The Flame & The Shield

by Dushie

Summary:

"They said his shield was made with the strongest metal on earth, then how could she melt it?"

Al Nouri, a goddess born from the union of Ra and Khonshu, embodies the light of the sun and the shadow of the moon. For centuries, she watched over humanity, offering wisdom and guidance. But when she defied the gods' laws to protect humanity, they imprisoned her, locking her away and leaving her forgotten.
After two hundred years, Nouri is freed by S.H.I.E.L.D., only to find a world that has moved on without her. Now, as she adjusts to this new reality, Nick Fury calls upon her to join forces with Earth's mightiest heroes. But Nouri’s defiance and the gods' judgment continue to haunt her. With her heart torn between her love for mortals and the divine expectations that weigh on her, Nouri faces a choice: where do her true loyalties lie?

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Hellloooo <3 this is my first Avengers Fic and I would love to know what you think and I hope you enjoy it <3

Chapter 1: Thebes

3100 BC

 

In 3100 BC, beneath the watchful eyes of the gods, a cosmic event unfolded in the ancient city of Thebes, where the union of Ra, the sun god, and Khonshu, the moon god, gave birth to a divine child who would come to embody the Eternal Path itself. She was neither entirely of the sun nor of the moon; she was the balance between them, a bridge between light and dark, day and night.

They called her Al Nouri, the Light. She did not resemble her father, Khonshu, with his towering form and bird-headed visage. Instead, she appeared as a human, though one imbued with divine powers. Her appearance was captivating, with dark curly hair flowing loosely around her shoulders and eyes that gleamed with the wisdom of ages. There was a sense of power in her presence, as if the sun and moon themselves coursed through her veins.

From a young age, Al Nouri was fascinated by humanity. She watched from the skies and wandered among the mortals, marveling at their kindness, their capacity for growth, and their ability to help one another despite their flaws. She found their lives, so brief yet so full of meaning, infinitely intriguing. They fought wars, built civilizations, and crafted religions, each believing in something greater than themselves, yet all still bound to the same fate: the passing of time.

Her divine abilities manifested early on. Gifted by Ra, Al Nouri could manipulate fire, summoning it from her body. The flames she wielded were not born of destruction, but of purpose. Her fire could protect, heal, or guide, but only when absolutely necessary. It was a power she controlled with restraint, always mindful of its potential for chaos.

From Khonshu, she inherited a far more intimate gift. Al Nouri could see into the souls of mortals, an ability that allowed her to experience the world through their eyes. It was not merely a matter of knowing where they were or what they saw; it was the ability to feel their emotions, their struggles, their desires. She understood their hearts as if they were her own. It was this connection that made her both a protector and a guide.

Al Nouri spent much of her time in Egypt, watching over humanity from the shadows, offering wisdom when she could, but more often learning from their actions. The mortals who crossed her path never knew her true nature, but she knew them. She felt the weight of their souls, the goodness and the darkness, the moments of triumph and defeat. And in her heart, she began to feel a profound love for them.

In her early years, Al Nouri also ventured into the afterlife, where she worked closely with Anubis, the god of the afterlife. When the souls of mortals came to pass, she helped guide them, weighing their hearts and guiding them toward their judgment. Her connection to the afterlife became even stronger as she grew older, and she could feel the movements of souls, their passage from life to death. This awareness of death gave her a sensitivity to the weight of each soul, and the injustices she witnessed in the mortal realm began to trouble her deeply.

By the time she was twenty, Al Nouri had grown into a goddess of great power and wisdom. She had been bestowed the title of guide of souls by the Ennead Council and had been entrusted with the task of watching over souls in the afterlife. But despite her divine status, her heart remained with the mortals she watched from afar. Her powers were not just the tools of a goddess; they were extensions of her deep compassion for humanity.

In addition to her role as a guide, Al Nouri was also a warrior, commanding her own legion of Medjai, a sacred order of warriors who had once protected her temple. The Medjai were bound to her by divine decree, their loyalty unbroken by the passage of time. Though their role had evolved over the centuries, their reverence for Al Nouri remained steadfast, and they would rise to her defense whenever she called upon them.

Her beauty, grace, and power were unmatched, but it was her wisdom that set her apart. Adorned with hieroglyphics on her skin, each symbol telling the story of her life, Al Nouri bore the Eye of Horus on her eye, an emblem of her ability to see beyond the surface, to perceive the true nature of every soul.

But as the centuries passed, her admiration for humanity began to shift. She saw their darker side, the wars, the hatred, the cruelty. And with every act of destruction, her love for them was tested. She had witnessed their capacity for both good and evil, and the more she saw, the more she began to question the rules the gods had set. Why was she forbidden to intervene directly in their lives? Why couldn’t she help them when they were in pain? When she saw the world crumbling under the weight of its own self-destruction, she could no longer remain silent.

---

300 BC

 

The Ennead Council convened, their presence filling the divine halls of Thebes with an ancient, undeniable power. Ra sat at the head of the table, his eyes sharp and watchful. Khonshu, his dark moonlit counterpart, loomed at his side, his very presence weighing heavily on the room, the endless night sky reflected in his cold, unyielding eyes. They were both ancient, both bound by the laws that governed their realm, but Al Nouri stood amidst them, young, fierce, and defiant, her heart at odds with the rules they held sacred.

The gods had always maintained that their role was to observe, not to interfere. Mortals, they argued, must learn their own way. They had their own path to walk, and the gods could not be tainted by their struggles.

“We are divine,” Ra had often said, his voice like the sun, radiant but harsh. “Our place is beyond their reach. We guide from afar, not from within their world.”

But Al Nouri could not reconcile that decree with the love she felt for the mortals she watched over. She had always felt an unshakable connection to them. She could see their hearts, their desires, their hopes and fears, and she felt their pain as her own. They were not just fleeting creatures to her; they were full of potential, capable of great things. And yet, they were so often lost, stumbling in the dark, searching for meaning, for a way out of their suffering.

It was impossible for her to stand by, helpless. She had been born from both Ra and Khonshu, their union of fire and night, light and dark, and that duality pulsed through her veins. Where others saw limitations, she saw opportunities to heal, to help, to guide. How could she ignore the cries of those in need? How could she watch as innocents suffered and not act?

“I cannot abide this any longer,” Al Nouri declared, her voice calm but filled with the fiery conviction of a goddess unwilling to bow. “The mortals are struggling, and I have the power to help them. What harm is there in offering them guidance? What harm in stepping into their world to protect them from the darkness?”

Ra’s gaze bore down on her, heavy with ancient judgment. “You are not like them, Al Nouri. You are a god. They cannot understand you, and you cannot understand them in the way you believe. Your presence among them will only lead to chaos. You cannot interfere, not without consequence.”

Al Nouri’s heart ached at the words, but her resolve only hardened. “But they need us, Ra. They need me. I have seen their suffering, felt it in my own soul. I cannot remain distant and detached while they cry out for help. You would have me stand by while they destroy each other?”

Khonshu, standing with his arms crossed, his towering form like the moon casting a long shadow over them all, scoffed. His voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain and authority. “You are naive, daughter. Mortals are fragile. A single gust of wind could crush their fragile existence. And you want to insert yourself into their pathetic lives? You think you can control the balance with your bleeding heart?” His tone was sharp, though underneath it all, there was an unmistakable edge of protectiveness in the way he addressed her. "If you act, Al Nouri, you risk unraveling everything.”

Al Nouri’s voice cracked with frustration, the weight of her love for humanity spilling out. “You would rather watch them destroy themselves?” she demanded. “I see the wars, the betrayals, the endless cycles of pain they inflict on each other. If I can stop even one of them from falling into darkness, if I can save a single life, how is that wrong?”

The gods exchanged uneasy glances. Ra's face softened, but his tone remained firm. “It is not a matter of right or wrong, daughter. It is a matter of preservation. If we interfere, we risk becoming entangled in their fate. You would weaken your divine nature by becoming too close to them. We cannot bear the burden of their lives as you wish to.”

Khonshu’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering into something dangerously calm. “You’re so mighty, Al Nouri. Don’t you forget that. I made you. We made you. You’re no mere mortal to be lost in the muck of their trivial existence.” His voice hardened, carrying the weight of a god who had bent the universe to his will. “But this… This weakness will be your undoing. Do you think you can change their fate? Do you think you can save them all?” His words were sharp, his anger barely contained. “You are a god. Stop pretending you are like them.”

“I do not wish to bear their burden,” she responded, her voice steady now, fire in her eyes. “I only wish to guide them. They are lost, and I can offer them light. How is that wrong?”

Ra rose from his seat, his form radiating with the intensity of the sun itself, his gaze unwavering. “You will learn that this is not your role,” he intoned, his voice as cold and unyielding as the very sun. “We must remain above them, untouched by their struggles. You are a god, Al Nouri. You must act like one.”

Al Nouri stepped forward, her fiery eyes locked onto her father’s. Her voice rang out with the fury of a goddess who would not be silenced. “Then I will not remain silent,” she declared. “I will not stand by and watch as they suffer. If I must go against the Council, so be it. I will not ignore the world I was made to protect.”

Ra’s expression hardened, the weight of his age and authority pressing down upon her like a mountain. “Then you have chosen your path,” he said, his voice cold as the very grave. “But know this, your actions will not go unpunished.”

But before Ra could finish, Khonshu stepped closer, his voice ringing with the icy cruelty of the moon. “Your defiance will come with consequences. But know this, Al Nouri; You are my blood. The world is weak, and your power is unmatched. I will not leave you to struggle on your own. But if you go against me, against us, you will have to carry your weight. I won’t coddle you. You are the light of the Ennead. You must wield that power—whether you like it or not.” His eyes bored into hers, his voice low and threatening. “I will see you through this, daughter. But remember—your heart may be pure, but it will be the one to destroy you.”

Al Nouri’s resolve never wavered, but the weight of their judgment hung like chains around her. She could feel the disapproval of the gods pressing in on her, but she would not relent. The gods can judge me as they will, she thought. But I will save those I can. I will be the light they need.

---

1809

 

Centuries passed, each moment filled with both the joy of her actions and the burden of defiance. Al Nouri continued to intervene in the mortal realm, saving lives, offering guidance, and at times, even redirecting the path of entire nations. Her heart bled for humanity, for their suffering, their confusion. She could not, would not, stand by while they faltered.

And yet, despite her good intentions, the Ennead Council’s patience wore thin. They had warned her time and time again that her actions would have consequences. The warning was always the same: Stay away from their affairs. Stay distant. You are a god, not a mortal. But Al Nouri could not ignore the cries of the world. Her every step was an act of rebellion, an act of love for those who did not understand her, yet who had captured her heart.

One evening, in the hallowed halls of the divine temple, the gods gathered. The air was thick with tension, their powers pulsing through the space as the Council convened to address Al Nouri’s growing defiance. Atum stood beside Ra, his expression stern. Bes, the god of luck, kept his head low, clearly uncomfortable with the upcoming decree, but remained silent. Khonshu stood at the back, radiating imperious contempt. Anubis stood beside him, his expression grave and unyielding.

Ra looked over the gathered gods, his voice like a crack of thunder. “Al Nouri’s actions have disrupted the natural order of the mortal world. She has meddled too much in their affairs. Her interference has already caused ripples across the balance of the universe. It cannot continue.”

Khonshu sneered, stepping forward with barely contained fury. “Meddling?” he scoffed, voice dripping with scorn. “What you call ‘meddling’ is what’s necessary to fix this broken world. You’ve all grown complacent, holed up in your thrones while mortals destroy themselves. She’s doing what you can’t, and you want to punish her for it? You cowards sit by and do nothing, while she acts.” He glared at Ra, his voice rising with venom. “And now you punish her for being more than you could ever be?”

Atum’s eyes narrowed at Khonshu’s insolence, but Ra’s cold gaze sliced through the air like a blade. “Enough, Khonshu,” Ra said, his tone sharp and commanding. “We have been patient. But the rules are the rules. Not even you, with your misplaced pride, can bend them. She’s a god, not a mortal. She has no place among them. We warned her—repeatedly.”

“Warning her?” Khonshu’s voice was low and furious, a growl that filled the room. “What have you done but sit idly by while the world crumbles? You do nothing while she tries to save them. You would punish her for caring?” He spat, his gaze never leaving Ra. “This is cowardice!”

Anubis stepped forward, his tone measured yet full of authority. “Khonshu speaks the truth. Al Nouri’s connection to humanity runs deeper than we can understand. Her heart, bound to theirs, gives her a power none of us possess. Her actions come from a place of love, not ambition. To imprison her would be a grave mistake. She is not like the others. Her compassion is her strength.”

Ra’s gaze remained unflinching, his voice like the oppressive heat of the sun. “The balance must be maintained. She cannot continue to disrupt the mortal realm. She has ignored every warning, crossed every boundary set for her. This is no longer about compassion. It is about disruption. We cannot allow this.”

Anubis shook his head, his voice calm but unwavering. “Ra, you are blinded by your laws. The mortal realm is weak, but Al Nouri’s bond with them is a reflection of their very souls. She cannot be punished for acting where we have failed. The world needs her. You cannot see that, but I will not stand by and watch you lock her away.”

Ra’s eyes were cold with resolve. “We all understand the costs, Anubis. But this is no longer about what we want. It’s about what must be done. The balance is at stake.”

Khonshu let out a bitter laugh, stepping forward, defiance burning in his eyes. “Balance? You call this balance?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “What you’ve built is a prison, Ra. A stagnant, soulless prison where nothing ever changes. You’ve failed these mortals—and you’ll fail them again. She is the only one who sees what needs to be done.”

“I have not failed!” Ra roared, his voice thunderous. “But I will not allow her to tear apart what’s left of this fragile world.” He turned to Khonshu, his voice icy and final. “The Council has spoken. Al Nouri will be sealed in an ushabti, and hidden away where she can no longer affect the mortal realm. You will accept this, Khonshu.”

Khonshu’s rage surged, his form glowing with the cold intensity of the moon. “You cannot silence her! You will not! She is a goddess! She is mighty, more powerful than you’ve ever understood. Imprisoning her won’t stop her. It will only make her stronger.” He looked directly at Ra, his voice a growl. “You will feel it when she returns. And you will pay for this.”

Ra’s expression hardened, but he remained unmoved. “You would risk everything for her, Khonshu? For her love of mortals? She is a god, and it is time she learned her place.”

“But where will she be hidden?” Isis asked, her voice firm but uncertain. “Her power is vast. If she is not contained properly, she could destroy everything.”

Khonshu’s eyes gleamed with the force of a thousand storms. “I will hide her in my temple in Thebes,” he said, his tone carrying the weight of finality. “Let her remain where she was born. If she must be sealed, let it be where she is most connected to her roots.”

Ra’s gaze remained cold as stone. “This is your choice, Khonshu. But know this—if you continue to defy the will of the Council, your fate will be sealed as well.”

Anubis spoke quietly but firmly. “I will not let you make this decision alone, Khonshu. You are not alone in this.”

Ra’s eyes flickered with a rare moment of hesitation, but in the end, his decision stood. “The Council has spoken. She will be sealed away.”

Khonshu’s form trembled with barely contained fury, but in the end, he let out a sharp, frustrated breath. “The Council... is a joke,” he muttered under his breath.

With those final words, Khonshu’s presence faded, leaving the weight of his defiance hanging heavy in the air. Al Nouri’s fate had been sealed, but Khonshu’s love—however warped—would never fade.

---

The next morning, the air in the Council hall was thick with anticipation. Al Nouri had been summoned, but not as a revered goddess of the Ennead. No, today, she was a defendant—a failure in the eyes of the gods. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped into the sacred space, the cold, imposing forms of the gods arrayed before her, their judgment pressing down like an iron weight.

As she was dragged to the center of the chamber, her body tensed. She had known this day would come, but the reality of it still felt like a crushing blow. It was no longer about helping humanity. It was about her own survival, and the gods had already made their decision.

Ra’s gaze sliced through her like a desert storm, unforgiving and sharp. “Al Nouri,” he began, his voice a low rumble that vibrated the very air. “For millennia, you’ve broken the laws of the gods. You’ve meddled in mortal affairs, disrupted the balance we have carefully maintained. Your actions threaten everything we’ve worked for.”

Nouri lifted her head, voice ringing out defiantly, though the tremor in her chest was impossible to hide. “I only sought to help them,” she declared, her words steady, though her heart pounded like a war drum. “I only sought to guide them, to give them light when they were drowning in darkness. What harm is there in that?”

Ra’s piercing eyes narrowed with cold judgment. “You have gone too far, Al Nouri. This was never about helping. It’s about controlling them. You’ve tried to shape their fate, to bend them to your will. That is a violation of the sacred order.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “No... I never sought to control them. I only wanted to show them the way. They are lost, broken. I only wanted to guide them back to the light.”

From across the room, Khonshu's eyes locked onto hers—sorrow and a cold, calculating disdain mixed in his gaze. He had been silent since she was brought before the Council, but now, his voice cut through the room like a blade. It was not the voice of a father, but of a god whose patience had run out. “Enough, Al Nouri,” he spat, the edge of his words unmistakable. “Do you truly think you are above the laws that govern us all? You, who can’t even keep control of your own emotions?”

Khonshu’s gaze softened just a fraction, though it was laced with a twisted kind of affection. “You are my daughter, yes. But you’ve forgotten your place. I fought against this—against your punishment—but there is no choice now. The Council has decided. You will be sealed away. You will remain in the ushabti in my temple, as I originally intended.”

Al Nouri’s heart shattered at his words. Her voice broke as she whispered, “No... I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you lock me away like this.”

Her body strained against the divine chains that held her in place, the power of the gods flowing through the air like a vice, squeezing her chest and robbing her of breath. “You can’t,” she screamed, fighting against the invisible force that restrained her. “You have no right to do this! You... you know I did this because I love them! I did this for the mortals!”

Khonshu’s gaze became cold, the sorrow in his eyes fading. “Do not speak to me of love, Al Nouri,” he snapped, the god's voice rising with authority. “You are mighty, you have no need for their frailty. You are the light, the path, the truth. You stand on the Ennead Council, not in their pathetic mortal world. You were never meant to lower yourself to such weakness. You were meant to lead, to rule."

As the other gods spoke—some in agreement, others indifferent—Al Nouri felt herself break under their weight. “Enough!” Atum’s voice thundered. “She has defied the divine order too long! Her actions cannot go unpunished!”

Isis stepped forward, her voice soft but full of pain. “But... is this truly the only way, Ra? Her love for humanity is pure. She meant no harm.”

Ra’s expression remained firm, his voice cutting through her hesitation. “Sentimentality clouds your judgment, Isis. She is a threat to the harmony of the universe. We cannot allow her actions to continue.”

“Even I agree with Ra,” Sekhmet growled, her voice full of impatience. “Her compassion has made her weak. She risks unravelling the balance we’ve spent eons creating.”

“Please,” Al Nouri cried, her voice raw with emotion. “I never meant to bring harm. I only wanted to protect them—guide them. They’re fragile, full of promise, but they’re lost. How could I stand by and do nothing?”

Horus, his eyes cold and unyielding, turned his face away. “Your compassion blinds you, Al Nouri. You allowed your emotions to cloud your judgment. This is not your world to fix.”

Al Nouri's chest tightened, her heart heavy as she struggled against the forces holding her. “But they are my world. How could I ignore their suffering? How could I watch them destroy themselves?” Her voice faltered as she turned to her father, pleading with him. “Khonshu, you understand, don’t you? You, too, fought for them. For us.”

Khonshu’s expression flickered for a moment, the slightest hint of regret flashing in his eyes before it hardened again, like stone. “I understand you, Al Nouri. But this is beyond you. The Council has spoken. Your fate is sealed.”

“No!” Al Nouri screamed, her voice breaking as she felt her divine essence being stripped away. “I won’t let you do this!” Her screams echoed throughout the hall as she was pulled into the ushabti, her essence being imprisoned once again.

As they sealed her into the ushabti, the gods performed the final act of their punishment. The sacred hieroglyphs that adorned her skin—symbols of her power and her essence—faded like smoke in the air. The Eye of Horus, the mark that had once granted her the ability to see the souls of mortals, vanished from her sight. With it, her strength, her abilities, were ripped away.

Her once radiant power—now nothing but a distant, fading memory.

“I only wanted to help them,” Al Nouri whispered, her voice trembling as her essence began to slip away, vanishing like a whisper in the wind. “I only wanted to guide them...” Her words, laden with regret, faded into nothing, leaving behind only the quiet sorrow of a goddess betrayed.

The gods stood in grim silence, their decision final. Khonshu, standing apart from the others, gazed down at the ground, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had been forced to do. He said nothing as the final seal was placed upon the ushabti. His daughter was now nothing more than a forgotten relic in his temple.

Notes:

Sooooo... this is a story I've been wanting to write for awhile, and I've written most of my chapter notes, so I know what to write and everything <3 I hope you like it and let me know if there's anything, feel free to leave a comment <3
Also I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," and a Aragorn X OFC called "The crown Jewel of Imladris", they are both really good, feel free to check it out <3

Chapter 2: The Judgement of the Gods

It wasn’t long before Al Nouri’s ushabti was found. A British archaeologist, excited by the discovery of another ancient relic, unknowingly unearthed the vessel that contained her. Without fanfare, without reverence, she was removed from her prison and placed among other forgotten treasures of Egypt’s ancient past. The British Museum, with its countless artifacts, had no place for her divinity, only for her as a relic of myth, her once-powerful presence now reduced to a mere statue. The world had long since forgotten her.

Al Nouri had become a whisper in the wind of time, nothing more than a name spoken occasionally in dusty classrooms where curious young minds would visit. The children were more enthralled by the mummies than the stories of gods and goddesses, their eyes glazed over with indifference as the teacher explained her origins. Her name was barely remembered, and even when it was, it was treated as a fragment of forgotten history; a myth to be briefly discussed before moving on to the next exhibit.

But though her form was still, her senses were far from dormant. She could hear it all. She could hear the distant chatter of the museumgoers, the footsteps echoing across marble floors. The soft murmur of school children, their voices filled with curiosity, occasionally mentioning her name as if she were a trivial figure, forgotten to the pages of ancient scrolls. Their words felt like sharp needles, each passing comment another reminder of her isolation, her insignificance.

Yet Al Nouri’s attention wasn’t solely on their voices; it was on the lives they spoke of. She could hear their stories. The lovers, the heartbroken, the excited, and the weary. Every word felt like a thread connecting her to the world outside, though she remained silent, trapped in her prison. The cries of pain, the laughter of joy, the mundane chatter of their lives, it all reached her ears. She heard of their heartaches, their triumphs, their wars, their small victories and great losses. The world was so full of life, and yet, it felt like she had been left behind, discarded like an artifact from a forgotten time.

As she listened, a great sorrow filled her. Humanity had lost so much, lost their connection to love, to wisdom, to the balance that once guided them. The wars, the destruction, the way they tore each other apart, all of it pained her deeply. It was as though the world had forgotten how to live with purpose, how to love with the sincerity that once defined their hearts. The love that she had once felt for them, the hope that had once burned within her, now felt distant, like an ember fading into nothingness.

She wept in her stillness, unable to speak, unable to act. The tears that had once flowed freely as she roamed the skies, now lost in the confines of her prison, were only remembered in the faint flickers of flame that danced behind her closed eyes. She longed for the day when she could be free again, to guide humanity once more, to remind them of the balance they had forsaken. But for now, she was nothing more than an ancient relic, a forgotten god, her voice drowned out by the noise of the world that had moved on without her.

---

January 2011

 

A young woman with fiery red hair moved swiftly through the shadows of the British Museum, her sharp eyes scanning the room. She was aware of the guards’ routines and the omnipresent cameras, every detail etched in her mind from days of careful observation. The ushabti; an artifact long admired for its mysterious aura, was her target tonight.

As the clock struck midnight, the museum fell into silence. The woman moved, a ghost in the night. In moments, she was beside the pedestal where Al Nouri’s ushabti rested. With deft hands, she gently lifted the relic, slipping it into her bag. Not a sound echoed in the room.

Once outside, she hurried through the darkened streets, crossing the borders of the city without being detected. Hours later, she arrived at a secluded building in a different country, the faint hum of an air-conditioning unit the only sound as she entered.

Inside, she placed the ushabti carefully on a desk.

“I bought what you asked for, sir,” the woman said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

A man in a dark suit, seated behind the desk, looked up from a series of files. His eye patch caught the light, and his gaze was cold but calculating.

“Thank you, Agent Romanoff,” he replied, his voice carrying the weight of authority. He didn’t ask how she’d done it, didn’t question the risks. He knew her well enough to trust her judgment.

She paused, watching him closely. “May I ask, sir, what exactly it is?”

“Something we need,” the man answered cryptically, turning his attention back to the files.

Agent Romanoff didn’t press further. With a nod, she left, leaving the man alone with the ushabti. He stood up from his desk, walked over to the relic, and examined it for a moment, as if considering his next move carefully.

“I’ve heard great stories about you, Al Nouri,” the man murmured, his voice quieter now. “Your father spoke from the stars that I need you.”

The man, Nick Fury, didn’t hesitate. He placed the ushabti into a carefully prepared fire, watching as the flames licked around the stone. The fire crackled, and with a sudden, sharp crack, the ushabti broke open. Smoke billowed from the shattered relic, and in the midst of it, Nouri’s form materialized; dazed, confused, and still dressed in the ancient golden regalia she had worn so long ago.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim room, and slowly rose to her feet. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her senses; sharpened by centuries of imprisonment, were assaulted by the strange new world around her.

“Where am I?” Nouri asked, her voice raw, like a whisper lost in time.

“You’re in New York City, in the USA,” Nick Fury replied, his tone direct, offering no further explanation.

Nouri stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she crossed the room and approached the window. She gazed out at the sprawling city below, her heart aching. So much had changed. The world she had once known felt like a distant memory. She could feel the pulse of this new era, so different from the ancient times she had witnessed in her long existence. She had been imprisoned for more than two centuries, long enough for humanity to evolve into something nearly unrecognizable.

“I am Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he continued, his voice cutting through her thoughts. “And you, Al Nouri, are here because I’m in need of your help.”

Nouri turned, her eyes searching Fury’s face for more answers. “Why?”

Fury’s gaze was unwavering. “Because I’m putting together a team. This world is in danger, and I believe you could help us fight back.”

Nouri remained silent for a long moment, her mind racing.

Fury took a step closer, lowering his voice. “We’ve set you up in an apartment not far from here. There’s a historian waiting for you; someone you can ask any question you may have. After that, you’ll ride with me.”

Nouri opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Fury raised a hand to stop her.

Fury didn’t wait for her reply. “Come with me. I’ll take you to your new home.”

Nouri didn’t hesitate. The world outside seemed overwhelming, but it was also full of possibility. She was free—truly free—for the first time in centuries.

As she walked alongside Fury, she could sense the weight of the future ahead of her. But she also felt a strange sense of purpose stirring within her. The stars had chosen her for something, and she would discover it.

---

Nouri entered the apartment, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were lined with strange, sleek furniture, and bright, flickering screens flashed from various corners. She had spent so long in isolation, that the modern world felt overwhelming. A woman sat at the table, watching her with an expression of calm professionalism.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Your Highness,” the woman said, rising from her seat, bowed her head and offering her hand.

Nouri hesitated, her eyes briefly flickering to the outstretched hand before she accepted it, her grip firm but cautious. "I do not understand," she said, her voice a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

The woman gave a small, understanding smile. "I understand. The world has changed, but I am here to answer any questions you may have. I’ve been instructed to give you this."

She handed Nouri a scroll, its parchment strangely familiar but foreign at the same time. Nouri took it, unrolling the ancient scroll with a sense of reverence. The symbols were written in a language long lost to time, but Nouri’s eyes moved across the words effortlessly, her mind absorbing the meaning almost instantly.

 

My dear child, I have been banished from the Ennead Council for my involvement in human affairs and nearly exposing the Council to humanity. The Ennead no longer wish to walk amongst humans, but I have kept my eye on you. Humanity needs your guidance and knowledge. Help them, and the Ennead will forgive you. Anubis spoke of this. Act as an agent for the Ennead, and they will forgive you. Seek out Ra and ask for forgiveness.

 

Nouri's fingers trembled slightly as she closed the scroll, her mind racing. The words echoed in her thoughts, the gravity of what she was being asked to do sinking in. Two centuries of isolation had kept her from the divine world, and now, suddenly, the gods were reaching out; asking for her help in return for forgiveness. But what had she missed? What had changed in the world she had once been so connected to?

She glanced at the woman, who stood quietly by the table, her expression neutral but expectant.

"How long have I been imprisoned?" Nouri asked, her voice quiet, heavy with the weight of this newfound knowledge.

"Two hundred years," the woman answered softly, her eyes not meeting Nouri’s. "The world has changed drastically in that time. But you’re not alone anymore. There are those who seek you out. And there are those who still believe in your purpose."

Nouri’s gaze hardened, the flicker of fire in her chest awakening. "I have been forgotten," she said, her voice low, the words tinged with a bitter edge. "For two centuries, I was left in silence. And now they ask me to return... as an agent for the Ennead?"

The woman stepped forward; her voice gentle but firm. "The gods have their reasons, Your Highness. Anubis, he spoke of your potential. There is a man who needs you, someone who believes in your guidance. He’s the one who brought you back into the fold, so to speak."

Nouri's eyes narrowed. "And who is this man?"

The woman hesitated. "A leader."

Nouri took a slow breath, the weight of everything she had missed and everything she had to catch up on crashing down on her all at once. She felt both disconnected and strangely tethered to this new world. Everything had changed, but her purpose, her knowledge, it remained.

"You will need time to adjust," the woman continued, sensing Nouri’s hesitation. "But you are not forgotten. Not by everyone. We’ll help you, however we can."

Nouri stood silently for a long moment; her eyes distant as she processed the magnitude of her situation. She had watched over humanity for eons, had intervened when she could, and had been punished for it. Now, she was being called upon once again, not just by the gods, but by the very people she had once been so fascinated by.

Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but resolute. "I will seek out Ra. I will find forgiveness, if it is still possible. But I will also find out what has become of humanity. And I will help them, as I once intended."

The woman nodded, a sense of relief in her eyes. "Then we’ll get started."

Nouri nodded in return, her resolve firm. There was much to learn, but there was also much to do. And this time, she would not let the gods stand in her way.

---

March 2012

 

For months, Nouri immersed herself in the human world. She spent countless hours with historians, reading books, wandering through museums, observing humanity’s complexities—the beauty, the faults, and the fleeting passions. Every day, her heart grew heavier. How could mortals play with their hearts so recklessly? How could they be so filled with hate, so quick to destroy one another? It broke her in ways she couldn’t fully understand, but it also deepened her compassion for them.

One evening, after weeks of reflection, Nouri found herself standing at the bustling airport, a ticket to Cairo in hand. Her decision was final. She had to return to the land where her connection to both the gods and humanity had been forged. She needed to face the Council, to understand what they wanted from her now.

The moment her feet touched Egyptian soil, chaos greeted her. The air was thick with tension, the city suffocating under unrest. She moved through the crowd, unseen by most, her steps steady, yet purposeful. Her destination was clear: the Great Pyramid.

Hidden beneath the surface of mortal comprehension lay an entrance to a secret passageway, one only Nouri could navigate. She moved through it effortlessly, guided by ancient knowledge, until she stood at the heart of it all—the place where the gods still resided.

Her voice rang out, calm yet powerful, “Brothers and sisters, show yourselves.”

The walls seemed to stir with the echo of her words. Slowly, shadows took form, and the gods emerged—silent, ancient, their power undiminished. Yet a tension lingered in the air, a reluctance she could feel in every moment.

"So, it’s true," Osiris’ voice echoed, heavy with both surprise and concern. His eyes met hers, and something unspoken passed between them.

“You’ve been freed,” he continued, his tone far less accusatory than expected, more weary.

Atum, ever hot-headed, barked, “An abomination! You should not be here! This is a disgrace!”

“No, Atum,” Ra’s voice broke through, softer than it had ever been before, tinged with regret. “This is the will of the stars.”

Nouri’s gaze swept over them all, her heart heavy with the weight of everything she had endured. Stripped of her powers, locked away for centuries—her trauma was vast. The betrayal of her fellow gods stung deeply, and the humanity she had come to care for left scars that had festered in isolation.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice fragile but firm, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

Ra’s gaze softened, though sadness still lingered in his words. “Your love for mortals is what has freed you, Al Nouri. You have transcended what we feared. But you must act according to our laws, if you wish to reclaim your rightful place.”

Nouri felt the familiar burn in her hands. Her hieroglyphs, once faded, began to glow as her divine essence rekindled within her. Memories, abilities, and the weight of her previous rebellion surged back into her, and she could not ignore the anger that rose with it.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, but it carried all the pain of her time in confinement.

Isis, her voice soft, stepped forward and placed a hand gently on Nouri's shoulder. “We are all threatened by the future, my child,” she said. “We feared that humanity would devour itself, that they would lose the path we laid for them. But now… now, they need your strength. Your guidance.”

Ra’s voice remained firm, his authority unmistakable. “Al Nouri, you have seen humanity in ways none of us could. Their suffering, their triumphs, their light and darkness alike. In exchange for your forgiveness, we offer you your title and powers once more. But know this: we ask that you act as we deem fit. Guide humanity, but allow them to walk their own path, as we watch from above. Let them find their destiny while you fulfill yours.”

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, her anger building. “And Khonshu? What of him?” Her voice trembled with fury. “You have no right to ask this of me when he, too, fought for humanity—just as I did.”

At the mention of Khonshu’s name, a ripple of discomfort swept through the gods. Osiris spoke first, his voice heavy. “Khonshu’s actions became a threat to the balance. He meddled too much, and his interference left consequences that even we could not control.”

Ra’s expression hardened. “Khonshu sought to avenge those wronged by evildoers. But his meddling has caused disruptions in the natural order. He was banished from the Ennead for his actions, cast out for disturbing the balance of the world.”

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat, and her chest tightened with fury. “And you cast him aside?” she spat, her voice low, full of hurt. “You, who once upheld the bond between gods and mortals, now cast your own aside? How can you justify this?”

Anubis, his voice quiet and grave, stepped forward. “The Ennead also imprisoned Ammit,” he said, his words carrying a deep sorrow. “For laying judgment upon mortals before their time had come. She, too, was sealed in an ushabti for her actions. Her judgment was too harsh, her desire for order too absolute.”

The mention of Ammit sent a ripple of unease through the divine assembly. The very thought of the goddess of judgment, once revered for her unwavering sense of justice, now locked away for her overzealous actions, reflected the profound divisions within the Ennead. Nouri’s anger surged, and she could no longer hold her thoughts back.

“And yet, I am different?” she asked bitterly, her voice trembling not with rage but with sorrow. “You banish Khonshu, imprison Ammit, and still you expect me to bow to your whims? After everything I’ve endured, you still treat me as a pawn.”

Ra looked at her, his gaze not unkind but weary. “Al Nouri, your love for humanity transcends even our understanding. We did not wish to punish you, but your rebellion has created a fracture. Still, your destiny is not one of mere punishment. It is greater than we once believed.”

She stared at him, her heart racing as his words sank in. “You fear my actions,” Nouri said, the realization dawning on her. “But you cannot stop me, can you?”

“No,” Ra replied, his voice resigned, “Your destiny is greater than ours. And though we still do not agree with your choice to walk among mortals, it is not for us to decide. The stars themselves have already chosen your path.”

Nouri stood still, the weight of their words settling deep within her chest. A sense of purpose began to take root. She would not be bound by their fears, nor by their past mistakes. She would walk her own path—among the mortals, as their guide, not as a passive observer, but as an active force in their struggles.

“Then I will walk my path,” she said quietly, her voice steady and resolute. “I will guide them, as I always have.”

Ra’s gaze softened for the briefest of moments, a hint of approval flickering in his eyes. “Then go, Al Nouri. But remember, your actions must serve both humanity and the gods. Your journey is not without cost.”

And with that, the gods dissipated into the shadows, leaving Nouri standing alone in the heart of the sacred chamber. But she was not truly alone.

“Congratulations are in order,” Anubis said, his voice soft but filled with understanding.

“Indeed,” Nouri responded, her expression thoughtful, though still marked by the weight of everything. “But I fear what the Council expects of me.”

Anubis regarded her with quiet sympathy. “Do not fear, Al Nouri. If you need my counsel, you need only ask.”

With a gentle motion, Anubis placed a gold cuff on her wrist—an emblem of his support, a bond between them that transcended the divine politics she had once known.

As she left the afterlife, her mind swirled with the weight of the gods' request, yet a part of her felt lighter, more certain. She had been given a second chance, and though the journey ahead was uncertain, Nouri was ready to face it.

She returned to the mortal realm, continuing her lessons with the historian, but now, with her divine strength and responsibilities renewed. The path before her would be long, filled with challenges, but it was a path she would walk with her heart open, her eyes fixed on both humanity and the divine.

---

May 2nd, 2012

 

Nouri had quickly adapted to life in the 21st century. The hum of the city—the noise, the rhythm—had become a constant, like the pulse of a heartbeat that she could now feel within her own chest. Each morning, she wandered through the Middle Eastern neighbourhood, into old Arabic bookstores that lined the narrow streets, her presence a quiet thread in the tapestry of history. The elder shopkeepers, many of whom had known her since her early days in the city, greeted her like an old friend. Their conversations always circled back to the stories of Egypt—of gods, of kings, of times long past—and Nouri would listen, her thoughts drifting back to a time when she, too, had been part of those tales.

She had lived those stories and didn’t need to hear them to understand their depth. But still, each recounting tugged at something deep inside her, a longing for the days when her life was intertwined with the fate of those she had watched over. The weight of time seemed heavier then, as if she had once acted, not just observed.

