Archive of Our Own

Eda’s humming is resonating all over the walls of the CATT’s headquarters, all soft and tender like her throat is made of newborn bunnies and fresh-washed sheets hung on a clothespin. It’s sort of an overstatement—everyone else is fast asleep in their own bunks without a care in the world, and Eda’s voice must be quiet as can be, but to Raine it’s all loud and sharp and clear because it’s Eda.


It’s Eda.


They’ve been tossing and turning all night, trying to catch the faintest noise from her, figure out the words she’s singing, and it’s driving them crazy; because this is Eda, tooth-gapped grins and bright as the sun Eda , singing to her child— both whom they had promised to protect and both who are present in this place, this place, a headquarter for war . And Eda’s voice is all soft and tender and all Raine wants to do is to capture it inside a bejeweled box, place it where nobody can find—but they don’t deserve it. Not after the promises they couldn’t keep. Not after what they’re about to do to them, to her…

They should stop.

Sitting up, careful not to trigger the creaks of their rusting bunk frame, Raine gave one last glance at the bed where Eda’s sleeping; on the lower bunk, all curled up under the bundle of blankets, a smaller figure tucked in her arms—before abruptly looking away.

It felt so sinful, so wrong , a sinner looking in the eyes of a saint; this isn’t for them to see.

Probably for the better.


Slipping out the door towards the balcony; it’s windy outside, chills seeping into the marrows of their bone as the hollow frames of Latissa’s walls let out soft, pitched howls. It unsettles them, the way it sounded like the Titan itself is blowing a flute to its mouth like a warning— and even more so when they’d quickly realized that they weren’t alone, goosebumps lining along their skin at the slightest sound of movement, claws scraping against the tiles. 

“Eberwolf?” Raine calls out dumbly, because it’s the first rational thought that comes into their mind when they’d turned around to see a knee-length shadow hiding behind the door, and because they’d been hoping it wasn’t something hostile about to capture them for the Emperor. 

Another moment of silence as they braved themself to approach—what comes out of the shadow is Eda’s little demon-boy, wringing his little claws with his eyes averted as he walks out of the shadow like he’d been caught red handed.

“King?” Raine says, half-asking, partly because they’d only heard of his name a few times here and there, and because he’s out here in the balcony all alone instead of sleeping snugly inside with his bunny wrapped around his little arms.

And then it struck them; they don’t know how to handle a child.

The only child they’d ever genuinely had a relationship with was Hunter; even then, Hunter isn’t truly a child—he had been their superior, for Titan’s sake, off doing important work for the Emperor here and there ever since twelve. He never was a child, even if he had leaned into their touch on the rare occasions where they’d pat him on the shoulder all the same. 

Raine supposes they could start with leveling their eyes with his. A friendly, welcoming gesture, slowly standing on their knees as they approach the little trembling figure.

“Hey, kiddo,” they start, clearing their throat absently. “What’re you doing out here?”

The little demon sniffles, twitching his nose, but doesn’t utter a word otherwise.

“Do you…” Raine shifts, an arm hovering around him hesitantly because all they want to do is to tuck him inside their arms and keep him from trembling and oh Titan this must be how it feels. “You wanna go inside and see Eda, little guy?”

He gives them a small, twitchy nod, tail curling around his legs before scurrying over to their arms without warning, climbing up their knees and tucking himself in their arms like a stuffed toy. Raine tries to ignore the sudden burning in their chest, the flutters in their stomach as they wrap their arms around his body and stand up, walking away from the balcony and back into the warmth of the headquarters. There’s suddenly a white-hot lump in their throat when King curls his little claws into their shirt, and Raine thinks this must be how it feels . To love a little thing more than they could ever love themself or the sky and everything else in it. This must be how Eda feels, and suddenly they want to hide these children in a bunker and tuck them away in the crevices of this world forever, too—somewhere, anywhere where harm couldn’t find their way to them. 

But they can’t. They know Eda would have tried like hell to do that. They know she’d failed, and if she failed, what are the odds that they could do any better? The things that they’re about to do—

“Raine?” 

The white-hot lump in their throat burns as it tightens. “Eda,” they start, stuttering as their fingers are still gently clasped on King’s fur. “I—I found him outside…”

“ Oh , baby boy,” her voice is melting like soft vanilla ice cream under the bright blue sky, all strangled up as she shifts to sit up, an arm still wrapped around the little girl curled up on her side. “Was he—was he scared?” Eda asks when she receives the little demon-boy with one arm, tucking him into the crook of her neck.

