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the wrath of a god

Summary:

aaron and andrew have an adventure

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"what the fuck."

"don't-"

"no no, shut up. what the fuck?"

"andrew-"

"shut the hell up," andrew snapped, and aaron, thankfully, shut his goodfornothing mouth. his teeth made a satisfying clack as his jaw finally managed to stay closed, looking over at andrew from their place on the ground with wide eyes.

the ground they were currently hog tied on, because andrews idiot of a twin brother somehow managed to convince the local populace that they were witches.

Notes:

this sorta makes no sense with the previous things ive written, but it was mostly just used as a standalone piece that i decided to add to the series last-minute

but the previous things in the series were also really vague, so here u go amigos/as

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

"what the fuck." 

 

"don't-" 

 

"no no, shut up. what the fuck?" 

 

"andrew-" 

 

"shut the hell up," andrew snapped, and aaron, thankfully, shut his goodfornothing mouth. his teeth made a satisfying clack as his jaw finally managed to stay closed, looking over at andrew from their place on the ground with wide eyes. 

 

the ground they were currently hog tied on, because andrews idiot of a twin brother somehow managed to convince the local populace that they were witches. 

 

now that was fun. truly one for the history books if andrew was feeling generous enough to not kill his brother with his bare hands. like most bad things that started in this life, it began with aaron. aaron, who thought that telling the tribe they had stopped in that they were 'time-travelling almost-gods shoved into the bodies of mortals who come from a world you’ve never seen before' was obviously the best course of action if they wanted to get through the tribe's territory in one piece. 

 

and to think andrew started out just wanting some water. staring dead-eyed at pyre built for him and aaron to be chained to was starting to shift his perspective just a little bit, and his mind whirred over possible escape plans. fuck, aaron was a moron. 

 

"when I tell you to run, you better fucking run," andrew finally ground out through the angry german they both learned out of spite alone. it only served to make the locals even more antsy, their bare feet shifting nervously on hard packed dirt. it was almost fun to watch them squirm, andrew thought, finally heaving himself onto his knees and muttering curses under his breath at the strain. the people of the tribe most likely thought he was putting a curse on their village; it didn’t stop a brave (stupid) young boy of only sixteen or seventeen from shoving the tip of his spear against andrew's throat. 

 

he felt one eyebrow raise, staring down the length of the spear and into the boy's eyes. 

 

oh, now this was going to be fun. 

 

the sierra leone boy's hands shook, and in less than an instant, he was falling to his knees to be at andrew's height, the spear dropped haphazardly between them. the townspeople weren't expecting it, and their restless feet almost became grating to his ears. 

 

andrew didn’t let a smile show; this human could see him. 

 

"time-warrior," the boy said out loud, his hands slowly coming up to hover around andrew's shoulders, untouching, incapable of doing more than just gaping openly. andrew didn't stop him, but aaron was waiting, head down, for his chance to move. 

 

with a flick of his head, andrew motioned to his brother. 

 

"conqueror of worlds, first-born son of a god of death and chaos and war. release him, and your people will not suffer," he demanded. this wasn't a request; the boy was up and cutting off aaron's ropes before andrew could even blink. 

 

"run," andrew muttered as soon as the ropes holding aaron down were nothing but useless strips, his knees starting to ache from the hard dirt under them. aaron, ever the dumbass, looked torn between running and staying with andrew. andrew couldn't help it; he rolled his eyes. 

 

"stop looking like a fucking moron and go. i'll meet up with you somewhere," he yelled as the tribes men started to charge at them, catching on to the half-assed plot, and aaron, finally, took the hint and bolted. 

 

*** 

 

despite andrew knowing he was about to get beaten into oblivion with the boy (who's name he learned was kiko) mutilated and killed in front of his eyes, he didn't bother with trying to talk his way out of the situation. kiko had tried to explain to his tribe why he'd done what he'd done, why he let one of the 'witches' go, why he could communicate with the 'sand-devil,' and all he got was his head on a spike. 

 

frankly, andrew was quite satisfied. who would he be if he didn't cause at least one death at every possible time-stop? 

 

(that didn't make the pain any more bearable, of course, when the time finally came for him to get passed around for a beating (and worse), and it didn't make the additional slashes against his wrists and arms a welcomed feeling. 

 

where he was left on the ground for the night, the chill of the air not unlike the frostiness of the Portal, he muttered broken curses into the dust. the man sent to guard him would not look him in the eye, but it was no matter. aaron would collect him soon.) 

 

*** 

 

true to his musings, aaron did show up. 

 

it was the way he showed up that made andrew roll his eyes, lolling his head back into the ground and praying to any god that listened that he wouldn't kill aaron himself when he got free. 

 

ever the need for dramatics, aaron took the grand prize for 'scaring the shit out of the locals with his entrances.' this, unfortunately, was no different. 