Afterward, Nouri would make her way to the small Arabic coffee shop she visited every day. The owner, an older Egyptian man named Hussain, with a warm smile and an even warmer heart, would greet her with a casual nod. To him, she was just another regular customer, the young woman who always arrived at the same time each morning. Despite the fact that she had lived for more than 5,000 years, her youthful appearance never gave away her true age. To him, Nouri was simply a kind, quiet girl who loved her daily coffee.

"Good morning, Nouri," he would say with a friendly tone, his voice like an old friend’s. "The usual today?"

Nouri would return his smile with a gentle nod. "Yes please, Hussain. And a shoreek pastry as well."

She would settle into her usual spot by the window, the soft hum of the café a comforting background to her thoughts. As Hussain prepared her coffee and pastry, she would open the book she had been reading, her fingers lightly tracing the pages as she began to lose herself in the words.

After a few minutes, the bell above the door jingled softly as Hussain’s daughter, Layla, entered. She was carrying a stack of papers, likely from university, and her eyes brightened when she saw Nouri sitting by the window.

"Morning, Nouri," Layla greeted, pulling up a chair beside her. “How’s your day going so far?”

Nouri smiled up at her, glad to see the young woman. "It's going well, thank you, Layla. And you? How’s school?"

Layla sighed, setting the stack of papers down on the table. "It’s Ancient Egyptian history. There’s so much to cover, and sometimes I feel like I’m missing something important. You know, those little details that make the history come alive."

Nouri’s eyes sparkled with understanding. "Ah, Ancient Egypt," she said, her voice soft. "A fascinating subject. What part are you studying now?"

Layla glanced at her papers, looking slightly frustrated. "Right now, I’m trying to understand the relationship between the gods and the pharaohs. How they interacted and how it shaped the civilization. I’m stuck on this one part about the divine rule of Pharaoh Akhenaten."

Nouri leaned in slightly, pretending to be just as interested in the academic side of things. "Ah, yes. Akhenaten. He was a complex figure, trying to shift the religious order. His attempts to establish Aten as the sole deity certainly left a lasting mark on Egypt’s history. The shift in power dynamics between the priesthood of Amun and the throne is fascinating."

Layla nodded, clearly relieved. "Exactly! I just can’t make sense of the full impact it had. Do you think it was purely for political power, or did he really believe in the Aten?"

Nouri took a moment, considering the question, her mind briefly drifting back to those ancient days. "He believed in the Aten, in his own way," she said softly. "But it was also a move of consolidation—an attempt to reshape Egypt according to his vision, where the divine power was closer to the throne. It’s not so different from how rulers today sometimes use religion to solidify their power."

Layla jotted down notes, glancing up at Nouri with gratitude. "That makes so much sense. I was missing that angle. Thanks, Nouri."

"You’re welcome," Nouri replied with a smile. "It’s always a pleasure to revisit these subjects, especially with someone as eager to learn as you."

Hussain, who had been watching the two women from the counter, set down a fresh pot of coffee near them. "What are you two discussing now? Ancient Egypt again?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes Baba," Layla laughed, glancing at Nouri. "I’m trying to understand the pharaohs, and Nouri here is like a walking textbook on the subject."

Nouri chuckled softly, glancing at Layla. "I’ve studied it for a long time," she said casually. "It’s always good to share what I know."

As they continued their conversation, Nouri sipped her coffee, savoring the simple act of sharing knowledge with someone so eager to learn. Layla's passion for Ancient Egypt sparked memories of a time when Nouri had walked among the people, guiding them as they built their monuments to her and the gods.

By the time the sun was high, Nouri prepared to leave the shop, stepping out into the bustling city once more. Though the world still felt strange to her, the routine she had built with Hussain and Layla gave her a sense of belonging. The small rituals, the quiet moments, helped her find a place in the modern world. She returned to her apartment, where the weight of centuries settled back on her, and lost herself in thought, wondering if a message from the heavens would ever come.

Each night, Nouri sat by her window, gazing up at the stars—a ritual that had become second nature. She whispered to the night, hoping for the familiar voice of Khonshu, but all she heard in return was silence. A silence that stretched across the centuries. She had hoped her father would speak to her, but perhaps, she thought, he had abandoned her like the rest of the gods.

The silence was deafening.

Instead, Nouri spent her days at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters, the only place where she felt connected to something greater than herself. There, she learned of their operations, their goals, their challenges, all while building a relationship with Nick Fury. She was, as he put it, "the perfect ally" wise, powerful, and more than willing to help whenever she was called upon. And when Fury needed her, she was there, always at his side.

But today; today, things were different.

The knock on her door was a familiar one, but it carried an urgency that she hadn't expected. Fury stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his dark eyes scanning her apartment before landing on her.

"It’s time," he said, his voice carrying a weight she couldn’t ignore.

“What happened?” Nouri asked, setting her book aside, her senses already on alert.

“What do you know of Loki Laufeyson?” Fury asked, his gaze never wavering.

“Loki Odinson, you mean? The Norse god of mischief, Thor’s little brother? Yes, I know of him.” Nouri laughed, the memory of the two brothers flashing in her mind. She had encountered them once or twice; mischief and pride always at odds, but both wrapped in the same fierce determination.

Fury’s expression hardened. “Yesterday, he stole this.” He reached into his jacket and handed her a folder. "It’s called the Tesseract."

Nouri took the file, flipping it open with casual ease, though her mind was racing. "Never heard of it. But I assume it’s important to you?" She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

“Loki plans to use it to open a rift in space and bring an invasion to Earth. He wants to enslave humanity, rule over them.” Fury’s voice grew more serious. “He stole the Tesseract and vanished. We don’t know where he’s gone, but we can’t let him succeed."

Nouri paused, processing his words. She leaned back in her chair, her thoughts already shifting to the bigger picture. “I can feel the pull of something... darker. A storm, gathering on the horizon. You’re right, this Tesseract is no small thing. What do you need from me?”

Fury handed her several more files, each one labeled with a name:

Bruce Banner

Tony Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Steve Rogers

“I am assembling a team. Tomorrow, Agent Coulson will pick you and Steve Rogers up,” Fury said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Nouri looked down at the files in her hands, her fingers grazing over the photographs. She knew of each of them in passing; heroes, all of them, though some more reluctant than others. But Steve Rogers... she had heard stories about him. The super soldier, the man out of time. He had fought in wars, fought for what was right. His moral compass was unmatched, even by gods.

She nodded, absorbing the weight of the task ahead. “And what happens when Loki succeeds?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We stop him. Whatever it takes."

Nouri stood and walked over to the window, her eyes following the fading light of the setting sun. She placed a hand on the cool glass, looking out at the city below; this strange, beautiful, imperfect world that had both fascinated and frustrated her for centuries.

“Is this what you want from me?” she whispered into the wind, her gaze turning upward to the heavens.

A moment passed, and then she heard it, Ra’s voice, as clear as day.

Yes.

The answer from Ra was all she needed. A sense of clarity washed over her, a deep knowing that this was her path.

Her task had begun.

Notes:

I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Chapter 3: Helicarrier

May 3rd, 2012

 

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Nouri’s modest apartment, casting a warm glow over the room. She awoke early, as was her habit, her mind already racing with the information from the files Fury had handed her. There was much to learn, and she had no intention of letting the opportunity slip by. As she sipped her coffee, she began to read, absorbing every detail with ease.

Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, M.D., Ph.D. – A scientist renowned for his work in biochemistry, nuclear physics, and gamma radiation. His expertise was impressive, but the file hinted at something deeper, something that lurked beneath the surface.

“Interesting,” Nouri muttered under her breath. “There’s more to him than meets the eye.”

Next, she turned to the file of Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark—a name she’d heard whispered in both admiration and disdain. A billionaire industrialist, CEO of Stark Industries, and a man who had created weapons of mass destruction only to later turn his talents toward technology and innovation.

"I could learn a great deal from his knowledge," she mused, intrigued by his intelligence and the contradictions that seemed to define him.

She moved on to Natalia Alianovna "Natasha" Romanoff—one of the most skilled spies and assassins in the world. Her abilities were unparalleled, and she had a reputation that preceded her wherever she went. Yet, there was something personal in Nouri’s eyes when she read further—Natasha had once been the one to steal her ushabti from The British Museum. The memory stirred a faint sense of discomfort in Nouri, but it was tempered by the understanding that people had their own reasons for doing what they did.

"She stole it," Nouri whispered to herself, though there was no anger in her tone. Just curiosity about the events that had unfolded since.

And then, the last file—Steven Grant "Steve" Rogers, the man she would soon meet in person. A World War II veteran and Earth's first known superhero, Steve Rogers was a symbol of resilience and bravery. Nouri lingered on his file a little longer than the others, drawn to the quiet strength in his eyes. A man Nouri had learned about in her many visits to the museum.

“He’s cute,” she thought with a small, knowing smile, not expecting the warmth that spread through her chest at the thought of him. She hadn’t expected to feel that way, especially not in a world where emotions were complicated and fleeting. But there it was. She’d heard stories about Steve—about his unwavering sense of duty and honour. He was a hero in every sense of the word.

"So, this is the man I’ll be meeting," Nouri mused, her fingers tracing the edge of his file. She felt an odd mixture of anticipation and trepidation, but mostly, curiosity. She was about to be swept into the chaos of the mortal world, and she had no idea what to expect.

She finished her coffee and quickly dressed in simple mortal clothes, black dress pants and a white blouse, a stark contrast to the more elaborate regalia she had once worn. She had learned to adapt over the year, blending in, becoming part of the world she watched so carefully from the outside. She didn’t need to dress like a goddess to make an impression.

Sitting on the couch, Nouri opened an ancient scroll she had found years ago, its brittle pages filled with wisdom from long-forgotten eras. She had not read it in some time, but the comfort of the old text soothed her, transporting her to another time. A time when she was surrounded by the Medjai, when her friend Ardeth, her very best friend, was by her side.

Her fingers gently caressed the edges of the scroll, a wistful sigh escaping her lips. Ardeth had been like a brother to her, loyal and unwavering. Together, they had fought battles, sought justice, and preserved the sacred knowledge of Egypt. But time had pulled them apart, and she hadn’t heard from him in centuries.

The silence in the apartment was palpable, as if the weight of centuries of separation had settled into the space with her. She missed him more than she allowed herself to admit.

She closed the scroll and glanced at the clock. Agent Coulson would be here soon. She had met him a few times, he was always formal, respectful, and perhaps a little too buttoned-up for her liking. But there was something reassuring in his presence. He seemed like someone who understood the weight of duty.

Her thoughts drifted back to Steve Rogers. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something important, something that might shift her perspective on humanity forever. Her task, protecting Earth and finding her place in this new world, had just begun. And with it came the uncertainty of whether she truly belonged among them.

The knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She stood, took one last glance at the scroll, and walked toward the door. It was time.

"Your highness, it’s me," came the familiar voice.

Nouri blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts, and rose to answer. She opened the door to find Agent Coulson standing there, looking as formal as ever.

“Agent Coulson,” Nouri greeted with a small smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Your highness,” Coulson said, offering a nod of respect, though his tone softened when he saw the casual atmosphere of the apartment.

“Please, Coulson. Call me Nouri,” she replied, offering him a warm, friendly smile. She preferred the simplicity of human connections, and titles felt heavy in her hands.

Coulson smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgment. "Of course, Nouri."

She followed him down the stairs, her steps light but measured, the early morning air refreshing as they made their way to the car. The bustling city felt distant to her, its vibrant energy both a comfort and a reminder of what she had missed. She took a slow breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs.

“So, we’ll be picking up Steve Rogers as well, and then taking the Quinjet to the helicarrier,” Coulson said with palpable enthusiasm.

Nouri turned her gaze to him, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Quinjet? Helicarrier?” she asked, her tone curious, though she couldn’t help but feel a little lost. The words were strange to her, but her interest was piqued. "I have learned a lot about your technical advancements, but there are things I do not know yet."

“I’m sorry,” Coulson quickly apologized, catching himself. “It’s just... we need you, Nouri. Something big is coming, and we can’t face it without your help.”

Nouri gave a small, contemplative nod. She had heard the weight in his voice, the urgency, and it tugged at something deep within her. A long-forgotten sense of duty stirred. "I will help, as I always have."

Coulson smiled gratefully, though the excitement in his voice remained. "Tell me about Steve Rogers," Nouri asked, eager to know more.

The moment her words left her lips, Coulson’s demeanour shifted. His eyes lit up, and he practically leaned forward in the seat, clearly unable to contain his excitement. "Oh, Steve Rogers?" he began, his voice almost reverent. "He’s the first real hero, Nouri. He’s—well, he’s Steve Rogers! He was part of the original super soldier program during World War II. They gave him a serum that enhanced his strength, speed, agility—he was basically a walking weapon. A hero before heroes were even a thing!"

Nouri's curiosity deepened as she listened, her eyes never leaving the window. "A man of great power," she mused quietly. She didn’t know how to feel about the concept of 'superheroes.' Mortal men with powers—she had seen gods wield greater power, yet here, a mortal had become something... extraordinary. It was a puzzle she wanted to understand. "What became of him?"

"Well," Coulson continued with even more fervour, "after his last mission, he was frozen in ice for over seventy years, trapped in time. They found him a year ago, and he’s still adjusting to the world today. A man out of time, you know?"

Nouri tilted her head slightly, the mention of being "frozen in ice" pulling at something in her own memory. She, too, had been lost to time, though her prison had been far less literal.

"Seventy years," she repeated softly. "It seems we both share that... burden." She couldn't help but laugh softly, a slight irony in her tone. "But unlike him, I did not emerge from ice."

Coulson laughed nervously, sensing the deeper meaning in her words, but he was quick to move on. "Right! Anyway, Steve is an absolute legend. He’s fought in wars, seen the worst of humanity, and yet he still holds onto his ideals. He’s got this... incredible sense of right and wrong. You’ll see for yourself, Nouri. When he’s on your side, there’s no one better."

Nouri thought about this for a moment. "Perhaps I will see for myself," she murmured, the warmth of his words sinking in. She could sense Coulson’s admiration for Rogers, and the idea of meeting this "legend" intrigued her more with each passing second.

The car slowed, and they pulled up in front of a tall building—Steve Rogers' apartment. Coulson parked the car and turned to Nouri with a brief, knowing smile.

"We’re here," he said, stepping out of the car. "I’ll be right back with him."

Nouri nodded, watching Coulson walk toward the building. She remained seated, her gaze turning to the window once again, lost in thought. The world had moved on without her, and yet, here she was—caught between past and present, between the immortal and the mortal. This was her chance to understand humanity’s growth, to find her place in this world that had been so foreign to her.

As the car idled quietly, Nouri allowed herself a moment of peace, feeling the weight of time on her shoulders, yet knowing that with this meeting, something was beginning.

---

Nouri didn’t have to wait long before the car door swung open, and there, standing before her, was a man who could only be described as striking. Strong, confident, with an air of quiet courage about him. He wasn’t just handsome; he radiated something deeper, something that made her notice him immediately. It was as though his very presence filled the room.

"Hello, Mr. Rogers," Nouri greeted, offering her hand with a polite smile. "It’s an honour to meet you."

Steve Rogers took her hand firmly, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. "Thank you, Miss," he replied, but there was no recognition in his eyes. He had no idea who she was, and that made sense to her. After all, she had been a myth, a legend, nothing more than a whisper in the wind for centuries.

"This is Al Nouri, Goddess of the Eternal Path, an ancient goddess of old Egypt," Agent Coulson interjected, "She has offered to help us."

Steve’s confusion deepened, but he was too polite to voice it. “Alright," he murmured, glancing at Nouri again, clearly unsure of what to make of her.

Nouri smiled softly, noting Steve’s reaction. She could sense his scepticism, but also the respect he gave in return. It was, after all, her first true encounter with a hero of his calibre. He seemed like the kind of man who took his duty seriously, something she had not expected but respected immediately.

As the car rumbled forward, Nouri turned her gaze toward the window, her thoughts drifting back home. She thought about her fellow gods, her brothers and sisters back in Egypt. How humanity had once adored her, sought her guidance, and revered her for her wisdom. Now, she had become a myth, her name scarcely spoken in the temples or on the lips of mortals. She wondered how her ancient temple stood, whether the flames still burned in the sacred fires, or if, like her, it had been forgotten.

Her gaze softened, feeling the weight of time pressing against her chest. She was here now, not just as an observer but as someone trying to reconnect with the world she once watched from afar.

The car eventually stopped, and they stepped out in front of a massive Quinjet. Nouri’s eyes widened, taking in the sleek, futuristic design. She had seen planes and helicopters before, but this, this was something else entirely. A marvel of technology, unlike anything she could have imagined.

Once inside, Nouri found her seat across from Steve, her thoughts still swirling. She could feel the hum of the aircraft, the excitement in the air. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the feeling of being a part of something bigger than herself. As the Quinjet lifted off, heading toward the Helicarrier, Nouri couldn’t help but look over at Steve again. He seemed so focused, absorbed in the footage on his tablet.

The pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom, breaking her reverie. "We're about 40 minutes out from base, sir."

Steve gave a quick nod before glancing back down at his screen. The footage showed a massive green blur, Hulk, ripping apart a jeep with mindless fury. Steve shook his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“Didn’t really go his way, did it?” Steve muttered; his voice almost casual despite the chaos on screen.

“Not so much,” Coulson replied, his tone dry. “When he’s not that thing, though, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking.” He noticed the confused looks on both Steve and Nouri’s faces.

“Uh, he’s a smart person,” Coulson clarified awkwardly, offering a sheepish grin.

Nouri’s curiosity piqued at the mention of Hawking. "Like Galileo?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, still adjusting to this modern world filled with new names and ideas.

Coulson laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sort of.”

Coulson’s expression shifted as he approached Steve. "I gotta say, it's an honour to meet you, officially," he said, a little too enthusiastically. "I sorta met you... I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."

Steve looked up, surprised, and then glanced over at Nouri, clearly uncomfortable with Coulson's words. "I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious, from the ice. It's just... a huge honour to have you on board," Coulson stammered, realizing how awkward his words sounded.

Nouri raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. "You watched him while he was sleeping?" she teased lightly, her tone more playful than harsh.

Steve smiled politely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I hope I'm the man for the job," he said with a faint chuckle.

Coulson nodded vigorously. "Oh, you are. Absolutely. Uh... we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

Steve raised an eyebrow, looking down at his uniform. “The uniform? Aren’t the stars and stripes a little... old-fashioned?”

"With everything that's happening, and the things that are about to come to light... people might just need a little old-fashioned," Coulson replied, his voice growing serious. "It's a symbol, Rogers. A reminder of who we are and what we stand for."

Steve paused; his gaze thoughtful. He turned to Nouri, catching her eye across the aisle. Something in his expression softened, curiosity flickering in his blue eyes. There was something about her that intrigued him; her calm demeanour, her beauty, her grace. She seemed different from anyone he had ever met. In a world full of high-tech gadgets and super-powered individuals, Nouri seemed like the very essence of something timeless.

“Are you... okay?” Steve asked, his voice softer now, his gaze never leaving hers. There was a certain warmth in his eyes, an unspoken understanding, as if he could sense the weight of everything she was carrying.

Nouri paused for a moment; her gaze focused on the horizon outside the window of the Helicarrier. The vastness of the world below was so different from the world she once knew—so full of noise, speed, and overwhelming change. She hadn’t expected to feel so out of place, even with all her wisdom and power.

She turned back to Steve, offering him a comforting smile, though there was a trace of something ancient in her eyes. "Just trying to take it all in," she replied, her voice calm, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper. "I am from a time much different than this." Her words felt heavy, like the weight of centuries. "But the Council has advised me that I am needed here."

Steve looked at her, a mix of curiosity and empathy in his expression. He could sense that her words weren’t just about the present moment. There was something about her—about the way she carried herself, the grace in her every movement—that made him believe she wasn’t just some passing figure in this strange, chaotic world.

---

As the Quinjet touched down on the massive battleship, the Helicarrier, with a quiet thud, its engines winding down as the ramp descended. Nouri followed closely behind Agent Coulson and Steve, taking in the sight of the enormous structure around her. She had read about the Helicarrier in Fury’s files, but seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. The sheer scale of the ship left her speechless for a moment, her eyes scanning the vast expanse of the deck.

Agent Coulson gestured toward the ground. “After you,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

Nouri stepped off the Quinjet with grace, her movements almost too fluid for someone who had been in the mortal world for such a short time. She was fascinated by the advanced technology surrounding her, the way the air hummed with the sounds of engines and the rapid motion of agents rushing around, preparing for whatever awaited them next.

As she walked down the ramp, she caught sight of Natasha Romanoff waiting at the base, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Agent Romanoff, Captain Rogers, Al Nouri," Coulson said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying warmth when he addressed Nouri.

"Ma'am," Steve said with a polite nod, his gaze respectful.

Nouri returned the nod, but her attention was fixed on the Helicarrier. She found herself more intrigued by the sheer magnitude of the vessel than the introductions. She had read about it, but standing here, it felt surreal.

"Hi," Natasha greeted, giving Coulson a pointed glance. "They need you on the bridge. They're starting the face-trace."

"See you there," Coulson replied with a brief nod before heading off. Steve and Nouri followed Natasha toward the edge of the Helicarrier, the deck bustling with activity as they moved.

"So," Natasha began with a playful glint in her eyes, "there was quite the buzz around here when they found you in the ice. Coulson was practically swooning. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

Steve, still processing the recent events, furrowed his brow in confusion. "Trading cards?"

Natasha hid a smirk behind her hand. “They’re vintage. He’s very proud of them. You’ve got a bit of a fan club here, Cap.”

Steve chuckled softly, not sure what to make of that. His gaze drifted over to Nouri, who was still lost in the immensity of the Helicarrier. She appeared completely unperturbed by the bustling, technological world around her, as though this place, too, had its place in the grand scheme of things.

They continued walking as Nouri paused near the edge of the ship, her eyes taking in the distant view of the clouds, her face reflecting both wonder and contemplation. Natasha and Steve exchanged a brief glance before following her to the railing.

“So, you're the one who stole my ushabti?” Nouri asked, her voice playful but her eyes full of curiosity.

"Possibly," Natasha replied with a sly smile.

"Ah, I see," Nouri said, her tone light. "It’s lovely to finally meet you."

“The honour is mine,” Natasha said, giving a small bow of her head, a gesture of respect. “I’ve read quite a bit about your legends, Al Nouri.”

“Legends?” Nouri mused; her smile gentle but tinged with sadness. “I always assumed it had become forgotten.”

As the words left her mouth, a sudden sharp feeling burned in her right eye, The Eye of Horus. The Council had granted her more of her abilities back. She blinked and placed a hand over her eye, the hieroglyph faded quickly, masking itself.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, noticing the subtle change. "Everything alright?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity but still keeping a careful distance.

Nouri nodded, a faint smile curving her lips. “Nothing to worry about. Just... the price of rebellion.”

The sound of footsteps drew their attention, and they turned to find Bruce Banner, wandering the ship, trying his best to avoid the chaos that surrounded him. He looked like someone who had spent more time out of the spotlight than in it.

“Dr. Banner,” Steve called out, waving him over.

Bruce hesitated for a moment before walking over, his gaze shifting between the group. “Oh, yeah. Hi. They told me you'd be coming,” Bruce said, his voice quiet and slightly awkward. "Al Nouri, it's an honour." His eyes were wide with genuine admiration. “I’ve read everything about you... and I have to say, I’m a massive fan.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Nouri said with a soft smile, her demeanour humble. "The honour is mine."

Steve chuckled softly. “Word is you can find the cube.”

“Is that the only word on me?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Steve with a touch of sarcasm.

Steve smiled slightly, his tone light. “Only word I care about.” He looked at Nouri, who smiled back at Bruce.

Bruce paused for a moment, glancing over at Steve. "It must be strange for both of you, all of this," he said thoughtfully, his hands adjusting his glasses as he looked at the team assembled around him.

Steve looked off toward a group of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents training in the distance, remembering his days in the army. “Well, this is actually kind of familiar,” he mused, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Being imprisoned for 200 years... everything is a surprise,” Nouri admitted softly, the weight of her past settling on her shoulders. The tone in her voice was not one of regret, but rather the quiet acceptance of something she had no control over. The sheer shock of being thrust into the modern world, of witnessing the vast changes in humanity, was not lost on her.

Before Bruce could respond, Natasha’s voice cut through the moment. “Gentlemen, Your Highness, you might want to step inside. It’s about to get a little hard to breathe.”

The Helicarrier shook slightly as it prepared to take off. Agents hurried to strap down planes and Quinjets, donning oxygen masks in preparation.

“Is this a submarine?” Steve asked, looking around at the unfamiliar technology with a hint of scepticism.

Bruce looked at him incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "Really? They wanted me in a submerged, pressurized metal container?"

The three of them moved toward the edge of the ship as massive lift fans began to whir to life, raising the Helicarrier off the ground. Nouri and Steve watched in awe as the immense vessel took to the skies, while Bruce just smiled with a knowing look.

“Oh no. This is much worse,” Bruce muttered, shaking his head.

“Amazing,” Nouri breathed out, her eyes wide with awe as the Helicarrier rose higher into the sky, cutting through the clouds. Her connection to the ancient world and the sky had always been strong, but this, this was something entirely different.

---

Natasha led Nouri, Steve, and Bruce through the massive structure, her steps purposeful as she navigated the bustling corridors. Inside the helicarrier, agents were stationed at their consoles, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the screens before them. The hum of machinery and the sharp click of keyboards filled the air. Agent Hill was barking orders to a group of agents, her voice commanding as she coordinated the movement of the helicarrier.

"Good to have you aboard," Natasha said with a hint of warmth, looking back at the trio behind her with a faint smile. She seemed almost proud of the ship, as if it were a reflection of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s power.

"We’re at lock, sir," Maria Hill’s voice rang out, sharp and clear.

"Good. Let’s vanish," Nick Fury’s voice followed, clipped and efficient. His tone brooked no argument, his eyes focused as he sat in the command chair, overseeing every movement of the helicarrier.

With that command, the helicarrier rose, lifting into the air with a silent grace. The ship’s surface shifted, panels of reflective mirrors covering it, rendering it nearly invisible against the vast expanse of the sky above. It was a sight to behold, one that left Nouri staring in wonder. She had seen many marvels in her time, but this technology felt almost alien to her—a far cry from the ancient methods of protection she was used to.

As the ship ascended higher, Nouri, Steve, and Bruce walked along the gleaming bridge. They marvelled at the ship’s design, the smooth, futuristic surfaces of the walls and floor, the careful integration of technology and style. Natasha kept pace ahead of them, walking with ease, her posture straight but casual.

"Quite the ship," Nouri commented softly, her gaze lingering on the high-tech consoles and the agents working at them.

"Yeah, it’s something," Steve muttered, clearly impressed but trying not to show too much of it.

Natasha glanced back at them, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You’ll get used to it. It’s not all shiny surfaces. We’ve got more than a few surprises in store."

“Gentlemen, Your Highness,” Fury said with a nod, acknowledging the trio as they moved through the bridge.

Nouri raised a hand in greeting, but she felt her attention drift elsewhere. She wasn’t used to the formality of the setting, and she felt somewhat out of place. The sense of awe was replaced by a subtle discomfort as she took in the scope of what they were doing here—this was beyond her normal realm of understanding. She was known for her wisdom and yet, this world of technology, of spies and weapons, felt foreign.

As Steve leaned over, taking a ten-dollar bill from his pocket, he tossed it toward Fury with a playful smirk. "Bet you we’ll find the Tesseract before you do."

Fury caught the bill with a smirk of his own, his demeanour cool. “Noted.”

As Steve and Nouri began to walk, Fury moved toward Bruce, his voice more serious. "Doctor, thank you for coming," he said, extending his hand toward Bruce.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, glancing at Fury’s hand before shaking it. "Thanks for asking nicely. So, uh... how long am I staying?" Bruce’s voice held a thread of uncertainty, his unease apparent.

"As long as it takes to get the Tesseract, then you're free to go," Fury replied with his characteristic directness.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. "Oh yeah? And how’s that going? Where are you on finding it?"

Fury turned to Agent Coulson, who stood nearby, his expression focused. Coulson took over the explanation, detailing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s plans to track the Tesseract. Meanwhile, Natasha crouched down by a computer screen displaying an image of Clint Barton, her fingers moving swiftly over the touchscreen, swiping to the left and revealing more statistics.

“We’re sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet—cell phones, laptops," Coulson explained, his voice low but steady. "If it’s connected to a satellite, it’s eyes and ears for us.”

Nouri was captivated. The technology felt so far removed from her own experiences, yet there was something undeniably impressive about it. She watched intently as Coulson continued, her fingers subconsciously tracing the edge of a nearby console.

"This is... amazing," Nouri murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "The precision, the reach of it—it's unlike anything I could have imagined."

Natasha turned toward her with a small grin. "We’ve got a few more tricks up our sleeves. You’ll get used to it, I’m sure."

Bruce, listening carefully to the discussion, nodded thoughtfully. "This is good, but it’s not enough. You’re not going to catch them in time if you rely on cameras alone. You have to narrow the field."

Fury, who had been watching the exchange, was now focused on Bruce. "How do you propose we do that, Doctor?"

Bruce took a breath, tapping his fingers on the console, his mind working quickly. "Spectrometers," he said, his voice steady. "How many spectrometers do you have access to? We need to calibrate them for gamma rays. That way, we can rule out places and narrow down the search. You need to make sure every lab has their spectrometers pointed in the right direction."

“How many are there?” Fury asked.

Bruce exhaled, then focused on the task at hand. "Call every lab you know. Get them on this. I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. It’ll help, but you need the spectrometers. Do you have somewhere I can work?"

"Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his lab?" Fury asked, his tone businesslike.

Natasha stood; her posture relaxed but professional. "You're going to love it, Doc. We’ve got all the toys."

As Natasha led Bruce off to the lab, Nouri and Steve were left standing near Fury, who had his attention on the ongoing operations.

“200 years,” Nouri finally broke the silence, turning to Fury. “I spent in a statue, listening to every event in human history. I’ve spent months studying and learning, but this… this is amazing.”

Steve muttered, his voice low, “It’s something.” His gaze lingered on the tech around them, though his attention seemed to shift quickly, always alert.

“We are searching for this Tesseract?” Nouri asked, still processing all the new information. Her voice held a note of disbelief mixed with fascination.

“And Loki,” Maria Hill added, her voice tight with the weight of the situation.

“Finding him is tricky. Is there anyone?” Nouri asked, turning toward Fury with a sense of resolve.

“One of ours. Clint Barton.” Fury replied, his tone still clipped but carrying a hint of hope.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult,” Nouri added, her voice confident. She too had a trick up her sleeve

---

As night crept across the sky, the Helicarrier bridge hummed with quiet urgency. Personnel moved swiftly, working in sync with the precision only S.H.I.E.L.D. could command. The atmosphere was electric; everyone knew the stakes. They were tracking Loki using satellite facial recognition. Nouri stood near the massive glass window, her gaze lingering on the stars beyond. She had always been drawn to them, as if they held the answers to the questions she had carried for millennia.

As she gazed into the starry night, Nouri closed her eyes, reaching out to sense Clint Barton's soul. She felt his emotions and glimpsed his world, now all that remained was to pinpoint his exact location.

Behind her, she heard Agent Coulson making small talk with Steve Rogers, trying to pass the time. Nouri couldn’t help but smile to herself, amused at the way Coulson’s excitement bubbled to the surface.

“I mean, if it's not too much trouble,” Coulson began, his voice casual but with an unmistakable excitement, “I’d love to hear your thoughts on my collection."

Steve glanced over at him, a bemused look on his face. “No, no. It’s fine.”

Coulson’s enthusiasm grew. “It’s a vintage set, you know? Took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint condition—slight foxing around the edges, but—”

Before Coulson could finish, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“We got a hit.” Jasper Sitwell stood, his tone all business. “Sixty-seven percent match… wait, cross match, seventy-nine percent.”

Fury was immediately on alert. His eyes never left the screen. “Location?”

Nouri, who had been listening attentively, spoke without hesitation, her voice steady but filled with purpose. “Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Königstrasse. And Barton is there as well.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Fury’s sharp gaze turned toward her, his voice commanding but not unkind. “Captain, Nouri, you’re up.”

Steve looked up at her, his face betraying no emotion, but Nouri could see the weight of the moment settling in. He gave a sharp nod, acknowledging the task ahead. She returned the gesture with her own steady look before they both turned toward the exit.

As they walked toward the elevators, Nouri’s mind drifted. She couldn’t help but look up at the stars again, seeking guidance from the only voices that had ever truly answered her.

Am I ready? she asked, her thoughts reaching out toward the heavens.

Khonsu’s voice, deep and resonant, answered her with ease. Yes, guide them.

The elevator doors opened, and they entered the locker room. Steve made his way to his steel locker, the clang of his boots on the floor a sharp contrast to the quiet of the moment. As he approached, the locker doors automatically slid open, revealing his updated Captain America uniform—the iconic stars and stripes. It was like looking at a piece of living history. His shield was beside it, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights, as if ready to be wielded in battle once more.

Steve paused, his fingers brushing over the familiar equipment. It was clear that this was a moment of reflection for him. The calm before the storm.

Meanwhile, Nouri stepped into the women’s locker room. Her battle preparations were methodical, each movement deliberate. As she undressed, the transformation began. Her clothing shifted, changing into the ancient garb she had worn countless times before.

Her upper body was wrapped in cloth, the bandeau top securely fastening around her chest, exposing her arms. Bandages were wrapped around her forearms, leaving her skin exposed but adorned with the elegance of strength. Her lower half was dressed in a flowing skirt made of cloth, cut on both sides from her thighs down. The slits allowed her the freedom of movement she needed—no longer the graceful observer of humanity but a warrior once more. The skirt flowed down from her navel, its edges sweeping the floor as she moved, creating an air of mystery and power.

Her hieroglyphs began to reappear on her hands and on her face, only a few, her body was no longer covered, but she would be, once the gods gave back all of her power.

Her attire was a tribute to the ancient practices, yet its design was practical, a balance between the sacred and the utilitarian. It was a blend of warrior strength and divine grace, a reflection of the power she had carried through the ages.

She took a deep breath, her mind clearing. When she emerged from the locker room, Steve was already suited up, his shield slung over his back. He gave her a brief nod as they crossed paths, the silent acknowledgment of the mission ahead.

---

Nouri joined Steve and Natasha at the Quinjet, the sleek aircraft ready to whisk them away to their next mission. As she stepped into the jet, Nouri caught a glimpse of Steve from the corner of her eye. She could feel his gaze lingering on her as she moved past him, his eyes tracing the outlines of her simple yet elegant outfit. Her brow furrowed slightly, sensing his discomfort, his curiosity.

She raised an eyebrow as she turned toward him. “Yes?” Her voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity, the ancient wisdom in her tone pushing her to understand him.

Steve’s ears flushed a deep red, and he quickly averted his gaze. “Nothing,” he muttered, his voice a little too quick. “I just… wasn’t expecting you to look like that.”

Nouri suppressed a smile, amused by his reaction. There was something endearing in his discomfort, the way his words tumbled over one another. She didn’t push him any further, though. She had all the time in the world to learn about Steve Rogers.

As she settled in, Natasha ever the master of deflection, leaned back in her seat from the cockpit, her eyes flicking toward Nouri’s attire with a sharp, assessing gaze.

“I like the outfit,” Natasha said casually, her voice smooth and nonchalant, as if offering the compliment amidst a thousand other observations.

“Thank you,” Nouri replied, her voice soft but firm, her eyes scanning Natasha for a moment. “It’s traditional,” she said, glancing down at her attire, the worn bandages, a symbol of mummification and the afterlife. There was a simplicity and elegance to it that spoke to her roots, to her connection to the past.

Natasha leaned back further in her seat, her gaze never leaving Nouri. “I once saw a picture of a black attire… it looked like the uniform of a warrior.”

Nouri’s eyes brightened with recognition. “Ah, yes,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her gaze distant for a moment as memories of ancient days flooded her mind. “That would be the Medjai, a sacred order of ancient warriors who once served as my protectors. Bound to me by divine decree.” Her voice took on a reverent tone, the memories of those who had fought beside her still fresh in her heart. “The Medjai were not just soldiers; they were... more like brothers to me. Loyal, fierce, and devoted.”

Steve, seated across from her, watched intently as she spoke, his eyes scanning her face as though trying to reconcile the woman before him with the goddess she had once been. The way she spoke of the Medjai, of her ancient duty—it was clear that her past was vast, and so much of it was intertwined with the lives of those who had stood beside her.

Nouri noticed the shift in Steve’s gaze—respect, awe, and perhaps even a hint of disbelief. She wasn’t surprised. She had spent millennia observing humanity, and she knew that the weight of her history was a lot for mortals to bear. Even the strongest among them struggled to comprehend it.

Natasha, ever pragmatic, broke the silence that followed with a wry smile. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the legacy,” she said, her voice neutral but with a note of understanding. “I’m sure that comes with its share of... responsibility.”

Nouri let out a quiet breath, nodding as she leaned back in her seat, her gaze drifting toward the window as the Quinjet began to rise, leaving the city behind. “Indeed,” she said softly. “It does.”

The jet hummed steadily as they ascended, the city shrinking below them. For a moment, the vastness of the world stretched out before her, and Nouri felt the weight of her mission pressing against her chest. But it was more than just the task at hand—it was the overwhelming sense of isolation, the burden of being both human and divine, that she carried with her everywhere.

Steve’s voice broke through her thoughts, quiet but filled with curiosity. “You mentioned you were imprisoned?”