“I’m… not sure,” Raine replies, shaking their head slowly, watching her gently shift from her place and settling him on the Eda-shaped crater on the mattress. “He was a bit cold, though, so I took him inside…”

“Must’ve been a bad dream,” Eda’s sigh is muffled against King’s skull, bony fingers carding through his fur. “He’s always been silent about it, ever since he was a baby. But he always looks for me, so…”

She speaks about them like they’re the love and light of her and they are and it makes them ache for something they couldn’t even begin to recognize. To have something to die for is overwhelming enough as it is—but to have something to live for…

“Sorry,” Eda chuckles tiredly, rubbing her eyes as she pulls away from the edge of the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles on the blanket she’d put over their shoulders. “S’just a little bit—”

“Overwhelming,” they finished for her, “I understand.” I don’t. But I’d like to.

Eda sighs softly, shoulders drooping somewhat in defeat. In the dim light of the lamp, Raine could see her wrinkles like they’re pockets full of stars; she’s all worn and weary, but the mischievous glint in her eyes persists nonetheless; Raine could only hope, forty-something years going on strong, that it would stay there until her last blink.

Which could be tomorrow. Or the day after. With what they’re about to make her do—

“Say,” Eda cuts their disastrous train of thoughts short once again, looking around the room with an amused smile tugging on the corner of her mouth, “you’ve got an empty bed, Rainestorm?” 

It’s a death wish, staring at Eda’s mismatched eyes, which is why they don’t. Not that there’s any other way to be, either—looking at the opposite direction with their back against hers would have been rude, and averting their gaze from her eyes and staring at her chest—her shoulders—the crook of her neck—

“It’s okay, Rainsey,” Eda chuckles amusedly, rumbling and low like she’d brought it from the deepest pit of her chest where all her love is stored. “You can look at me. I won’t turn you to stone, ya’know.”

Raine tries to chuckle at that, too, but it comes out all strained and strangled instead. Like they’d been fourteen again instead of forty, hesitant hands and rosy cheeks beneath the dim light of their secret tunnel back at Hexside. Eda had introduced it to them one cloudless summer day, parting the azalea bush surrounding it dramatically like it’s her pride and joy, and that’s where the rest of their lovesick-ridden days were spent after—they used to joke around and call it the tunnel of love; Lilith wasn’t all that thrilled by it.

Now, three-decade something has gone by, and it turns out the fates aren’t any kinder to them. It’s the dim light penetrating between the frames of the rust-ridden bunk beds that illuminates the wrinkles on their aging faces, this time—not the light glyph Eda had drawn on the ceiling of their so-called love tunnel. It’s knowing that the end of the world is looming upon them and they’re the one holding the weight of it all by the palms of their fragile bones. It’s knowing that the only time they have left is somewhere between the crook and crevices of their bodies, right here, right now.

“I know.”

Eda shifts from her place, readjusting her head on the pillow so her eyes would meet theirs; sweet and slow like honey dripping off a spoon, heavy with something they couldn’t name.

“What are you so scared of?”

Raine wants to laugh earnestly at that, because what the hell were they supposed to say? The end of the world, the inevitable? The day of judgment, their sins finally catching up on them? Knowing that their time is running out as they desperately held onto the light on her eyes?

“You.” Losing you. Losing you knowing I’m the one who did it. Losing you knowing I would rather die for you a thousand times instead.

“It’s just me,” Eda whispers. “Widdle ol’ me.” What she means is; can we pretend we’re sixteen again?

“I know, Eda.” What they mean is; you know we can’t.

“I won’t hurt you again.” A plea, not a promise. A starving man in front of a silver platter. What she means is; please.

“I know, Eda.” They inch closer. Still not looking into her eyes but the crook of her neck is the same chasm nonetheless—all consuming and enticing and it makes them want. To run their dainty fingers over the lines where her collarbones show, to kiss the life out of her lips like there’s no tomorrow. There might not be a tomorrow.

“I know.” What they mean; I’d let you hurt me a thousand times over for all I care. I won’t leave you again. I won’t leave you again.

Eda inches closer and buries her nose against her hairline, grasping their shirt just tight enough to tell them that she’s wanting, too.

In the face of God, the day of judgment, they bury their nose in the crook of her neck. The scent of blooming snapdragons had never left her.

Raine thinks she’s going to be the death of them, but they’ll die for her a thousand times and more.

The sky is a violent shade of orange, and Raine thinks, somewhat amusedly; I’ve pulled away half an arm from the love of my life to keep her safe; I’ve fulfilled my promise to that sweet kid.


This is it.

It burns. As if the pure light of the sun itself is coursing through their veins, scorching their flesh alive, but at least— at least, they think, my head is on her lap. Like they could pretend the shade of orange above them is the color of the setting sun, the crumbling ground beneath them is the soil where the snapdragons grew in the meadow they used to lie around for hours. 

