him from the news. He was a hero. Not one of the well-known ones, but certainly a hero. "Okay. Thank you."

He casually wrapped an arm around you, to help you back down the stairs; it was justified, as it was a narrow walk, with people coming up the other way and almost walking into you both. He protected you from jostling, using his body and his ability to make people move out of the way.

He asked you your name. Learned a bit about you. But even before he'd done so, the thought of just releasing you into the wide world after he'd chosen to get involved had been unappealing.

"Thanks," you'd said, once the two of you had reached the bottom of the stairs. "I guess I'll go and wait for everyone at the other side."

"No, wait here with me," he'd murmured, with the blithe authority of one who had never really needed to shout to have his way. He'd appeared more focused on pulling his phone out of his pocket than on you. "Can never be too careful."

You'd most likely assumed that something supernaturally dangerous was about to happen; you'd stayed with him. (Ironically, when you were first meeting him was when you were at your most obedient.)

He'd texted Makkari, 'Hello, love! At your leisure, I'd like you to come over this afternoon, if you please. Need to run something by you.' Then he'd pocketed his phone, done a cursory scan of the surroundings, and then informed you, "I'm taking you home."

"Huh?! Is something...?"

"Don't worry about it. Just come along." But of course, you hesitated, so he took control and directed you to walk with him. Taking your hand, just to be especially sure that you didn't stumble or trip. "That's right; just this way," he said soothingly. He could feel your pulse racing. Even if you knew enough about him to understand what was happening (which he doubted), this was no doubt a worrisome predicament to be in, for a human familiar with the horrors of the human world and powerless against them. "Don't worry. Nothing scary is going to happen. Daddy's got you, safe and sound."

...

The walls of your nursery- and you couldn't be bothered with refusing to call it your nursery anymore -were a soft mint green.

The decor itself seemed to be a deliberate reflection of both Earth and outer space (where you were pretty sure your captors were from). The bedding and the lampshades, and various curtains and rugs in your room and bathroom, were patterned with cute cartoon bugs- especially ladybugs, caterpillars, bees, grasshoppers, and butterflies. The fairy lights surrounding your bed were in star shapes, and there were glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling. You had a globe on your desk, and you had a several large, labeled pictures of the solar system and known galaxies on your walls. You had a toy chest full of stuffed animals that included things like bilgesnipes, which had only really hit the market as toys when the homesick Asgardians had moved into Norway.

(You noticed, and you weren't even sure whether it was intentional, that there were no vehicles in the toy chest, though. No toy cars, no toy spaceships, no toy boats. Nothing to give the impression of going away, even in make-believe.)

The room was actually very tasteful and pleasing to the eye, but you only had to let your gaze travel to the empty doorframe to nullify the charm.

Before you'd gotten your whole-house privileges, there had been a door. A transparent one, made of unbreakable glass, that could only open from the outside. Now, they had removed the barrier, but there was just no door at all. You wondered at what point you would be allowed to have privacy.

But that was not the most pressing thing you wondered.

No. Sitting on the floor, with Gossamer opened to the same page you had been on half an hour ago, the main thing occupying your mind was whether you could manage to sneak Karun's cell phone from him without your "parents" knowing, and whether it was worth it to try...and who you would call, if you did.

Chapter Text

Makkari had always been a bit of a collector.

Before, it had mostly been artifacts- things lost to time or close to it. It had taken her a good couple of centuries to really lock down why it was she went to such pains (though it was more a pleasure than a pain; she wouldn't do it if she didn't enjoy it) tracking down all these objects, when there were so few other things that compelled her to leave the ship. She found that it came down to transience. The transience of humans, and the things they created and valued. What was sacred to a culture could be buried in ash in such a short time; what a craftsperson labored for, loved into being, designed with unknowable detail and care, could sink to the bottom of any lake or sea and live there forever, unfound and unknown; or else the objects survived but fell into the keep of people who did not take care of them, or even destroyed them actively.

But she.

She was immortal.

She could keep and preserve the treasures of humans long dead. Protect them, maintain them.

In hindsight, she wondered if subconsciously she had remembered that humanity was doomed (was, before they had intervened). If perhaps that was the reason for her need to preserve these little memories. After all, she certainly didn't feel quite so invested in lost treasures anymore.