Nouri’s expression shifted, and for a moment, she appeared far older than she looked. Her eyes, once filled with warmth, now carried a weight of sorrow. “I was,” she said, her voice steady but laced with quiet pain. “I questioned the laws that forbade direct interaction with the mortal world. Many gods believed that humanity should be left untouched, unsaved. That their fate should be theirs alone, regardless of their suffering.” She paused, her gaze turning inward as she reflected on the pain that had driven her to rebellion.

“I thought differently,” she continued, her voice becoming more resolute. “Humanity was suffering, lost and broken, and they came to me for guidance, just as they did in the afterlife. I was accused of wanting to control them, to bend them to my will. I simply wanted to help.” She shook her head slightly, as if the words didn’t do justice to the years of heartache. “But my love for humanity cost me everything. My honour, my titles, my powers... My influence, my place in history. I was cast aside, imprisoned.” Her voice softened, and she sighed deeply, the weight of it all pressing down on her. “I am no more than a myth now.”

Steve said nothing at first, just sitting quietly, his gaze never leaving her. He could feel the hurt in her words, the deep sorrow of someone who had given everything to protect others only to be betrayed by the very gods who once revered her. His lips parted, but he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he simply acknowledged her pain in silence.

Just then, Natasha’s voice came from the cockpit, cutting through the moment. “Germany’s not far,” she said, her tone practical, as always. “We’ll be there soon.”

Nouri nodded, steadying herself as the weight of the mission pressed upon her once more. The time for reflection was over. The time to act had arrived.

Chapter 4: Stuttgart

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback

Nouri and Steve sat in quiet conversation as the Quinjet hummed through the sky, the city of Stuttgart growing closer with each passing moment. Nouri explained the laws that bound her, the role of the Medjai, and the delicate balance of her existence between gods and mortals. Steve listened attentively, his brow furrowed in concentration, but there was a particular topic that caught his attention.

“How did you know where Loki is?” Steve asked, his voice edged with curiosity.

Nouri turned her gaze toward him, her eyes soft yet filled with the weight of centuries. She touched the side of her face gently, where a mark could be seen faintly shimmering in the light.

“The Eye of Horus,” she replied, her voice carrying an ancient tone, the words almost reverent. Her finger traced the curve of her eye, where the symbol glowed faintly beneath her skin. “As punishment for my rebellion, my fellow gods stripped me of my powers, but... it seems they are returning, piece by piece. My hieroglyphs are my source,” she added, her gaze shifting to the intricate symbols adorning her hands.

Steve’s gaze shifted from her hands to the Eye of Horus, a deep interest sparking in his eyes. “What does that one mean?” he asked, pointing carefully to the mark near her eye.

Nouri smiled softly, her expression patient. “The Eye of Horus allows me to see into the souls of mortals—see where they are, what they see. It is not just sight, but understanding. I can feel their emotions, their struggles, their intentions.”

Steve nodded slowly, taking in the depth of her words. He could see the humility in her, despite the immense power she wielded. “That’s incredible,” he said, awe creeping into his voice.

Before Nouri could respond, Natasha’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the Quinjet’s cabin. “Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we’re pulling up,” she said, her tone sharp, but her gaze locked ahead, focused.

Nouri looked out the side window, her sharp gaze immediately falling on the scene below. Steve followed her eyes, his posture tightening as he recognized Loki standing in front of a group of humans, the chaotic energy of the moment unmistakable.

“Time to go to work,” Steve muttered under his breath, his tone steady but full of purpose.

Nouri’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, her mind racing. There was a strange weight in her chest—anger, frustration, and a deep sense of sorrow. She had witnessed humanity’s beauty and its darkness, and now, standing at the edge of this moment, she was reminded of how far they had fallen, how lost they could be.

“Steve,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with both sadness and resolve, “If I could’ve intervened sooner, I would have. But my power has been taken from me... It’s not just Loki’s chaos that concerns me. It's what this world is becoming.” Her eyes flickered to him, her gaze searching. “The gods have their laws, but at what cost to the souls who need guidance?”

Steve looked at her, his expression softer now, his respect for her clear. “I get it,” he said, his voice quiet but strong. “You’ve been kept from the world you want to protect.”

Nouri nodded, a faint but melancholic smile touching her lips. “It is not an easy thing, to witness and yet not be able to help.”

Before either of them could speak again, the Quinjet’s engines roared, signaling its arrival.

Loki looked down at the crowd with a cruel sneer. "Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example," he declared, his sceptre glowing blue as he prepared to execute the man before him. Just as the energy beam shot out, Steve dove in, his shield raised to block the blast. The force of the impact knocked Loki back, sending him stumbling.

Steve landed firmly, facing the Asgardian. "You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing."

Loki stood, brushing himself off, a smirk twisting his features. "The soldier. A man out of time."

Steve’s gaze remained steady, unwavering. "I'm not the one who's out of time."

From above, the Quinjet roared into view, its engines growling as it descended toward the battlefield. A machine gun was aimed directly at Loki, and Natasha's voice crackled through the comms system. "Loki, drop the weapon and stand down."

As the Quinjet lowered, Nouri appeared from behind Steve, stepping forward with a serene yet commanding presence. Her eyes locked onto Loki with quiet intensity.

“Loki,” she said, her voice calm but powerful, a soft fire of recognition sparking in her gaze.

Loki’s sneer deepened. "Ah, how the mighty have fallen," he taunted, his eyes narrowing as he looked Nouri up and down.

Her eyes flickered with a fiery anger. Her hands conjured two swirling balls of flame, which she threw with a fluid motion toward Loki. "Your arrogance will be your undoing," she said firmly under her breath as the flames shot toward him.

Loki snarled, his expression turning vicious as he sent a blast of blue energy toward the Quinjet. Natasha swerved the aircraft just in time, narrowly avoiding the blast. The distraction gave Steve the perfect opportunity to throw his shield at Loki. The two engaged in a brutal fight, with Loki flinging Steve to the ground with a flick of his wrist.

Steve shook off the hit, pushing himself back to his feet as he hurled his shield once more. But Loki was quick, swatting the shield away like it was a mere annoyance. He lunged toward Steve again, but this time, Nouri was there, guiding the civilians away from the battlefield with a swift motion of her hands. She focused on the chaos around them, making sure they were safe before moving closer to the fight, flinging bursts of fire at Loki from a distance, her flames sizzling in the air.

As the battle raged on, Steve found himself knocked to the ground once more. Loki loomed above him; his sceptre aimed directly at Steve’s helmet. "Kneel."

"Not today!" Steve retorted, flipping up and delivering a swift kick that knocked Loki off balance. But Loki was quick to recover, flipping Steve over his shoulder with a grin of satisfaction.

In the chaos, Nouri ran toward Steve. She kept a safe distance as she hurled another fireball at Loki, forcing him to stumble back.

Natasha’s voice cut through the chaos. "This guy's all over the place."

Just then, the sound of AC/DC's Shoot to Thrill blared through the Quinjet’s speakers, filling the air with energy.

"Agent Romanoff, did you miss me?" Tony Stark’s voice rang out, filled with his usual cocky charm.

Natasha smirked slightly, but Nouri, Steve, and Loki all looked up, confused by the sudden change in tone. The Quinjet roared overhead, and in the blink of an eye, Tony flew into view, blasting Loki back to the ground, sending him sprawling. The force of the hit knocked Loki's sceptre from his hand.

Tony landed in a dramatic fashion, immediately pulling out every weapon his suit had to offer. "Make your move, Reindeer Games," he quipped, clearly relishing in the fight’s shift in momentum.

Loki, realizing the battle was lost, slowly raised his hands in surrender, his armour fading away like smoke. His sharp gaze flicked between Tony, Steve, and Nouri, but he remained still, knowing when to back down.

"Good move," Tony said, smirking. "It’s over, buddy."

Steve straightened up; his stance proud despite the chaos around them. "Mr. Stark."

"Captain," Tony responded with a nod, offering a brief but respectful gesture.

Tony’s eyes then flicked to Nouri, his curiosity piqued. "And who are you?" he asked, his tone laced with intrigue.

Nouri stood tall, her presence commanding, yet humble. "Al Nouri, Mr. Stark," she replied with a quiet strength, her eyes never leaving Loki’s defeated form.

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but trying not to show it. "Well, Al Nouri, welcome to the chaos," he said with a grin.

Nouri looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "I do not seek chaos," she said softly, her gaze flicking back to the remains of the battle. "But humanity needs my help."

Steve offered a slight smile at her words, recognizing the shared sense of duty between them. "You’ve already helped more than most," he said, clapping her lightly on the shoulder.

Nouri’s eyes softened just a fraction, and for a moment, there was a brief flicker of warmth between them, before she turned her gaze back to the horizon.

The Quinjet hovered above them, its engines whirring softly. Tony looked between the group, finally breaking the tension with a sigh. "Alright, let’s get back to base. We’ve got a lot to talk about."

---

As the Quinjet soared through the skies, the hum of the engines vibrated through the cabin. Nouri stood with her back straight, her eyes fixed on the expanse of the mountains below. The jagged peaks sliced through the clouds, a sharp contrast to the sprawling lights of Stuttgart that had seemed so alive just moments ago. But now, all she could see were the endless ridges and valleys, a reminder of how distant and alien this world was to her. She felt like an outsider, as though she were watching a distant dream from the edge of time, too far removed from it to fully grasp.

Yet, despite the unfamiliarity, there was something about the land below—the raw, untamed wilderness—that called to her. It stirred a longing in her heart, a deep pull that resonated with something older than the city she had left behind. The mountains, ancient and unmoving, seemed to echo with a rhythm she had once known. She felt the pulse of the earth beneath her feet, as if it too were reminding her of her purpose.

For the first time since her release, she felt the weight of her immortal existence, the decades of isolation, and the questions of her place in this new world. There, among the peaks and valleys, she could almost hear the whispers of her past calling to her. And for the first time in centuries, Nouri wondered if, perhaps, she might find a place here—among these mortals, in this strange new world. Perhaps her path was only just beginning.

The four of them settled into the Quinjet, and Loki sat restrained, his hands bound to the seat. Steve and Tony stood by the cockpit, quietly conversing, while Nouri moved toward the seat opposite Loki, standing tall. Her eyes met his, piercing and full of ancient wisdom.

Natasha’s gaze was locked on the skies outside, her mind alert, her focus unwavering. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, shaking the air around them. Fury’s voice crackled through Natasha’s earpiece, breaking the silence.

"Is he saying anything?" Fury’s voice was sharp, urgent.

"Not a word," Natasha replied, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Just get him here. We're low on time," Fury’s voice came through again, this time tinged with impatience.

Tony and Steve exchanged uneasy glances. They had no way of knowing what Loki was plotting, but everyone could feel the weight of the unknown. Nouri’s senses, however, were attuned to more than just the present. She could feel the turbulence in the air, not just from the storm, but from the tension that rippled through their group.

A flicker of motion caught her attention, and Loki, his hands still bound, turned his head slightly toward her, his lips curving into a sly grin.

“You’ve been freed,” Loki said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nouri tilted her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his. “Courtesy of Ra,” she replied, her tone even, but there was a subtle strength in her voice.

Loki's mocking laugh filled the cabin, a sound that grated on the nerves of those who still saw him as a threat. “The great Al Nouri, Goddess of the underworld,” he sneered, his words dripping with disdain.

Nouri’s eyes flickered for a moment, a quiet spark of fire in their depths. “Actually,” she corrected him, her voice calm yet laced with authority, “I am the Goddess of the Eternal Path.”

Loki’s lips twisted further, but he didn’t respond. Nouri’s gaze hardened for a brief second before she turned her back to him, her movements fluid but measured.

Tony watched the exchange with a raised brow, then turned to Steve with a smirk. "I don't like it," Steve muttered under his breath, eyes never leaving Loki.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with humour. "What? The God of Mischief giving up so easily?"

Steve shook his head, his focus still on Loki. "I don’t remember it being ever that easy. This guy packs a wallop. Don't underestimate him."

Tony chuckled and leaned back, crossing his arms. "Still, you're pretty spry for an older fellow. What's your secret? Pilates?" he teased, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Steve shot him an incredulous look. "What?" His tone was a mixture of confusion and mild annoyance.

Tony shrugged, unfazed by Steve’s reaction. "It’s like calisthenics, right? You might've missed a couple things, you know, during your time as a Capsicle."

Nouri, who had approached the cockpit, couldn’t help but overhear their banter. She turned slightly, her eyes glancing at Tony before landing on Steve. The sharpness in her gaze softened slightly as she stepped forward.

“And you,” Tony continued, a grin tugging at his lips, "God of ancient Egypt, huh?"

Nouri’s expression remained calm, but there was a certain gravity to her presence. "Once," she said softly, her voice tinged with an ancient weight. "Now, I act as the Ennead Council deems necessary."

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the subtle shift in her tone. "Ah, so you’re a bit of a... free agent?" He was clearly searching for a way to gauge where she stood, but Nouri’s focus wasn’t on explaining herself.

Loki, having grown tired of his silence, let out a low chuckle, though there was little humour in it. “The eternal path... What a comforting name for someone who has been forgotten, reduced to nothing but a relic in a museum.”

Nouri turned slowly, her eyes narrowing, but her response was tempered with a quiet strength. “I have not been forgotten, Loki. The world forgets many things, but time has a way of remembering.” She paused, then added, her voice barely above a whisper, “And when it does, it will be far too late for those who dismiss its power.”

Loki smirked, clearly unaffected, but even he couldn’t deny the force of her words.

The jet shook violently as thunder and lightning raged outside, the air growing thick with the tension of the storm. Natasha’s sharp eyes flicked toward the sound, concern flashing briefly across her face.

"Where’s this coming from?" she asked, her voice taut with caution.

The rumbling thunder intensified, sending a shiver through the Quinjet. Loki’s gaze turned toward the window, his expression unreadable, as if sensing something far beyond the storm itself. His lips barely parted in a murmur.

Steve glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What’s the matter? Scared of a little lightning?"

Loki’s gaze lingered on the horizon; his eyes distant. "I’m not overly fond of what follows."

Nouri’s voice was a soft murmur, almost lost to the roar of the jet. "It’s him," she whispered, her eyes narrowing as she felt the presence approach.

In an instant, a blinding light split the sky outside the Quinjet, illuminating the heavens as though the sun itself had come alive. But it wasn’t just light—it was the presence of something far greater. Something ancient. A king. The Mighty Thor.

With a crash that shook the jet, Thor tore through the air, his voice a thunderous roar as he opened the ramp of the Quinjet. He seized Loki by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the sky with a force that left everyone stunned. The noise of the storm seemed to pale in comparison to the sheer power of Thor's presence.

Nouri, Steve, and Tony stood frozen, watching the spectacle unfold outside the jet.

"Another Asgardian?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised as she took in the scene.

Steve stayed focused on the sky; his brow furrowed. "Think the guy's a friend?"

Nouri’s voice was steady, tinged with a familiarity that spoke to a deeper understanding. "He usually is."

Tony shrugged nonchalantly, a grin playing on his lips. "Doesn’t matter. If Thor frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract’s gone, and we’re back at square one." He spun around, already preparing to jump from the Quinjet.

"Stark, we need a plan of attack!" Steve called out, grabbing a parachute.

Tony shot him a cocky grin. "I’ve got a plan. Attack." Without another word, he leapt from the Quinjet, disappearing into the storm below.

Steve followed suit, grabbing his parachute and heading toward the ramp, but Nouri’s hand shot out, her grip firm but gentle on his arm.

"I’d sit this one out, Steve," she said, her voice low, carrying the weight of someone who had seen much more than the others realized.

Steve turned to her, his eyes unwavering. "I don’t see how I can."

"These guys come from legends. They're basically gods," Natasha warned, glancing at both of them.

Steve met her gaze, his voice resolute and calm. "There’s only one God, ma’am. And I’m pretty sure He doesn’t dress like that."

With that, Steve jumped from the Quinjet, parachute deploying as he descended into the storm.

Nouri stood by the cockpit, a quiet sadness in her eyes. "He’s a man of conviction," she murmured, almost to herself. "One can only admire such unwavering resolve."

Natasha, who had remained in the pilot's seat, glanced over. "You’re not going after him?"

Nouri shook her head gently, letting out a small chuckle. "I have no intention of intervening."

They continued in silence, the tension still thick in the air. Natasha’s eyes flicked toward Nouri, sensing the weight of her words. They continued their conversation, Natasha curious about the goddess’s past and her thoughts on the world that had changed so drastically since her imprisonment. It was rare for Nouri to speak so openly with anyone, but Natasha treated her with a respect that was neither reverent nor fearful. She spoke to her as an equal, a rarity that made Nouri’s heart feel lighter, as if someone truly understood the weight of her existence.

The Quinjet landed softly in the forest where the four men had been quarrelling. Natasha opened the ramp, and the group stepped out from the muddy clearing, the tension still hanging thick in the air. The four men—Thor, Steve, Tony, and Loki—stood where they had been moments before, their interactions now oddly silent.

As soon as Thor saw Nouri, his demeanour changed entirely. He bellowed, his voice rich and deep, "Your ladyship!" He dropped to one knee before her, his head bowing in reverence. "It is an honour."

Nouri smiled softly, a hint of amusement in her eyes, but she raised a hand to gently urge him to stand. "Please, Odinson," she said, her tone calm but firm. "I am not worthy of such reverence."

Thor began to speak, but Nouri cut him off with a gentle gesture. "I thank you, Thor. But I do not seek sympathy, nor do I need the gods’ pity," she explained, her voice laced with purpose.

The flight to the Helicarrier was marked by a heavy silence. Nouri sat next to Steve, her battle attire slowly morphing back into her sophisticated human clothes from earlier, a clear sign of her shifting role.

Chapter 5: I'm a Threat?

The Quinjet landed with a soft hum, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents quickly moved to escort Loki, his hands bound in cuffs, smiling smugly as he walked. The agents were tense, eyes never leaving the prisoner. Loki glanced over at them, exchanging a sly nod with the man who led the procession. His eyes flickered momentarily across the helicarrier lab, where Bruce was bent over the Chitauri Sceptre, absorbed in his work. Their gazes met for a brief moment—a sly smile passed between them, and Bruce, visibly unnerved, rubbed the back of his neck.

Nouri stood near the door; her presence quiet yet commanding as she watched the scene unfold. Her dark, curly hair framed her face, her hieroglyphs shining slightly as she turned her face. As the doors of the briefing room opened, she entered and took her seat next to Natasha and Steve, her eyes tracing the faint lines of tension in their faces as they watched Loki’s smug demeanour on the screen. The interrogation continued until the feed finally went dark, leaving a heavy silence in the room.

Thor stood in the corner, his posture rigid, eyes distant, as though lost in thought. His quiet presence contrasted sharply with the bustling energy of the room. The room was still, the weight of the situation pressing on everyone. Finally, Bruce broke the silence, his dry humour cutting through the tension.

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Bruce’s voice was light, but the underlying discomfort was clear. He glanced at Nouri for a brief moment, noticing the stoic calm in her eyes.

Nouri’s lips curled into a small smile; her voice soft yet warm. “I’ve learned that even the most... unlikely of beings have their charm.” Her tone was light, but there was an ancient wisdom in her words, as though she’d seen far too many conflicts unfold to be surprised by Loki’s antics.

Steve, his expression serious, clenched his fists, eyes still locked on the screen where Fury had interrogated Loki. “Loki’s gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what’s his play?”

Thor’s gaze snapped back to the present. He stood straighter, his tone grim. “He has an army, called the Chitauri. They are not from Asgard, nor from any known world. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her voice quiet but inquisitive. “An army? From outer space?”

Bruce nodded; his expression thoughtful as he adjusted his glasses. “So, he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

“Selvig?” Thor’s confusion was apparent, his voice betraying uncertainty.

“He’s an astrophysicist,” Bruce explained, his tone practical.

Thor’s face softened slightly, the glint of old affection in his eyes. “He is a friend.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the moment, firm and unyielding. “Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of ours.”

Nouri leaned in slightly, her voice hushed. “Barton?”

Natasha nodded; her jaw tight as she glanced briefly at Steve. The pain of that loss was still fresh in the air.

Steve’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as he glanced at Thor. “I want to know why Loki let us take him. He’s not leading an army from here.”

Bruce’s voice was dry, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t think we should focus too much on Loki. That guy’s brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell crazy on him.” His attempt at humour was met with a slight laugh from Nouri.

Thor shot Bruce a hard look. “Have care how you speak. Loki may be beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he is my brother.”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat, her voice sharp as a blade. “He killed eighty people in two days.”

Thor’s expression darkened; his grief hidden behind a mask of stoic resolve. “He’s adopted.”

Nouri sat silently, her gaze flickering between the men. Her heart ached for Thor; the internal conflict too familiar to her own struggles. She had seen this—family torn apart by choices made by one, the weight of betrayal pressing down on the other. She didn’t speak, but her eyes softened, offering an unspoken understanding of his silent pain.

Bruce, ever the analyst, broke the quiet, his voice a bit more serious now. “I think it’s about the mechanics. Iridium… what did they need the Iridium for?”

Tony strolled into the room casually, his voice loud and easy as ever. Coulson followed behind him, looking more serious. “It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony said, walking over to the table. “It means the portal won’t collapse on itself, like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D..”

Tony paused to turn back to Thor, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No hard feelings, Point Break. You’ve got a mean swing.” He turned to face the group again, his eyes scanning the room with an air of calculated amusement. “Also, it means the portal can open as wide and stay open as long as Loki wants.”

Tony looked at the others, as if trying to lighten the mood. “Uh, raise the mizzenmast, jib the topsails.”

Nouri observed Tony carefully, her dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement. His words, though casual, were filled with sharp intellect—too quick for her to fully absorb in such a fast-paced moment. She tilted her head slightly and muttered under her breath, “He is... interesting.” Tony didn’t notice her remark, continuing as though he was alone in his world.

“That man is playing GALAGA! Thought we wouldn’t notice, but we did.” Tony suddenly exclaimed, dramatically covering his eye with one hand. He scanned the room as if on the lookout for an unseen enemy. “How does Fury even see these”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. She found herself torn between admiration for his ingenuity and frustration at the way he deflected responsibility with humour. Humanity’s complexity was both perplexing and endearing.

Maria who had been silently watching, offered a smirk in response to Tony’s theatrics. “He turns,” she said simply, her voice tinged with a knowing lightness.

Tony turned back to the group. “Sounds exhausting,” he replied, unperturbed. “The rest of the raw materials? Agent Barton can get his hands on those easily. But the major component they need is a power source of high energy density. Something to kick-start the cube.”

Maria Hill’s sharp gaze flickered to him. “When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” she asked, scepticism lacing her tone.

Tony’s grin widened, a confident gleam in his eyes. “Last night. The packet, Selvig’s notes, the Extraction Theory papers... Am I the only one who did the reading?”

Suddenly Nouri felt the familiar burning sensation on her arms and legs jolted her out of the conversation. Her skin prickled, the hieroglyphs on her body glowing as her powers began to surge back to life. She exhaled slowly, attempting to steady herself, her connection to her divine essence growing stronger by the second.

Natasha leaned in; her voice low with concern. “You alright?”

Nouri nodded, though the sensation was unsettling. “I am fine,” she said softly, though her voice carried a trace of unease.

Steve looked over at Tony with a raised brow. “Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

Bruce nodded; his tone more thoughtful now. “He’s got to heat the cube to 120 million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunnelling effect.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up, his expression one of surprise. “Well, if he could do that, he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Tony slapped Bruce on the back, impressed. “Finally, someone who speaks English.”

Nouri, still processing, whispered softly, her confusion evident. “Is that what just happened?” Steve heard her and shook his head, the pair of them confused.

Tony and Bruce exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them before shaking hands. There was a rare, almost humble moment of mutual respect.

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Banner,” Tony said, offering his hand. “Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably; his awkwardness palpable. “Thanks.”

“Men,” Nouri muttered, her eyes rolling in good-natured annoyance.

At that moment, Nick Fury strode into the room, his sharp gaze cutting through the light banter. “Dr. Banner is only here to track the cube. I was hoping you might join him.”

Steve spoke immediately, his voice calm but firm. “I’d start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon.”

Fury didn’t bat an eye. “I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the cube. And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.”

Thor’s expression remained blank. “Monkeys? I do not understand.”

Steve cracked a smile. “I do! I understood that reference.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and Steve’s pleased grin only grew.

Tony smirked. “Shall we play, doctor?”

Bruce, intrigued, gave a small smile. “Let’s play some.”

As Tony and Bruce made their way out, Nouri shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of the discussion. She quietly stood up; her movements graceful yet purposeful. She needed a moment of peace—her thoughts swirling and her powers surging. The quiet solitude outside would offer her the calm she sought before returning to the storm inside.

---

Nouri found a small quiet corner, her gaze distant, as she slowly removed one of her gold bracelets. A ball of smoke swirled in her palm, its dark tendrils curling like shadows. Moments later, the smoke thickened, swirling more rapidly, and from within it, the form of Anubis began to take shape, his tall, imposing figure emerging from the mist like a god summoned from the ether.

"Anubis," Nouri whispered, her voice full of uncertainty, "I am still confused... by all of this, I need your guidance."

Anubis studied her with his dark, knowing eyes. His voice was calm but firm. "The Council fears for humanity’s future, Nouri. You know this well."

Frustration tugged at her, and she shook her head slightly, her voice rising with doubt. "I am not a warrior. I am not one of the Medjai. I—"

Anubis raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "No," he replied, his tone steady. "You are a child of Khonsu and Ra. You are a guide of souls in the afterlife, not bound by the same roles. You possess wisdom beyond mortals."

Her eyes faltered for a moment, filled with doubt. "But I am not the same... Not anymore." She swallowed hard. "I am afraid."

Anubis stepped closer, his presence both comforting and unyielding. "You hide behind your abilities, Nouri," he said softly, yet with the weight of truth. "You love the mortals, and they, too, have come to trust you. Follow the stars, and follow your heart. Soon, you will have your freedom again."

Nouri closed her eyes, the burden of her immortality weighing heavily on her chest. "And yet, they will never truly understand me. How can I protect them when I do not know how to protect myself?" she murmured, her voice heavy with the fear of her own uncertainty.

Before Anubis could respond, the soft sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. A knock on the wall behind her signalled the arrival of Steve. The smoke vanished, and the air felt strangely lighter.

Steve’s smile was warm, though his eyes held a trace of curiosity. "You busy?" he asked, his voice casual, as if he hadn't just interrupted a conversation with a god.

Nouri turned toward him, her lips curling into a soft smile despite herself. "No," she replied, her tone more measured than before, yet carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

Steve stepped closer, his presence both comforting and unassuming. "Come with me," he said, placing a hand lightly on her back, his touch gentle yet purposeful.

Nouri hesitated for a moment, the weight of her thoughts lingering, but then, she felt the pull of the world outside. She glanced back at the empty corner where Anubis had just stood, but the god was gone, leaving her alone with her uncertainties. As she followed Steve, she allowed herself the rare privilege of being in the moment, wondering if perhaps, for just a brief instant, this could be a path to something more.

"Lead the way," she said softly, her voice steady, though a quiet sense of resolve had settled in her chest. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a place for her here after all.

---

The two of them entered the secure storage unit, the space vast and filled with towering shelves stacked high with crates. Steve, with his usual precision, slid the heavy metal door open, his movements quiet and purposeful. He paused, scanning the room, before stepping inside. Nouri followed closely, her presence calm but alert, every sense attuned to the unfamiliar surroundings.

“What are we looking for?” she asked, her voice soft, like a whisper carried on the breeze, a note of curiosity in her words.

Steve’s eyes scanned the room, narrowing as he noted the crates, stacked high and unassuming, yet something about the stillness felt off. His fingers flexed, his pulse quickening as his instincts kicked in. He moved forward, his strides long but measured. There, in the corner, he spotted crates marked with labels he knew all too well. His jaw tightened as he opened one, revealing a stash of HYDRA weapons, gleaming coldly under the dim light.

“This,” Steve muttered, anger simmering in his voice. “HYDRA weapons.”

Nouri stepped closer, her dark eyes studying the contents with an intensity that hinted at more than mere observation. “I thought HYDRA was destroyed,” she remarked, her voice steady, though a glimmer of concern danced in her gaze.

Steve’s hands gripped the weapon he’d lifted from the crate, his frustration barely contained. “So did I,” he said, his words heavy with regret. He turned abruptly, marching out of the unit, his movements sharp and full of determination, yet something about the way he moved—the weight of years spent fighting—pulled at Nouri in a way she hadn’t expected.

She followed him, her pace steady, her thoughts lingering on the way the light from the rising sun cast shadows on his figure. It was as though the world was holding its breath around them. The tension between them was thick, yet there was an unspoken understanding that threaded through the air.

As they stepped outside, into the soft warmth of the early morning light, Nouri noticed the subtle shift in Steve’s posture. He was carrying more than just the weight of the battle. His anger was evident, but there was something else—a quiet sadness that lingered in the way he moved, in the way he held himself. It was a feeling she knew well, one she had witnessed in countless souls, struggling with burdens too heavy to bear alone.

Nouri’s steps slowed as they walked side by side, the weight of their silent exchange settling between them. “You carry a heavy burden,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on the horizon, but her words meant only for him.

Steve glanced at her, his expression unreadable, yet the flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, perhaps understanding—passed between them. “We all do,” he replied quietly.

And in that moment, amidst the quiet rise of the sun and the weight of their shared silence, Nouri felt something stir within her—something beyond the weight of millennia, something she hadn’t expected to feel in this strange, fractured world.

Perhaps, together, they could fight it—whatever it may be.

---

May 4th 2012

 

The sun had risen and as Nouri entered the lab and Steve stormed in, slamming a HYDRA weapon down onto the table. The force of it made Fury, Bruce, and Tony turn around sharply. Steve’s face was filled with anger, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"Phase 2 is when S.H.I.E.L.D. uses the cube to make weapons," Steve spat, his voice tinged with disgust. He looked at Tony. "Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow for me."

Fury stepped forward, attempting to explain. "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This doesn't mean that we're—"

Tony cut him off, pushing his computer screen toward Fury, displaying plans for Phase 2. "I’m sorry Nick, what were you lying about?"

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw. "I was wrong, Director. The world hasn’t changed a bit."

“This is why you freed me?” Nouri’s voice rang out across the room, filled with disbelief. Her eyes locked onto Fury, her gaze sharp and accusing. "You lied to me, Nick." Her words were quiet but filled with the weight of centuries of wisdom and anger. The force of them hung in the air, thick and heavy. Fury faltered for a moment.

At that moment, Thor and Natasha entered the lab. Natasha's gaze immediately landed on Bruce, and he met her eyes, a flash of anger flickering across his face.

"Did you know about this?" Bruce asked, his voice low and raw.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unphased. "You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?"

"I was in Calcutta," Bruce replied bitterly. "I was pretty well removed."

"Loki’s manipulating you," Natasha said with certainty.

"And you’ve been doing what, exactly?" Bruce shot back; his frustration evident.

"You didn’t come here because I batted my eyelashes at you," Natasha retorted, crossing her arms.

Bruce stepped forward, his voice rising with frustration. "Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy. I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction."

Fury, fed up with the escalating tension, pointed to Thor. "Because of him."

Thor looked stunned. "Me?"

"And her," Fury said, pointing directly at Nouri.

“Me?” Nouri echoed, confusion flashing across her face. She stepped forward, her brows knitting together as she looked from Fury to Thor.

Fury’s voice was firm, a tone that left no room for argument. "Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that levelled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously outgunned."

Thor, standing tall, responded calmly but with quiet conviction. "My people want nothing but peace with your planet."

“And neither do the gods!” Nouri suddenly interjected, her voice rising in a powerful outburst, her eyes flashing with an emotion few had seen from her. "We are punished and banished if we interfere with human affairs!" She took a step forward, her presence commanding the room, her anger both righteous and deep-rooted. Her words were not just an argument—they were a declaration of frustration with the very laws that bound her.

Fury countered, voice hardening. "But you're not the only people out there, are you? And you're not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched, that can’t be controlled."

Steve stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Like you controlled the cube?"

Thor’s expression darkened. "Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that Earth is ready for a higher form of war."

“A higher form?” Steve asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Fury nodded gravely. "You forced our hand. We had to come up with something to protect Earth from an inevitable conflict."

Tony shook his head, his sarcasm cutting through the tension. "Nuclear deterrent. 'Cause that always calms everything right down."

Fury shot him a sharp look. "Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?"

Steve’s voice was cold, his trust in the system shaking. "I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck-deep in this mess."

Tony held up a hand. "Wait! Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?"

Steve shrugged, unbothered. "I'm sorry, isn’t everything?"

“Unbelievable,” Nouri scoffed, her voice tinged with ancient bitterness. “For millennia, war has waged, and humanity has learned nothing.” She stood between Steve and Tony, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“You build weapons, you fight among yourselves, and in the end, it’s the innocent who suffer.” Her gaze swept across the room; her frustration mirrored in the hard set of her jaw. “For all your advancements, you have yet to learn balance.”

Thor, who had been watching this exchange with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, spoke up, his voice low and troubled. "I thought humans were more evolved than this."

Fury turned to Thor, his voice sharpening. "Excuse me, did WE come to YOUR planet and blow stuff up?" Fury’s voice was sharp, a bite of defence in his words.

Natasha's response was immediate. "Are you boys really that naïve? S.H.I.E.L.D. monitors potential threats."

Bruce frowned, a thought forming in his mind. "Steve is on the threat watch?"

Natasha didn’t hesitate. "We all are."

Tony, ever the sceptic, turned to Steve. "You’re on that list? Are you above or below angry bees?"

Steve’s patience was thinning. "Stark, so help me god, one more wisecrack—"

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. "Verbal threatening! I feel threatened!"

Nouri sighed at the annoyance.

As the argument raged on, none of them noticed the faint but ominous glow beginning to pulse from the blue gem in Loki’s sceptre, a subtle sign of what was to come, a sign none of them could yet see.

Chapter 6: Sight beyond Sight

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3
Also I wanted nouri to pray in ancient Egyptian so I hope u enjoy it <3 translations are always in the end <3

The tension in the lab was thick, each individual’s pride rubbing against the others. Arguments flew, each word a spark, every egotistical jab threatening to ignite the volatile mixture.

"You speak of control," Thor boomed, his voice a thunderclap in the room. "Yet, you court chaos with every breath."

Bruce, leaning against a nearby table, muttered under his breath. "It's his M.O., isn't it?" He shook his head, disillusionment heavy in his voice. "What are we? A team? No, no, no—we’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re a time bomb."

Fury, clearly offended by Bruce’s words, turned toward him, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You need to step away."

Tony, ever the provocateur, slapped a hand onto Steve’s shoulder with a grin. "Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?"

Steve, unmoved, slapped Tony’s hand away with a flick of his wrist. His voice was sharp. "You know damn well why. Back off."

Unfazed, Tony squared up to Steve, his smirk widening. "Oh, I’m really starting to want you to make me."

Steve met his challenge with calm indifference, sizing up Tony. "Yeah, big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, what are you?"

Tony raised an eyebrow, leaning back with confidence. "Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist."

From the corner, Natasha tilted her head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She glanced between Tony and Steve with a look that said, He’s not wrong.

Steve’s face hardened as he took a step forward, his voice cold and commanding. "I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

Tony’s smirk faltered, but his bravado didn’t waver. "I think I’d just cut the wire."

Steve’s smile turned into a flash of disdain. "Always a way out. You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

The words hit harder than Tony expected, and his eyes narrowed with simmering anger. "A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the insult lingering in the air. Steve squared up, challenging Tony once again. "Put on the suit. Let’s go a few rounds."

Thor laughed, his deep voice echoing through the room. "You people are so petty... and tiny."

Nouri’s voice rang out from the far corner, her tone tinged with frustration. "And incredibly naïve and stupid, never learning from your mistakes." She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with annoyance as she surveyed the bickering team. "You argue over egos while the world outside burns. You are all so focused on your petty pride that you forget the bigger picture."

Bruce, standing at the sidelines, muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with frustration. "Yeah, this is a team..." His words trailed off as he looked at the fractured group.

Fury, finally fed up, tried to regain control. "Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his—"

Bruce, already tense, cut him off. "Where? You rented my room."

Fury’s voice grew more stern, his glare unwavering. "The cell was just in case."

Bruce scoffed, his anger mounting. "In case you needed to kill me? But you can’t. I know! I tried!" His voice rose with emotion. "I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth... and the other guy spit it out!" His chest heaved as he continued, his voice growing more intense. "I moved on, focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!"

The words echoed, leaving an unsettling silence. Nouri’s eyes softened with a mix of understanding and sorrow as she met Bruce’s gaze.

"You want to know my secret, Agent Romanoff?" Bruce’s voice was a quiet storm now. "You want to know how I stay calm?" His eyes locked on Natasha, and she instinctively moved her hand to her weapon, ready for anything. Fury mirrored her motion, his gaze never leaving Bruce.

Nouri, her hand still concealed, conjured a small ball of fire, the flicker of its light barely contained. The flames danced between her fingers, shimmering like a subtle warning.

Steve stepped forward, his voice firm and commanding. "Doctor Banner... Put down the sceptre."

Bruce, startled, looked down to see the sceptre gripped tightly in his hand. His body was still coiled with the same tension he’d carried into the room, as if bracing for something to snap.

The soft beep of the computer drew their attention. Tony, ever quick on the draw, jumped into action. "Got it."

Bruce, embarrassed, dropped the sceptre with a relieved exhale. His face flushed with a mixture of guilt and frustration. "Sorry, kids. No party tricks today."

Thor, ever the pragmatist, broke the moment. "you located the Tesseract?"

Tony, already in motion, glanced at the monitor. "I can get there fastest."

Thor’s voice boomed, authoritative and unwavering. "The Tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for its power."

Tony, never one to back down, shot back, "You going to stop me, big guy?"