 

with his chest bare and arms circled in gold and silver and kohl powders, fingers curled easily around a shadowed sickle, aaron walked from the direction of the sahara; he knew the picture he painted, his confident steps could split the land in half if he so chose. the only thing that really made his warning hit home was the cloud of black smoke curling under his feet, dancing away at the ground behind him. in his wake, Death giggled at the already barren land, and when the smoke got dense enough, aaron raised his free arm behind him and thrust it forward at the tribe of gathered mortals.

 

in an scene straight from a movie, black, smokey, red-eyed horses charged from the destruction, their noses flaring in anger at being summoned so soon after the last incident the twins had. they fled towards the small village at aaron's command, the older twin's own horse waiting until he was sitting comfortably before charging headlong into the throng of bodies. 

 

gods, his brother was dramatic. andrew wondered briefly where the hell he learned it from, but came up with the answer nearly immediately and shoved those thoughts away in favor of squirming restlessly on the ground. 

 

with a grunt, he was hauled up by his ropes, standing wobbly on feet that were pressed together with restraints cinching his ankles. aaron rode through the fire that was now licking at the town, a silent question in his eyes aimed at his brother. andrew just ignored him, his own now-shirtless chest starting to paint itself maroon. 

 

small characters and symbols and swirls of design made their way across his biceps and forearms, his tummy, his back, one long stripe of blood not his own dragging across his left cheekbone and disappearing at his hairline. two tiny swirls of red licked at his ankles, the thick lines going up, up, up and hiding under the hem of the pants he was forced into that morning. 

 

the god of war did not take kindly to his time-warrior being so easily misjudged, but aaron, ever the enabler, smirked widely at the display. with one hand wielding his sickle with practiced ease, the tip of it draggled lightly across the ropes holding andrew back; they held no chance against the godly (or ungodly, andrew supposed) weapon, and the ropes disintegrated into black dust at his feet. 

 

gods, so fucking dramatic. 

 

aaron, ever the diplomat and unaware of his own flare for melodramatics, slid from his horse and walked to the tribe leader. he was a stout man several inches taller than both of the twins, but andrew nor aaron worried about the man's abilities to see reason. andrew, instead of joining aaron, took up residence on his own horse (unironically consisting of mostly white smoke and bottomless black eyes, because aaron was a sucker for pissing andrew off), the otherworldly mist under his legs tickling. he didn't care enough to willingly pay attention to what aaron was saying, but he tuned in anyway. if he were to bring war, he'd do it with a smile on his face. 

 

"we will do no more harm to your village. paint us in history is all we ask, and mark this day down as the day you saw immortality within your borders. celebrate; you've survived," aaron emphasized with a cruel quirk of his lips, the sickle in his hand disappearing in place of a cloud of black particals. there would be no more death today it seemed, and andrew huffed in irritation. if aaron heard him, he didn't seem to care all that much, swinging himself back onto his horse and taking one last look at the village. 

 

"be more open to unknown people, my friends. we will see you in another life," aaron continued from his mount, and with a gentle nudge against the barely sentient animal, they were both off. 

 

*** 

 

"did you have to be so dramatic?" 

 

"you might not enjoy it, but watching someone suffer outside of death is fun," aaron said, smiling happily from his position on the sand, both twins looking up at the clear sky. it was a nice night out, andrew could admit, but waiting for the Portal to show up was always a hassle. 

 

"i never said it wasn't fun, I'm asking why you thought that entire... show was necessary," andrew said after a few seconds of counting the Gods in the stars. fuck, he wished he had a cigarette. 

 

aaron didn't seem to share the same sentiment on andrew's 'cancer sticks' (or so he called them), sitting up and turning fully to his younger twin. his smile was gone. andrew just raised an eyebrow at him. 

 

in a voice so soft andrew didn't know aaron was capable of, he muttered, "you're my brother, andy," his hand reaching out to hover over the red markings sunk deep in andrew's skin. andrew bristled at the old nickname, turning hard eyes on his idiot brother. to be fair, aaron didn't seem to notice or care, and pressed calloused fingers to the angry red symbols on andrew's tummy.

 

andrew was loathe to admit it felt nice, but turned his eyes up to the sky again. he didn’t bother gracing his brother with an answer, but let aaron trail the marks with his fingers, starting down from his tummy before working his way back up again from his ankles. aaron only stopped when he got to the stripe of deep red blood across his cheekbone – the mark of Death he wore oh-so proudly.

 

"aar-" andrew started, but quickly shut himself up. this was neither the place nor time for aaron's sentimental gestures, and he sat up to dislodge the hand on his cheek. 

 

"let's go, az. the Portal's here," he grunted out instead, standing up and gripping aaron's wrist to yank him up too. 

 

they had eternity to figure out their issues, and andrew was not going to start today.

Notes:

this was supposed to be funny tbh

if yall wanna complain my tumblr is castrumwritings

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