Now, there was only one human thing that she protected and maintained, and it wasn't an object.

Now, her collecting tended to pertain to making this chosen human being's environment as pleasant and picturesque as it could be. Finding the perfect nursery decor that matched the theme and colors; finding the perfect toys, the perfect books, the perfect snacks.

The perfect resources for tracking down Idunn, the Asgardian whose gardens had been known to grow the fruit of immortality. But she hadn't succeeded in that yet. Phastos was working on getting them in touch with Thor or Brunhilde- something he could normally knock out in scarcely more than an evening, but now he was fitting it in-between soccer practices and PTA meetings and date nights. In the meantime, Makkari would find what she could, be it the secret to immortality or another nice blanket to wrap around you.

It remained an option to try linking all of the Eternals' power and having Sersi change you into a creature of greater longevity- a sort of reversed version of what she had done for Sprite. But that would mean letting Sersi know about you, and they really preferred not to.

Kingo knew. Thena knew- and was amused. Phastos knew vaguely that Druig and Makkari lived with a human, but not the details of the arrangement. It wasn't that they were hiding anything from Cersi.

But it was easy, especially as immortals, to let certain things not be known. The need to disclose was a construct of those with finite lifespans.

When Cersi did come to know about you, they would rather it be after you had gotten past this rebellious phase.

Suddenly, Makkari spotted something out of the corner of her eye. It was something that she'd glimpsed while running, so even with her processing speed, she had to backtrack several miles by the time she could consciously form an interest in what she'd seen. (Fortunately, that only took a second.)

She picked up a colorful box with an appealing label.

Perfect.

...

When Druig walked in, you were laying on your stomach with your sock-covered feet in the air, and you were no longer staring vacantly at your book to disguise your plotting, but instead actually reading it.

"What a little angel," he said, sitting cross-legged on the carpet beside you and running his hand up and down your back like you were a house cat. "Mummy's home," he added. "She's just got back. Uncle Kingo and Karun should be another hour or so. Mummy's brought a present for you, for if you're good during their visit, and a present for Mummy and Daddy, for if you're bad."

You pursed your lips and tried to ignore him, as it was better than contemplating what he meant by that.

His hand paused, between your shoulder blades. "Want to come help Daddy make dinner?"

Sighing, you put a bookmark in your book, since there was a good chance he would only make you do it anyway.

"Use your words," he teased.

"Yes, Daddy," you droned, and accompanied him downstairs. You had meant to say "dad", but the way he kept repeating "mommy" and "daddy" had gotten in your head.

Seeing as it was within his power to get directly in your head, and puppet you from within, it seemed the height of unfairness that he was also able to manipulate your mind the normal way, just by peppering little suggestions and temptations around.

"Eh-eh-eh," Druig suddenly cautioned, catching you by the forearm, and you belatedly noticed that you'd almost walked past your slippers, when the floor transitioned from carpet to hard wood. Oh, right. You sat down to put your slippers on, since he was always convinced that you would fall over if you put on any kind of footwear while standing up. "Very good, darling," he praised. "I know you sometimes forget, but that's why Daddy's here."

You stood back up, and you caught the flash of gold in his eyes a second before your mouth was answering, "Thank you, Daddy," without your permission.

You had yet to identify a pattern, regarding when he would verbally prompt you to do or say things and when he would just make you. You supposed it could just be a matter of how lazy he felt at any given time.

The two of you reached the kitchen, where Makkari was leaning against the counter, drinking an iced coffee that she'd evidently bought while she was out. At her feet were two gift bags. She smirked around her drinking straw and winked at you, when she saw you looking.

"Take out two tomatoes for me, darling," Druig instructed you. He never let you touch anything sharp or hot; "helping him cook" generally meant watching him cook, while being on hand to pass him things if he asked.

You grabbed two tomatoes from the crisper and handed them off to him.

"Thank you." As he started chopping them up, he continued, "Now, don't you want to see what Mummy bought you, for if you're good?"

This was a trap, but you grudgingly nodded, turning to Makkari. She continued to sip at her drink. "Mommy," you said, and you couldn't chalk this one up to a slip of the tongue, because you signed it that way, too, as you spoke it aloud, "can I see what you got me, please?"