Steve moved, blocking Tony’s path. His expression was unwavering. "You’re not going alone," he said, his voice steady and unyielding.

Tony, grinning despite the tension, met Steve’s gaze. "You gonna stop me?"

Steve, unflinching, locked eyes with Tony. "Put on the suit, and we’ll find out."

Suddenly, Bruce’s voice broke through, his eyes wide with shock. "Oh, my God!"

---

Before anyone could react, an explosion ripped through the lab, throwing everyone in every direction. Steve with a soldier's reflex, reached out and grabbed Nouri, pulling her to the ground as debris flew past them. Thor, Tony, and Fury were hurled across the room, while Natasha and Bruce were sent tumbling down to the lower equipment room.

Nouri winced, a brief flash of fire igniting in her palms, but she controlled it swiftly, knowing that her flames would only make matters worse. Her eyes darted across the wreckage; her senses attuned to the rising chaos. "Fury!" she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency, cutting through the sound of crumbling metal and ringing ears. "Seven people have boarded, including Barton! I’ll find him!"

Steve, still gripping her arm, looked up at her, eyes full of concern. "Be careful."

She nodded quickly, already moving. "Always." She dashed toward the bridge, her feet steady as she raced through the wreckage, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Barton. Her gaze sharpened, eyes scanning for him—she had to find him before he reached the heart of the ship.

Maria rushed past, tossing an earpiece toward Nouri, who caught it with the grace of someone accustomed to higher stakes. Without hesitation, she placed it in her ear. "Nouri," Maria's voice crackled through, urgent, "we need that turbine running, but you need to find Barton now!"

Her words were like a lifeline in the chaos. "I'm on it," Nouri replied, her voice steady, but beneath it, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on her shoulders. Find Barton. Stop him.

The two women worked seamlessly on the bridge, Maria trying to get the turbine back online while Nouri focused on locating Barton. Her powers flickered in and out, her senses stretching out as she tried to sense Barton’s presence.

Show yourself, Nouri whispered to the depths of her mind. Her concentration deepened as she reached out with her gift, trying to peer into the souls of the invaders, searching for the familiar flicker of Barton's energy. But her focus shattered when Maria shouted in panic.

“Grenade!”

Without thinking, Nouri spun, her hand already reaching out. She grabbed Maria and pulled her out of harm’s way, just as the grenade detonated, its blast shaking the walls. The force sent them both stumbling, but Nouri righted them with practiced ease.

Then, the first wave of Barton’s men stormed the bridge—vigilant, poised for action, weapons drawn. Fury emerged from his hiding spot, gun drawn, engaging in a brutal shootout as Nouri, now fully engaged, lashed out with fire. Her hands crackled with energy, and she cast balls of flame toward the attackers, knocking them off balance.

Fury was engaged in his own battle, fighting hand-to-hand with another soldier, his movements precise, but one attacker slipped past him, aiming a knife straight for him. Before Fury could recover, Maria, ever alert, fired her gun, landing a perfect shot in the assailant’s head.

The gunfire died down, but the fight wasn’t over. More of Barton’s men kept streaming onto the bridge, their numbers seemingly endless. Fury watched in confusion, a deep furrow creasing his brow. "Why do they keep coming?"

A sharp sound echoed through the bridge as a single arrow shot down, striking a critical spot. Barton had made his move—he wasn’t done yet.

The arrow exploded on impact, sending a wave of destruction through the control panel, but Barton was already aiming a multi-tipped arrow straight at Fury. His shot was off target, but it didn’t matter. The arrow hit Fury’s command desk with a loud crash, right above a row of USB outlets.

Fury quickly drew his weapon, firing toward Barton, but the archer was gone, already retreating into the shadows. The arrow, however, did not lie idle. It self-activated, inserting itself into the USB outlets with eerie precision. The mainframe flickered, screens flashing as the system began to buckle.

"Sir, we've lost all power in Engine 1," Agent Sitwell’s voice crackled through the comms, tight with urgency.

---

“Dammit, it’s Barton,” Fury growled, his grip tightening on his weapon. He wiped his face in frustration, his mind racing. “He’s taken out our systems. He’s headed for the detention level.”

“I’ll find him” Nouri said calmly, her voice quiet yet certain. Before Fury could respond, she was already in motion, her footsteps echoing with purpose as she darted toward the detention level.

The bridge of the Helicarrier was a battlefield in its own right, but Nouri had a different fight to engage in—one that was far more personal to her mission. Her attire was now scorched and torn from her earlier efforts, but as she moved, it began to shift and reform. Her battle attire morphed with divine precision. The cloth clung to her form, offering both practicality and an air of mystique, reminiscent of her ancient Egyptian roots.

“I might need the shadows,” Nouri murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. A steady breath escaped her lips, her gaze narrowing as she focused on the movement below.

From the narrow gaps of the catwalk, she spotted him, his stance taut with readiness. The glint of his bow was like a promise in the dim light, the arrow already nocked and aimed at her. The tension in his posture told her all she needed to know—he was prepared to strike.

But Nouri had been born of both the sun and the moon, and in this moment, the ancient power surged through her veins. Her every muscle hummed with divine energy. Without hesitation, she moved.

Barton’s arrow was fast, but not fast enough. She twisted, her body a blur of motion, dancing around the projectile with the ease of someone who had existed for millennia. In an instant, she was upon him, and the battle began in earnest.

The tension of the moment hung thick in the air as Barton released another arrow. Nouri’s footwork was swift, almost like a shadow, as she evaded each attack. She was already close.

“You’re quick, but not quick enough,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of ages, a calm confidence in the face of the storm. Her eyes blazed with the heat of the sun itself, but there was no malice—only a desire to end this quickly.

She surged forward, seizing his bow with one graceful motion, twisting it from his grip. Barton’s reaction was immediate—he lunged at her with a knife drawn, but she was faster. He swung, aiming to disable, but Nouri dropped to the ground, rolling effortlessly beneath his strike.

His knife missed, and with a sharp motion, she was on her feet again, standing between him and the deadly edge of the weapon.

Barton responded with a series of calculated slashes, but Nouri weaved around them as though they were nothing more than fleeting gusts of wind. Each step was purposeful, each dodge flawless.

With a sudden twist, she seized his wrist, the pressure of her grip forcing his fingers to loosen their hold on the knife. The weapon flew from his hand and Nouri caught it mid-air, its cold surface a brief reminder of the many battles she had witnessed, fought, and survived.

Barton’s frustration was palpable. He struck again, but this time, his movements were sharper, more desperate. As Nouri danced around him, one of his quick slashes caught her across the cheek. The blade grazed her skin, leaving a line of blood.

The sting was brief, but it ignited a spark of anger within her. Her fingers clenched around the knife, and her eyes blazed with the intensity of the sun.

"Enough," she whispered, her voice suddenly colder, as if the wound had awakened something ancient in her.

In one smooth motion, she wrapped her legs around his neck, flipping him effortlessly over her in a graceful arc. The sound of his skull striking the pipe rail was jarring, a brutal punctuation to their fight.

Barton collapsed to the floor, his body limp and dazed. His eyes fluttered open, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. The room spun in disorienting fragments, the noise of battle still ringing in his ears.

"Where am I?" he muttered weakly, his voice distant, confused.

Nouri stood above him, and with a single, swift motion, she raised her hand, and in a flash, a bolt of flame erupted, knocking Barton unconscious. He crumpled to the floor with a dull thud.

She didn't pause to watch. As S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rushed to collect him, she turned, her back rested against the railing.

"Agent Coulson is down, they called it," Fury's voice echoed in her earpiece. Coulson had always been a gentle presence, a stark contrast to the urgency of his work. The memory of his kindness only added to the heavy heart she carried.

She walked back toward the briefing room, her steps echoing in the empty corridor. Upon entering, she found Steve and Tony sitting there, the room suffocating in a dull, numbing shock. The faces around her were etched with pain, each person carrying the weight of their loss.

Nouri’s voice cut through the quiet. “I’ll make sure he walks an honourable path,” addressing Fury’s directive, but her eyes were still on the table, her mind elsewhere.

Steve looked up at her, his eyes scanning her face, then the cut on her cheek. She hadn’t even noticed it until his gaze lingered there. The pain was a quiet sting, far less important than the grief that hung over them all.

“You got hurt?” Steve asked, his voice filled with concern, yet distant, as though the weight of the moment had dulled all things.

She nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips, though it was barely there. "It is nothing," she replied quietly, brushing her fingertips across her cheek.

Fury tossed a set of Steve trading cards onto the table. They were stained with blood. The bright red stains stark against the glossy paper. He looked at Steve, his expression grim.

“These were in Phil Coulson’s jacket,” Fury’s voice was heavy, his words breaking the stillness. “I guess he never did get you to sign them.”

Steve’s hands trembled as he picked up the cards, the familiar weight of them suddenly feeling like an anchor to the past. He turned them over slowly, but there was nothing to say. His heart was too full for words. Too full for anything but the silence.

"We’re dead in the air up here," Fury continued, his voice deepening with the weight of the situation. "Our communications, the location of the cube, Banner, Thor... I got nothing. Lost my one good eye. Maybe I had that coming."

His words hung in the air, but he didn’t wait for anyone to speak. He pressed on, his expression hardening as he steeled himself.

"Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea," Fury continued, his gaze flicking toward Tony. "Called theAvengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could."

Fury’s voice softened, his eyes moving to the table where Coulson's bloodstained cards lay. “Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea. In heroes."

Tony, looking more lost than Nouri had ever seen him, stood abruptly. His face twisted in frustration and grief. Without a word, he walked away, retreating into the quiet of the room, as though he couldn’t bear to listen.

Fury’s voice trailed off. "Well, it's an old-fashioned notion."

“Heroes are not born,” Nouri spoke softly, her voice echoing the wisdom of ages. “They are made through choice, through sacrifice. They choose to stand when others would fall.” She paused; her eyes distant. “But I fear that the cost of heroism will be too great for many to bear.”

Fury’s expression softened, though the weight of loss was still heavy on his face. “You think I don’t know that?” He let out a long, exhausted breath. “Sometimes, we don’t get the luxury of picking the time for sacrifice. It chooses us.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence in the room, a heavy, lingering silence as everyone processed the enormity of what they had just lost.

Nouri leaned back in her chair, her hand gently grazing the table. "Then we shall carry on in his honour," she said, her tone resolute. "I will stand beside you, as will the others who remain. The path is dark, but it is not without light. We must find it." She looked directly at Steve, her eyes softer now. “I will help you carry this weight.”

Steve nodded, though the grief was still clouding his expression. "Thank you," he murmured quietly, not just for her words, but for her presence—calm, steady, a beacon amidst the chaos.

Fury, still standing by the door, gave one last look at the table before he turned, his steps purposeful. "I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you."

---

Both Nouri and Steve rose to their feet, stepping forward to find Tony, standing in the empty cell container. His posture was tense, his eyes sharp, but the atmosphere in the room was heavy with unspoken grief.

“Was he married?” Steve asked, his voice softer than usual, the question a formality, but it carried the weight of loss.

Tony shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “No. There was a... cellist, I think.” His voice was tight, emotions simmering beneath the surface.

Steve’s gaze softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry. He seemed like a good man.”

Tony scoffed, but it wasn’t with amusement. “He was an idiot.”

Nouri furrowed her brow, her gaze thoughtful but compassionate. “Why? For believing?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but rather curious, seeking understanding.

Tony turned to her, eyes flashing with frustration. “For taking on Loki alone.”

Steve stepped forward, his voice firm in defence. “He was doing his job.”

Tony shook his head vehemently. “He was out of his league. He should’ve waited...”

Steve interrupted; his voice steady but not without weight. “Sometimes, there isn’t a way out, Tony.”

Tony spun around, his anger starting to boil over as the memories resurfaced. “Right, how did that work out?” His voice cracked with a painful edge.

Steve’s expression was unwavering, his eyes locked on Tony’s, speaking from a place of hard-earned wisdom. “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

Tony’s face tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “WE ARE NOT SOLDIERS!” His words were like a lash, raw and biting. “I’m not marching to Fury’s fife.”

Nouri’s hand found Tony’s shoulder, a grounding force. Her touch was gentle but firm.

Steve’s voice, though firm, held an edge. “Neither am I. But he’s got the same blood on his hands as Loki does. Right now, we need to put that aside and get this done. Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list...”

Tony turned away, staring at the bloodstained wall, his chest rising and falling as the gravity of the situation tightened around him. “He made it personal.”

Steve shook his head, his gaze unyielding. “That’s not the point.”

Tony’s eyes flashed, full of bitter understanding. “That is the point. That’s Loki’s point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

“To break us,” Nouri replied, her voice low and grim. “Loki isn’t just seeking power—he’s hunting for your doubt, your fear, your anger. He thrives on it. He wants to fracture you, to see you turn on one another.”

Tony slammed his fist into the wall, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the silence. His knuckles were white, the rage still simmering beneath the surface. “Yeah, divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us out to win. That’s what he wants. He wants to beat us, and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”

Steve nodded; his jaw tight. “Right. Caught his act in Stuttgart.”

Tony’s voice took on a bitter edge, the humour stripped away by the reality of what they were facing. “Yeah. That was just a preview. This is opening night. Loki’s a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, a monument in the skies with his name plastered on it...”

He paused then, his eyes widening as the realization struck him like a lightning bolt.

“Son of a bitch!” Tony swore under his breath, spinning to face them, before rushing off.

“Suit up,” Steve said as the two of them walked away, his voice steady as he headed off to prepare. Nouri followed; her mind still caught in the lingering sense of disorientation from the previous battle. She entered the infirmary, stepping silently into Clint Barton’s medical room. The soft hum of the sterile space contrasted with the chaos outside, and there, she found Clint and Natasha, talking quietly.

“Took quite a hit,” Nouri said, leaning against the doorway, her gaze sharp as she observed Clint’s condition.

Clint’s eyes lifted, a faint, appreciative grin touching his lips despite the pain. “Thank you,” Natasha said, offering a nod of gratitude to Nouri, who gave a gentle smile in return.

The gesture was brief, but Nouri could see the care that Natasha had for Clint. She noticed the small ways the two had bonded through battle, two warriors in the same fight, though with different histories.

Clint slowly extended his hand toward Nouri. “Clint,” he introduced himself, his voice rough but sincere.

“Nouri,” she replied, her tone humble yet imbued with an age-old strength. Her hand met his, her grasp firm but gentle.

“Natasha told me all about you,” Clint said, his voice carrying a light hint of curiosity.

“All good, I hope,” Nouri teased, a soft laugh escaping her lips, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

Clint chuckled, though it was brief. He stood, carefully shifting the weight off his leg as he made his way into the restroom. Natasha and Nouri remained in the room, the quiet bond between them growing as they exchanged a few words about the world they found themselves in.

“Everything’s changing so fast, isn’t it?” Natasha said, her voice a little softer now, reflecting a deeper concern.

Nouri looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. “The world has always been changing, Natasha. It's just that some of us notice it more than others,” Nouri responded, her tone thoughtful, almost philosophical, as though speaking from centuries of watching the rise and fall of civilizations.

Before Natasha could reply, the door to the room opened with a soft creak. Steve walked in, fully suited in his uniform. His presence shifted the room instantly calm but commanding, the weight of leadership evident in his every movement. Natasha’s gaze lifted; her surprise evident as she wasn’t prepared for Steve’s sudden entrance.

“Time to go,” Steve said, his voice calm yet urgent.

“Go where?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow, though she didn’t seem entirely put off.

“I’ll explain on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?” Steve asked, his eyes scanning the room, calculating.

Before Natasha could respond, Clint stepped out of the restroom. He stood a little taller than before, and his eyes met Steve’s with quiet determination.

“I can,” Clint said, his voice steady and almost detached, like the question was a formality to him.

Steve turned to Natasha, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sought confirmation. She nodded, a silent understanding between them that Barton was on their side, despite everything that had happened.

“Got a suit?” Steve asked, his tone now sharper, more direct.

“Yeah,” Clint replied, his voice steady without a hint of hesitation.

“Then suit up,” Steve ordered.

---

As the group made their way toward the Quinjet, a young S.H.I.E.L.D. pilot standing at the base. His posture was tense, and his eyes flicked nervously from Steve to Nouri, as if unsure how to react. He cleared his throat, a slight tremor in his voice.

"You're not authorized to be here..." he stammered, his feet planted firmly in their path.

"Son... just don’t," Steve said, his words unspoken yet heavy with the weight of experience. There was no room for hesitation in his tone, no time for the pilot to second-guess his instincts.

Without a word, Clint powered up the Quinjet, and the sleek aircraft roared to life, lifting off smoothly from the ground.

“Where to, Cap?” Clint asked, his voice a mix of casual nonchalance and focused readiness.

“Stark Tower,” Steve replied, his jaw set with determination.

Nouri stood by the window; her gaze distant. The weight of her purpose, the gravity of the situation ahead, settled heavily on her shoulders. She had spent millennia observing, guiding, but never intervening. But now... she could feel it—this was her time.

As if drawn by an invisible force, she turned away from the window. Raising her palms toward the heavens, she closed her eyes, feeling the ancient energy of the gods stir within her. Her voice rang out, low and reverent, a prayer that stretched across the ages.

"Senwy nety, senut nety, rekh-i sety! Mesdjw-a rekh tw, mi sesheshet rekh gerh! Bast, netjeret en ib, hery-wah-ib, setep-i m ta'k neb! Horu, sa-a rekhu, setep-i m ir en anedj her! Aset, heka neferet, senedj ka'u neferu, setep sa! Djehuty, hemu en rekh, setep sa'u nebu! Sedjer setep-i, seshep peret, akhet kheper en ha!"* Her words hung in the air, a heavy silence following them. The Quinjet continued its course, but something shifted. Nouri could feel it, a warmth surging through her as her connection to the divine was restored. Her body began to tingle, her ancient powers coursing back to life, the glyphs of her people slowly materializing on her skin, glowing faintly in the dim light of the jet.

She opened her eyes to find both Steve and Natasha staring at her, their gazes filled with awe and curiosity.

“What?” Nouri asked, her voice tinged with the unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking over Nouri’s glowing form. “Seems like they heard you.”

Nouri looked down at her hands, her fingers trembling slightly. The hieroglyphs covered her skin now, an intricate web of power and divine purpose. Her fire-wielding abilities pulsed within her, and the knowledge of centuries flooded her mind once again. The gods had answered her call. She had her full strength back.

There was a long pause, filled only by the soft hum of the Quinjet’s engines. Finally, Natasha broke the silence, her voice smooth and practical. “I’d say we’ve got the universe’s blessing now,” she said, leaning forward to take a seat in the cockpit. “Just don’t burn the whole thing down.”

Nouri smiled softly, her laughter light and warm as she responded, “I wield fire, Natasha. Not chaos.”

Steve paused, studying her for a moment before his voice, calm and respectful, broke the silence. “You’ve got more than enough power to do what’s needed.”

Notes:

* Translation:
"Brothers and sisters, hear me! I call upon you as the stars call to the silence of night! Bast, protector of the heart, enfold me in your divine mantle! Horus, whose eyes see all, grant me sight beyond the unseen! Isis, great in magic, weave your grace into the wounded spirits! Thoth, keeper of wisdom, bestow upon me the knowledge of the ages! Hear my prayer, for the balance trembles, and war rises upon the earth!"

Chapter 7: NYC

The Quinjet roars through the sky, streaking toward New York City at full speed. The once-bustling city now looks like a war zone, smoke billowing from crumbling buildings, debris scattered across the streets.

“Oh no, my apartment…” Nouri’s voice falters, a bittersweet chuckle escaping her as she glances out at what remains of her home. The apartment is nothing but a pile of bricks now, a symbol of everything lost in the chaos. She inhales sharply, forcing a mask of composure. "I did love that view," she adds, her tone quietly amused but laced with sadness.

"Stark, we're heading northeast," Natasha’s calm voice cuts through the tension, her eyes focused on the rapidly approaching skyline.

“What, did you stop for drive-thru?” Tony’s voice crackles in, his usual sarcasm laced with urgency. "Swing up Park, I’m going to lay ‘em out for you."

“Get ready,” Steve murmurs, his voice low and steady. He glances at Nouri, who, with deliberate grace, pulls two golden swords from her back, their curved blades gleaming in the light.

Natasha already has the Quinjet’s machine gun drawn, her hands steady as she opens fire. The bullets tear through the air, finding their mark with precision. The Chitauri ships around Stark Tower begin to explode in a shower of sparks and metal.

Clint banks the Quinjet hard to the left, tilting sharply toward Stark Tower, eyes narrowed in focus. He aims the minigun at the hovering form of Loki. Without a moment's hesitation, Loki raises his sceptre, a blast of energy erupting from it with a deafening crack. It hits the Quinjet, and the aircraft spirals out of control, plummeting toward the city below.

The world spins as they fall, skyscrapers blurring past in a dizzying streak of steel and glass. Then, with a violent crash, the Quinjet slams into the street below, a deafening impact shaking the very foundations of the city.

Inside the wreckage, the team shakes off the brutal crash. Clint and Natasha unfasten their seatbelts first, immediately moving toward the ramp. Steve bolts out the moment the ramp drops, followed closely by Nouri

Suddenly, the world around them lurches to an unnatural stop. A deep, primal roar echoes through the streets, shaking the very air. The sound sends a chill through them, an unsettling reminder of the odds they face.

From the portal above, a massive Chitauri Leviathan emerges, its gargantuan form casting a long shadow over the city. The ship, far larger than any of them had anticipated, rumbles as it hovers above, hundreds of soldiers swarming out.

The Leviathan flies overhead, its shadow sweeping over the ground like a storm. The team looks up in awe and dread, knowing this is only the beginning. The Chitauri soldiers begin to pour from the ship, their weapons raised as they climb down the sides of nearby buildings, their energy rifles crackling with deadly intent. They land on the street with a thud, immediately opening fire on the terrified civilians below.

Steve clenches his jaw and touches his earpiece. "Stark, are you seeing this?"

Tony’s voice crackles back through the comms, tinged with disbelief but laced with sharp determination. "I'm seeing it. Still working on believing it. Where’s Banner? Has he shown up yet?"

"Not yet,” Nouri replies, her voice calm but with a flicker of hope. Her gaze scans the chaos unfolding around them, a quiet sorrow beneath the surface as she watches humanity once again caught in the crossfire.

"Just keep me posted." Tony’s voice steadies, though the weight of the situation is clear in his words.

---

The four sprinted behind overturned taxis, narrowly avoiding the chaos unfolding. They looked up to see Loki, leading his band of Chitauri soldiers, storming down the street.

“We’ve got civilians still trapped up here,” Clint said, voice sharp with urgency.

Terrified civilians scrambled to escape, frantic, their eyes wide with fear as they looked over their shoulders. Steve’s gaze shifted down the bridge, his mind calculating.

“They’re fish in a barrel down there,” Steve remarked, his tone grim as Loki shot at vehicles and innocents alike from above.

Chitauri soldiers landed nearby, weapons raised and firing at the panicking civilians. Natasha swiftly drew both pistols, firing with deadly precision, taking down Chitauri with ease. Beside her, Nouri moved with quiet resolve, her hands glowing with fire as she hurled balls of flame toward the invaders. Each strike hit its mark, sending soldiers into disarray.

“We got this. It’s good. Go!” Natasha urged, motioning for Steve and Nouri to move forward.

“You think you can hold them off?” Steve asked, glancing at Nouri.

Clint, who was already notching another arrow, responded, “Captain,” as he drew his bow. A mechanical arrow locked into place, aimed with unerring focus. “It would be my genuine pleasure.”

With a swift motion, Clint released the arrow, striking a Chitauri soldier squarely in the head. The creature crumpled to the ground, creating a momentary gap in their line.

Steve and Nouri seized it. They sprinted down the bridge, weaving between explosions and debris that shook the ground beneath them. Nouri, running with the fluid grace of a warrior, threw fire in controlled bursts. Each flame was strategic, a precision strike to eliminate threats, clear paths, and protect civilians caught in the crossfire. Her restraint in wielding her flames was evident—her strikes were deliberate, not reckless, focused on protecting rather than causing chaos.

Together, they reached the plaza, moving with synchronized intent, Nouri’s fire lighting up the night like a shield against the invaders.

Steve got eyes on the police.

“Go, I’ll hold them off,” Nouri said, her voice calm, as she effortlessly cut through the Chitauri soldiers, flames swirling around her hands like extensions of her will. She moved fluidly, a force of nature, protecting the civilians who scrambled to safety. Every strike was precise, each one a deliberate choice to neutralize the threat without unnecessary violence.

“You need men in these buildings. There are people inside who could run into the line of fire. Take them through the basement or the subway. Keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th,” Steve commanded, his voice firm, eyes scanning the chaos.

“Why the hell should I take orders from you?” the police sergeant retorted.

Before Steve could respond, an explosion ripped through the air. He quickly raised his shield, blocking a devastating energy blast from a pair of Chitauri soldiers. The officers watched in stunned silence as Steve dispatched them with lethal precision, his shield flying through the air, returning to his grasp with a resounding clang. The sergeant turned to his officer, the weight of Steve’s actions pushing him into compliance.

“You good?” Steve yelled over the roar of battle.

“Never better!” Nouri shouted back, her eyes glowing as she summoned another burst of fire, effortlessly cleaving through another wave of Chitauri with graceful, yet deadly strikes. Her movements were a fluid dance of destruction, a reminder that she was not only a goddess but a warrior, capable of holding her own without breaking a sweat. Her connection to the fire was both weapon and protector, guiding the flames with a restraint that kept the chaos from overwhelming the civilians she shielded.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Steve yelled, motioning for her to join him as he sprinted toward the others, where Clint and Natasha were holding their own against the Chitauri forces. Nouri moved swiftly alongside Steve, her swords flashing in the air with practiced precision. The sharp edge of the blade sliced through the Chitauri ranks, her motions fluid and controlled, striking with purpose and skill. She was not a warrior by nature, but the discipline instilled in her by the Medjai, and her divine heritage came through in every swing.

Her fiery powers crackled as she released blasts of flame that surged through the air, singeing the alien invaders as they advanced. The flames responded to her will, leaping from her hands with focused intent, not for destruction, but to protect and control the battlefield.

Steve was at her side, his shield an extension of his will, his every movement a mix of strength and grace. He cut through the enemy with calculated force, his shield spinning through the air, knocking Chitauri soldiers back and breaking their weapons. The synchronized rhythm of their fight was seamless, each one watching the other’s back without words. It was teamwork, honed through the fire of battle.

Just when it seemed the tide was turning in favour of the Chitauri, a bolt of lightning struck the ground with deafening force, illuminating the battlefield. Nouri raised her hand instinctively, the power surging through her as she adjusted her stance, ready to move at a moment's notice. The electricity blasted through the Chitauri ranks, their bodies convulsing violently before dropping lifeless to the ground. The storm had arrived, and it was Thor.

He landed with a thunderous crash, his hammer raised high as he stood tall among the scattered bodies of their enemies. The air seemed to hum with his power, his presence commanding attention even amidst the chaos.

Steve wasted no time, his eyes scanning the battlefield. "What's the story upstairs?" he called out.

Thor’s voice was grave, his usual boisterous tone subdued by the weight of the situation. “The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable.”

Tony’s voice crackled over their earpieces, sharp with urgency. “Thor’s right. We gotta deal with these guys first.”

Nouri turned to Steve, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. “How do we do this?” she asked, her voice calm but filled with a quiet intensity. She had never fought alongside so many before, and yet, in this moment, it felt right. The connection to the others—their shared goal—was clear.

"As a team," Steve responded firmly, his gaze sharp and determined. There was no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty.

Thor’s eyes flashed with determination; the weight of his words heavy. “I have unfinished business with Loki.”

“Yeah, get in line.” Clint’s voice was laced with annoyance, though he didn’t break from his target as he shot down a Chitauri soldier with precision.

“Save it,” Steve said, his voice unwavering. “Loki’s gonna keep this fight focused on us, and that’s exactly what we need. Without him, these things could run wild. We’ve got Stark up top; he’s gonna need us...” He was cut off by the sound of an approaching motorbike.

Bruce skidded to a halt; his eyes wide as he surveyed the destruction around him. “So, this all seems horrible,” he observed, his voice tinged with dry humour.

Natasha, glancing at Bruce, couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at her lips. "I've seen worse."

Bruce looked apologetically at her. “Sorry.”

“No,” Natasha corrected, her tone laced with irony. "We could use a little worse."

Steve’s eyes locked with Bruce’s. “Stark? We got him.”

Tony’s voice crackled through their earpieces, cutting through the banter. “Banner?”

“Just like you said,” Nouri confirmed, her voice steady and sure.

“Then tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you,” Tony’s voice came through clearly.

Moments later, the unmistakable sound of Tony’s jet thrusters filled the air. He shot through the streets, the Chitauri Leviathan hot on his trail, barrelling forward with destructive intent.

Natasha observed, a dark laugh escaping her lips. “I... I don’t see how that’s a party...”

Nouri’s eyed widened and her grip on her sword tightened.

Tony swooped down, leading the Leviathan through the streets like a predator chasing its prey. The Leviathan’s sheer size and fury were a sight to behold as it crashed through buildings, the sound of its destruction rattling the ground beneath their feet.

Bruce glanced back at Steve, meeting his gaze with a nod. It was time.

“Dr. Banner,” Steve called out, his voice commanding, “now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce flashed a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling calm. “That’s my secret, Captain. I’m always angry.”

Without another word, the transformation began. Bruce’s body expanded and hardened, muscles rippling and stretching as the Hulk surged forth with a roar that shook the very air. He slammed his fist into the Leviathan’s skull, sending the massive beast into the air, flipping in a wild arc as it crashed into the pavement, writhing in agony.

Tony hovering above, extended his arm as he unleashed a powerful rocket into the Leviathan’s soft underbelly. The explosion sent shockwaves throughout the street, igniting the creature’s insides. As it fell, the once-unstoppable force was now a writhing, burning mass.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed as debris rained down from above. With a swift motion, she raised her sword, summoning a burst of fire that scorched the falling wreckage. Her flames didn’t consume, but they guided the debris to the ground, ensuring it wouldn’t harm her anyone.

Steve raised his shield, the heavy impact of falling rubble striking its surface as he shielded both himself and Nouri from the worst of the debris. He glanced over, giving her a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the battlefield. They were unified now. The Avengers were a force, standing together against the alien invaders with a strength that no single hero could have mustered on their own.

Above, the Chitauri army watched, stunned by the sudden shift in the tide of battle. Earth’s mightiest heroes had arrived in full force, and for the first time, the Chitauri realized they weren’t just fighting invincible odds—they were fighting a united front.

---

"Guys," Natasha called out, her voice steady despite the chaos around them, as more of the Chitauri army poured through the portal, filling the streets with their relentless advance.

Tony turned to Steve, his suit whirring with energy. "Call it, Cap."

Steve’s posture was unwavering, eyes scanning the battlefield, his mind calculating. "Alright, listen up. Until we can close that portal up there, our priority is on containment. Barton, I want you on the roof. Keep your eyes on everything, call out patterns, and watch for any strays. Stark, you’ve got the perimeter. Anything that gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or turn it to ash."

Clint’s smirk was already forming as he prepared for action. "Wanna give me a lift?"

Tony shot him a grin. "Right. Better clench up, Legolas." Without waiting for a response, Tony lifted Clint into the air with a burst of speed, sending him soaring toward the building.

Steve’s gaze turned to Thor, his tone commanding. "Thor, you’ve got to try and bottleneck that portal. Slow them down. You’ve got the lightning, light the bastards up."

Thor nodded firmly, Mjolnir in hand. He flew upward with a crash of thunder, ready to bring the full force of his lightning to bear.

Steve’s focus now turned to the ground. He met the eyes of Natasha and Nouri, standing beside him, ready for the next command. "We stay here on the ground. We keep the fighting contained. And Hulk…"

The Hulk’s massive grin spread across his face; eyes alight with excitement. "Smash"

Hulk’s roar shook the very air. He charged into the fray with brutal force, shattering the Chitauri ranks with each earth-shattering step. Leaping into the air with the grace of a battering ram, he sent flying chariots crashing down and broke apart any soldier who dared come near.

“Wow,” Nouri remarked softly, her voice barely rising above the roar of battle. Her dark curly hair whipped around her face as she surveyed the scene. There was something primal about the battle around her—something ancient that resonated deep within her. She was used to being an observer of mortals, but this was different. This was a war, and she was ready to fight.

The ground around them trembled as a new wave of Chitauri soldiers surged toward them. Nouri’s hands ignited with brilliant flames, which flickered and curled like serpents—fire that could heal, protect, or destroy. But in this moment, it was meant for battle. She spun gracefully, the fire wrapping around her arms like living whips, each lash tearing through the air with precision, leaving trails of scorching heat in their wake.

A group of Chitauri soldiers charged at her from three sides, their weapons raised. Without breaking stride, Nouri raised one hand, and the fire responded, arcing toward the nearest attackers. With a single fluid motion, she whipped the flames around them, burning them to ash before they could even react. The heat from her flames pushed back the wave of enemies, her control so precise that she only incinerated the soldiers, leaving the ground untouched.

She moved forward, her feet barely touching the ground, as if her body moved in time with the very rhythm of battle. Another squad of Chitauri approached, aiming their weapons. Nouri didn’t flinch. Instead, she extended her arm, summoning the fire to shield her, the whips of flame coiling like serpents in the air.

"Incoming!" Steve’s voice rang out, his shield crashing into the face of one Chitauri soldier and sending another sprawling to the ground.

Natasha was already reloading, but her quiver had run dry. "I’m out," she said, frustration in her tone as she glanced around for anything she could use.

"Here," Nouri called, her voice calm despite the chaos. She reached out, throwing both of her swords to Natasha with precision. The curved swords shimmered briefly in the air before landing neatly in Natasha’s hands. Their golden edges glowed faintly, imbued with Nouri’s divine power. They were perfectly balanced for combat, the weight and design of the blades made to slice through enemies with deadly accuracy.

Natasha gave a small nod of thanks as she gripped the swords, the weight of the blades feeling natural in her hands. "Perfect," she muttered, and without hesitation, she launched herself into the fray, slashing through the Chitauri with deadly grace.

Nouri, her hands ignited with flames once more, now like burning whips that licked the air, lashed out at any approaching soldier. The fire danced with her will, every strike calculated and precise. Her movements were fluid, each flame flickering like a serpent, cutting down enemies in a fiery storm of power.

With every swing, Nouri sent torrents of fire crashing into the Chitauri forces, her control absolute. She didn’t unleash it all recklessly; her flames surged only as needed, burning her enemies to ash while leaving the surrounding streets untouched. She was a force of nature, but she wielded that power with the calm wisdom that came from millennia of life.

"On your left!" Natasha’s voice rang out, just as a Chitauri soldier tried to flank them.

Without even looking, Nouri extended a whip of fire, seizing the soldier by the throat and lifting him off the ground before incinerating him in a flash of light. She turned to Natasha, her expression calm but resolute. "Focus," she said simply.

"Always," Natasha grinned, twirling the sword expertly as she fought alongside Nouri. The two women moved in perfect synchronicity, with Nouri’s flames providing cover while Natasha sliced through the ranks of the invaders with lethal precision.

"Watch your six!" Steve’s voice called as he spun, his shield crashing into an oncoming Chitauri. The shield ricocheted off the pavement, deflecting enemy fire as he leapt into the fray beside them.

Nouri’s gaze flicked to him, noting the seamless way Steve moved, a warrior grounded in conviction. As he charged forward, knocking down enemies with each swipe of his shield, Nouri felt her heart stir. She admired his unwavering strength—his moral compass anchored in a world of chaos. Together, they formed an unspoken partnership, protecting the vulnerable and holding the line.

Steve cleared a path, and Nouri followed, her flames dancing through the air like a force of nature. "Keep pushing them back!" he yelled, tossing his shield to deflect another barrage of enemy fire.

Nouri nodded without hesitation, her flames swirling with purpose as she sent another blast of fire towards the Chitauri ranks. Her presence was undeniable—a guiding flame in the dark, steady and relentless.

As the flames surged forward, Nouri’s connection to the battle deepened. She wasn’t just fighting for victory; she was fighting for balance, for justice, for the lives of those she’d sworn to protect. And with every fallen Chitauri, her resolve only grew stronger. Her flames, once reserved, became a symbol of her commitment—not just to victory, but to ensuring that humanity, despite its flaws, had the chance to stand tall in the face of its greatest trial.

“On the move!” Steve called, seeing another surge of enemies breaking through their line.

Nouri raised her arms, her fire enveloping her like a shield, as she moved with him, covering his back as they continued to press forward, together.

"Keep moving, Cap!" Nouri shouted above the din of the battle. Her flames flared high as she pushed the Chitauri back, their assault slowing under the heat and fury of her fire.

Steve’s lips twitched in a grin. “Wouldn’t want to fight without you, Nouri.”

They were a perfect unit—Steve’s strength and Nouri’s fire, working in harmony, an unstoppable force on the streets of New York. They didn’t need words to understand each other; they just fought, side by side, as if they had always been a part of the same battle. The Avengers might have been forged through chaos, but in this moment, they stood united, their bonds strengthening with each battle cry.

---

The battle raged on, an unrelenting tide of Chitauri soldiers flooding New York’s streets. The sound of explosions echoed through the air, the clattering of weapons and the groans of wounded fighters adding to the chaos. Natasha was moving with practiced precision, every strike calculated, but the exhaustion was creeping in. Her breath came in heavy gasps, and her reflexes slowed for a fraction of a second, just enough for a Chitauri soldier to knock her off her feet.