Eda is calling for their name again— Raine, Raine, Raine, and they could almost pretend it’s all sweet and yearning, checkered blanket spread under the blue summer sky. The gentle flow of her sundress in the breeze. Her arm around their neck, tender knuckles caressing their cheekbone. Here, in the face of God, the day of judgment, looming over their eyes as their eyes bleed with tears, they are with her.

And Raine thinks; it’s alright.

A martyr with something to die for. They’d always known they were going to die for her, anyway. In that tunnel, tangled knees, hushed fits of giggles. In that meadow under the summer sky, watching the dots of white like cotton move along and pretend prophecies are drawn on them, fingers intertwined and pretend the fates are written in the lines of her palm. In the house, dim light penetrating from the drawn curtains, breaths all tight and choked up. Letters slipped under the loose floorboard in their bedroom. A martyr with something to die for is better than a martyr with nothing at all.

It’s alright, they want to tell her as her tears fell to their cheeks, but their jaws are locked and their throat is all tight and choked up like they had been when they broke her heart. It’s alright, they want to tell her, because at least, this time, they’re here to die for her. At least, this time, they’re here to see her live.



It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ll die for you a thousand times and more.

A series of agonized screaming startled Raine awake.



Sitting up straight on the bed as they slowly regain their senses back from their sleep, by the time the comfortable muffle is completely lifted away from their surroundings, the screaming sound a lot more clearer than it had been before—more like a pained yowl of some kind of wolf with its leg trapped, separated from its pack, letting out despaired cries for help into the dark.

Beside them, the bed jolts and creaks abruptly, too—a rush of dim yellow light illuminates the room with a single click as they began to feel around for their glasses, and when their surroundings aren’t so murky anymore, all they could see was the horror seeping on Eda’s face as they heard another series of muffled yowling. 

“ Hunter—” Eda breathes, his name strangled in her throat as she begins scrambling off the nest-bed, rushing footsteps thumping against the floor like heartbeats. Raine follows suit, running through the pitch-black corridor like they’re swimming through ink, heart jumping to the pit of their throat with each rushed step they take. 

Eda’s already wrestling the boy in his bed by the time they arrived, fighting to keep his legs from kicking her with an arm wrapped around his chest, strings of shushes cascading from her mouth. Raine rounds the bed to sit on the other side, an arm placed over his flailing knees while the other holds him where Eda couldn’t—his eyes are wide open and alert when they turned the night lamp on with a small click, pupils dilated to almost pinpricks.

“Eda, Eda, he—there was, there were so many o— of them, Eda—” he whines, looking like he was about to throw up when his breath hitches as his mouth curls into an o, and Eda could only nod, pressing her nose against his forehead. “There were s-so many, so many, so many—”

“I know, baby boy, I know,” her knuckles caressed along his cheek in a soothing motion while Raine rubs circles on his chest in an attempt to calm him down. “I know, I know. S’alright. I’m here now. You’re here.”

“I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna be—”

“You won’t,” she says firmly, gently tilting his chin to look at her eyes, “look at me, look at me—you won’t, baby. I’ve got you right here with me. You know I won’t let anything hurt you, hm?” she hums, shaking her head as her forehead pressed against his. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. You just breathe.”

“C-can’t,” he gasps, “I can’t, I can’t— ”

“You can, you can,” Eda coaxes, quick to anchor him back, “in from your nose, you remember the numbers? Four in, seven hold, eight out,” she tells him, brushing his bangs back from his forehead repetitively as he shakes his head in panic. “C’mon, four in, you’ve got this. It’s alright, baby. We’ll count together.” 

Raine murmurs along while they count their breaths— one, two, three, four, five, now hold—one, two, three, four, fiv—that’s okay, Hunter, it’s okay, let’s try again. One, two, three, four—hold it for seven, two, three, four, five, six, seven, now out for eight, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—good boy, good boy, you’re doing so good, keep going for me.

“Let me get you your arm,” Raine whispers to her over his head by the time he’s calmed down enough to close his eyes, fingers wrapped tight onto Eda’s shirt as he clung to her for dear life. “You’re probably gonna need it.”

Eda lets out an amused huff. “And two sets of pillows. I think we’re gonna need that too.”

“I’ll bring over the whole bed,” they nod jokingly, pressing a light kiss on Hunter’s temple before carefully stepping off the edge of the bed. 

Eda’s prosthetic is an amalgamation of everyone she’s ever loved. The thought crossed Raine’s head as they retrieved it from somewhere under the bed, because Eda has a habit of taking it off and throwing it around to wherever without a care in the world— that’s a problem for Eda in the morning, she always says, much to their dismay.