Makkari smiled, putting down her cup and pointing to the bag on her right. As you went to it, you tried to get a peek inside the other one, but Makkari stood in the way, flashing you a knowing look. You pulled the contents out of your designated bag.

What came out was a large, colorful box containing a kinetic sand play set. Your eyes automatically widened; you had seen commercials for products like this all throughout your childhood, and you had bothered your parents about them all the time; you still remembered the fun slogans in that wacky announcer voice every commercial break, and the exciting images of children molding the sand into shapes. The box showed similar images, as well as a list of the different colors of sand inside. You wanted to rip the package open right now and...

And these sneaky devils had you regressing!

Your affronted look as you realized what an affective incentive they'd chosen made Makkari laugh. She slipped the box from your hands and put it back in the bag, and you pouted your lips for a second.

"What's in the other one?" you asked.

"Just something for Mommy and Daddy to enjoy, if you're bad," Makkari answered brightly.

"I wanna see it." They weren't saying that it was a punishment, but that was clearly the implication, right?

Makkari kissed you on the nose (her lips still cold from the drink) and pointed to Druig, who was saying, "Pass Daddy the vinegar. You remember what the vinegar looks like?"

"Yes, I know what vinegar looks like," you sighed, climbing up on the counter to reach the top of the seasoning cabinet, where the vinegar and olive oil and things were kept. When your (frog-slippered) feet returned to the kitchen floor, Makkari wagged a chastening finger at you for the stunt, but apparently climbing on things to reach was sufficiently childish to be ignored. You handed Druig the bottle of vinegar.

"Thank you, darling."

Darling. Mommy. Daddy. He was really laying it on thick, and it was working. You huffed and crossed your arms-

"You're welcome, Daddy." This time, you didn't see his eyes change; you only felt the effects. He didn't even turn away from what he was doing. Annoyance shot through you, in equal parts at being puppeted again and at the pretense of casualness. Clearly, he cared enough about being thanked that he would make you do it, but he got to pretend that it didn't matter to him all that much. He got to keep his back to you and keep nonchalantly cooking dinner. It was so irritating that you wanted to stomp your feet.

Makkari wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to her side, and your head fell onto her shoulder just as a matter of physics; not on purpose. When she held you, you could feel the constant slight vibrations of her body soothing you. She kept that one arm wrapped around you, rested her chin atop your head, and used the other hand to keep drinking her drink. You relaxed.

You were conscious of the fact that this was still unfair. The fact that she was easier to submit to was unfair. The fact that your anger passed when she held you and her body hummed reassuringly against yours was unfair. The fact that it came so easily to her that she could mollify you while drinking her drink...really, it was no better than Druig controlling you with his back turned.

But it felt nice. It did feel nice.

She lowered her cup to you, offering you a little sip of her drink.

You welcomed the straw into your mouth and drank until she took it away. Iced coffee was not your favorite, but it also wasn't one of the childish drinks they normally gave you. And sure, letting a child have a tiny sip of Mommy's coffee wasn't a full departure from the parental behavior, but it was...

It was a reward. A little indulgence she'd allowed you, for letting yourself be soothed. For remaining docile in her arms.

You tried again to peek inside the second bag, but again she angled her body to keep you from seeing.

"Pass Daddy the salt and the garlic powder, darling," Druig said.

Makkari tapped you on the butt, herding you along.

You sighed and grabbed him both seasonings.

...

Makkari took both bags up to the master bedroom while you and Druig were still cooking dinner, and she locked the door before returning. When dinner was done and the guests had not yet arrived, Druig suggested that you "Color something for Uncle Kingo."

And so, you sat at the living room table, coloring in a coloring page, until the knock came to the front door.

Chapter Text

While Makkari was hugging Kingo and everyone was greeting each other, Druig beckoned you over from the living room. "Say hi to Uncle Kingo."

"Hi, Uncle Kingo," you said, handing over the coloring page you'd started and forcing a smile as if this wasn't hugely embarrassing.

"Hey," he said, his forced smile conveying that he knew quite well how demeaning this was and wished not to make it worse. "No more onesies? Good for you."

You nodded, and Druig kissed your forehead:

"When we behave ourselves, we earn more privileges," he said. "Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yes, Dad," you said, not looking anyone in the eye.

"You hanging in there?" Kingo asked, grimacing.

You gave him a strained thumbs up, then added, "Hi, Karun."