With grit and determination, she flipped back to her feet, her arm sweeping the sword in a deadly arc as she cut through the soldier’s throat. The alien dropped without a sound, and Natasha grabbed its discarded energy rifle in a fluid motion, her eyes scanning for the next threat. She wasn’t slowing down—couldn’t afford to—but the toll was clear in the lines of tension etched across her face.

“Captain!” Natasha shouted; her voice strained but urgent. “None of this is gonna mean a damn thing if we don’t close that portal!”

From nearby, Nouri’s voice rang out, calm yet firm. “Our biggest guns couldn’t touch it,” she observed, her eyes fixed on the swirling portal above, the chaotic rift spilling out more Chitauri by the second.

Natasha turned her gaze upward, eyes narrowing as a plan began to form. Her chest heaved with every breath, but there was fire behind her eyes. “Well, maybe it’s not about guns.”

Steve stood with his shield raised, a stalwart figure amidst the turmoil, scanning the skies. His voice was steady, but there was concern in it. “You want to get up there, you’re gonna need a ride.”

Natasha flashed him a sharp smirk, a glint of resolve igniting within her. “I got a ride. I could use a lift though.”

Natasha unsheathed her swords, preparing to hand it to Nouri, who shook her head with a soft, amused laugh. “Keep them.” Nouri’s voice was full of quiet strength, a subtle undercurrent of command and grace.

Natasha, nodding in acknowledgment, took a few paces back, preparing for her move. Her muscles were tired, but adrenaline surged through her veins, pushing the fatigue aside. The wind whipped around them as she crouched, coiling herself like a spring, and then, in a flash of motion, she sprinted toward Steve.

Her body moved with the precision of someone who had perfected every step, every leap. She pushed off the side of a car, using her legs to spring into the air with an impossible fluidity, her body flipping mid-air as she reached out for Steve’s shield. In one seamless motion, he angled the shield just right and, with a powerful thrust, launched her into the air.

Nouri watched, her gaze sharp, yet a hint of admiration in her expression as Natasha shot toward the flying chariots. Natasha reached out, fingers brushing the chariot’s edge, and with a final burst of effort, her hand gripped the side. She hoisted herself up, landing on the platform of the chariot with ease, rolling into a crouch before standing tall.

A burst of static crackled through the air as Natasha took aim at the portal, energy rifle steady in her hands.

Steve watched in silent awe for a moment, his shield still raised as he caught his breath. “Impressive,” he muttered, eyes flicking to Nouri.

Nouri’s smile lingered as she turned back to the battle. “Yes,” she agreed, her voice soft but full of reverence. “Impressive indeed.”

Her focus shifted in an instant, as a Chitauri soldier lunged toward Steve. Without a word, Nouri stepped forward, her hands igniting with fiery light. The flames danced in her palms as she thrust them forward, her fire streaking across the battlefield, a wave of blinding brilliance that burned through the soldier’s armour. The soldier crumpled into ash before it could even reach Steve.

“It’s not over yet,” Nouri said, her voice steady, her presence calm despite the violence around them. “Keep moving.”

---

Several Humvees positioned along Bridge Street fire their mounted .50 calibre guns into the sky, hitting Chitauri riders as they charge forward. Explosions and gunfire tear through the air, but in the chaos, Nouri’s focus sharpens. With a flick of her wrist, fire erupts from her hands in controlled bursts, sending Chitauri soldiers flying backward.

She notices Steve struggling with a Chitauri soldier, pinned down by the creature’s energy rifle. With a swift motion, Steve breaks the soldier’s leg, sending it to the ground with a sickening crack. He stands, grabbing his shield and preparing for the next attack.

Clint’s voice crackles over the comms. “Captain, the bank on 42nd past Madison, they’ve got civilians trapped.”

“I’m on it,” Steve responds, nodding toward Nouri as they head toward 42nd Street.

Nouri follows him without hesitation, staying a step behind but alert to every movement around her. She doesn’t rush, sensing the weight of the situation. As they approach the bank, the chaos of the streets intensifies. Steve bursts through the window with the force of a freight train, and Nouri stays outside, holding her ground as the Chitauri charge.

She inhales deeply, summoning her fire. With a flick of her hand, flames dance along her fingertips, controlled and precise. The fire is more than just a weapon—it’s a message to the invaders. She releases it in short bursts, not out of rage, but as a barrier to protect the innocents behind her. The Chitauri falter, their advance slowed by the flames, but they keep coming. Nouri stands firm, every strike a careful balance between destruction and protection.

The air hums with tension. She hears the explosion from within the bank, the blast sending debris flying. Through the shattered window, she sees Steve crash into a car, his landing jarring but his resolve unwavering. The civilians inside the bank look shaken, but they’re safe.

Nouri rushes to Steve’s side, her steps steady and determined. She offers a hand, helping him to his feet. His face is cut, blood trickling from a gash along his cheek. Without a word, Nouri raises her hand, and with a soft flick of her fingers, the bleeding stops. The fire in her chest simmers, her control over her powers soothing his wounds.

Steve looks around, taking in the devastation. “You alright?” Nouri asks, her voice softer than usual, a rare glimpse of tenderness breaking through her focused demeanour.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, brushing off the dust from his uniform. He surveys the scene, his gaze locking with Nouri’s for a brief moment of silent understanding.

“C’mon,” she says with a sense of urgency, her eyes already shifting to the next wave of Chitauri forces gathering in the distance. She takes off running, her feet light and swift across the broken streets, her hand brushing against the side of a nearby building for balance. “We’ve got more to stop.”

Steve follows, his shield raised, his focus sharp. Nouri’s pace doesn’t falter, each step purposeful as she moves ahead, leaving the destruction of the battlefield behind them—at least for now. There are more lives to save, and the fight is far from over.

The Chitauri are relentless, but so are they.

---

Thor had graciously joined the two as the three fought side by side, their movements seamlessly coordinated. Steve hurled his shield, and Thor swung Mjolnir with impressive force, each strike knocking down multiple Chitauri soldiers with precision. The hammer spun through the air, striking enemies, while Captain’s shield ricocheted off the pavement, knocking soldiers into each other.

But just as Steve assessed the battle, trying to gauge their next move, a powerful energy blast hit him. It knocked him to the ground with a heavy thud. Thor, his eyes flashing with fury, rushed toward a nearby wrecked car. With one swift motion, he swung Mjolnir downward, flipping the car over and over, crashing it into several Chitauri soldiers.

Steve struggled to rise, but Thor was there, extending a hand to him. “You ready for another bout?” he grinned, his voice booming with that ever-present strength.

Wiping blood from his lip, Steve shot back with his usual humour, “What, you getting sleepy?”

The ground trembled beneath their feet as Nouri, dashed past them.

her body caked with grime from the battle, felt the weight of exhaustion but pressed on, her determination unwavering. Her bandages, once pristine, had been burned away by her own flames in the heat of battle, leaving her appearance dishevelled but no less powerful. Her hair tangled from the chaos of war; she growled under her breath as another wave of Chitauri soldiers poured into the fray.

Her eyes flickered with the intensity of the battle as she summoned flames to her fingertips, sending waves of fire across the battlefield. Chitauri soldiers screamed as they were engulfed, their bodies falling to the ground in a burning heap. She was an unstoppable force, her power not just in the flames but in her calm precision.

"Stay on your feet, Rogers," she called out, her voice strong and steady, filled with the wisdom of centuries. "This is just the beginning."

Thor’s grin widened at Nouri’s fiery onslaught. "By Odin's beard, your flames rival the sun!"

She barely spared him a glance, her focus sharp as she sent another wave of fire toward an approaching Leviathan. "The sun can only burn so brightly," she replied, her movements fluid as her fiery power rippled out like waves crashing on a shore. She focused her energy, guiding the fire, ensuring it would protect rather than destroy indiscriminately.

Steve, now back on his feet, nodded at Nouri in silent acknowledgment as he threw his shield once more, knocking down more enemies. “Alright, let’s wrap this up.”

With a nod, Nouri turned her attention back to the battlefield, sending a surge of flames toward a cluster of Chitauri soldiers, her power seemingly endless. She didn’t just fight for victory—she fought for balance, protecting those who fought by her side and ensuring that the threat was dealt with swiftly and decisively.

"Shall we finish this together?" she asked, her eyes glowing with a divine intensity as she turned to Thor and Steve, ready to face whatever came next.

Thor laughed, spinning Mjolnir with a flourish. "You know, I don’t think there’s anyone who stands a chance."

Steve grinned, raising his shield. “Lead the way.”

---

“I can close it! Can anybody hear me? I can shut the portal down!” Natasha’s voice rose with urgency over the comms, drawing the attention of everyone on the battlefield.

“Do it!” Nouri called out, her eyes blazing as her flames flared momentarily around her, searing through the Chitauri in front of her. She could sense the portal closing—she could feel its energy shift, like a tug-of-war with the universe.

But before she could react further, Tony’s voice crackled through the comms, “No, wait!”

Steve's frustration flared as he sprinted across the war-torn streets, his shield raised and ready. “Stark, these things are still coming!”

Tony’s voice came in steady, though tense. “I got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.”

High above the city, Tony soared, his suit a blur against the sky. He zoomed through the air with precision, catching up to the missile just as it began to fall toward the city. With a powerful jerk, he wrenched it off course, sending it spiralling upward toward the portal.

Inside the suit, Steve’s voice echoed over the comms, “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip?”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat, watching Tony’s daring move. For a moment, the battlefield seemed to pause—Chitauri soldiers halted in their tracks as if caught in the same shared moment of disbelief. Then, without warning, Tony dove through the portal, carrying the missile with him, and the world held its breath.

The Avengers stood in stunned silence, eyes fixed on the sky, waiting. The air was thick with tension. Nouri, her fists clenched, felt a pulse in her chest, a crackling energy that surged through her veins.

Thor and Steve shared a glance. They both knew what was coming.

"Close it," Steve ordered, his voice firm but with an edge of anxiety. His eyes stayed on the sky, waiting for the inevitable.

Nouri’s gaze fixed on the sky as the portal began to close. She saw it—the flash of light, the eruption of cosmic energy. In that instant, Tony was hurled backward, spinning uncontrollably through the air. He fell, plummeting toward Earth below, and Nouri’s heart lurched.

"Son of a gun!" Steve shouted, his voice a mix of disbelief and urgency as he watched Tony fall like a stone.

Thor, ever quick to react, muttered, "He's not slowing down." Without hesitation, he spun Mjolnir and launched himself into the air, aiming to catch Tony before it was too late. But it was the Hulk who acted first. With a bellowing roar, the massive green figure shot into the sky and plucked Tony out of the air, just before he could crash to the ground.

The Hulk and Tony crashed into a nearby building, sliding down its side with a loud crash. The Avengers watched in stunned silence as Hulk dropped Tony to the ground, his face filled with concern.

Nouri, Thor and Steve rushed over to him, the weight of the battle momentarily forgotten. The trio knelt beside Tony, their eyes scanning his still form. His helmet had been ripped off, revealing a lifeless Tony, covered in dust and debris. The silence in the air was deafening as the weight of the moment hung over them.

Then, a roar from Hulk shattered the silence, his voice full of frustration. It seemed to stir Tony back to life, his eyes snapping open as he gasped for air.

"What the hell?" Tony muttered, his voice hoarse and weak. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Well... maybe you wouldn’t be so bad." His gaze landed on Nouri, who was standing nearby, watching the aftermath of the battle with a calm, measured gaze. Her lips curled slightly into a grin as she raised an eyebrow.

Steve paused, looking down at Tony with a mix of exhaustion and relief. "We won," he said simply, his voice steady as he scanned the chaotic aftermath. The wreckage from the Chitauri invasion was still fresh, debris scattered all around, but the immediate threat was gone.

Tony blinked, his mind still foggy, before giving a slow, groggy nod. "Alright, alright. Good job, guys." His grin returned, though it was more tired now, and the usual sharpness in his voice had dulled. “Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s take a day off. You know, have you ever tried shawarma? There’s a place about two blocks from here. I don’t even know what it is, but I want to try it.”

Thor, his expression solemn, looked up at Stark Tower, where the remnants of their battle still lingered. “We are not finished yet,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of impending finality.

Tony paused, glancing at the Asgardian with a playful smile. "And then shawarma after?" he teased.

Nouri chuckled softly at their banter, though her eyes remained focused on the broken god before them. She couldn’t help but find some humour in the moment, even if it was fleeting. "I suppose we’ve earned it, haven’t we?" she said, her voice warm but with an undercurrent of weariness from the battle. Her laughter was a rare lightness in the midst of the carnage, but even that couldn’t hide the subtle tension still present in her.

---

As they entered Stark Tower, the group halted at the top of the stairs, looking down at Loki. He was attempting to crawl up the remaining steps, his body a mess of bruises and shredded armour, a mere shadow of the god they had once faced. His breath was shallow, each movement slow and agonizing, like he was trying to drag himself through an invisible force.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, his eyes meeting the Avengers. His mouth twisted into a weary smirk, though it was barely there. “If it’s all the same to you,” Loki muttered, his voice ragged and weak, “I’ll have that drink now.”

Nouri stepped forward; her eyes unreadable as she looked at Loki. She didn’t speak at first, but the intensity in her presence was undeniable. The fire from earlier was a quiet hum within her, not quite extinguished but controlled. “You fought hard,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as she knelt beside him. “For what?” Her eyes were calm, but her gaze held something deeper—an ancient understanding of pain and loss that she kept carefully contained. “What would you have gained, Loki? Victory would have brought you destruction.”

Loki’s chest heaved as he tried to meet her gaze. "And yet, you still stand with them," he rasped. "You, too, fight for them, don't you?" His eyes flickered with something almost like curiosity. "Why?"

Nouri’s lips quirked, and she glanced at the Avengers behind her. "I fight for them," she said quietly, "because I believe they can be better. And I am bound by a purpose older than either of us. I may not be from this time, Loki, but I still believe in something beyond power."

Tony, noticing the subtle change in tone, gave a tired chuckle as he caught Nouri’s words. "Now that’s some serious poetry, Nouri," he said, voice still weak but amused. "But hey, we’ve had our share of trying to save the world. So, yeah, after we deal with this," he added, glancing at Loki, "we’ll eat some shawarma and figure it all out."

Thor, standing tall beside him, nodded. "Let’s deal with this now," he said, his voice grim but with a quiet respect for Nouri’s words. He stepped forward, eyes still locked on Loki. “You are a broken shadow of your former self. It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions.”

Nouri watched quietly as the others prepared to take action, but her attention never strayed far from Loki, watching and wondering

Notes:

I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Chapter 8: Forgiveness

May 5th 2012

 

The next day after the battle, the group stood in the middle of Central Park, the air still and tense, a reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. The buildings around them seemed to breathe, slowly recovering from the scars left by the Chitauri invasion. The skies had cleared, but there was a heaviness in the atmosphere, a shared understanding that what they had just endured was only the beginning.

Since Nouri’s and Steve’s apartments had been destroyed, S.H.I.E.L.D. had made arrangements, ensuring that they were housed. They did not, however, expect to be neighbours. It was a bit of a surprise to Nouri, who had found an odd joy in the coincidence. She hadn’t realized how much she appreciated proximity to Steve until now. The living arrangements were temporary, but the proximity to him—someone who embodied the virtues she admired—was not lost on her.

Thor and Loki, the latter handcuffed and muzzled, were led toward a restricted area. Loki's eyes flickered around, but he said nothing. His expression was a mixture of disdain and frustration. Thor offered a firm handshake to each of his teammates, his broad grin never fading, though there was an unmistakable warmth in his gestures. Despite the whirlwind of the past week, he managed to remain unshaken, as always. His handshake was firm, a silent acknowledgment of what they'd been through.

Thor turned to Nouri, his smile softening, a rare sincerity in his eyes. “I may have been wrong about you, Nouri. Your heart is as bright as your flame,” he said, his voice a rumble of gratitude. “I will not forget what you’ve done for us.”

Nouri offered a humble nod, her gaze meeting his with quiet respect. “The flame is never too bright when guided by purpose,” she replied softly, her words carrying the weight of her ancient wisdom. "It was an honour to stand alongside you."

Thor clapped her on the shoulder, his grin returning. “I trust our paths will cross again. Farewell, Your Ladyship.”

Thor pulled Erik Selvig into a heartfelt hug, the scientist patting his broad shoulder in return. "You did well," Thor said in a booming voice, the joy of reunion glowing in his eyes.

Tony, always the one to take the initiative, popped open the case holding the Tesseract, revealing its glowing contents. The blue light bathed the surrounding area, drawing everyone’s attention. Bruce examined the cube carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, before gently placing it inside a protective glass tube. The tube’s surface shimmered under the sunlight, giving off a soft hum of containment.

Thor cradled the tube with both hands, moving it like a precious artifact.

Loki, still muzzled, reluctantly reached for the other end of the tube, his hands stiff as he took it. His eyes narrowed with disdain but said nothing. He was silent, his thoughts hidden behind the mask of bitterness that always accompanied him. He couldn't deny the circumstances, but the discomfort of being surrounded by those who had been his enemies was evident.

With a shared, unspoken look, the Asgardian brothers stepped into the energy beam that would take them home. The light engulfed them in an instant, and they disappeared, leaving nothing but a fading echo in their wake.

As the group began to disband, Natasha approached Nouri, her expression warm but measured. “You fought well,” Natasha said with a small nod, her eyes meeting Nouri’s. “I’m glad you were here.”

Nouri’s smile was subtle but genuine. “The honour was mine, Natasha,” she replied. “I may not understand this world fully, but in moments like these, it’s clear to me—humanity’s potential is great.”

Clint, standing nearby, gave a nod of agreement, offering Nouri a sly grin. “You don’t need to be around a lot to know you’re a force to be reckoned with. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

Nouri chuckled softly, her gaze meeting Clint’s. “I will remember that, Clint.”

Bruce, who had been silent for most of the exchange, now spoke up as he climbed into the car with Tony. “Thank you, Nouri. For everything.”

Nouri’s expression softened, a deep appreciation filling her eyes. “You are kind, Doctor. You have my gratitude.”

Tony, now at the door of the sports car, threw Nouri a casual wave, his usual cocky grin in place. “I gotta say, you’ve got the whole ‘goddess’ thing down. Don’t be a stranger. We might need you again,” he said, before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Nouri smiled, though it was a touch warmer than before. “I will, Tony.”

As the car roared to life, Nouri stood still for a moment, watching the team begin to disperse, her thoughts lingering on the connections she had made. Nouri turned toward Steve, her gaze lingering on the others as they went their separate ways. She stood there for a moment, her thoughts distant, but her presence still felt grounded, her calmness a quiet anchor for the whirlwind of activity around her.

Steve, watching her for a moment, offered a gentle smile, nodding as he motioned toward the Harley parked beside them. "You ready?"

Nouri’s lips curved into a small, thoughtful smile as she accepted the helmet he handed her. “I’ve always been ready, Captain.”

Without another word, she climbed onto the back of the Harley, her movements fluid and steady. Steve revved the engine, and the roar of the bike broke through the stillness. Nouri settled in behind him, her tight grip on his waist, a sense of determination in the quiet bond between them.

The wind picked up as they sped off, leaving the park behind. The road stretched out before them, the city unfolding in a blur of colours and sounds. The moment was simple—just the two of them, heading into the unknown with the same steady rhythm as the bike's engine beneath them.

They didn’t speak much during the ride. The world around them was moving, but in that brief space of time, it was just them, the wind, and the city that never stopped. Nouri allowed herself to feel the freedom of the moment, the chaos of the last week quieted by the steady hum of the motorcycle beneath her. Steve didn’t say anything either, his focus on the road ahead, but his presence was a quiet reassurance.

---

As they arrived at their apartments, Steve, ever the gentleman, helped her off the bike and reached for the door, holding it open for Nouri. She smiled gratefully, the soft light from the hallway casting a gentle glow on her face.

As Nouri stepped toward her door, she paused, hand on the handle. Steve’s voice cut through the quiet moment, a bit hesitant, as if he were carefully choosing his words.

“I was wondering…” he began, his voice trailing off for a second. He scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to find a way to phrase it without sounding awkward. “I read there’s an exhibit on Ancient Egypt...”

Nouri tilted her head, an amused yet curious expression on her face. “An exhibit?” she repeated, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “On Egypt?”

Steve's cheeks flushed, a subtle crimson creeping up the back of his neck as he continued, stumbling over his words. “Uh, yeah… I thought it might be nice to see it... together,” he finished, almost in a whisper, his voice barely above a murmur.

Nouri’s eyes softened, a small, warm smile playing at the corners of her lips. She hadn’t expected this, but there was something endearing in his awkwardness, a sense of sincerity in the invitation. “You want to see it?” she asked, her voice light with curiosity.

Steve's ears turned redder, but he managed to catch her gaze, the nervousness still clear in his posture. "I mean... if you're up for it," he added quickly. "Maybe we could go in two days?"

Nouri laughed softly, the sound gentle and full of warmth, as she gave a slight nod. "I would love to."

Steve, clearly caught off guard by her easy acceptance, smiled awkwardly, but it was a genuine smile. It lit up his face, even as he turned slightly away, trying to mask his growing embarrassment.

“Two days it is, then,” he said, his voice a little steadier now, though his cheeks were still flushed.

Nouri watched him as he started to turn toward his own apartment. There was a quiet moment, then she added, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “You know, Steve Rogers, you’re not bad at this... charming thing, for someone who’s been frozen for seventy years.”

Steve paused, his back still to her, and a soft laugh escaped him. When he turned to face her, the sheepish grin that spread across his face seemed to warm the space between them. He met her eyes, his voice a little lighter now, “Guess I’m still getting the hang of it.”

Nouri’s expression softened, and there was a brief flicker of something ancient in her gaze. “I understand,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken years. “You’ve lost seventy years to time. I’ve lost two centuries to silence. We’ve both been... out of time in our own way.”

With one last chuckle, Nouri stepped into her apartment, the door clicking softly behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, a feeling she couldn’t quite place settling within her. A strange warmth, perhaps, or the start of something new.

---

As the night unfolded, Nouri sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the city beneath her. New York’s lights shimmered like distant stars, their scattered glow a testament to the chaos and beauty of humanity. It was the first quiet moment she had allowed herself since her release, but it brought with it a deep, gnawing sense of uncertainty. Her heart tugged in multiple directions, her mind heavy with the weight of her choices. What if she was doing more harm than good? What if, in her quest to protect them, she had only made things worse?

Her thoughts spiraled, questioning whether her rebellion had truly been worth it. For centuries, she had watched from the sidelines, caught between the realms of gods and mortals. She had chosen to walk among humanity, to guide them, yet in her absence, she wondered if they were still lost—perhaps even more so.

As the breeze whispered through the window, she heard it—the comforting voice she had not expected to hear, but had longed for all the same.

“Al Nouri,” Ra’s voice rang out in the night, as clear and steady as the stars above. It was a sound that made her heart tremble, a reminder of both her divine heritage and the great weight of her choices. “You have questioned your path, but I see you. The Council has decided to grant you; your powers, your title, and your place on the Ennead once more. But I wish you would stay here, among the mortals. These humans... they do good with your guidance.”

Nouri closed her eyes, feeling the words settle deep within her chest, stirring up emotions she had buried for so long. Her eyes remained fixed on the city below, but her mind drifted to the countless moments of doubt that had consumed her. Am I doing enough? She had questioned the very purpose of her existence, wondering if her defiance had cost humanity more than she had intended.

“I am lost, Father,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I have walked away from the gods, from my own divine duties. I chose to protect them, but I wonder now—am I only adding to their pain? What good is a goddess who does not understand the world she seeks to save?”

Ra’s voice softened, filled with a weight that only time could bring. “You have not abandoned them, my child. You have chosen to walk their path not out of rebellion, but out of love. What you see as flaws, I see as strength. You are the balance between their darkness and light, the bridge they need to guide them back to themselves.”

Nouri’s fingers traced the cool edge of the windowsill, her heart heavy with the truth of his words. She had seen their struggles, their capacity for both beauty and destruction. She had watched them fight wars, build civilizations, and fall into the deepest shadows of their own making. The weight of it all threatened to pull her under, but Ra’s words held her steady, offering reassurance that she was not alone in this journey.

“But I have broken their laws,” she murmured, her heart aching with the guilt she could never quite shake. “I have defied the gods and walked away. How can I return to them now, when my actions have left scars?”

Ra’s voice was gentle, like the warmth of the sun on a cold morning. “You did not walk this path out of arrogance, Al Nouri. You walked it out of love—love for the very mortals you sought to save. You are not defined by your defiance, but by the compassion in your heart. That is what makes you worthy. That is what makes you the goddess you are meant to be.”

A deep breath escaped Nouri as she let the weight of his words settle within her. Her chest tightened, the guilt still there, but softened by the truth that Ra offered. She had spent so long questioning whether her choices were right or wrong, but now, in this quiet moment, she realized that the path she walked was not one of perfection—it was one of growth. Her rebellion was not a mistake; it had been the catalyst for her transformation, for her understanding of humanity.

“I do not know if I deserve your pride, Father,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have been distant, uncertain, and now I am not sure what my place is.”

Ra’s presence filled her, a sense of unwavering assurance. “You have walked away, yes. But you have returned with wisdom, compassion, and understanding. You may not have the title you once had, but your heart has never wavered. You see them, truly see them, not as mortals to be controlled, but as beings capable of great things. That is the essence of your strength.”

Nouri’s heart fluttered, her mind at peace for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She had spent so long doubting herself, but now she understood. Her place was not in the divine halls of the gods, nor was it in a world where she was distant and removed from the lives of mortals. Her place was here, with them, guiding them, helping them find their way. With or without the title, her journey was clear.

“I will continue, Father,” she said, her voice steady and full of newfound resolve. “Not because I have to, but because I want to. I want to guide them, to help them find their way, even if they don’t understand it. They are more than their flaws, more than their struggles. I see their potential, and for that, I will stand with them.”

Ra’s voice, filled with pride, wrapped around her like the warmth of the sun itself. “And I am proud of you, Al Nouri. You are not the goddess of power, but of wisdom. You have chosen your path, and in that choice, you have found your strength. Walk with the mortals, guide them, but always remember—you are never alone. I am with you.”

The night fell silent, and with it, Nouri felt a profound peace wash over her. The stars above twinkled like a promise, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was light. She stood by the window, her heart calm, her purpose clear. The world might be fractured, but she had found her place within it.

For now, she was at peace.

Chapter 9: Modern Technology

May 6th, 2012

 

The sun poured through the window, casting its golden light across the room. It was an unfamiliar feeling—this warmth that still surprised her. The light danced across the faded pages of the books strewn around the small apartment, the only things that carried any semblance of meaning to her. She had little else that belonged to her, nothing tangible to reflect who she truly was.

She got up slowly, dressing in the white, flowing dress pants, the fitted tank top tucked neatly into them, and a small cardigan to cover her arms. A simple look for a simple life, or at least the life she was trying to lead. With a soft exhale, she slipped on her heels, their click echoing softly as she walked out the door.

As she stepped into the hallway, her gaze shifted toward Steve's door. A flicker of excitement stirred within her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Tomorrow, they were going to the museum together. She had never expected this—this connection, this strange, soft affection that had begun to form between them. The idea of spending time with Steve outside of the battles and the chaos was a new, comforting thought.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. She hadn’t been this excited in centuries, not since the days when she wandered freely in Egypt, marvelling at the simplicity of life. But tomorrow was different. Tomorrow, she would share something personal with him—something more than her powers or her divine nature. For the first time, she’d be seen not as a goddess, but as just a woman, standing side by side with him in a place full of history.

The streets were alive with the vibrancy of the Middle Eastern neighbourhood. The fresh scent of spices and produce mingled in the air, grounding her in the present. The chatter and laughter of people telling stories or arguing reminded her of the bustling markets in Cairo, where she had once wandered freely, many centuries ago.

Turning the corner, she entered Hussain’s coffee shop, the warmth of the familiar space instantly soothing her.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Hussain called from behind the counter, a playful grin on his face as he set to work on her usual coffee.

“You hurt me, amo,” Nouri teased, settling into her regular table by the window. She could hear the faint buzz of conversation in the background, the hum of the world she was still trying to understand.

Hussain set down a small plate of food in front of her, his eyes curious. “Have you read the newspaper?” He nodded toward the counter, where the front page was visible.

“No, but I did pick up this book,” Nouri replied with a gentle smile, pulling out a thick volume of Persian poetry. She didn’t want to focus on the article; on the battle she had fought, the one she was still processing.

“There was a picture of the men and women who fought against the aliens,” Hussain continued, leaning in. He pushed the paper toward her, his finger pointing to the front cover. Nouri’s eyes flicked to the image, where her own face stared back at her, side-by-side with Steve. “Is this you?”

Nouri's heart sank for a brief moment, the weight of the memories flooding back. She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Hussain’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re... Al Nouri? The goddess?”

Nouri let out a small laugh to ease the tension. “Please, Hussain.”

The man’s shock didn’t subside as he placed the newspaper down and began to reach for his stash of gold. “But... you are a goddess! How can I not show my respect?”

Nouri’s gaze softened, and she placed a hand gently on his. “Gold means nothing to me. It’s the purity of the heart that I value. Please, treat me as you always have.”

Hussain looked at her, his face a mix of awe and confusion. “But... you are a god.”

“I am,” she replied with a quiet conviction. “But I am also the woman who has walked into your shop nearly every day for the past year. That is who I choose to be now.”

There was a silence between them as Hussain sat back, digesting her words. His eyes searched hers, and in them, Nouri could see his struggle. He was a mortal, his world bound by time and limitations, while she remained untouchable—forever.

“I don’t understand,” he said after a long pause. “You’re a goddess, and yet you’ve chosen this... ordinary life?”

Nouri sighed softly, her mind drifting back to the centuries of isolation she had endured, the prison in the British Museum, the silence of her own existence. She shook her head, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve chosen to stay among humanity. I’ve seen enough of their pain, their love, their potential for both greatness and cruelty. I can’t turn my back on them anymore. I may have my titles and honour, but what use is that when it keeps me apart from those I wish to help?”

She paused, her voice softening as she spoke again, “I am no longer a goddess who watches from above. I am one who walks with them. I have chosen to live among them.”

Hussain was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on her as if trying to reconcile the image of the woman before him with the myth he had just uncovered. “And what do you hope to find here, with us?”

Nouri leaned back in her chair, looking out at the busy street outside the café, where life continued in its chaotic, beautiful way. “I’m not sure. But I know that I’m not meant to stand alone anymore. I’ve seen enough of life to understand its worth, and that’s why I’m here. To understand humanity—not as a distant observer, but as one who belongs.”

Her voice trailed off as she felt the weight of her own words. Perhaps, somewhere in her heart, she had already known this was the path she was meant to walk. The life she had once feared was now the one she sought, not for herself, but for the mortals she had grown to love and protect.

The conversation lingered in the air between them. Hussain finally stood up, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he walked to the counter. “I understand Nouri. I won’t treat you any differently. You’ve been my friend for so long, and that will never change.”

Nouri stood up as well, a grateful smile on her face. “Thank you, Hussain. I... I have no desire to be worshiped. Only to live.”

As she turned to leave, Hussain called after her. “You’ll always have a place here. Just know that.”

Nouri paused at the door, the weight of his words filling her with a bittersweet sense of belonging. She had not expected to find a place in the modern world so quickly, yet here, in the quiet comfort of Hussain’s café, she felt something she had longed for: connection.

She stepped outside into the bustling world once more, but this time, she didn’t feel as lost as she had before. There was still so much to learn, but perhaps—just perhaps—she was finally ready to find her way.

---

As Nouri returned to her apartment, she found a small, unassuming box waiting at her door. A handwritten note attached to it simply read: 

Thank me later - Stark.

Confused, she picked up the box and made her way inside, her curiosity piqued but her thoughts scattered. After setting the box on the table, she began unpacking her bags, taking out the few books and items she had picked up this morning—small comforts to help her adjust to the bustling, unfamiliar world around her.

The box from Stark, however, was entirely unexpected. Inside, she found a sleek black phone, a silver laptop, and a few other gadgets that she couldn’t begin to identify. The technology seemed advanced, polished, almost too perfect for someone like her who had only just begun to understand the concept of elevators.

Nouri sat at the small table, staring at the devices in her hands. She turned the phone over a few times, her fingers grazing the glass, before attempting to press a button. Nothing. She pressed it again—still nothing. Her brow furrowed, and a quiet chuckle escaped her lips. It wasn’t frustration that filled her; it was more of a quiet bewilderment.

"Stark…" she muttered, half to herself. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was magic." She fiddled with the laptop next, her hands unsure. The screen flickered to life, and she jumped back, startled by its sudden brightness.

Hours passed, and still, she found herself utterly lost. The world of technology was nothing like the stars that had guided her, the fire she could summon with a flick of her wrist. It felt… foreign, alien, and she was still struggling to adapt. After all, she could barely grasp the concept of elevators, let alone these curious contraptions meant to connect her to an entirely new world.

She sighed, rubbing her temples, trying to push through the disorientation. But by the time evening approached, Nouri had only managed to get frustrated. The intricate workings of the laptop and phone were far beyond what she could figure out without guidance.

There was only one place she could think to go for help—the one person who might understand, even if she couldn’t explain herself properly. She gathered the box quickly and rushed out of her apartment, hoping Hussain’s café hadn’t closed yet.

When she arrived, she found the door locked. Her heart sank in disappointment, but she noticed Hussain through the window, sweeping the floor. He looked up at the sound of her knocking, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“Nouri?” Hussain called, unlocking the door. “Back again so soon? I thought you just left this morning.”

She gave a sheepish smile, holding up the box for him to see. “I need help, Hussain. Is Layla here?”

He raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let her in. “Sure, sure. Come in. She’s upstairs. I’ll let her know.” He called up the stairs, “Layla! Someone needs your help downstairs!”

“Thank you,” Nouri murmured, gratefully stepping into the familiar warmth of the café. It felt like a safe haven amid the overwhelming strangeness of the modern world.

A moment later, Layla descended the stairs, a curious look on her face. She had clearly been expecting her father’s call but hadn’t anticipated seeing Nouri again so soon. Her expression softened, though, when she saw the box in Nouri’s hands.

“My father told me the truth about you,” Layla said with a small, welcoming smile.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her voice teasing but gentle. “Hopefully, he also told you to treat me no differently.”

Layla smiled in return, a little bashful but playful. “I will do my best. But, uh, what’s in the box?” She nodded toward the package Nouri was holding.

Nouri sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I received this from Stark. Inside, there’s a phone and some other devices, but I have no idea how to use any of them. Could you help?”

Layla’s eyes widened a little, and she couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Well, that’s a bit more complicated than making coffee, isn’t it?” She sat down across from Nouri, looking at the devices with an amused expression. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Nouri opened the box fully now, showing Layla the contents. The phone, the laptop, the smaller gadgets. Layla picked up the phone first, turning it over in her hands.

“Okay, so this,” Layla began, tapping the phone’s screen gently. “This is a phone. You can use it to talk to people, send messages, and even look up almost anything. First thing’s first, though—let’s see if we can turn it on.”

Nouri watched closely; her gaze fixed on the phone as Layla demonstrated how to unlock it. The process seemed so simple, but to Nouri, it was like watching a new language unfold.

"To unlock it, you swipe here, see?" Layla explained, gently swiping the screen. "It’ll show you all the apps. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Start by learning the basics.”

“I... see,” Nouri said slowly, her mind trying to follow along. “It is like… drawing the fire in a controlled way, but with your fingers?” She laughed at her own analogy, feeling a little silly.

Layla laughed, clearly charmed by the comparison. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's a bit like summoning knowledge instead of fire."

As they continued, Layla patiently walked Nouri through each step. She showed her how to scroll, how to send a message, how to make a call, and how to search for things on the internet. Nouri was fascinated, though it still felt overwhelming. Her mind was wired to think in terms of eternal knowledge, divine wisdom, and cosmic forces. This modern world, filled with distractions and intricate details, made it hard to grasp.

But as the evening wore on, with Layla’s steady guidance and Hussain's occasional chuckles from upstairs, Nouri began to feel a little more at ease. It wasn’t just the devices—she was starting to feel like the modern world wasn’t as foreign as it once seemed. Maybe she was beginning to find her place in it, even if only a little bit.

"Thank you," Nouri said softly, her voice carrying a quiet sincerity. "You’ve been more help than I can express. I... was lost in it all. But now I feel like I can breathe a little easier."

Layla smiled warmly. "Anytime. Besides, I think you might make an amazing teacher one day. You pick up things faster than you give yourself credit for."

Nouri’s lips curved into a smile at that, a small spark of genuine warmth in her chest. Maybe there was hope for her in this strange new world after all.

---

The two girls sat together for hours, deep in conversation. Layla’s mother, ever kind and accommodating, had even prepared a hearty dinner for them. Despite all the time spent learning, Nouri couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still so much more to understand about this modern world. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Nouri had managed to get the hang of using the laptop. Layla had walked her through everything—browsing the internet, checking emails, even navigating the basics of her phone.

"Thank you," Nouri said with a sincere smile as she stood up, stretching after the long session. "This has been incredibly helpful."

Layla beamed at her; her excitement evident. "No problem! It's been fun teaching you, Nouri. You catch on fast."

Nouri looked at her friend’s mother, who was still tidying up the kitchen. "And the meal was delicious. I will make sure to return the favour soon."

"Anytime, dear," Layla’s mother replied with a warm smile. "You're welcome here whenever you like."

After a few more exchanges of gratitude, Nouri made her way home, her mind buzzing with all the new knowledge she had absorbed. As she approached the door to her apartment, she paused, surprised to see Steve standing outside. He looked like he was about to head out, but his gaze immediately found hers.

"Hey," Nouri said, her lips curling into a soft smile as she leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey," Steve replied, his voice warm. He gave her a once-over, noticing the slight spark in her eyes. "You also got the box?"