The prosthetic itself had been designed by Alador, with his children chiming in to help every once in a while—by the time it’s done, Gwendolyn and Lilith had managed to make about a dozen designs of knitted arm-gloves for her to wear over it, “because nobody likes the cold feeling of rigid metal to the skin”, Lilith had said as she offered a box full of the brightly patterned gloves.

Now, Luz and Hunter are getting knitting lessons from the two when they visit every weekend, and they’d make piles and piles of them until Eda has one for every possible occasion. Sometimes Darius would join in whenever he’s not busy trying to run the new covens, and they’d be their own peculiar little knitting club in the living room—Gwendolyn is practically overjoyed. An amalgamation of colorful glass shards, pieced together to become a suncatcher hung on their kitchen window.

Raine’s soft strings of thoughts were cut short when they looked up from tracing the gloved arm in their hands to see a figure standing in the middle of the dark hallway.

There’s a part of them that hasn’t gotten quite used to being scared, but a long few months into this brave new life they’d found themself in, one of the things that just comes with it was to get used to vague figures in the corner of their eyes giving them mini-heart attacks. Staring at the figure as they stopped still in their tracks, they begin to make out the distinct features that help them recognize who it is—a baby ponytail, arms tucked against their chest, stubborn curls poking out of their head… “Luz?”

The figure’s frames start to tremble. “ Raine?”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” they began, urging their legs to walk forwards towards her, but there was no need—Luz is already half-stumbling, half-rushing to them like a newborn fawn, throwing herself into their arms with a choked sob. “It’s okay, love, I’m here—what’s wrong?” Raine couldn’t help but ask while they tuck her under their chin, squeezing her shoulders gently in an effort to keep her from falling apart, shield her from whatever’s harming her, making her tremble on her feet. “You’re alright now, I’m here, I have you. Tell me what’s wrong, my love.”

“I—I heard, I heard Hunter, he was—he was screaming ‘nd I tried to look for him but it’s so dark and I lost him n’ I—”

“Okay— okay , okay darling, it’s alright,” Raine hushes, cupping her cheeks while they clasp her against their chest. “You got scared is all, that’s okay, it’s okay. Everything’s alright.”

A sniffle, a gasped breath. “M’sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, honey,” they shake their head, rounding an arm on her waist to support her. “You just breathe for me. You just breathe.”

Luz shakes her head. “Hunter—”

“He’s alright, he’s alright, Eda’s got him. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

“Wanna—I wanna see him—”

“Okay okay, shhhh— okay, honey,” they shush, warding off her panic, “we can go, we can go.” Brushing the curls off her damp eyes, they nod at her one last time and whisper for her to breathe before guiding her by the arms, stumbling through the hallway towards the faint gleam of yellow on the other side.

Eda’s already expecting them when they both enter the room—she could only tilt her head with a soft smile towards them as an arm still cards through Hunter’s hair. Raine settles the girl on Eda’s other side, gathering her legs to keep her from falling off the edge of the bed as she practically scrambles into the woman’s arms with a strangled sob, one hand grasping on Hunter’s shirt.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Eda keeps murmuring against her forehead, “I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

I was right about the bed, Raine wanted to tell her as they stood on the side, sighing out the heaviness resting on the bottom of their chest like sinking tea leaves.

Placing the arm on Hunter’s night stand, they leave the room once again for one last little boy.

King was already expecting them when they entered the room, too—bright yellow eyes glowing in the dark, sitting up straight on the little bed by the window. He shifts on the bed as their footsteps approach, blinking slowly, as if trying to register who the dark figure in the room is. A small, shaky sniffle, so identical to Luz’s that they start to think maybe they’re the same after all, they’re kids, just kids— “Rainey?”

“That’s me,” they chuckle softly, wrapping their arms around him as he scurries to climb onto their lap.

“I had a bad dream,” he tells them, grasping his little claws into their shirt like he had all those months ago before his head rolls sleepily against their shoulder. The white-hot lump they feel in their throat still comes all the same— this is how it feels, this is how it feels. To love a little thing more than they could ever love themself or the sky and everything else in it.

This is how it feels, carrying their baby through the dark, knowing he’s safe in the crevices of their arms. This is how it feels, climbing into the bed, their whole world tucked in the tangles of their arms—Hunter is all curled up like a newborn to Eda’s side, their hand joining hers to stroke along his hairline. Eda’s hand moves to Luz, who’s now rubbing the blunt edge of Eda’s amputated arm like it’s some sort of worry stone—Eda is kissing the top of her head like she’s the whole world, and she is the whole world, he is the whole world, the little boy tucked in their arm is the whole world, and they are the whole world. 

This time, between their soft breaths, the curl of their fingers, the glint in her eyes; they think they’ll live a thousand lives for them and more.