"Hello there," the older man greeted you. He was always so warm and sweet. "Good evening; it's good to see you again." And he seemed about to hug you or pat your shoulder or something, but Kingo quickly held him back from touching you, and the icy look on Druig's face suggested that was the right move.

Makkari smoothly suggested that everyone make their way to the dining room, and enlisted you to "help Mommy bring the drinks to the table" while Daddy- while Druig brought the food. When you sat down, she cut everything on your plate up into little bite-sized pieces. "Thank you, Mom," you signed, and then she, too, kissed your head and then went to her own seat.

The last time Kingo and Karun had visited, you hadn't been allowed to feed yourself at all; even the childish utensils you were given now were a sign of progress. (Or a sign of obedience, depending on how one looked at it.)

You thought again about trying to get Karun's phone, or something that would change your way of life here in any amount, but every time you considered acting on the thought, your mind drifted to that mysterious second bag. If you misbehaved...You didn't know what it was, but it would certainly be bad, wouldn't it? They knew how to mess with you.

You ate your food, and you watched and listened as the grown ups talked about Kingo's life and career. He was excited about his new movie. He said it had the third best soundtrack of any movie he'd ever made. You knew enough about his filmography to know that that was saying something.

Druig and Makkari talked about their continued search for a way to make you immortal.

"You...looking forward to immortality?" Kingo asked you– his jaunty and indirect way of questioning whether you wanted to be immortal at all. As close as he could come to addressing the implications of your lack of agency without getting abruptly shut down, most likely by Druig. (Makkari would be willing to blithely argue with him about it, though she might or might not send you out of the room first.)

"Well, I don't want to die," you offered neutrally.

"That's right," Druig affirmed. To Kingo, he added, "When we find a way to extend human lifespans, we'll let you know. If you promise you'll be responsible."

Kingo smiled wanly; now Druig was the one obliquely referencing what he considered misconduct on Kingo's part: Kingo was "irresponsible" with his human. Like Druig, he did not bother to probe at the subtext of the dig, instead engaging on the surface level. "Karun doesn't want to live forever."

"Actually," Karun interjected, "I wouldn't mind it."

"Really?" Kingo said, his thick eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"It sounds pretty cool."

"You never told me that! You want to live forever?"

"Better than dying."

"I guess. I never really thought about it. You were in your twenties, like, five minutes ago."

"It has been many years, sir."

"Barely felt it."

You laughed, but Druig and Makkari were doing that thing where they exchanged a resigned look because, in their view, Kingo was letting Karun run amuck and failing to take proper care of him. Makkari was at least smiling ruefully, but Druig had an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

"Darling," he digressed, "tell Uncle Kingo about the present Mommy got you."

"It's a kinetic sand play set," you said, eyeing the edge of your plate. "I've always wanted one."

"Kinetic sand?" Kingo said. "Is that that stick-together stuff?"

"You can mold it into shapes," Karun confirmed. "I've seen a lot of the satisfying video compilations."

"Always with the satisfying compilations. What is the appeal of watching someone play with slime?"

You lost track of their conversation when Makkari reached over to wipe your mouth with a napkin. You hadn't been eating messily; there had just been a bit of grease, from the meal. Still, catching Druig's gaze, you said, "Thanks," for the infantilizing gesture.

Karun asked where the bathroom was, and you volunteered to show him. Druig and Makkari allowed it.

You led him down the hall, conscious of the fact that this, too, was a freedom that you would not have been extended as recently as last week.

"I wanted to ask," Karun whispered, once you were both out of sight. "Is there anything we can do to help? Or to...make things better for you?"

You thought again to ask for his phone. Any kind of computer, any way of reaching outside. But it was so risky. It had taken so much time to earn the privileges you had, and if you had to go all the way back...

You forced a smile and shook your head. "Thank you. But I'm okay." You pointed, unnecessarily, to the nearest door. "The bathroom's there." And you hurried back to the table, trying unsuccessfully not to feel too disappointed in yourself.

...

You sat awake for a long time after Makkari took you up to bed. Long enough that you were still awake when the sounds of them watching Kingo's movie gave way to quiet. And then a few minutes later, the sound of farewells, as they walked the guests to the door.

You'd had a chance. A real, concrete chance to do something different, and you'd chickened out.

