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Styx had been a lonely child, even before the invasion she had been more comfortable in the presence of adults rather than kids her age. Then she was a refugee, a child, small and lost in a whirlwind of blood, mud and tears. She stood in shock, five years old and cried. Gran found her there 2 days later, covered in soot and blood, and she had taken her home.
Gran tried her best, Styx knew, but that day, a cold had snuck under Styx’s skin, into her bones freezing her. She would describe it like she was puppeteering a corpse, no longer her own body, just a suit of flesh that wouldn’t save her from pain.
As she grew, Styx grew desperate for any warmth, she clung to it like a moth to a flame. She found momentary peace in men and women, the thrill of a chase or the high of adrenalin. But it never stayed, a fleeting sense of the person Styx could have been if she hadn’t had her brain royally fucked at a young age, she wanted that girl. Styx wanted more than anything to be a woman who had never known pain, who had never seen death, a person who was unfamiliar with loss and grief. She wanted her innocence.
Styx wanted nothing more than to show that sad and lonely and hurt child who she was now. A strong cleric, a mother. She wanted her young self to know, and to see - see the way Bart curls his arm around her, see the way Sif smiles at her like she is the sun, see how the team listens to her, sees her.
She wants to show the child she once was that she is loved and will be loved.
She wants to do the impossible, and somehow put words to the feeling Styx feels when she looks at Bart and Sif, that start of her family.
She wants that little girl to see what Bart sees, that impossibility perfect version of her.
In Styx’s cold, unforgiving world they were the warmth she had never been given, they were love, light and life.
She had felt it, when Bart had looked at her during their first night watch like she was more than just a thing to be used. She had felt it knee deep in magical river water as Bart yelled out after her. When she met a young girl who looked so much like the little girl she had once been, sitting on a port with nobody to miss her.
And when she looked at their little family now, Bartholomew next to her, looking like the sun incarnate. He was warm where his shoulder brushes hers. Styx knows her face is getting red, but she doesn’t care much about what others assume when looking at a young man and woman like them, she knows she looks like an idiot staring at a man who isn’t hers. She remembers staring into his amber eyes, every look at them reminds her that she has a new favorite color.
She sighs and her shoulders deflate, she feels like a fool, like a little girl with a schoolyard crush that’s too big for her body. Styx is overflowing with feelings she can’t describe, but looking at the man next to her she knows everything will be alright.
With Bart and Sif at her side, Styx is invincible.
-30 minutes later-
Styx is a jinx. It must be her, she decided looking at Bart holding their daughter on his hip, a blank look on his face. Styx knows she doesn’t look better; her hand looks destroyed - bone and flesh on display for all to see. She can feel the adrenalin wearing off, her limbs growing heavy as Bart guides her to the hospital ward. Styx is dizzy and knows her hand is getting blood all over Bart's arm, as well as Sifs new uniform.
Sif is crying.
Barts amber eyes have gone dull
And that ever present cold is seeping into Styx’s bones. She knows its shock; her paling skin, the dizziness as well as the rapid blood loss all contributed to her body failing to keep going. Her daughter still needs comfort, she needs to check in on Bart. She needs to check with so many people.
How dumb has she truly been? To think herself safe? She had felt safe, like she was 4 and holding the hand of her mother, unaware of the army marching towards her home. She felt like an idiot. Had life not trained such childish ideas out of her? How can she still fall into that age old trap that is happiness, joy was not meant for people like her.
There's a hand on her shoulder, Bart is standing next to her - he called a healer over. In a matter of seconds Styx is surrounded by strangers, her family nowhere in sight.