Nouri laughed, holding up her phone and laptop. "Oh, yeah. A friend of mine showed me how to use them," she said, amused by the thought of how different her life had been just a few days ago. "It’s a lot to take in, but I think I’m getting the hang of it."

Steve chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's definitely confusing at first. Took me a while to figure out some things."

"How did you manage?" Nouri asked with genuine curiosity, leaning closer as if waiting for a secret.

"Trial and error," Steve shrugged, smiling. "Mostly error." He paused for a moment, then met her eyes, a little shy. "So, uh, what time do you want to meet tomorrow? For the, you know, whatever we’re calling this thing."

Nouri's heart fluttered, and she couldn’t help but smile more brightly at his hesitation. "How about 10?" she suggested with a glint in her eye. "I’ll be ready."

"10 works," Steve agreed quickly, his face turning slightly pink. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly nervous but trying to play it cool. "I, uh, look forward to it."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, enjoying the moment. "Me too, Steve," she said with a playful wink.

As she entered her apartment, the door clicking softly behind her, she couldn’t help but squeal with excitement, her heart racing. "A date with Captain America," she whispered to herself, her voice filled with both giddiness and disbelief. She sat down, her mind swirling with thoughts of the day ahead. She had learned so much today, but tomorrow—tomorrow would be something different entirely.

The laptop and phone were still sitting on the table, untouched now that her mind was focused entirely on the upcoming morning. Nouri smiled to herself, her excitement making it difficult to settle. She tried to use the new technology, but every so often, her thoughts would drift back to Steve—his shy smile, his gentle demeanour. There was a spark between them, something she hadn’t quite expected.

Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy, but sleep didn’t come easily. The excitement in her chest wouldn’t allow it. Tomorrow, she would see Steve again, and it wouldn’t just be a meeting; it would be something more. She laughed softly to herself before finally letting sleep take over, eagerly anticipating what would come next.

Notes:

Hope you enjoy it <3
I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

Chapter 10: A date with a Cutie

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

May 7th, 2012

 

Nouri awoke early, the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. There was a soft anticipation in the air, one that had settled in her chest whenever she thought of the day ahead. It wasn't just the allure of exploring relics from her time—though that was certainly part of it. It was the quiet excitement of spending time with Steve Rogers, a man whose mere presence seemed to stir something in her that she hadn’t felt in centuries.

As she showered and dressed, Nouri’s fingers moved with the grace of habit. She chose her signature dress pants and blouse—a simple yet elegant outfit. Modesty came naturally to her, and the crisp, professional look was both practical and beautiful in its own right. She slid on a few delicate pieces of gold jewellery, just enough to catch the light, and finished with a hint of perfume—subtle, just enough to make her feel fresh and clean, never overpowering. Her curly hair bounced with every movement, framing her face like a halo of soft curls. Nouri was never one for heavy makeup, preferring instead to let her natural beauty speak for itself. A light dab of mascara and a touch of lip balm were all she needed.

The clock read 10:03. Just as she was about to check the mirror one last time, a knock echoed through the apartment. Nouri smiled, heart quickening slightly, before grabbing her beige purse, slipping into her heels, and taking one last glance at her reflection. She opened the door, and there he stood—Steve Rogers, looking as dashing as ever. His outfit, though simple, was unmistakably from another era, and something about it made him seem both timeless and grounded in the present.

"Hello," Steve said, his voice warm.

“You’re late,” Nouri teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

"So are you," Steve replied with a grin, his eyes softening as they looked her over. "You look… uh… beautiful."

Nouri’s smile deepened. “And you look dashingly handsome.”

Steve chuckled, and with that, the door clicked shut behind them as Nouri led him out. The day stretched before them, full of possibilities.

“I was thinking we could grab breakfast before going to the museum?” Nouri suggested, her voice quiet but sure. Steve nodded readily.

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, a small smile tugging at his lips as they walked down the street together. The morning air was cool but pleasant, and the hustle of the city felt alive around them. Nouri noticed a few curious glances from passersby, but she paid little attention—her focus was on the man beside her, his steady presence grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected.

As they reached the café, Nouri called out to Hussain.

“Amo!” she called, her voice warm with affection as she stepped inside.

Hussain’s face lit up, his eyes crinkling in that familiar, welcoming smile. “Nouri! It’s good to see you again!” He greeted her in his usual warm way before his gaze shifted to Steve, noting the man who walked beside her with a kind smile.

“I see you’ve brought someone new,” Hussain said, his tone light-hearted as he guided them to the small table by the window, Nouri’s favourite spot.

Steve held the chair for her, a gesture so polite it made her heart flutter slightly. She took her seat, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, the tension between them almost tangible.

"Tea or coffee?" Nouri asked, her voice soft as she smiled at him.

"Uh, coffee’s fine," Steve said, still slightly unsure of the modern café options, though he had grown more accustomed to them in the past few weeks.

“One coffee, one tea, and one breakfast,” Nouri ordered with a decisive air, her attention briefly turning to Hussain.

As they waited, Nouri leaned back in her chair, eyes scanning the bustling café, though her thoughts were more focused on Steve. It wasn’t just his strength or his status as a soldier that intrigued her—it was the depth of his character, his unwavering morality in a world that seemed to constantly shift beneath their feet. She was learning to understand that part of him, slowly but surely.

Their food arrived, and Nouri began to explain the dishes with a sense of ease. "The fava beans are seasoned with a bit of cumin and garlic, and the eggs are scrambled with tomatoes and herbs. It’s a simple breakfast, but it carries memories."

Steve nodded, taking in her words with genuine interest, his smile widening. "I’ve never had anything like it," he admitted, tasting the beans. "It’s really good."

"Glad you like it," Nouri said softly, her voice taking on a touch of pride. "I think there’s something special about sharing meals like this... they connect us to the past in a way we can’t always see."

Their conversation flowed easily, shifting from the food to small stories about their lives. Nouri told Steve of the first time she had tried modern coffee—how bitter it had tasted, and how strange it had been to have something so far removed from the ancient rituals she was used to. Steve listened attentively, offering his own humorous anecdotes about adjusting to life in the 21st century, like his initial confusion with smartphones and how he nearly got lost in a mall trying to buy new clothes.

The exchange felt comfortable, natural, and Nouri found herself laughing more than she had in a long while. The heaviness of her ancient existence, always lurking in the background, seemed to fade in these moments with Steve. It was as though, for once, she could simply be.

Their breakfast concluded, and they continued their walk toward the museum. The city around them buzzed with life—people hurrying along, the sounds of cars and chatter filling the streets, a world that had long moved beyond her. Yet, with Steve by her side, the world felt more familiar.

"Have you been to this museum before?" Steve asked casually, his voice cutting through the soft murmur of the crowd as they walked side by side. Their steps, in sync despite the noise of the city, felt strangely comforting.

Nouri glanced up at the towering structure, her gaze distant. For a brief moment, her expression faltered. "I haven’t," she admitted softly. "This place... it holds many memories for me."

Steve’s brow furrowed as he caught the faint sadness in her voice. He wasn’t used to seeing her so open, so vulnerable. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his tone gentle, but full of the concern he often tried to hide behind a stoic expression.

Nouri paused, as if weighing the decision. A flicker of something ancient crossed her eyes, and then she offered him a smile, faint but genuine. "Maybe. Let’s see once we enter. There’s a guided tour. It might be... easier to face some things when they’re framed as history, rather than personal loss."

Steve nodded, respecting her hesitation, but also sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. They entered the museum, the grandiose space bustling with visitors, each absorbed in their own world. They drifted to the back of the group as the tour began, the guide’s voice echoing through the room.

---

"Notice the fine detailing on the sarcophagus," the guide's voice echoed through the room, his hand sweeping over a display of Egyptian relics. "This was once believed to be the final resting place of a pharaoh—"

Nouri’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze narrowing slightly. She leaned toward Steve, her voice low and almost bemused. "Actually, this wasn’t meant for a pharaoh at all," she murmured, her words carrying a quiet authority. "It was for someone far less significant—a priest, or perhaps a minor noble. The decoration was added later, to give it the air of grandeur, to elevate it to something it wasn’t."

Steve blinked, looking at her curiously, trying to process the weight behind her statement. "How do you know that?"

Nouri turned her gaze to meet his, her eyes heavy with the wisdom of ages, a faint sadness lingering beneath the surface. "I was there, Steve. I guided the priest into the afterlife. It was supposed to be a simple ceremony, no grandeur, no grandiose symbols. But time, and the hands of those who came after, changed it. They reimagined it." She let out a soft laugh, almost as if the absurdity of it all was the only thing keeping her from becoming lost in the weight of her own memories.

Steve paused, processing her words, and the way she said them. There was something so ancient, so lived-in about her presence—something that tugged at his heart, even if he didn’t fully understand it. "Must be strange," he said slowly, his voice soft, trying to reach the depth of her experience. "Seeing history change. Having people rewrite it like that."

"Strange doesn’t cover it," Nouri replied, her voice thick with emotion, and her gaze shifted from him, almost lost in the reverie of her thoughts. "It pains me, Steve." Her tone softened, becoming almost reflective. "To see pieces of my culture, my people... scattered, misrepresented. And then, here..." She gestured vaguely around the room, her voice tinged with sorrow. "It’s not where they belong."

Her steps slowed as they reached a picture on the wall—a faded, desolate image of an ancient temple, its walls cracked and covered in dust. The weight of the scene hit her immediately. It was unmistakable. Her temple. The one that had once stood proudly in Thebes.

Steve noticed the shift in her expression—the sudden stillness in her body, the way her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. The sadness in her eyes was now palpable, a raw ache that felt more real than the physical world around them. "That temple..." Nouri whispered, her voice barely audible, yet carrying the weight of millennia. "It was once mine. They built it for me, to honour me." She looked away from the image, as if the sight itself was too much to bear. "It was a place of knowledge, a place where humanity sought my guidance for the dead." Her voice trembled as she glanced back at the image again. "Now, it’s just... ruins." She turned away, her breath catching. "To see it destroyed like that—"

Her words broke off, and for a moment, Steve could see the weight of everything she had carried for centuries. It wasn’t just the destruction of a building—it was the loss of a piece of herself, her very essence, wiped away by time and greed.

Steve, unsure of how to comfort her, stepped closer and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She tensed under his touch, the weight of her grief so heavy that she almost seemed untouchable. But after a moment, she relaxed, just slightly, and he let his hand remain there.

"I can’t imagine what that must feel like," Steve said quietly, his voice steady and full of genuine empathy. "To lose something like that."

Nouri’s eyes met his, her expression softening as she exhaled a shaky breath. "You can’t," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And that’s the tragedy, isn’t it? I’ve seen empires rise and fall, nations crumble into dust. But this... this feels personal." Her hand trembled slightly as she brushed away a stray tear from her cheek. "It was mine. And now it’s gone. Not just the place, but everything it stood for."

She paused, her voice breaking again. "To see it reduced to a picture on a wall, to see these artifacts taken from their rightful place... it breaks me." The sorrow was a quiet storm in her chest, swirling with regret, loss, and an overwhelming sense of disconnect.

Steve’s heart ached as he listened to her. There was a depth to Nouri, a world of emotions that went beyond anything he could comprehend. He had always fought for what he believed in, but this—this was something different. He didn’t have the power to undo the centuries of pain she carried, but he could offer her something else—something simple, but real. "Maybe," he said softly, his voice steady, "you’re not alone in this anymore."

Nouri looked at him, and for a brief moment, there was something in her eyes that Steve could only describe as vulnerability—a flicker of something soft, something hopeful. It was fleeting, but it was there. "I haven’t been for a long time," she whispered, her voice quiet but resolute. "But this world..." She glanced around the museum again, the modernity of it all pressing in on her. "It’s so different from what I once knew."

Steve nodded, the weight of her words settling over him like a gentle but inevitable storm. "I get it," he said slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "But you’re not invisible, Nouri. Not to me."

A faint smile tugged at her lips, bittersweet and tender, as she turned her attention back to the exhibit. She was silent for a moment, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was a response to his words or her own internal thoughts. Finally, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. "Thank you," she said, her tone sincere, but there was something more—an understanding. "That means more than you know."

The guide droned on, her voice steady, but Nouri continued to interject, her insights cutting through the mundane descriptions with the sharpness of her wisdom. Every correction she made, every detail she added, seemed to breathe new life into the subject matter. Steve couldn't help but smile as Nouri’s voice gently wove through the conversation, her tone quiet but firm—each word carrying the weight of someone who had seen centuries pass, and yet still found wonder in the world.

"You know," Steve said, leaning slightly toward Nouri with a genuine grin, "I think you might have just rewritten the history of this entire exhibit."

Nouri glanced at him, her eyes softening with the faintest flicker of amusement. "I suppose there's more to history than what is simply recorded," she replied, her voice low, almost contemplative. "Sometimes, the truth lies in the spaces between the lines. It's all too easy for the real story to be lost in the past."

Her words lingered, and Steve, caught between the depth of her wisdom and the quiet strength she exuded, felt something shift inside him. He hadn’t expected to feel so connected to someone so... different. There was something about Nouri, something timeless in her presence, that reminded him of everything he had once fought for—honour, truth, compassion. Yet, it was more than that. There was an unspoken bond, a kind of resonance, in the way she looked at the world.

Steve found himself chuckling softly at one of her corrections, though it wasn’t out of mockery. It was the lightness of a moment shared, of understanding that wasn’t necessarily spoken but still palpable.

"You make it sound so... simple," he said, turning toward her with a soft smirk. "I think you should consider a second career as a historian. You’d give this guide a run for her money."

Nouri’s lips twitched upward in the faintest of smiles, a flash of something both mysterious and intimate in her gaze. "Perhaps," she said, her eyes briefly meeting his. "But I've always been more interested in the stories that remain untold."

There it was again. The unspoken connection. For a moment, the noise of the world outside seemed to fade, and the air between them thickened with something subtle, something that neither of them could quite name. Steve could feel it, though—a stir of something inside him that wasn’t just curiosity. It was deeper, an emotion he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. It was a connection that had slowly, quietly, built between them without either of them fully realizing it.

He glanced at her again, studying the way the soft light fell on her features. Her dark hair framed her face with effortless grace, and in the way she carried herself—strong, yet calm—Steve saw something more than just the goddess, the protector, the warrior. He saw a woman. A woman with layers. With a past. With longing.

There was a hesitation, a brief, fleeting moment when he thought about speaking, about letting the words spill out, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the silence settle, comfortable and heavy between them. And when their eyes met once more, it felt like an understanding had been reached without either of them saying a word.

The moment stretched, a delicate silence hanging between them as Steve found himself leaning just a little closer. His heart seemed to beat a little faster, a curious warmth spreading through him. For a fleeting moment, he considered that maybe he wasn’t just a soldier anymore. Maybe—just maybe—there was something more here, something he hadn’t allowed himself to notice before.

When their eyes met again, there was no question in his mind.

He wasn’t just fighting for the world anymore. There was something else—someone—he hadn’t expected to find.

The guide tour had ended, but they lingered, walking slowly through the museum. Steve was fascinated by how much Nouri knew, the way she spoke about each artifact with such reverence, weaving intricate details into the exhibits. It was as if every item held a story, and she had lived through each one.

He added his own details when they came upon the 20th-century exhibits, speaking of a time he’d known all too well. His voice was soft, yet there was a fire in it whenever he talked about his past. The way he described the world, his eyes lighting up with the stories, made Nouri’s heart flutter. Every time he smiled, it felt like the room grew just a little brighter.

As they walked further through the exhibits, Nouri found herself hanging on every word he said, fascinated not only by the history but by the man who had witnessed it all firsthand. There was a strength in him, a kindness that she hadn’t quite expected. And with each step, with each shared story, she found herself drawing closer to him in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

The museum was beginning to empty out, and the fading sunlight from the windows cast long shadows across the floor. They had spent hours together, exchanging memories and stories, time passing without them even realizing. The world outside had grown darker, but inside, it was as if time had stood still.

As they reached the front doors, Nouri turned to Steve, her voice soft yet full of sincerity.

“Thank you, for bringing me here,” she said, her eyes locking with his.

Steve smiled; his expression warm. “You’re welcome.”

They walked out into the evening, the cool air of the city brushing against their skin. Every now and then, their hands would brush lightly, the brief contact sending a spark through Nouri’s chest. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the connection between them felt undeniable.

When they reached her apartment, she paused, turning to face him. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than she’d intended.

“Thank you, truly,” Nouri said, her voice soft with a mixture of gratitude and something else—something that made her heart race. Without thinking, she stood on her toes, closing the space between them, and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stop, and then she pulled back, her eyes meeting his, unsure of what to say next.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she whispered, her voice almost unsteady as she stepped back into her apartment.

As she closed the door behind her, her breath hitched. What in Ra’s name did I just do?

She leaned against the door for a moment, trying to steady her thoughts. She had never been one to act on impulse, yet something about the way Steve made her feel... it was different. She felt an unexpected joy stirring within her—a warmth that she hadn’t felt in a long time. And despite the questions swirling in her mind, she couldn’t help but smile.

Nouri retired to her bed, her thoughts drifting as the world outside seemed to fade away. Sleep didn’t come easily, but she didn’t mind. She felt... happy. And for the first time in centuries, that happiness wasn’t a fleeting moment—it felt real, like something she could hold onto.

Chapter 11: A trial before the Ennead

May 8th, 2012

 

Nouri was lost in thought as she recalled the events of the previous night. The warmth of the memory caused a soft blush to rise to her cheeks. She had never felt quite so alive in the modern world, and something about that moment lingered in her heart.

She shook her head and focused on the present. She had errands to run—more items for the apartment that were gradually turning into a home. As she was gathering her things, she caught sight of Steve walking out of the building, dressed in workout clothes.

"Hey, Captain. Going for a run?" she called out, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

Steve looked up, his signature smile lighting up his face. "Yes, ma’am. Just a quick one. You headed out?"

Nouri nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Yeah, just need to pick up a few things."

As Steve prepared to jog off, Nouri hesitated for a moment, then turned to face him. "You know, I was thinking... maybe we could visit another museum sometime? It might be easier to understand the 21st century with a little help."

Steve paused, a surprised but pleased look crossing his face. "You want to see another museum?"

Nouri’s smile softened. "Getting to know this world is an ongoing process. I thought it might be more enjoyable with a friend." She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Besides, it would be nice to have someone show me the history of this time, rather than just staring at a glass case."

Steve chuckled, his eyes warm with a quiet respect. "I’d be honored."

With a nod, Steve turned and began jogging off. Nouri watched him for a moment before she called out again.

And that was the beginning of something. Over the next two years, their days would often follow a pattern. Museums, books, learning from one another. Every visit, every conversation, brought them closer together in a way that neither had anticipated. Steve, always the steady anchor, and Nouri, with her ancient wisdom and quiet strength, found in each other a bond that went beyond simple companionship.

---

Even when Steve was off on S.H.I.E.L.D. missions, Natasha and Nouri kept in regular contact. They had become close friends, their bond growing over shared experiences and long conversations. Nouri often found herself telling Natasha about her outings with Steve, how they’d wander through museums and talk about everything from art to history, all while trying to adjust to the complexities of the modern world.

One afternoon, after a particularly charming date with Steve, Nouri and Natasha were sharing coffee in the quiet corner of their favorite café. Natasha was leaning forward, her eyes alight with curiosity.

“So, how often do the two of you go on dates?” Natasha asked, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.

Nouri, looking out the window with a soft smile, answered casually, “Oh, a couple times a week. He’s been... very kind to me. I really appreciate his friendship.”

Natasha almost choked on her drink, her eyes widening. “Friendship?” she sputtered, trying to hold back her laughter.

Nouri turned to look at her with wide, innocent eyes, her expression unreadable for a second before a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Yes, friendship,” she replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at the serious tone in Nouri’s voice. “You sure about that? Because your face practically lights up every time you mention him.”

Nouri’s cheeks tinged pink, and she glanced away quickly, pretending to study her coffee cup. “Oh, Natasha! He’s cute, and everything,” she admitted, her voice softening, “but I don’t think he sees me in that way.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say.”

Nouri let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice playful but carrying the weight of an unspoken truth. “I don’t expect anything from him. It’s just… he’s different. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t treat me like some legend or myth.”

Natasha’s teasing expression softened, and she leaned back in her chair. “I get it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He might not see it yet, but you’re... something special, Nouri. You’re not just a friend to him, I can tell.”

Nouri was silent for a moment, her thoughts drifting to the quiet moments she’d spent with Steve. His steady presence, his kindness... it was a lot to process. “He’s been through so much,” Nouri finally said, her voice quiet, almost distant. “I just don’t want to complicate his life. He’s already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

Natasha’s gaze softened, the teasing fading into a rare sincerity. “I get that too. But you deserve someone who sees you for who you are. Just you, Nouri.”

Nouri smiled at that, grateful for Natasha’s honesty. “I suppose I’ll have to wait and see, then.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, her smile returning.

As they sat in the café, the weight of Nouri’s words hung in the air, but the warmth of Natasha’s support made the silence feel less heavy. Nouri wasn’t sure where things would go with Steve, but one thing was clear—she wasn’t navigating this new world alone, and she had friends who would be there for her, no matter what.

Nouri lived for these moments of peace. They were rare, but when they came, they felt like the quiet between the storms of her long existence. The moments when the weight of the universe didn’t press against her shoulders, when the world felt still, and her heart could simply breathe.

---

Her travels had taken her back to Egypt, a land that once thrummed with her divine essence, now reduced to crumbling ruins. The temples—sacred places of her past—were mere echoes of what they once were, their glory buried beneath centuries of neglect. Each step through the ancient sands brought a pang of loss, as though she were walking in a shadow of herself. The power of the gods still lingered in the air, but it felt so distant, so foreign now.

Yet, despite the peace she sought, every time she stepped into Cairo, chaos seemed to follow. The people, ever reverent of her divine presence, bowed and offered gold. It didn’t matter how many times she declined; the offerings came anyway. She had grown accustomed to their worship, though it stung with the reminder of how disconnected she had become from them—how they revered her as a goddess but knew nothing of the woman she had become.

Her journey to Egypt now had a purpose beyond her own sorrow. The Ennead council had called her to attend their meeting. It was time to face the gods who had exiled her, who had tried to erase her existence, even as their whispers continued to echo through her thoughts.

As Nouri entered the hidden chamber, her human attire shifted into her royal regalia. Her hieroglyphs, symbols of her divine nature, gleamed proudly across her skin, and the familiar voices of the gods filled the air. The sacred hall was bathed in the faint glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the stone. Isis, radiant and wise, was the first to greet her.

"Al Nouri, you have returned," she said, her voice carrying the warmth of a mother welcoming her child home, her eyes soft and filled with understanding.

"I was asked to return," Nouri answered softly, her gaze sweeping over the council, meeting each god's eye.

Atum, ever fiery and quick to speak, stood from his seat. His voice was sharp, laced with frustration. "You should’ve been banished!" he spat, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "Your actions disrupted everything we have worked for. You have no place here!"

Horus, who had once agreed with Atum but now stood as a voice of reason, stepped forward. His presence, regal and commanding, softened the room. "Atum, it is not your place to dictate her fate," he said, his tone even but firm. "Al Nouri has returned, and that is what matters now."

Nouri’s gaze met Horus’s. There was a history between them—one of doubt and mistrust, but also respect that had slowly grown over time. He had once questioned her place in the world, but now, there was only acknowledgment of the change in her.

Ra, whose gaze was as piercing as the sun itself, watched her with great intensity. His voice held both authority and warmth, tempered by the weight of his many millennia. "Tell me, Al Nouri," he asked, his tone measured, as if expecting a report rather than a confession. "What have your time with humanity taught you?"

Nouri inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. She had come to know that her answer here would shape her place in the council. But it was more than that—it was a reflection of her journey, a journey that had taken her from exile to this very moment.

Her voice was steady as she spoke, though the memories of New York flooded her thoughts. "The battle in New York… It was unlike anything I had ever witnessed," she began, her gaze drifting to the distant walls of the chamber. "At first, I was lost, confused by the speed of the modern world, the technology, the noise. But then, I saw something else. The Avengers, fighting side by side, showing a strength I had not expected from mortals. Their willingness to protect each other, even when the world seemed on the brink of destruction—it was awe-inspiring."

She paused, her heart swelling with a deep, unspoken emotion. "I was welcomed into their community. I saw the humanity in them, the kindness they gave to others, even strangers. And when I visited the neighborhoods in New York, I heard stories from the people—their struggles, their triumphs, their capacity for hope. It was as if humanity was not so different from what I had once believed. They were not just flawed creatures lost in chaos. They were full of potential. I felt connected to them in a way I never thought possible."

Ra remained silent for a moment, processing her words. The other gods exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Atum’s face twisted with disbelief, but he said nothing for now.

"I have seen humanity’s flaws, of course," Nouri continued, her voice softer now. "I have seen their destruction, their greed, their cruelty. But I have also seen the beauty of their hearts, their capacity for love and sacrifice. It is not as simple as I once thought. They are both light and shadow, and yet… they are worth saving."

Horus spoke then, his tone thoughtful, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You have learned much, Nouri. Perhaps more than we gave you credit for." His voice carried the weight of a god who had seen his own failings and was beginning to understand. "Your presence among them… It has taught you something we could not foresee."

Nouri nodded, her gaze steady. "I no longer see them as mere mortals. They are not just subjects to be guided from afar. They are part of the balance, as much as we are. And I must protect them, even if it means challenging the very laws we once held sacred."

Thoth spoke next, his voice calm but measured. "Perhaps, Al Nouri, it is not so much the laws we must question, but our understanding of balance. We have always believed that maintaining distance was necessary for preservation, but perhaps you are showing us that true balance requires more than observation."

Nouri’s eyes turned to Thoth, grateful for his words. His wisdom was vast, and his understanding of her actions was something she had hoped the gods would come to realize.

Atum, though still conflicted, spoke once more, his voice tight with frustration. "And what of the consequences, Nouri? What if your interference leads to chaos? What if your efforts only accelerate the very destruction you wish to prevent?"

Nouri’s stance remained unwavering, her voice calm yet firm. "I cannot stand by, watching as humanity destroys itself. If I have the power to guide them, to show them the path to peace, then it is my duty. I have already seen the consequences of inaction. I will not allow more time to pass without doing something."

Ra’s eyes softened, his gaze lingering on her for a long moment. "Perhaps there is wisdom in your words, Al Nouri. Your time with humanity has shown us a perspective we have long ignored."

She stood tall, feeling the weight of her responsibility once more. "I will continue to guide them," she said, her voice filled with resolve. "I will help them find balance, not through distance, but through understanding. And if it means standing alongside them, I will do so—without hesitation."

Isis nodded in approval, a sense of pride shining in her eyes. "You have changed, Al Nouri," she said quietly, her tone softer now, but filled with a warmth that spoke of acceptance. "But it is not too late to find your place among us. The path you walk may be different, but it is still part of the divine order."

Anubis, ever solemn and wise, spoke next. His voice, deep and calm, carried the weight of the afterlife with it. "We are all shaped by the world we inhabit. The question is not whether we intervene, but how we do so. Al Nouri, you have chosen to walk among mortals, but remember that your actions must always respect the balance of life and death."

Ra spoke last, his voice resolute. "You are free to continue your work with humanity. But remember, you are still part of the Ennead, and we will watch over you. We have made our peace with your choice, Al Nouri. But the balance you seek is delicate. Do not forget that."

Nouri nodded, her heart filled with both relief and determination. "I will not forget."

As she turned to leave, she felt the weight of the council’s decision settle within her. She had been given a second chance—not just by the gods, but by herself. And now, with a renewed sense of purpose, she would continue her journey, walking the path of both the divine and the mortal, seeking balance and understanding, and, perhaps, finding a place where she truly belonged.

---

Between Nouri’s travels and Steve’s missions with S.H.I.E.L.D., they found themselves carving out quiet moments together—sometimes just an hour, sometimes an evening—where they could let the weight of the world fall away for a while. Their movie nights had become a routine, one that Nouri never expected to cherish as much as she did. They watched films deemed necessary to understand the 21st century’s motion picture culture, and there were always debates—heated, playful debates—about the absurdity of old-fashioned romantic tropes and melodramatic plot lines.

At first, Nouri had struggled to keep up with the rapid fire of modern technology, but there was something about the simplicity of these moments, sitting side by side on the couch, that made everything feel just a little more familiar. It wasn’t just the strange convenience of new gadgets or the overwhelming shift in society—it was the people. It was the bonds they formed, the quiet way Steve had become her anchor, and how, over time, she felt herself drawn into this world that she once only observed from a distance.

One evening, as a rom-com flickered on the screen, Nouri settled into the familiar comfort of the couch, her legs tucked beneath her. The film’s absurdly staged love scenes made her roll her eyes, and she could feel Steve’s glance shift towards her. There was always something about the way he watched her—never prying, but perceptive in a way she hadn’t known before.

"You know," Steve began slowly, his voice cutting through the background noise of the movie, "I never really thought about how strange it must be for you, adapting to this world. To leave your place in history and have to find your way here... with all this technology and... everything else."

Nouri chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. She could feel the warmth of the tea swirling through her, and the quiet hum of Steve's voice soothed something deep inside her. "It’s been... a challenge," she said thoughtfully, her gaze lifting to meet his, "But not one I’m unwilling to face. The world has changed, Steve, but people—at their core—have not. We’re all still searching for meaning. The difference is that now, there are so many more ways to do it."

She paused for a moment, her smile softening as she glanced back down at her mug. Then she looked up again, her expression sincere. "And I’ve had the best company to help me along the way."

Steve’s expression shifted, a warmth spreading through his features that he didn’t often allow himself to show. He reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "I’m glad I could help," he said quietly, his voice rougher than usual, as though the weight of his words was heavier than the casual way he had said them. "And... it’s been good. Getting to know you."

The simple honesty of his words had Nouri’s heart racing with something she couldn’t quite name. She smiled at him softly, a rare, unguarded expression crossing her face. "It’s been more than that," she murmured, her gaze meeting his as her heart gave a steady thump in her chest. "It’s been... everything."

There was a long pause between them, the movie continuing to play in the background as the noise of the world outside seemed to fade away. Steve’s hand, resting on the couch between them, was inches from hers, and the silence between them felt full of something unsaid—something that had built over the past two years, as they shared moments like this. Moments where the line between companionship and something deeper blurred.

Finally, Steve broke the silence, though his voice was hesitant. "You know, when I woke up... I thought I’d have all the time in the world to... figure things out." He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands, as though he were contemplating something. "But time is always slipping away, isn’t it? There’s always something pulling us in different directions."

Nouri felt the weight of his words in her chest, understanding the truth behind them. She reached over, her fingers brushing against his, the simple touch sending a jolt of warmth through her. "Yes," she whispered, her voice soft, "Time is fleeting for everyone... but it’s the moments we choose to make count that truly shape us."

Steve turned his head slowly, meeting her gaze, and there was a softness there—vulnerable, yet strong. "And these moments we’ve shared..." he began, trailing off for a second, "They mean a lot to me, Nouri."

Her heart ached with something deeper than simple affection—something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in centuries. "They mean everything to me, too," she replied, her voice a little breathless.

The warmth between them lingered, neither of them rushing to say more. The connection that had grown between them was undeniable, but for the first time, there was a quiet sense of peace in knowing that they didn’t need to define it just yet. It was enough, for now, just to be in this moment.

As the film’s credits rolled, they stayed on the couch, side by side, hands brushing together ever so slightly. Nouri had found herself in a world she never expected to belong to, and yet, it was here, in moments like this, that she felt more at home than she ever had before. And in the quiet, shared understanding between them, she realized—perhaps more clearly than ever—that what they had together was no longer just a passing moment.

It was something she wanted to hold onto. Forever.

Chapter 12: On your Left

January 2014

The cold, crisp air of New York had never seemed as heavy as it did on that morning. Nouri stood at the threshold of the apartment she had come to love, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob as she gazed out at the bustling city. There was a sense of finality to the moment—the world around her was moving forward, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that part of her was being left behind.

It had been months since she first received the call from S.H.I.E.L.D. asking her to take a more active role in their operations. She had offered her wisdom and insight, of course, but the prospect of moving to Washington D.C. to be closer to Steve had been something entirely different. They wanted her involved more, with the growing threat of HYDRA on the horizon. Nouri had resisted at first, unsure of how she would fit into this new world. But she had grown attached to Steve, to the idea of being part of something larger than herself, and the opportunity to contribute felt... right.

As she packed her belongings, the phone call with Natasha still echoed in her mind.

---

A week earlier

"Natasha, are you sure about this?" Nouri had asked, her voice carrying the weight of both concern and uncertainty. She had always been more comfortable watching from the sidelines, offering counsel where needed, but never fully stepping into the chaotic heart of human conflict. "Moving to Washington... It’s not something I imagined."

Natasha’s voice came through the receiver, warm and understanding, yet tinged with her usual confidence. "I know it’s a big step, Nouri. But we need you. And, frankly... I’ve missed your company." There was a pause before Natasha continued. "You’re our ally. And... well, I think you’re more than just that. You’ve become a friend."

The words struck deeper than Nouri had expected. Friend. For centuries, she had lived in isolation, watching over humanity from a distance, but always apart. Now, for the first time in a long while, she felt the weight of those words—genuine and warm.

"I suppose the journey must continue," Nouri had responded softly. "But it’s hard to leave. I’ve grown fond of New York—the community here. The elders in neighborhood... Hussain, Layla... it’s like I’m leaving a part of myself behind."

Natasha’s voice softened. "I understand. But you’re not alone in this, Nouri. You have us now, and that’s not going to change. And Steve... he’ll be happy to have you closer. We all will."

---

January 2014

Nouri closed the door behind her, feeling a pang of sadness as she left the apartment she had come to think of as home. She had spent hours saying her goodbyes, walking through the familiar streets, and exchanging farewells with those who had become like family to her.

The scent of freshly brewed Arabic coffee still lingered in the air as she approached Hussain’s café. He was standing behind the counter, his warm, familiar smile greeting her as he wiped down the counter. Layla was there too, her presence as bright as ever, though today there was a sadness in her eyes.

"I’ll miss you," Layla said, her voice soft as she hugged Nouri tightly. "It won’t be the same without you here."

Nouri smiled, her eyes misting over slightly. "You have my number, call me. You’ll both be in my heart. I promise, no matter where I go, I’ll carry a piece of this place with me."

Hussain, though his face was lined with years of wisdom, tried to mask his sadness with a wry smile. "Washington, huh? You’ll be in the land of power and politics now. Don’t let it change you, Nouri." He reached for a small, intricately carved box from behind the counter and handed it to her. "For when you need a reminder of where you came from," he said with a nod.

Nouri held the box in her hands, its weight grounding her. "Thank you, Hussain. I’ll treasure this always."

The farewell was bittersweet. For Nouri, it was like leaving behind a part of her past, her identity rooted in the ancient lands and traditions she had come from. But as she stood there, surrounded by the warmth of the people she had come to love, she realized that no matter how far she traveled, she would always be connected to them. And perhaps, just perhaps, she was starting to feel like she had a place in the world again.

With one last glance at the café, she turned to go, the hum of New York’s streets filling the air as she walked towards the car that would take her to the airport. The decision had been made. She was leaving New York, but in her heart, she knew this wasn’t the end. It was only another beginning.

A few hours later, as Nouri boarded the plane to Washington D.C., she felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had never been one to embrace change, but as the plane took off into the evening sky, her gaze turned toward the window. Beneath her, the city of New York seemed like a distant memory, its lights twinkling like stars. But ahead, she could see the promise of new horizons.

And perhaps, with Steve and the rest of the team by her side, she would find her true place in this world—one not bound by her divine origins, but by the connections she made with the people around her.

As the plane ascended into the night, Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to breathe deeply. Whatever awaited her in Washington, she would face it with open arms, knowing she was no longer alone.

---

March 1st 2014

 

The sun had barely risen as Nouri prepared to start her day. She had planned to visit her usual coffee shop to enjoy a quiet morning with a book and some peace. But a text from Natasha the night before had interrupted that plan. She and Steve needed her help.

“Going off for a run?” Nouri asked, her voice light as she greeted Steve, who was tying his shoes.

"Lincoln Memorial," Steve replied, setting off with his usual brisk pace.

“Be careful,” Nouri called after him, her words laced with a hint of amusement.

Nouri walked to her favorite café, took her coffee, and made her way toward the Lincoln Memorial Park. She found a quiet spot under a tree, settling down to read. Not long after, Steve jogged past, catching sight of her and offering a quick wave.

“On your left!” Steve called to the runner ahead of him.

The man didn’t look pleased, but Steve passed him easily, calling out again, "On your left."

The runner let out a long sigh, muttering, “Uh-huh, on my left. Got it.”

Nouri watched, intrigued, as Steve repeated the maneuver, overtaking the guy each time.

"Don’t say it! Don’t you say it!" the man warned, exasperated.

“On your left!” Steve announced once again, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Come on!” the guy grumbled, now running furiously in an attempt to catch up. But after a few moments, he was clearly outpaced, stopping to rest near Nouri’s tree.

“He is fast,” Nouri remarked, barely looking up from her book, her tone light and amused.

“You don’t say,” the guy replied, out of breath. He plopped down next to her, leaning back against the tree.

Steve jogged over, slowing to a stop. "Need a medic?" he asked, concern softening his usual playful tone.

The guy chuckled, still gasping for air. "I need a new set of lungs. You just ran 13 miles in 30 minutes!"

"I guess I got a late start," Steve shrugged, giving a self-deprecating smile.

The guy raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh, really? You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap."

Steve paused, pretending to consider it. “Did you just take it? I assumed you just took it,” the guy said sarcastically.