What if there's nothing in the second bag? What if it was just there to scare me? Then it had worked, and you were weak.

Makkari and Druig entered your room, and you were too lost in thought to think of pretending to be asleep until it was too late. They didn't turn on any lamps; the combined glow of the nightlight and the star stickers on the ceiling provided enough illumination to see each other sign, so those would suffice. Druig was holding a tiny glass bowl of ice cream and a silver spoon. He sat on your bed on one side of you, and Makkari sat on the other. Your face felt warm, at the intimacy of it.

"You were very well-behaved," Druig praised, lowering a spoonful of ice cream to your mouth. You opened and let him feed it to you. Mmmm. Marshmallow-flavored. When he withdrew the spoon, there were still streaks of ice cream left on it. He put the spoon in his own mouth and withdrew it clean.

"You can have your present," Makkari said. "We'll play with it together, tomorrow."

"What was in the second bag?" you asked.

"That doesn't matter now." She grinned. "Unless you're bad."

You grimaced, then had to laugh when she suddenly tickled your side. You were still not sure if the bag had anything in it at all. Druig brought another spoonful of ice cream to your lips, and you took it. You usually weren't allowed anything so gratuitously sweet. It was nice. Then you felt your eyes turn yellow as Druig took control of you to say, "Thank you for my present, Mommy."

"You're welcome," she answered you, and then flashed Druig a wry smile. "We're proud of you for staying on your best behavior."

You accepted another spoonful of ice cream and watched Druig take a spoonful for himself before you meekly said, "Can I have my outdoor privileges, then?"

A smug smirk curved Druig's mouth.

"We'll think about it," Makkari said. Druig brought the spoon to her lips, and she let him feed her, but rather than let him pull the spoon from her mouth afterward, she bit down and took it from his grip with her teeth, then took it out of her mouth herself and handed it to him, winking.

The fact that you were all sharing one spoon was the sort of thing that would have mattered to you at the beginning of your abduction, but now you were only happy that Druig hadn't given you just one taste of ice cream and then kept the rest for himself. Another spoonful came to you, and you gladly took it.

"Now, get some rest," Druig said. "I know you stayed up to say goodnight to Mummy and Daddy, but now it's time for good children to go to sleep."

You nestled into your pillow. "Okay."

"Okay what?" he prompted gently, stroking your hair with one hand.

"Okay, Daddy," you breathed.

Makkari kissed the back of your neck, and you shivered.

They laid with you until you fell asleep.

...

You couldn't not get excited about the kinetic sand, no matter how much you didn't want to be childish about it.

Makkari had set up a folding table in the living room, and when you woke up the next morning and came downstairs, the two of you opened the colorful box and took out all of the sands and molds. Unpacking everything was thrilling; you had to get your hands on all of it. You had to feel the texture, and make shapes with the pretty colors. I am an adult; I just happen to be an adult who really wants to try out this kinetic sand.

You played with it for an hour, under Makkari's supervision, before you dared to ask, "Can I cut it with a knife?"

She shook her head, with a little smile on her face that said that she knew that you'd known what answer you would get.

"What if it's a plastic knife?" you pled.

"I don't think so, sweetheart. Maybe if your daddy says yes."

But you both knew there was no chance Druig would let you hold any kind of knife for any reason. The one who might have said yes was Makkari.

"Breakfast's ready," she added, so quickly that you barely understood her before she sped off and returned with a full plate. A second later, Druig entered the room with two plates in his hand. (You recognized your plate as the only one without a buttery breakfast croissant on it. Makkari had already taken a bite out of hers.)

"One of these days, you might wait for me to bring you your plate," Druig teased.

"Yeah, maybe," she answered noncommittally.

He snickered and set your plate in front of you. An egg whites omelette, already cut up into bites. "Are we enjoying our play set?" he asked.

You nodded, using the food as an excuse to not have to say 'Yes, Daddy' this time. He clearly noted your strategy but opted to let you eat. For a while, none of you spoke; your hands and mouths were occupied by breakfast.

Makkari finished first, of course. After briskly napkin-ing off her hands, she said, "Your daddy and I made a decision, last night." She shared a smile with Druig. "Since you behaved yourself so well last night, we will be going on a family trip to the park today. We'll picnic there for lunch."

You brightened at the news, just remembering to say, "Thank you," before asking, "Does this mean I can have outdoor privileges?"

"It's a trial run for outdoor privileges," Druig said. "We'll see how it goes."

"Can there be other people there?"

"Not this time. Maybe next time, if all goes well."

Of course he would be clearing out the park first. Of course he would. But he was saying "next time"!

"We're letting you play outside today," Makkari reiterated. "Remember to be careful. Don't hurt yourself, and try to keep your clothes clean."

"I will," you promised. "Thank you."

She stacked her plate on top of yours, then pecked you on the cheek. "Why don't you help Daddy wash the dishes? Mommy will draw you a bath and get out your clothes."

"Okay, Mommy," you answered, then avoided Druig's smirking gaze.

...

Makkari stepped out while you were in the bath, and Druig listened downstairs, as you glumly watched your rubber ducky sail across the tub.

He had never explained to you exactly the way his abilities worked, and that was on purpose; letting you overestimate or underestimate his power was useful, in different ways.

The essence of it was that he could functionally control most any aspect of a person, but doing so would necessarily supplant their access to that part of themselves. This was most straightforward in his obvious uses of his power: making people do things was just taking over their motor control. When he did this, it was impossible for them to move themselves, because he had supplanted their control over their own movements. Easy to understand. It got a little dicier when it came to the sensory level; he could see from others' eyes or hear from their ears, but doing so removed their access to those senses for as long as he was using them, meaning they would always know he was doing it, the moment they temporarily ceased to see or hear.

He couldn't meaningfully change a person's thoughts or mood, because the formation of a thought or feeling was simultaneous (or close enough to simultaneous) with the experience of it; they wouldn't have access to the thought while he was creating it, and once he returned control to them, the thought would be gone. What lingered behind, the traces of thought or emotion, were never very strong. At most, he could sway thought and emotion. He could get a tune stuck in someone's head, or make them feel like they were hearing a particular word or phrase unusually frequently. He couldn't change opinion or belief. In a similar vein, trying to read a person's mind meant that they could no longer read their own mind, which meant that he would only be able to hear one or two sensible thoughts from them before their mind began to fill with any random train of nonsense it could, because if they weren't able to interpret their own thoughts, then their mind had no reason to impose legibility on itself; they would just sit in a daze of half-formed memories and dreams and sensory experiences until Druig gave them back control of their interpretive faculties.

Thus, the main ways that he used his powers, other than exerting motor control, were: 1. passively inhabiting the parts of people's minds that processed alarm (so that, for any given stimulus, he felt the neighbors' alarm before they did and could spur them to react if needed) and 2. taking quick peeks at the slivers of interpretation connecting senses to thoughts. To the other person, this would manifest as a brief moment in which they didn't process what they'd just seen, or they didn't catch what another person had just said. Their senses and their thoughts remained, but the connection between them lagged for just a moment. For Druig's part, it was all he needed, to know exactly what was happening with any given person at any given time. He didn't need to see what a person saw, hear what they heard, or feel what they felt, so long as he could borrow their interpretation of those things. It was how he knew that you were watching your bath toys drift across the water, and how he knew what the neighbors had eaten for breakfast (and that said meal wasn't agreeing with one of them), and how he knew who was still in the park where today's picnic was to be had, and how soon they would be leaving (as he'd already told them that they were to leave soon).

The reach of his power was...decent.

It let him secure a pretty generous perimeter. Unless he found himself in the middle of nowhere, distance was usually less of a limiting factor than the number of minds nearby, and he had, for centuries, been steadily increasing the number of minds he could passively watch over at once.

Druig cut the crusts off another sandwich that would soon be placed in a picnic basket. With his cell phone clamped between his shoulder and head, he chopped up an apple and spoke with Brunhilde, the last Valkyrie, king of Asgard.

"Eternals?" she repeated, sounding like she was also half-doing something else as she spoke. "Right, I heard about the petrified Celestial in the middle of the ocean. That was you guys?"

Druig felt that her tone was not at all suited to the matter she spoke of. All that they had forsaken for the love of humanity, and he would do it all again in a second, if ever he had to. The sacrifice of a sacred covenant, of one divine life, of immeasurable potential lives. They had chosen humanity over all of that. Druig, in particular, had chosen humanity a very long time ago. "Yes, that was us," he said. "Longer story than you have time for, I'm sure."