Nouri laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she added, “He probably did.” She leaned back, her posture relaxed as she looked over at the guy with a playful smile.

Steve chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "What unit are you with?" he asked, offering a hand to help the guy up.

"58, Pararescue," the man said, shaking Steve's hand. "Now I work down at the VA."

"Sam Wilson," he introduced himself, giving a nod to Nouri.

"Nouri," she said with a warm smile, accepting the handshake as she stood.

Sam flashed a knowing grin. "Yeah, I kind of put that together. Must have been a bit of a shock coming back after the whole 'defrosting' thing."

"It takes some getting used to," Steve said, flashing a small smile. "It's good to meet you, Sam."

As they started to leave, Sam called out, “It's your bed, right?”

Steve stopped and turned back, puzzled. "What’s that?"

"Your bed. It’s too soft. When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground with rocks for pillows, like a caveman. Now I lie in bed and it’s like…” Sam trailed off.

"Lying on a marshmallow," Steve finished, an amused grin tugging at his lips.

Sam nodded, laughing. "Exactly."

"How long?" Steve asked, his voice softening.

"Two tours," Sam replied, his expression growing more solemn.

There was a brief silence before Sam added, “You must miss the good old days, huh?”

Steve’s face grew thoughtful. "Well, things aren’t so bad. Food’s better. No polio, that’s nice. And the internet—so helpful. I’ve been reading a lot, trying to catch up."

Sam raised a finger, grinning. "Marvin Gaye, 1972, Trouble Man soundtrack. Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album."

Steve grinned, pulling out a small notebook and jotting it down. "I’ll put it on the list."

The list already had entries like I Love Lucy, Moon Landing, Berlin Wall (Up + Down), Steve Jobs (Apple), Disco, Star Wars/Trek, Nirvana (Band), and Rocky (Rocky II?).

Just then, Steve’s phone buzzed with a new message.

Mission alert. Extraction imminent. Meet at the curb. :)

Steve turned the phone to Nouri who nodded. "Alright, Sam, duty calls," Steve said, snapping his notebook shut. "Thanks for the run. If that’s what you want to call it."

They shook hands.

"Oh, that’s how it is?" Sam smirked.

"Yeah, that’s how it is," Steve responded with a playful twinkle in his eye.

"Okay, anytime you want to stop by the VA, make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know," Sam added.

"I’ll keep it in mind," Steve said, giving a brief nod.

Sam watched as Natasha’s car rolled up to the curb. She rolled the window down with a smirk.

"Hey, fellas," Natasha greeted. "Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up two fossils."

Nouri couldn’t help but chuckle. "That’s hilarious."

Steve stepped over to the car and opened the door for Nouri, getting in alongside her.

Sam gave Natasha a respectful nod. "How you doing?" Sam asked.

"Hey," Natasha responded casually, her eyes scanning the street.

Steve waved at Sam before the car pulled away. "Can’t run everywhere."

Sam smirked and called out, "No, you can’t."

He watched as Natasha’s car disappeared into the distance, the hum of the engine fading away as they headed off.

---

Natasha parked the car in front of the new S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the hum of the engine dying down as she cut the ignition.

"What's the mission?" Nouri asked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of curiosity, a stark contrast to the uneasy feeling she still had about this modern world.

"The Lemurian Star satellite launch platform has been hijacked, and S.H.I.E.L.D. wants us to rescue the hostages on board," Natasha replied, her tone focused but casual as she slid out of the car.

“STRIKE team’s informed?” Steve asked, his eyes narrowing with that familiar military focus, a sharp contrast to the calm demeanor of the women.

“Yes,” Natasha confirmed, already moving toward the building. “The team’s ready. The clock’s ticking.”

“Ten minutes,” Steve said, giving a quick glance to Nouri and Natasha before following them.

---

Inside the base, Nouri found herself both intrigued and slightly uncomfortable by the sterile, tech-heavy surroundings. She was used to the ancient echoes of Egypt, the warmth of the sun, the peaceful hum of sacred places, and the constant pulse of cosmic rhythms. Here, everything was metal, glass, and digital precision—so fast, so sharp. The weight of her divine heritage, however, still simmered beneath her skin, reminding her of her ancient power even in this new, foreign environment.

Nouri emerged from the changing room moments later, and Natasha couldn't help but give a low whistle as she caught sight of her.

"Hot," Natasha commented, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

Nouri’s smile was playful, her tone teasing. “Extremely,” she replied, her eyes lighting up with an energy Natasha hadn't seen from her before. There was something lighter about her, a shift in her demeanor. She was no longer the distant goddess, weighed down by the past. The modern world, her connection to it, seemed to ignite a spark within her, even if she was still somewhat out of place.

Her outfit—a sleek, fitted pair of black cargo pants, matched with a tight long-sleeve top—gave her a more utilitarian look than the flowing regalia of her ancient days. Instead of her usual weapons, she’d opted for a pair of knives tucked into her belt, which felt both familiar and more practical than the guns she had once used in battle. She moved with an ease that made the tactical outfit seem like a second skin.

“I should have known. You’ve got style,” Natasha teased, clearly impressed.

---

Steve entered, his expression unreadable beneath the familiar calm of his posture. His navy-blue uniform was functional—designed for maximum mobility and protection, just like him. There was an unspoken strength in the way he moved, a quiet resolve that radiated even when he was standing still.

His gaze flicked between the two women, Natasha and Nouri, as they prepared, but his eyes lingered for a moment on Nouri. She was different—something about her presence held his attention. It wasn’t just her beauty or the way she moved with such ease; it was something intangible, something that made her seem... otherworldly. Steve quickly snapped himself out of the thought, refocusing.

“Ready?” Steve asked, his voice steady as always, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. A hint of uncertainty? Maybe. Nouri couldn’t tell, but it intrigued her.

Nouri gave a slow nod, her voice calm but carrying a weight of ancient wisdom. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Before they could move, Nouri leaned toward Natasha, her voice a soft whisper that only the two of them could hear. “By Ra’s light, that man is... so attractive,” she said, her words tinged with both admiration and a little something else—something she hadn’t expected to feel for a mortal.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Tell him,” Natasha whispered back, her tone teasing but not unkind. Her smile widened when Nouri’s eyes flickered briefly toward Steve before she caught herself.

Steve was already leading the way to the jet, motioning for them to follow. His voice broke through the quiet. “Come on. Let’s move out.”

---

The jet sliced through the sky, cutting over the vast expanse of the Indian Ocean, carrying the team toward the Lemurian Star. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, led by Brock Rumlow, surrounded them.

"The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star," Rumlow briefed, his voice steady, but Nouri could hear the tension beneath it. "They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago."

Steve’s brow furrowed. He leaned over, looking at the monitor. “Any demands?”

“A billion and a half,” Rumlow replied simply, his eyes scanning the situation. “They’re asking for a steep price.”

Nouri arched an eyebrow, her disbelief evident. “Why so steep?”

"Because it's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s," Rumlow said without hesitation, as though that should be enough explanation.

Steve's expression remained unchanged. "So it's not off-course, it's trespassing," he muttered, the words falling flat as he processed the situation. His voice betrayed a certain weariness, something Nouri had sensed earlier but couldn’t quite place.

Natasha leaned in, her voice smooth and easy, a teasing edge cutting through the tension. "I'm sure they have a good reason."

Nouri eyed her, curiosity piquing. “Is there something you're not telling me?” she whispered, though Natasha only gave a small shake of her head, a tight smile playing on her lips.

Steve sighed, shaking his head as if resigning himself to the task at hand. "You know, I'm getting a little tired of being Fury's janitor."

"Relax," Natasha teased, her tone dismissive but light. "It's not that complicated."

Steve glanced over at Rumlow. "How many pirates?"

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc,” Rumlow answered, his voice firm. A picture of the man appeared on the screen.

He continued, "Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He's at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties."

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, her mind already analyzing the situation. "Hostages?"

"Uh... mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell," Rumlow replied, bringing up a picture of Sitwell on the monitor. "They’re in the galley."

Steve paused, the confusion on his face clear. "What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?"

Taking a breath, he issued his orders. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Nouri, you kill the engines, wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get 'em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up,” Rumlow barked, the agents quickly jumping into action.

As the team prepped to dive off the jet, Steve spoke into his wrist communicator. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure,” Natasha’s voice came through, casual as always. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

Steve’s expression shifted slightly, his jaw tightening at the memory. “Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so... No, not really.”

The pilot’s voice crackled through the radio. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes,” Natasha teased again, a grin evident in her voice. She cast a glance at Nouri, who looked slightly annoyed, though it was clear she was fighting back a smile.

Steve grimaced, a slight flicker of irritation in his expression. “That’s why I don’t ask.”

“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pressed, the playful banter making the atmosphere just a little less intense.

“Too busy!” Steve snapped back, the joke landing with a bit more sharpness than usual.

And with that, he leapt from the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” one of the STRIKE agents asked, bewildered, looking at the empty space where Steve had just been.

Rumlow, lips curling into a grin, glanced over. “No. No, he wasn’t.”

“Nat,” Nouri warned, her voice low but laced with a trace of humor.

“What?” Natasha said innocently, though her smirk suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. With a light-hearted shrug, she followed Steve’s example, leaping out of the jet, parachuting onto the ship.

As the wind whipped around them, Nouri couldn’t help but smile to herself, albeit with a mixture of both concern and amusement. She had witnessed thousands of years of mortal folly, and yet, this modern version of it still caught her off guard.

She followed, her thoughts shifting toward the task at hand—there was always more to these missions than met the eye. Something told her that Batroc wasn’t the only threat they’d be facing today. As she descended, the thrill of the unknown rushed through her, a stark contrast to the eternity of contemplation she had once known.

Chapter 13: Lies and the Past

Nouri was the last to land on the Ship, her swift movements barely making a sound as she joined Natasha and Steve.

“What about the nurse across the hall from you? She seems kind of nice,” Natasha teased with a mischievous smile, her tone light.

Nouri shot her a small, amused glare, clearly unamused. “Focus, Natasha.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder, a dry smirk pulling at his lips. “Secure the engine room, then find me a date,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

“Multitasking,” Natasha quipped, giving him a playful wink before jumping down to the lower deck, Nouri following closely behind.

“Nat!” Nouri whined, trailing behind her.

“Relax, I know what I’m doing,” Natasha responded, unfazed by Nouri’s complaint.

As they approached the engine room, a French pirate stood guard, blocking their way. He turned just as Natasha appeared behind him, her face calm and unreadable.

“Hey, sailor,” she greeted with a mocking tone before knocking him down in one fluid motion. She quickly swung below deck, landing smoothly. As she moved, she fired at several pirates, taking them out with precise shots.

Nouri followed closely behind her, her movements swift and fluid, like a shadow darting between the chaos. She didn’t rely on fire this time—her knives were in her hands, their cold steel gleaming in the dim light of the ship. She was quick and methodical, using her agility and precision to disarm and disable pirates one by one.

A pirate lunged at her from the left, swinging a heavy club toward her head. Nouri ducked beneath the blow, feeling the rush of air as the club missed by inches. She spun on her heel, her knives flashing through the air with deadly accuracy, slashing across the pirate’s side. He grunted in pain as he dropped to the floor, clutching his wound.

A second pirate rushed in from behind, attempting to grab her. Nouri spun, her movements graceful yet efficient, and in one smooth motion, she threw a knife at his chest. It sank deep into his torso, and he crumpled to the ground with a low, gurgling sound.

Steve’s voice crackled through the comms. “Natasha, what’s your status?”

“Hang on!” Natasha replied, not missing a beat. She dispatched a pirate who attacked her from behind, twisting his wrist and using his momentum to send him stumbling forward. Nouri was right there, her movements so synchronized with Natasha’s that it seemed as though they were two parts of the same whole. She threw another knife into the shoulder of another pirate who tried to sneak up on Natasha, quickly drawing a second one from her belt and slashing the pirate’s throat in a swift, lethal arc.

“Engine room secure?” Natasha called out as she moved past Nouri, dispatching another pirate with a well-placed shot.

“Secure,” Nouri confirmed, her voice calm and steady. She wasn’t even breathing hard. Another pirate came at her with a large sword, swinging it down in an attempt to cleave her in two. Nouri sidestepped; her knives raised in a defensive stance as she blocked the sword with a quick, controlled movement. She twisted her wrist, driving one of her blades up under the pirate's ribcage, piercing the heart. He fell without a sound.

“Nat? Where are you going?” Nouri asked, eyes scanning the space for more enemies.

Natasha didn’t answer at first, continuing her swift movements. But Nouri grabbed her arm, holding her firmly.

“Don’t make me force you, Natasha,” Nouri warned, her tone laced with authority.

“Do it,” Natasha smirked, unbothered, knowing full well that Nouri’s combat wasn’t on par with hers. But it wasn’t about that—Natasha knew Nouri had her own way of getting things done.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth, Fury sent you, didn’t he?”

Natasha stiffened for a split second but quickly recovered. “No,” she lied.

Nouri raised a brow, not buying it. “Do not lie to me. He asked the same of me,” she said, showing Natasha, the flash drive she had secured earlier, her eyes steady and unwavering. Natasha sighed, giving in as they made their way to the computer room.

Steve’s voice cut through the air again, urgency thick in his tone. “Natasha, Batroc's on the move. Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

Natasha didn’t answer, her silence deafening as she worked on the computer.

“Natasha!” Steve called again, frustration building in his voice.

But Natasha, calm and focused, continued copying Project Insight’s algorithm onto the USB drive. Meanwhile, Nouri stood guard, watching the door with a vigilant eye.

It wasn’t long before Steve smashed Batroc through the door of a nearby room, taking him out with a decisive punch. He stormed toward the two women, his frustration clear. “What are you doing?”

“Backing up the hard drive,” Natasha replied coolly, still engrossed in her work. “It’s a good habit to get into.”

Steve’s brow furrowed; his voice sharp as he approached. “Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?”

Steve glanced at Natasha, then at Nouri, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You’re saving S.H.I.E.L.D. intel.”

Natasha looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Whatever I can get my hands on.”

Steve's jaw tightened, his frustration building. “Our mission is to rescue hostages.”

Natasha didn't flinch, her voice unwavering. “No. That's your mission, Cap.” She glanced at the pocket where she’d tucked the drive, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Nouri observed the exchange with quiet understanding, her eyes flicking between the two. There was an unspoken tension between them, but she said nothing, letting them work through it on their own. She trusted them both, but sometimes, their priorities didn’t always align.

Nouri stayed silent, her gaze steady on Natasha. “She’s right,” Nouri added, her voice calm but firm.

Before Steve could retort, Batroc, still recovering from the earlier defeat, threw a grenade toward them as he made his escape. Reacting quickly, Steve deflected the grenade with his shield, sending it flying away before grabbing Natasha and leaping through the nearest window just as the explosion shook the room. Nouri, too, tried to contain the blast, but it was too powerful. She flew out another window, her body crashing into the ground with a heavy thud as the explosion rocked the room.

The dust settled, and as they landed safely outside, Natasha shot Steve a smirk. “Okay. That one’s on me.”

Steve glared at her; his frustration evident. “You’re damn right.”

Nouri coughed, pushing herself off the ground. “Damn you, Nat,” she muttered, dusting herself off as she struggled to get to her feet.

“Come on, Nouri,” Natasha said with a light teasing tone in her voice. “You’re tougher than this.”

Nouri shot her a sharp, frustrated glance, brushing dust off her clothes. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you,” she snapped, her voice hoarse from the explosion that had rocked the area just moments earlier. She could feel her emotions bubbling to the surface—anger, confusion, something else she couldn’t quite place. “Just get the prisoners to the jet,” she said, her words clipped, before turning and walking away, needing to breathe.

A quiet voice echoed in the back of her mind—Khonshu’s voice, calm and commanding, Remember who you are.

She clenched her fists at her sides, the tension in her chest only deepening. It wasn’t the explosion that had shaken her; it was the weight of everything—the mission, her doubts, and her growing feelings toward Steve. She could still feel the heat of their earlier exchange, the warmth that had lingered too long for comfort.

---

Once they had the prisoners safely on the jet, the flight back was eerily silent. The hum of the engines filled the space, but the tension between the group was palpable. Nouri’s annoyance simmered just beneath the surface, her gaze occasionally flicking toward Natasha. Steve, too, sat in silence, his expression tight, his jaw clenched in frustration at both of them.

When the jet finally touched down, Steve was the first to exit, his boots hitting the ground with purpose. Nouri watched him go, feeling the sharp pang of regret at his retreating figure. She shook her head in frustration, muttering under her breath.

“Don’t give me that look,” Natasha said, stepping in front of her with an amused but firm expression. She reached out, grabbing Nouri’s arm and pulling her into a quiet corner of the hangar.

“Fury asked the same of you,” Natasha said, her eyes narrowing in challenge. “So why the attitude?”

Nouri sighed, glancing over at the door where Steve had just walked through. “He asked me to make sure you got it—no distractions,” she said, her voice rough, though it was clear the words didn’t come easy.

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “Then why are you mad?”

Nouri hesitated for a moment; her chest tight with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t fully understand. She finally looked at Natasha, her expression softening with reluctant honesty. “I don’t like the way you’re setting him up…” she admitted quietly. The words hung in the air, thick with her inner turmoil. “I feel something for him, something I shouldn’t.”

Natasha studied her for a beat, her usual sarcastic edge gone, replaced by a hint of concern. “Nouri, you’ve been through a lot—so has Steve. And you both know how this game works.” She tilted her head, as though weighing her next words carefully. “Do you want me to interfere? You want him to know?”

“I don’t know.” Nouri let out a breath, her mind spinning with conflicting thoughts. “Just… let it be for now,” she said with a small, rueful smile. She wished things were simpler wished she could just return to being the observer, the protector, the goddess who didn’t have to feel, especially not for someone so… mortal. “Let me figure it out. Just give me time, Nat.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes flicking to the door where Steve had disappeared. “Alright. But don’t wait too long,” she said with a wink, though there was a tenderness in her tone. She understood, perhaps more than anyone, what it meant to be stuck between duty and the heart.

With a final glance, Nouri straightened up, adjusting the fabric of her attire. She nodded at Natasha before walking out of the corner, her gaze already seeking Steve. She had to talk to him—there was no more running from what was growing between them. But even as she walked toward him, a part of her questioned what would happen if she finally admitted it. Would he understand? Or would it pull them both deeper into something neither of them was prepared for?

---

March 2nd, 2014

 

Nouri walked to Fury’s office; her movements steady yet uncertain. Despite her godly essence, a strange sense of discomfort gripped her. How could she feel ashamed when she was a divine being, and Steve Rogers, a mortal? She’d never expected to be at odds with the very people she was trying to protect, but here she was, feeling the weight of his gaze before she even entered the room.

Fury waved his hand lazily, signaling her to come in. She stepped inside, the door clicking softly behind her. Steve stood by the window, his back to her, staring out into the distance as if he were contemplating something far heavier than the mission at hand. Fury, however, didn’t look up from the papers in front of him, his focus unbroken as he handled what seemed like a million things at once.

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve’s voice cut through the silence, edged with frustration. His eyes shot to Nouri; the intensity of his gaze unmistakable. It was the kind of look she wasn’t used to receiving, one that questioned her integrity. Despite her divine nature, the sting of his words felt like a deep wound.

Fury didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the papers. “I didn’t lie,” he said coolly, his voice unwavering. “Agent Romanoff and Agent Nouri had a different mission than yours.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “Which you didn’t feel obliged to share,” he shot back, arms crossed in a posture of disbelief and irritation.

“I’m not obliged to do anything,” Fury replied, his voice low and deliberate, as if daring Steve to push further.

Steve’s frustration erupted. “Those hostages could’ve died, Nick!” he barked, his voice filled with raw emotion. His hand slammed down on the desk between them, and his blue eyes glinted with determination.

Fury’s gaze remained neutral, unflinching, even as the tension in the room thickened. “I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen,” he said, his tone final.

Steve leaned in, the intensity of his words cutting through the air like a blade. “Soldiers trust each other, that's what makes it an army. Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.” His voice dropped lower, quieter, but no less potent.

Fury’s expression tightened. He exhaled sharply, his voice cold now. “The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye,” he said, a bitter edge creeping into his words. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“And Agent Nouri?” Steve’s eyes flicked to her again, his frustration turning into curiosity. His gaze softened, but there was a weight to it now, as if he were trying to see through her, figure out where she stood in all this.

Nouri felt the tension rise in her chest. She had no desire to make things more difficult, but she couldn’t lie to him either. She knew she was part of this, just as much as Natasha. But the truth was, she wasn’t sure about all of this, about trusting the humans with their ever-shifting allegiances. Yet she had her own duty to fulfil. Her voice was steady but carried a quiet humility. “The same as Romanoff,” she said softly, avoiding Steve’s eyes. She felt his judgment weigh on her, and for a moment, it stung. “In truth, I do feel a bit ashamed,” she added quietly, unsure if he would hear it or if the words would even matter.

Steve’s frustration boiled over, and for a moment, his anger reached its peak. “I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own. We need clarity, not secrets. We need trust.” He pointed at Nouri, a clear sign that he wasn’t finished with this conversation. “And I’ll speak with you after.”

Nouri nodded, keeping her head down. The weight of his words had a power to them, but she knew better than to argue in this moment. This wasn’t about pride; it was about understanding; about the trust she had to build with them. “I’ll wait for you at the lockers,” she said softly, her voice a mere whisper in the tense air. She turned, making her way toward the door, trying to steady the flood of emotions threatening to surface. This wasn’t the path she had imagined, but it was the one she had to walk now.

As she walked out of the office, the coolness of the hallway hit her like a rush of wind, giving her a moment of clarity. She had chosen this. She had chosen to fight for humanity, to stand beside them in this battle. And yet, the question still lingered in her heart: Was she truly helping them? Or was she just a pawn in a game of greater powers?

Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she made her way to the lockers, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in her chest. The world had changed so much since her imprisonment, and now, it seemed like her every decision was being scrutinized. Would Steve ever trust her? Would she trust herself in this new, chaotic world?

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, focusing on her inner strength. Whatever was to come, she would face it. But in this moment, she had to figure out where she truly stood with the Avengers, and with Steve Rogers.

---

Nouri had changed quickly, though the weight of the situation hung heavily on her. She was already bracing herself for the scolding she knew would come. As she stepped into the hallway, she saw Steve approaching. His jaw was tight, his eyes focused but distant, as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite articulate. He stopped in front of her, taking a deep breath through his nose before striding past her to his room.

Moments later, he emerged, clearly agitated. His posture was rigid, and there was an edge to his voice when he spoke.

“What were you thinking?” Steve spat, his voice low but heavy with frustration. “You should’ve told me.”

Nouri met his gaze, her expression steady despite the tension in the air. “Fury asked otherwise,” she replied calmly, the words more to defend herself than to provoke him further.

Steve’s eyes narrowed, his frustration bubbling over. “I can’t lead you if you’re off on your own mission.” His voice cracked with a mix of exasperation and concern, but there was an underlying sense of betrayal there too.

Something inside Nouri clicked at his words, but she remained composed, letting the tension settle before responding.

“I understand you're angry, but please direct your anger at Fury, not at me.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, “And don’t forget, Captain, I do not answer to you.”

Steve’s expression hardened, and he began to turn away, his words a sharp declaration. “Then I can’t trust you.”

Nouri’s breath caught, her pulse quickening. For a moment, she simply stood there, feeling the sting of his words. But then, without thinking, she reached out and pulled him back. Her grip was firm, almost shockingly so, and Steve felt the heat radiating from her hand as she held his arm.

“LIES!” Nouri said, her voice steady but full of an emotion that made Steve stop in his tracks. His arm burned where she held him, but he didn’t mind it, not really. “I am not here to serve anyone,” she continued, her tone softening slightly, “I am here to guide humanity. And if I felt that what Fury asked of me was wrong or would jeopardize your mission, I would’ve declined.”

Steve stared at her, his frustration wavering in the face of her unwavering honesty. He could feel her strength in that moment, not just physically, but in her words, in the resolve behind them. “Do you trust me?” he asked quietly, the words heavy with a vulnerability he didn’t usually show.

Nouri met his gaze without hesitation, her eyes filled with an ancient wisdom. “You have the purest heart I know,” she said softly, her voice carrying a deep respect. “I am honoured to know you and to stand by Steve. So yes, I trust you.” Her words were measured, but there was a depth in them that conveyed a warmth she rarely allowed herself to express. “But you are not my captain,” she added, her voice firm, “I answer to Fury, and I answer to the Ennead Council.”

Steve’s jaw tightened as he absorbed her words. The weight of them seemed to hang in the air between them, unspoken emotions settling in. He had expected more; hoped for more, perhaps. His voice, when it came, was quieter than before, laced with something deeper.

“Do you not trust me?” Nouri asked, her voice trembling slightly as she feared the answer.

Steve’s response was blunt, and it hit her harder than she expected. “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, his eyes avoiding hers for a moment. It was hard for him to swallow, harder still to let the truth spill out. He could feel something shift in him at her words, and the weight of it settled painfully in his chest.

Nouri, too, felt the tension linger, her chest tightening at the vulnerability she saw in him. But before she could say anything, Steve’s expression softened, and he pulled something from his jacket.

“Put this on,” he said, handing her a cap and very dark-tinted sunglasses. The sudden shift in his tone wasn’t lost on her, and she took them from him without a word, her fingers brushing his as she did.

Nouri carefully adjusted the cap and put on the sunglasses; her expression unreadable as she did so. Steve was watching her closely, as if trying to gauge her reaction. Once she was done, he motioned for her to follow him.

“Come on,” he said, his tone less harsh now but still filled with an undercurrent of unspoken tension. He led her toward his motorcycle, and Nouri followed, feeling the change in the air. There was still distance between them, but the chasm felt smaller, if only for a moment.

They mounted the bike, and Steve revved the engine before taking off, the wind rushing past them as they sped through the city. Nouri’s thoughts were a whirlwind, but she remained silent, her grip tight on him as they cut through the streets.

---

“Where are you taking me?” Nouri called out; her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine as she clung to Steve's waist.

Steve’s eyes focused on the road ahead. “You’ll see,” he replied coldly.

The ride was brief, but the anticipation built in Nouri as the motorcycle came to a stop. She looked up, her curious gaze sweeping over the exterior of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

As they entered, Steve pulled a cap low over his face, blending in as best as he could. Nouri did the same, though her mind was focused more on the atmosphere, the weight of the place. She followed him quietly, but with every step, her eyes took in the exhibits, absorbing the stories they told. The Smithsonian narrator’s voice crackled through the speakers, filling the space with a weighty reverence.

"A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour , bravery, and sacrifice."

Nouri paused; her attention caught by the display as she read the text accompanying the exhibit. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed the words, trying to understand the human need to enshrine their heroes in such grandiose terms. For a moment, she forgot Steve was beside her as she was consumed by the meaning behind the words.

The narrator continued, unaware of the man in the cap wandering among the relics.

“Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world's first super soldier.”

Nouri couldn’t help but glance over at Steve, who looked so out of place in the museum, like a ghost walking among his own history. Her curiosity flared. She knew there was so much more beneath the surface of this story—the pain, the sacrifice, the loss.

They moved further into the exhibit. The soft glow of the lights illuminated old footage of Steve’s early days, a time when he was still just a man who wanted to do good but hadn’t yet become the symbol the world would come to know.

A young boy, no older than ten, stopped suddenly in front of one of the displays. His eyes widened with recognition, and Steve’s face softened as he smiled warmly, pressing a finger to his lips in a quiet gesture. The boy’s eyes lit up, a mix of awe and respect, and he nodded, understanding the secret Steve had just asked him to keep.

“Come,” Steve whispered to Nouri, his voice soft, yet with an undercurrent of something deeper, something he hadn’t fully voiced to anyone.

She followed him without a word, but her mind was far from settled. She understood the sacrifice, the sense of duty Steve felt in every part of his being, but it still confused her—how could someone as ancient as she be so drawn to this mortal world, this place filled with such fleeting, fragile lives?

The video on the screen buzzed to life again, showing scenes of Steve and his Howling Commandos—his loyal comrades, battle-hardened, their faces determined, forever part of the story that Steve had built with his hands.

"Battle-tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission: taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division."

Steve's fingers brushed lightly against the glass, as if trying to reconnect with those memories, those men who had once been his brothers in arms. But the sadness in his eyes told a different story—a longing for something that could never be fully grasped again.

As they walked further into the exhibit, they came upon a new display. Nouri stopped in her tracks; her heart seemingly stopped by the image of a photograph that she instantly recognized. The face of Bucky Barnes.

Steve stood frozen in place, his eyes fixed on the image, his chest heavy with the weight of memories. The narrator’s voice continued, but Steve barely heard it, too absorbed in the story that was playing out before his eyes.

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."

Steve’s breath caught as he looked at the photo of Bucky. The man he had once known as his brother was now nothing but a shadow in history.

Nouri gently placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder, her touch warm but unintrusive, understanding the weight of the grief that he carried with him.

"Who was he to you?" Nouri asked softly, her voice low, respectful. Her own powers were compelling her to reach deeper, but she held back, aware of the sacredness of this moment for Steve.

“He was my best friend... my brother,” Steve murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His gaze was distant, lost in the memories of their shared past.

"What happened to him?" Nouri asked gently, though she could already feel the answer in her bones.

Steve nodded; his eyes still locked on the display. "I couldn’t save him."

Nouri’s hand stayed on his shoulder, her heart aching for him. It was a sorrow she understood, the weight of a loss that time couldn’t heal, a wound that remained etched deep into the soul.

Before Steve could speak again, his gaze shifted toward a new screen that had caught his attention. There, Peggy Carter’s image flickered to life, her voice steady and calm, carrying a certain sadness.

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve..."
She paused, her voice faltering for a moment.
"Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months. He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would later become my husband. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life."

Steve’s face softened as he heard her words, the weight of her love for him clear in the tremor of her voice. Nouri noticed the brief shift in his expression—a fleeting moment of vulnerability.

“She loved me so much, but I could not love her back," Steve said, his voice carrying a sadness that was both bittersweet and resigned. "But she was the first person to believe in me. I owe her everything.”

Nouri nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. She could see the strain in his eyes, the emotional burden of having had to carry the weight of so many lives on his shoulders—past, present, and future.

As they made their way out of the museum, the memories lingered between them, heavy with meaning. Nouri glanced at Steve, a quiet understanding passing between them. She didn’t have the answers for him, but she knew this—he was not alone, and he never had to be.

---

Nouri sat down on the stone steps of the museum; her gaze distant as she looked at the grand building before her. Steve sat beside her, close but not intruding, his presence a quiet comfort in the midst of her turmoil.

"Why did you bring me here?" Nouri asked, her voice a soft blend of curiosity and uncertainty, her eyes still fixed on the museum ahead.

Steve let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on the distant horizon before he turned to her. "I wanted you to know," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "that I understand your burden. I’ve seen what you’ve lost, even if I can’t fully comprehend it. Those pieces of your past—your people, your history—taken, forgotten, left behind. It’s a weight that never really goes away, is it?"

Nouri looked at him, searching his eyes. His words were sincere, free of pity, and there was something in his tone that made her heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected. She nodded slowly, her eyes softening. "It never does. But some burdens are harder to carry alone." She paused, her fingers trembling just slightly as she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek. "I want you to know… I trust you."

Steve leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if savouring the quiet moment. "I trust you too," he replied, his voice warm. He opened his eyes to meet hers, the depth of his feelings clear in the gaze they shared. "I was just… angry before. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t understand."

"You have a way of showing it," Nouri said with a light, teasing smile, though there was a sadness to her tone. "But I understand. We’ve both fought battles—some you can see, some you can’t. And sometimes, we lash out because we don’t know how to cope with everything inside us."

Steve’s expression softened as he gently brushed his thumb over her hand. "I’m sorry for what I said earlier, Nouri. It wasn’t right."

Nouri smiled, a small but genuine expression that softened the edges of her face. "It’s alright, Steve. I’ve been angry at the world too. At the gods, at humanity, at myself." She paused, her smile fading into something more vulnerable. "But I think, for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to believe there’s a reason to keep going. Even when everything feels lost."

There was a quiet moment between them, one of understanding that needed no words. Steve looked at her, his heart full, but his words caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful, so ancient and eternal, yet so achingly human in that moment. He couldn’t help but feel a connection, one that went beyond friendship, beyond shared experiences. It was something deeper—something rooted in the way she understood him, and the way he, in turn, understood her.

"You’re not alone anymore," Steve said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "Whatever it is, whatever happens, I’m here." He hesitated for a moment, before adding, "You’re not just some myth. You’re real. To me, you’re real."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked at him, her eyes searching his face for a hint of insincerity, but she found none. A warmth spread through her chest, an emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in centuries. The idea of being seen, truly seen, as a person and not a myth, felt like a balm to her weary soul.

"I… I should go." Nouri stood; her voice steady but filled with a quiet regret. "I’ll walk home. I need the time to think."

Steve stood up with her, his expression reluctant but understanding. "I understand," he said softly. "But promise me you’ll be safe?"

Nouri’s lips curved up slightly. "I’ll be fine," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a gentle smile. "I’m not a child."

"You’re right," Steve said, his voice teasing. "But still, let me know when you get home."

"I will," she promised and winked. She glanced back at him, meeting his eyes one last time. "Thank you, Steve. For understanding."

He watched her walk away; his heart heavy with something unspoken. He’d come to know Nouri in ways he hadn’t expected, and as she disappeared into the bustling street, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them, something that neither of them could fully understand yet.

As she vanished, Steve turned and got onto the motorcycle, but his thoughts stayed with her. It wasn’t just about protecting humanity anymore—it was about protecting her, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for what that would mean. But something inside him told him that this was only the beginning.

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3
I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

Chapter 14: Metal Arm

The sun had set, casting a soft glow over the quiet streets. The lampposts flickered to life as Nouri walked slowly down the sidewalk, her mind a tangled web of thoughts. She missed Egypt—her homeland, her fellow gods, the comfort of her temple. The soft breeze stirred her curly hair as she walked, and a wave of nostalgia hit her. Khonshu’s absence lingered heavily in her heart, and she couldn’t help but feel the loneliness that had come with her release. The feeling was familiar, though it had been years since she'd allowed herself to acknowledge it.

Her thoughts drifted to Steve. That thought had been with her for days, refusing to leave her mind, a constant undercurrent to her otherwise calm demeanor. What was it about him? His kindness? His unwavering sense of duty? Nouri smiled softly, the corners of her mouth barely lifting. Perhaps it was his quiet strength, something she hadn’t expected to encounter in this strange new world.

Just then, the distant rumble of a motorcycle echoed down the street, and she turned, her gaze lifting to find Steve pulling up. He parked the bike and dismounted, walking toward her with “Long walk?” Steve asked as he parked the motorcycle and dismounted.

“Yeah, I wanted to think,” Nouri replied, her voice soft but steady. She had spent the walk trying to process the emotions from the museum visit, but her mind kept circling back to humanity—its beauty and its flaws. “I appreciate you showing me the exhibit. It was... meaningful."

Steve smiled and opened the door to the building, stepping aside to let her in. “Anytime.” His voice was warm, yet there was a hint of something unspoken behind it, something that lingered in the air between them.

They climbed the stairs together, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As they passed by their neighbor Sharon’s door, they overheard her talking on the phone.

Steve smiled as he opened the door to the building and let Nouri in first. They walked up the stairs, the quiet of the evening making the air feel dense with anticipation. As they passed by the laundry room, they overheard their neighbor Sharon talking on the phone, holding her laundry basket.

"That's so sweet. That is so nice. Hey, I gotta go, though. Okay, bye," Sharon said before hanging up and turning to them with a faint smile, though her tired eyes betrayed something else. "My aunt, she’s... well, she’s an insomniac," she said, but the hesitation in her voice felt almost too rehearsed, as if the explanation didn’t quite add up.

Nouri, standing beside Steve, watched Sharon with a serene expression, her eyes gleaming with a quiet understanding of how busy the human world could be. "You can also use my machine, if you’d like," she offered gently, her voice warm and genuine. "I would be happy to help."

Sharon smiled appreciatively, though her eyes betrayed something more. "Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs. You... really don’t want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished with orientation in the infectious diseases ward." She hesitated, her voice faltering for a moment before she quickly added, "It’s not like they’re that bad, right?"

Nouri tilted her head slightly, observing the way Sharon’s hands fidgeted with the laundry basket. Something about her words didn’t sit right. A tension, almost too rehearsed, hung in the air—like a piece of the truth had been left unsaid.

Steve chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "Ah, well, I’ll keep my distance."

Sharon laughed softly, the sound light and reassuring. "Next time, maybe." She turned to head down the stairs, but then called back, "Oh, and I think you left your stereo on."

Steve paused, a little surprised. "Oh. Right, thank you."

Sharon nodded and continued on her way, leaving Steve and Nouri standing in the hallway, both puzzled by the exchange. Nouri’s brow furrowed slightly. She had the distinct feeling something was amiss, but she couldn’t quite place it.

Nouri closed her eyes, attempting to sense whose soul might be lingering in Steve's apartment, but a subtle interference clouded her vision, a static she couldn’t quite unravel. She turned to Steve, who paused, his hand hovering over the door handle.

"You feel it too?" she asked in a soft whisper, her voice tinged with concern.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah... there’s something off."

They stepped inside cautiously, their senses on high alert. As the door swung open, they immediately saw the dim lighting of the apartment. It felt too still, too quiet. A strange sense of unease washed over Steve. He reached for his shield instinctively, ready for whatever was waiting.

Nouri was a step behind, her senses heightened.Her knives materialized in her hands, glinting in the low light, ready for whatever threat may present itself. Her gaze flicked to every shadow, but there was a strange silence in the air, broken only by faint music coming from somewhere in the room.