"Saving the planet," she said, with a practically-audible shrug. "Don't need much more than that." And for her, maybe that was true. Different though her worldview was, the Valkyrie was closer to an Eternal than she was to a human. She was older than Thor. Had seen more. "What's this about? Not many people have my personal cell number. Though Postmates does have my email address, somehow." She emphasized the last word, evidently for the benefit of someone in the room with her.

"We're trying to get immortality for three humans in our care." (He was including Karun and Phastos's husband. Jack could get one when he was older.) "I seem to recall an Asgardian by the name of Idunn who grew magic apples of eternal life. Is there a way we can get three of them?"

"Idunn died when Thanos attacked the ship. Her daughter kept some of her seeds and grew a tree, but the tree's been growing lemons instead of apples."

"What do the lemons do?"

"We don't know yet. Bridget made some into lemonade, but we haven't risked letting any humans drink it. Pairs well with whiskey."

"Hmm." Druig put the sliced apples in a container and put the container in the fridge, next to the water bottles and juice boxes; they wouldn't go in the basket until it was time to go.

"The oldest ones say that Idunn used to grow lemons, too, before she had the hang of the apples. No one remembers what the lemons did, though. Hopefully we'll have apples sometime in the next few months or years." A short pause, and then she dryly added, "Well. I don't know about 'hopefully'. Enough to worry about as it is."

"I'm sure." New Asgard was indulging a frankly garish amount of tourism and commercialism. Trivializing themselves, to stave off human xenophobia, now that the world population was back to normal and people cared again about the allocation of land. Druig did not envy the Valkyrie's position. Arishem forbid humans find out that the Asgardians could provide immortality. There were so few of them left, and those who remained were, for the most part, not warriors. He had heard, months ago, that Idunn was dead, but he had considered it entirely possible that they were lying, for her safety. "Please keep us informed, if anything changes. We don't ask for immortality for every human; just the few in our care. And as for secrecy, our track record speaks for itself."

"If she grows any apples, we'll let you know."

"Thank you. And...could we have one of the lemons?" Of course, they wouldn't risk giving it to you without knowing what it did, but Phastos could look into it, maybe.

"Sure. Text me your mailing address."

"Or you text us yours; Makkari can be there and back within the hour."

"Fine." A quiet beep sound, as though she was receiving another call. She swore, muttered, "Old Spice," and then hung up.

Druig pocketed his phone and went to the little cupboard of outdoor toys that they'd been keeping locked up for until you earned outdoor time. He took out a kite and laid it atop the picnic basket.

Makkari returned, while you were still pouting in the bath. Like yesterday, she had a shopping bag in each hand, which she set down so that she could cheerily inform him, "I almost got hit by a car this time."

"Really?" he said, with an amused look to conceal a surreptitious scan of her person, making sure she wasn't hurt. Of course, she noticed this and sidled up closer to him with her chin raised, as if to challenge, Well? Like what you see? And of course, he did, so he leaned in closer still. "And how did you manage that?"

"I just slowed down in the wrong place at the wrong time. It happens sometimes. I moved out of the way before it made contact." She kissed his cheek, then gestured at the bags. "Want to see?"

He nodded and strolled over to look. In the reward bag, there was a mini arcade machine that could only play Dig Dug- a nonviolent game, a small bit of technology for you to be in control of, and a test for your temper, all in one. They would be able to correct any rage you demonstrated in losing, and you would enjoy having something new to occupy your time. Another excellent choice, on Makkari's part. In the punishment bag...he smiled.

"It goes well with the first one," he praised.

"I thought so, too."

Upstairs, he heard the water start to drain from the tub. Makkari must have felt the way the pipes vibrated within the walls, for her gaze rose toward the ceiling, and she smiled. Something within Druig hummed pleasurably, seeing the one he loved being so visibly enamored of the other one he loved. He slid his finger behind her hair braid and brought it over the front of her shoulder, to earn back her attention.

"I spoke with the king of Asgard," he told her. "They don't have any apples now, but they'll let us know if that changes." He explained the details of the phone call he'd had, finishing with, "Think you can go pick up a lemon from New Asgard and be back before the wee devil comes downstairs?"

"I'm offended that you even ask," she teased, and then she was off.