Steve’s body tensed as he heard the faint melody drifting through the window. He glanced back at Nouri, who met his eyes, her expression unreadable.

They cautiously moved forward into the darkened apartment, both on edge. The sight that met them left Steve momentarily speechless: Nick Fury, sitting motionless on the couch, as if he had been waiting for them all along.

"I don’t remember giving you a key," Steve said, his voice mixed with a sense of surprise and suspicion.

Fury smirked without looking up, clearly unphased. "You really think I’d need one? My wife kicked me out."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, an amused glint flickering in her eyes. "Didn’t know you were married."

Fury’s gaze flicked up then, a silent recognition passing between him and Nouri. There was something unspoken, a brief acknowledgment of understanding.

"A lot of things you don’t know about me," Fury replied with a small, knowing smirk, his eyes briefly meeting Nouri's. There was an unspoken recognition in that moment—a silent acknowledgment that even gods couldn’t see everything

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem.” Steve’s voice softened as he turned on the light, and Fury's injuries immediately came into sharper focus. Fury's hand shot out to stop him, signaling to keep quiet. Steve hesitated before turning the light back off.

Fury pulled out his phone and typed something quickly. He turned it toward Steve, showing him the message on the screen: Ears everywhere.

"I’m sorry to have to do this, but I had no place else to crash," Fury typed again, his eyes hardening. S.H.I.E.L.D.s compromised.

Nouri’s expression hardened as she stepped closer. “Who else knows about your wife?”

Fury’s gaze flicked toward her, then back to Steve. His fingers typed one last message and showed it to them: You and me.

“Just... my friends,” Fury replied, his voice low.

Steve stared at him for a long moment, his mind working through the puzzle pieces of the situation. "Is that what we are?" he asked, the question hanging heavily between them.

Fury shrugged, his face unreadable. "That's up to you," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft, as if giving Steve a chance to decide something important—something beyond just the mission.

Just as the silence thickened, a sudden crack shattered the air. Gunfire. Three sharp, rapid shots. Fury was struck, collapsing forward, blood seeping onto the floor in quick, dark patches.

Without thinking, Nouri moved in an instant, rushing to Fury's side with a speed that belied her calm demeanor. She dragged him into the next room, her hands working quickly to stem the bleeding, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Fury’s weak hand shot out, pressing something into Nouri’s palm. She looked down, finding a flash drive. Fury’s eyes flickered with something like urgency, his voice barely a rasp. “Don’t... trust anyone,” he whispered, each word a struggle before his eyes fluttered closed, his body going limp in Nouri’s arms.

Steve turned, scanning the room. They weren't safe yet.

Footsteps—sharp and hurried—came from the hallway. The sound of a voice, familiar yet unexpected, cut through the tension. “Captain Rogers? Al Nouri” Sharon called, walking into the room with her gun pointed at him. “Captain, I’m Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service.” She said as she stepped into the room with a gun raised.

Steve’s eyes immediately narrowed as he stepped in front of Nouri. “Sharon?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

She lowered the weapon slightly, her face softening. "I’m assigned to protect you and Nouri,” she said, her eyes flicking to Fury’s still form on the floor.

Nouri, still kneeling beside Fury, looked up sharply. “On whose order?”

Sharon hesitated but then looked down at Fury. "His," she said quietly, then moved to Fury’s side to check his pulse. She quickly grabbed a radio from her belt and spoke into it. “Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs, now.”

There was a beat of silence before a voice crackled through the radio. “Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

Steve moved to the window, peering through the blinds. His eyes sharpened as he spotted the shooter—faint, but visible across the way. “Tell him I’m in pursuit,” Steve said, his voice hard with determination. He turned toward Nouri, his jaw set. “Stay with him.”

With a swift motion, Steve smashed through the window, diving out onto the fire escape. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline sharp in his veins. He had no time to think, only to move, to stop whatever danger was coming for them.

Nouri stood in the wreckage of the broken window, her focus steady, her mind clear. She had seen many battles—both mortal and divine—but her heart still pounded in her chest as she pressed a cloth against Fury’s wound, praying he would hang on long enough for them to figure out their next move.

But before she could focus further, Sharon’s voice broke through. “You should go after him. We’ll be alright here.”

Nouri shook her head, the echo of her words like a silent mantra. "No. I will stay here and protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

Sharon nodded, understanding the weight of her words. She turned to make her own preparations, but Nouri’s mind was elsewhere—on Steve, on the shooter, on everything that had just unraveled.

---

Nouri moved swiftly, helping the EMT’s roll Fury into the waiting ambulance. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting long shadows as the chaos of the moment settled into a tense stillness. With a steady hand, she made sure Fury was secured, though her eyes lingered for just a moment on the flash drive that had been concealed deep in her attire. It was safe—no one would know it was therem and no one would know that she had it.

Steve, still catching his breath from the desperate chase, stood a few paces away, his body tense with the adrenaline that coursed through him. His chest rose and fell, but there was no time for rest. He turned back to her, his mind racing with questions he couldn’t yet answer.

“Who was it?” Nouri asked, her voice calm but edged with curiosity, her dark eyes studying him. Her focus was always razor-sharp, even amidst the chaos. She had seen too many battles to be rattled by this one.

“I don’t know,” Steve replied, shaking his head, his brow furrowing. “He’s fast—strong. And... he has a metal arm.”

Nouri blinked at him, her mind trying to process the information. "Metal arm?" She repeated, her voice laced with confusion. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the concept of prosthetics, but her ancient mind had never encountered something like this before. The idea of someone carrying such an imposing, mechanical limb struck her as strange—and unsettling, in a way.

Steve’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Yeah...”

Nouri stood still for a moment, her hand resting on the side of the ambulance, her gaze distant. She had seen many different types of warriors in her long existence—some divine, some mortal—but this... this was different. The strange combination of human fragility and technological enhancement wasn’t something she could easily reconcile with her understanding of the world.

“Doesn't sound like any enemy I’ve fought before," Nouri murmured under her breath. She was starting to understand the dangers this world now faced, but pieces like this—the ones she couldn’t quite fit into the puzzle—were unsettling.

But there was no time for reflection. Steve revved his motorcycle, the sound of the engine breaking through the silence. He looked at her briefly, a quick nod before he gave the bike one last push, and it roared to life.

"You coming?" he asked, the weight of urgency in his voice. His gaze softened for just a moment, but there was something more—something she noticed, something she hadn’t expected. Steve, with his unwavering resolve, always seemed so certain of his path. Yet, in that fleeting moment, there was a hint of something vulnerable.

She didn’t respond right away. Nouri looked at him, her expression unreadable. She had spent centuries in isolation, watching the world from the sidelines, and yet this man, so driven by a sense of honor and duty, had slowly become someone she was drawn to, more than she cared to admit. His compassion for humanity—his relentless belief in the potential for good—was something she hadn't seen in so long.

When she did speak, it was with that quiet confidence that had become second nature to her. "Of course," she said, her voice smooth, but there was a softness to it. She swung herself onto the motorcycle behind him, the motion effortless, as if it were part of her nature. It was a habit by now—a rhythm she had gotten used to since joining Steve. She’d never gotten used to the modern world, but with him, she felt a strange pull—a connection she hadn’t felt in centuries.

As they sped toward the hospital, the streets blurred around them. The rush of the wind, the hum of the engine, and the distant city noises became a background to her thoughts. She had never been a stranger to battle, to chaos, but this world—this world where heroes and legends walked among mortals—was both awe-inspiring and overwhelming.

Maria was waiting when they arrived, her sharp gaze already scanning the scene. She stepped forward, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Let’s get inside," Steve said, his voice drawing her back to the present. He paused, then glanced at her, his brow furrowing as if sensing something she hadn’t said. "You okay?"

Nouri nodded, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. "I’m fine," she said, her tone firm but tinged with something softer. "But there’s more to come."

Steve gave her a questioning look but didn’t press further. Instead, they moved inside.

---

The cold, sterile hum of the hospital’s machinery filled the room, a steady rhythm that seemed to pulse in sync with the frantic energy inside. Nouri stood near the glass, her eyes locked on Nick Fury’s lifeless form, the doctors and nurses moving around him like a blur of frantic activity. Their voices—commands and reassurances—melted into static noise in her mind, each word a distant echo.

She focused on the flash drive Fury had pressed into her hand earlier, now clenched tightly in her palm. Could she trust it? Could she trust anyone? Her connection to the mortal world was still so new, and the weight of the decisions she had to make was unbearable. She had always watched from the sidelines, offering guidance from afar. But now, she was in the thick of it, and every move, every choice, carried the potential for irreversible consequences.

Natasha entered the room, her gaze sharp, immediately meeting Nouri’s. They shared a brief moment of understanding, their eyes silently exchanging the tension of the situation before Natasha turned to Fury.

"Is he gonna make it?" Natasha's voice was low, almost lost beneath the whirring of machines and hurried footsteps.

"I don't know… he's fading," Nouri replied quietly, her words heavy with a truth she didn’t want to accept. Her ancient heart, for all its wisdom, couldn’t fathom the loss of such a key figure—someone who, despite his methods, had always seemed to stand for something greater.

"Tell me about the shooter," Natasha pressed, her attention focused on the man who had done this. The cold, calculating assassin.

"He's fast and strong. Had a metal arm," Steve answered, his words cutting through the frantic atmosphere like a knife.

"Ballistics?" Natasha asked, her voice like steel, her instincts sharp as ever.

"Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable," Maria responded, glancing quickly at the data on her screen before turning her attention back to Fury’s condition.

"Soviet-made," Natasha concluded, her expression darkening. The tension in the room thickened, the reality of their situation setting in.

The doctors and nurses moved with practiced urgency, pushing the crash cart into the room, their voices overlapping in a steady stream of medical terminology. To Nouri, it all became a blur, a series of disjointed sounds and movements that grew increasingly distant, as though she were underwater, unable to focus on anything but the man who had helped her find her place in this world.

"BP is dropping," the male nurse reported, his tone sharp.

"Defibrillator!" the doctor barked. Nouri’s gaze flicked between the monitors, Fury’s vitals dipping dangerously.

"Charge him at one hundred," the doctor commanded, his hands moving rapidly, setting up the defibrillator.

"Stand back! Three, two, one. Clear!" The sound of the shock jolted through the room, and Nouri’s heart skipped a beat, her thoughts racing.

"Pulse?" the doctor demanded.

"No pulse," the male nurse replied flatly.

"No pulse," confirmed another doctor.

Nouri clenched her jaw, her grip tightening around the flash drive. She didn’t know what was worse—watching Fury fight for his life or the helplessness that gnawed at her. She could feel it, that old weight of divine responsibility, but this was different. This was mortal. Could she save him? Was it even her place to intervene in a world so fragile, so prone to destruction?

"Okay. 200, please. Stand back! Three, two, one. Clear!" The shock came again, a brutal crack that seemed to reverberate through Nouri’s very bones. "Give me epinephrine!"

The chaos in the room swirled around her, but her mind remained fixated on Fury. She had witnessed countless mortal deaths in her long existence, but this felt different. This man, this leader who had always seemed so unshakable—could he really be gone?

"Pulse?" the doctor asked again, his voice cutting through the noise.

"Negative," the nurse answered, his voice like a cold verdict.

"Don't do this to me, Nick. Don’t do this to me," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her plea.

Nouri’s gaze flickered to Natasha, seeing the deep pain in her eyes. She had seen this kind of loss before, though never this close. The gods may have ruled over death, but they had never truly understood the cost of losing someone to time. It was something the mortals, in their brevity, understood far better.

The flatline continued, and Steve, standing beside them, finally turned away. He couldn’t bear to watch any longer. His fists clenched at his sides as he looked toward the others, unable to stop the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

"What's the time?" the doctor asked, his voice distant, as though he had already resigned himself to the inevitable.

"1:03, Doctor," the female nurse replied softly.

"Time of death, 1:03 a.m." The doctor’s words hung in the air like a shroud.

A heavy silence filled the room as the doctors moved away, defeated. Fury was gone. And in that moment, Nouri felt it too—a loss she had not anticipated. Her fingers grazed the flash drive in her hand, the weight of it a reminder of the secrets Fury had carried with him. Secrets that now, perhaps, were hers to protect.

Could she trust Maria? Could she trust Natasha? Could she trust Steve?

---

Later, in a quiet room where Fury’s lifeless body was laid out, the atmosphere was thick with grief and confusion. Natasha stood still, her expression unreadable, her eyes distant, as if searching for something she could no longer find. Nouri, frozen beside her, felt the weight of the moment settle over her like a heavy fog. Her mind raced. 

Why can't I feel his passing?

Nouri’s mind raced, a familiar unease stirring within her. She had watched countless souls depart over millennia, felt their journeys into the afterlife—whether fleeting or eternal. But Fury’s soul? She couldn’t grasp it, as though a veil had been drawn between her and the truth. Had her connection to mortals weakened in her time of imprisonment, or was something else obscuring it? Fury’s soul wasn’t absent, it was hidden—and for the first time, she felt like an outsider in a world she had once understood so clearly. It felt... staged, as if there was a deeper game at play. But why? She couldn’t be sure.

Steve leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his face shadowed by his thoughts, unsure of how to process the enormity of what had just occurred.

"I need to take him," Maria’s voice broke through the silence, her tone steady but laced with sorrow.

Steve moved toward Natasha, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Natasha," he said softly, his voice a whisper of comfort in the stillness of the room.

She didn’t respond at first. Instead, her fingers gently brushed over Fury's head, her touch tender, as if to say a final goodbye. Nouri watched her, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She could feel the depth of Natasha’s grief, her loss, and her resolve. For a brief moment, Nouri’s empathy reached out, understanding Natasha in ways that words never could. But Natasha remained silent, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Natasha turned and walked out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the cold, silent hall.

Nouri and Steve followed close behind, their footsteps in sync.

"Natasha!" Steve called out, his voice urgent, but Natasha didn’t turn around. Her expression remained stoic as she quickened her pace.

"Why was Fury in your apartment?" Natasha asked, brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it all.

"I don’t know," Steve responded flatly, the words hanging between them like an unanswered question.

Before Steve could press further, a commanding voice interrupted them. Brock Rumlow approached quickly, his presence as sharp as ever, his eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting for its next move.

"Cap, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D.," Rumlow said.

"Yeah, give me a second," Steve replied, his voice still steady, but his gaze flickered between Natasha and the looming question that had yet to be answered.

"They want you now," Rumlow insisted, his tone a little sharper, as if the urgency was growing beyond his control.

"Okay," Steve replied, a little more firmly this time, his body language shifting into a more professional stance. He turned to Natasha, his expression serious, his concern still visible. "Natasha, we need to figure out what’s going on. This... this doesn’t make sense."

"You’re a terrible liar," Natasha remarked, a hint of bitterness in her voice, masking the emotions swirling beneath. She turned on her heel, her movements brisk, and walked away, leaving Steve standing alone in the corridor, the weight of her words still hanging in the air.

Steve watched her go, his concern deepening, but before he could take a step toward her, Jasper Sitwell’s voice crackled through his earpiece.

"STRIKE team, escort Captain Rogers back to S.H.I.E.L.D. immediately for questioning," Sitwell’s voice rang in his ear, stern and insistent.

"I told him," Rumlow muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he exchanged a glance with Steve. But Steve’s attention was momentarily diverted. His eyes flicked over to the vending machine next to him. A plan began to form in his mind, a glimmer of an idea taking root.

"Let’s go," Steve said, his tone firm now, directing the team to move forward.

"Yeah," Rumlow replied shortly, his hand already gesturing to the agents. "STRIKE, move it out."

As the team moved out of the room, Nouri’s gaze flickered to Steve. Her movements were slow, almost deliberate. She pulled him closer with an instinctive, urgent pull into a tight hug, her body pressing against his as she leaned in, her lips brushing just beside his ear. His hand instinctively landed on her waist, grounding the moment in an unexpected sense of intimacy. But Nouri guided his hand to her pocket.

She whispered, her voice low, almost too quiet for anyone else to hear, but it was a message just for him, "Fury gave me this, but he didn’t say much. Just… be careful who you trust."

Her words were quick, cryptic, as if this moment could pass without suspicion, yet it carried an unspoken weight between them.

Steve’s hand lingered there for just a moment, confusion flickering in his eyes before he nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. Without another word, he pulled away, leaving her standing there, the air between them heavy for a moment longer than necessary.

Nouri’s eyes flickered to the vending machine as she moved toward it, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket. As she hid the flash drive behind a pack of gum, she paused, feeling the weight of the decision. For a moment, her fingers lingered on the plastic, considering the consequences. It was a small act of defiance, yet it stirred something deep within her—a spark of purpose, perhaps. But the question gnawed at her: Was she hiding the truth, or was she only playing into a larger game?

Chapter 15: Escalators

March 3rd 2014

 

Nouri left the hospital, the heavy weight of the recent events pressing down on her. The room had felt too stifling, too full of loss, yet she couldn’t grasp what it was. The feeling wasn’t familiar to her—not loss, not the kind she could touch with her powers, not the way she could sense death or the souls that moved beyond life. Yet something wasn’t right.

She needed air. She walked aimlessly, finding herself sitting on a bench, allowing the night to slip into dawn, the moon turning into the sun. She stared at the horizon, the world moving around her but still feeling as distant as ever. Time had never held much weight for her—until now. The fleetingness of human existence felt more pressing than it ever had before.

As the world shifted around her, a shadow approached—a strange figure, someone she could feel the pull of, but there was something off. The familiar presence of Steve, only hidden behind a cap and hoodie. But why the disguise?

"Come," the man spoke, his voice low but urgent. He lifted his face slightly, his eyes revealing the same warmth and trust Nouri had seen before—only now they were guarded, uncertain. Steve, but not Steve.

Nouri nodded, instinctively reaching out and taking his hand. She followed him through the quiet hospital corridors, the urgency in his steps matching her own rising concerns.

"Where is it?" he demanded, his voice sharp, a hint of frustration creeping through.

Without thinking, Nouri walked toward the vending machine. She had hidden it there, safely tucked away, but as she reached the spot, her heart sank. It was gone. Her eyes narrowed as frustration twisted inside her, and for a moment, she could feel the fire within her flicker, threatening to break free.

In the reflection of the glass, Natasha was chewing gum with that same air of indifference, as if she’d been there all along. Nouri’s gaze hardened immediately, her posture protective.

"Where is it?" Nouri demanded, her voice low, tense, the frustration from before settling into a quiet fury.

"Safe," Natasha answered, her tone unfazed, too calm for the gravity of the situation.

"Do better!" Steve snapped, his anger breaking through the usual calm demeanor he carried. He grabbed Natasha’s arm, pulling her toward a nearby room.

Without hesitation, Nouri followed them, closing the door behind her and locking it securely. The small space felt too tight for the tension now hanging in the air. Nouri watched Natasha closely, not trusting her ease.

"Where did you get it?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow, eyeing Nouri with a mix of curiosity and guarded suspicion.

"Why would I tell you?" Nouri responded, her voice sharp, but just beneath it, there was a coolness—a measured restraint, the kind that came from centuries of observation.

Flicking her gum, Natasha’s gaze never wavered. “Fury gave it to you. Why?”

Before Nouri could respond, Steve spoke up, his voice edged with impatience. “What’s on it?”

Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t know,” she said, almost too casual for someone in her position.

“Stop lying!” Steve's frustration was palpable now, his words clipped.

Natasha chuckled softly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I only act like I know everything, Rogers.”

A muscle in Steve’s jaw twitched at her words. "I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?"

“Well, it makes sense,” Natasha replied with a nonchalant shrug. "The ship was dirty. Fury needed a way in. So do you."

Steve took a step closer to her, voice dropping dangerously low. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

Natasha met his gaze unflinchingly. "I know who killed Fury," she said, her tone shifting, becoming darker, colder. "Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."

"So he’s a ghost story," Nouri muttered, her scepticism rising as she folded her arms, still unconvinced by Natasha's words.

The air shifted as Natasha’s expression darkened. She was no longer the easygoing spy she appeared to be; there was a weight to her voice now. “Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control and went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me.” She lifted her shirt slightly to reveal a jagged, scarred line on her side. “Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis.”

Steve’s lips twitched at the remark, a rare moment of levity, though his eyes remained hard. “Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.”

Natasha offered a brief, amused smile before her face fell into its usual seriousness. “Going after him is a dead end. I know. I've tried.” She pulled a flash drive from her pocket and held it up. "Like you said, he’s a ghost story."

Steve’s hand shot out, taking the flash drive from her. His resolve hardened in the same instant. "Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants."

The tension still heavy, Nouri looked to Natasha as she and Steve both began to change into civilian clothes, preparing to leave the hospital.

As they stepped out onto the street, Nouri felt a strange shift in the air. The world around her had never seemed so full of shadows and secrets. She had once seen the paths of all mortals laid bare before her, their souls like books to be read. But this world was different—full of layers and hidden agendas, even more complex than the gods she had once known.

For a moment, as they walked side by side, she glanced at Steve, his jaw clenched with determination, his gaze ahead. There was something in him, something she hadn’t expected. A quiet, unwavering belief in doing what was right, no matter the cost. And for the first time in a long while, Nouri felt a flicker of something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in centuries—hope.

---

The three of them arrived at the mall, and though they were clearly trying to blend in, they somehow felt like a walking contradiction. Natasha was dressed in sneaker wedges, tight denim pants, and a hoodie, looking every bit the part of a skilled agent with a flair for blending in. Steve wore glasses, a cap, a sweater, and a jacket, looking a little too... Stevefor the modern world, his unassuming demeanor still apparent despite his attempts at stealth. And then there was Nouri, wearing sneakers, sweatpants, and a cropped hoodie. She was far from blending in, but in a strange way, she and Steve had the uncanny ability to look like a couple. The real outlier in this situation was Natasha, who seemed more like a third wheel in this odd little trio.

As they walked, Nouri’s eyes scanned the surroundings, her divine perception picking up details that mortals would miss. She could feel the pulse of the crowd, the ebb and flow of their emotions, their worries, their joys, and, at times, their fears. She kept her senses focused but remained quiet.

“First rule of going on the run is, don’t run, walk,” Natasha said, her pace steady, her body moving with purpose. Her eyes were alert, but she was calm as ever.

Nouri glanced down at her shoes, feeling her unease. “If I run in these, they’re gonna fall off,” she muttered, her tone lighter than usual. But beneath the casual comment, there was a sense of discomfort, an unease that went beyond the mall's sterile, consumerist atmosphere. She was used to heels, the grace and control they required a far cry from the casual sneakers she now wore. The soft soles beneath her feet made her feel less like herself, and the unfamiliarity left her feeling a bit unsteady.

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the image that created. “Just try not to trip,” he teased.

“We’ll make sure we don’t leave you behind,” Natasha added with a smirk, her eyes still scanning the space ahead.

They made their way to the nearby Mac store, where Natasha immediately got to work. She was already inserting the flash drive into the MacBook Pro, her fingers moving at lightning speed. “The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up, S.H.I.E.L.D. will know exactly where we are.”

“How much time do we have?” Steve asked, keeping his gaze sharp on the door, the unease of being hunted slowly creeping into his mind.

“Uh… about nine minutes from...” Natasha paused as she inserted the drive. “Now.”

Nouri stepped closer, her senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the air around them. A flicker of concentration passed over her face, her brows furrowing slightly as she focused. The world around her seemed to slow, and the flame in her chest flickered in response, her eyes glowing faintly with the faintest light.

Thank Horus, for his eye, Nouri thought, her internal voice steady and full of gratitude. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes, reaching out with her divine senses, feeling the flow of souls within the building.

As she connected with the hidden currents of life around her, her pupils shifted. The souls of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents—cloaked in their mortal forms—emerged from the fabric of their being, each one shining faintly in the ether.

She sought them, feeling their presence not just as bodies, but as souls, flickering in the shadows. She could feel the weight of their intentions, their actions, the subtle threads of life that intertwined them all.

She opened her eyes, her gaze piercing as she addressed the others. “Several vehicles are arriving. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are closing in fast.” Her voice was calm, but there was a sense of urgency in her words. "They're already in the building. We're being surrounded."

Fingers flying over the keyboard, Natasha muttered, “Fury was right about that ship. Somebody’s trying to hide something.”

“What are we up against?” Steve asked, his attention sharp as he kept an eye on the entrances.

“This drive is protected by some sort of AI,” Natasha replied. “It keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands.”

“Can you override it?” Nouri asked, her eyes flicking to Natasha. She tried to use her abilities to scan the building, her powers flowing outwards as she sought to sense the intentions of those nearby.

Natasha hesitated for a moment. “The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly.” She clicked a few more keys, frustration flashing across her face.

As Natasha worked her magic on the drive, Nouri focused on the crowd, reaching into their souls with her divine sight. She felt the warmth and the anxiety of the people around them. Some were just browsing, unaware of the storm brewing. But there were others... the agents, hidden in plain sight, closing in like shadows.

Nouri’s fingers twitched. “I can sense them... They’re closing in fast.”

“I’m gonna try running a tracer,” Natasha said, looking determined despite the ticking clock. “This is a program S.H.I.E.L.D. developed to track hostile malware. So, if we can’t read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from.”

Just then, an Apple employee approached them, his overly cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the intensity of the situation. “Can I help you guys with anything?” he asked, his tone too bright.

Natasha immediately jumped into her cover story. “Oh, no,” she replied smoothly, her voice sugar-sweet but laced with a hint of urgency. “I’m just helping my sister and her fiancé find some honeymoon destinations.”

Steve smiled, playing along like the pro he was. “Right! We’re getting married.” He wrapped an arm around Nouri’s shoulders, adding a touch of casual charm, but the underlying tension in his posture was evident.

The employee’s eyes lit up. “Congratulations! That’s great! Where do you guys think about going?”

Steve turned his attention to the screen, noticing a trace leading to New Jersey. “New Jersey,” he said with an almost too-casual air, his mind racing with the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was only moments away from pinning them down.

“Oh,” the employee said, glancing at Steve with an odd smile. “I have the exact same glasses.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow and couldn’t resist a playful comment. “Wow, you two are practically twins.”

The employee chuckled nervously, clearly trying to be charming. “Yeah, I wish. Specimen.” He quickly added, “Uh… if you guys need anything, I’ve been Aaron.”

“Thank you,” Steve said tightly, though his eyes were fixed on the door as he noticed Rumlow’s team moving through the mall. His voice was urgent now. “You said nine minutes, come on.”

Natasha shot him a reassuring glance as she clicked a few more buttons on the MacBook. “Shh, relax. Got it.”

Her fingers flew, her eyes narrowing in focus as the seconds ticked away. “I think I can get a trace,” she muttered, her brows furrowing. Then, she looked up at Steve, a small but knowing glint in her eyes. “You know it?”

“I used to,” Steve replied grimly, his eyes scanning the mall as his pulse quickened. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, Steve grabbed the flash drive and gestured for them to move. They hurried out of the store, but as they moved through the crowd, Nouri couldn’t shake the sense of being trapped, that familiar feeling of being cornered by forces she couldn’t control. She tried to push that feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. There was no time for doubt.

---

Steve was walking in the middle of the two women. “Standard tac-team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I’ll engage. You hit the south escalator to the metro.” he warned.

Nouri was attuned to the situation in a different way. She wasn’t just following their movements—she was sensing where Rumlow’s team was. The team was closing in, and her mind stretched out, connecting with the hidden intentions of their pursuers, the tension in their hearts.

As two agents came straight toward them, Natasha's voice dropped low. “Shut up and put your arm around us, laugh at something we said.”

Steve looked at her in confusion. “What?”

“Do it!” Nouri urged, barely keeping the urgency from her voice.

Steve hesitated, but quickly wrapped his arm around them, letting out an awkward laugh, trying to play along. Before getting on the escalator

Nouri, her senses still on high alert, noticed the subtle tension in Steve’s posture. She was a step below him on the escalator, while Natasha, ever composed, was a step above. She could feel Steve’s heart beating faster, and her own pulse quickened in response.

Then, as they descended, Natasha caught sight of Rumlow approaching on the opposite escalator. She turned to Steve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Kiss her.”

Steve stared at her, utterly confused. “What?”

That was when Nouri turned to look at Natasha, her brow furrowing in confusion as well. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, her gaze shifting between the two of them.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Natasha explained with a sly smile, her eyes flicking toward Nouri.

Steve blinked, taking in the strange request. His gaze flickered between Natasha and Nouri, and his voice betrayed his discomfort. “Yes, they do.”

“Just do it, Rogers.” Natasha’s tone held no room for argument.

Before Steve could react further, Natasha swiftly pushed him toward Nouri. In that split second, as Steve stumbled forward, their lips met. The kiss was unexpected, shocking. Nouri’s breath caught, and her heart thundered in her chest. Steve’s lips were warm, firm—familiar—and yet, it was as though time had frozen around them.

She had never kissed a mortal before. She had been close to him, drawn to him over the years, but this? This was different. This was foreign territory—intense, unfamiliar. The warmth of Steve's touch, the feel of his hand on her cheek, the soft press of his lips—it flooded through her like a flame that she couldn’t put out. Vulnerability and longing surged inside her, and she found herself almost breathless. This wasn’t just the spark of attraction she had felt before—this was something deeper, something that made her chest tighten and her pulse race. She had been drawn to Steve Rogers, yes, but now… now she was starting to fall for him, and in that kiss, the truth became undeniable.

For a moment, the world seemed to slow, time stretching around them, but reality quickly snapped back. Steve was still standing there, eyes wide, and Nouri pulled back, her mind spinning, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions rushing through her. Natasha’s voice, teasing and light, cut through the haze. “Still uncomfortable?”

Steve’s expression was a mix of surprise and something softer, something deeper that she couldn't quite place. His gaze flicked from Natasha to her, and Nouri found herself unable to look away from him. “It’s not exactly the word I would use,” he muttered, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

Nouri stood there, breathless, her emotions tangled in a way she had never experienced before. She had never kissed another, never allowed herself to feel such closeness. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, and her pulse quickened, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. She had never allowed herself to be so vulnerable, but with Steve, she felt something different—a warmth that scared her and thrilled her all at once.

She finally met his eyes, and there was something there—something that made her chest tighten again. There was understanding, an unspoken connection. Her lips parted as if to say something, but she hesitated, her words caught in her throat. “I—I've never…” she started, but the words didn’t come easily. “I’ve never done that before.”

Steve’s expression softened, and without thinking, he reached out, gently brushing his hand against her cheek, his touch warm and comforting. “You’re not the only one,” he said quietly. His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes that made her breath catch again. “It was unexpected for me too.”

The moment stretched between them, quiet, intimate, and still as the world swirled around them. Nouri felt like she was seeing him in a way she never had before. It wasn’t just the rush of a kiss—it was the tenderness in his touch, the warmth in his eyes. There was something there, something real, something she had never allowed herself to consider. Her ancient heart, so used to solitude and distance, was suddenly full of unfamiliar feelings—something new, something raw, something she didn’t know how to navigate.

The kiss, though brief, had awakened something in her, something she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. And as she looked at Steve, there was no denying it: she was starting to care for him in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

Natasha, of course, could see it too. “I’ll take that as a ‘no complaints’ then,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Nouri smiled faintly, still processing everything, her eyes lingering on Steve as she tried to gather her thoughts. She was still reeling from the shock of the kiss, but there was a shift—something had changed.

Steve nodded, his emotions hidden behind a calm exterior, but his eyes spoke volumes. The air between them felt charged, something new blossoming in the spaces where their worlds had once been distant.

---

They walked into of the car park, stole a car and hit the road. Nouri sat quietly in the back, the kiss still lingering on her mind, her thoughts as tangled as the fire she wielded. She was grateful for Natasha’s push, for the nudge into Steve’s arms. But something inside her stirred, something she had never experienced before. Her heart, in its divine, eternal form, felt as fragile as a mortal's, and it scared her.

As the car rumbled toward New Jersey, the hum of the engine filled the space between the three. It was the perfect kind of silence, a quiet that both settled her and made her thoughts run wild. Natasha broke the stillness.

"Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" Natasha asked, her voice light, teasing.

Steve turned toward her with a small, wry smile. "Nazi Germany."

"Mm," Natasha murmured, clearly unfazed, but the curiosity was still evident in her eyes. "Alright, I have a question for you. You don’t have to answer it, but if you don’t, you’re kind of answering it, you know?"

Steve glanced at her, brow furrowing in confusion. "What?"

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?" Natasha asked, her tone casual, but Nouri’s gaze shot straight to Natasha.

The question landed heavily in the air. Steve’s brow furrowed deeper as he glanced back at Nouri in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching in amusement. "That bad, huh?"

Nouri sat silently, still processing everything that had happened, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she averted her gaze to the window.

Natasha, ever the tease, shrugged. "Didn’t look like it."

Steve’s grin only grew as he glanced back at Natasha. "Well, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying."

Natasha chuckled softly, but there was something almost fond in her tone as she added, "No, I didn’t. I just wondered how much practice you've had."

Steve grinned wider, amused. "You don't need practice."

"Everybody needs practice," Natasha countered. “Right, Nouri?”

Nouri blinked, coming back from her thoughts, the words catching her a bit off guard. She hesitated before answering softly, her voice tinged with something neither Natasha nor Steve could pinpoint. "I don’t know, Nat, it was my first kiss."

A pause followed, and Natasha’s voice dropped to a more thoughtful tone, though still teasing. "Nobody special?" she asked, her tone light, but there was a real curiosity in it.

Nouri looked out the window again, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. "It is frowned upon for gods to engage in emotional relationships," she explained softly, as though speaking aloud helped her understand it more herself. The weight of those ancient laws was pressing down on her, as much a part of her as her divine fire.

Steve, who had been silent for a moment, glanced over at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes softer than before. "That’s... rough," he said, his voice gentle, but with an understanding only someone who had lived through time could have. "But I guess everyone has their burdens."

Natasha’s teasing tone returned, sharper now. "What about you, Rogers? Nobody special?"

Steve looked ahead, his jaw tightening a little at the question. The smile from earlier faded slightly. "Believe it or not, it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience." His words carried more weight than he'd intended. His mind, as it had often done, drifted back to Peggy, to the life he had missed, to the one that could have been.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, the edge of her smile still playful. "Well, that's alright. You just make something up." She glanced back at Nouri, her expression sly. "And Nouri, has sorta the same life experiences," she teased, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Steve turned his head slightly, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. "Make something up? What, like you?"

Natasha smirked, a little too confident in her ways. "I don't know. The truth is a matter of circumstances. It's not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I."

Steve raised an eyebrow, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. "That’s a tough way to live."

Natasha’s smile softened, though the edges of it remained knowing. "It’s a good way not to die, though."

Steve was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as if weighing her words. "You know, it's kind of hard to trust someone when you don't know who that someone really is."

Natasha, her tone shifting to something quieter and more sincere, met his gaze for a moment. "Yeah. Who do you want me to be?"

Steve’s answer came with a rare, quiet sincerity. "How about a friend?"

Natasha’s laugh, soft but genuine, echoed through the car. "Well, there’s a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers."

The ride continued in silence. The world outside passed in a blur, and Steve occasionally glanced at Nouri in the back, who sat there quietly. Her gaze was distant, her thoughts occupied with everything that had happened—her growing feelings for Steve, the growing pull between them that she couldn’t deny anymore. She was caught between two worlds: one where she was a goddess, bound by ancient laws, and the other where she was a woman, falling for a mortal man. The thought of breaking sacred laws, of acting on her feelings for Steve, unsettled her, but it was also strangely exhilarating.

Steve’s eyes lingered on her for a beat longer. He had always been perceptive, and even though he didn’t quite understand the depth of what she was feeling, he could sense the change in her. The quiet, hesitant way she avoided his gaze—it spoke volumes. Something had shifted, and for the first time, he wondered if Nouri felt the same way he did. The kiss had been more than just an act of affection—it was an opening of something deeper, something they hadn’t yet explored.

Nouri, still lost in thought, wondered if love—real love—was something she could afford. Could she break the sacred laws for it? Could she risk everything for the warmth of a mortal heart?

Notes:

FINALLY THEY KISS!! please let me know what you think so far <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3
I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3

Chapter 16: Laying Low

The car stopped outside an abandoned military base, where the signal had led them. Steve got out and opened the door for Nouri, their eyes speaking words their mouths couldn’t form. The cool air of the evening wrapped around them, and the faint echoes of distant memories seemed to linger in the silence.

"This is it," Steve said, his voice low as he gazed at the silent, desolate structure before him, the shadows stretching long over the cracked asphalt.

"The file came from these coordinates," Natasha added, her sharp eyes scanning the perimeter, always alert, always calculating.

"So did I," Steve replied, a slight edge of nostalgia coloring his voice. He glanced at Nouri, whose silence had not escaped him. She hadn’t spoken much since they’d left the city, her thoughts seemingly heavy.

Nouri’s gaze remained fixed on the military base. Her dark, curly hair fluttered lightly in the wind, but she seemed lost in her thoughts, the weight of her past pulling at her in ways Steve couldn’t fully understand. Despite her wisdom, she seemed hesitant to speak, as though the place triggered something deep within her.

Nouri finally spoke, her voice soft yet powerful. "Sometimes, the land remembers, even when the people are gone."

"Something like that," Steve said, a faint chuckle escaping him, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

As the day grew darker, they began walking around the base, trying to pinpoint the exact location where the signal had originated. The air felt thick, charged with an ominous presence, as if the earth itself knew what had once transpired here.

"This camp is where I was trained," Steve said, his voice distant as memories of a long-forgotten past resurfaced, of simpler times, of comrades he had lost.

"Changed much?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow, the faintest smirk on her lips, trying to break the tension that hung in the air.

"A little," Steve muttered, his gaze lingering on the ground, the weight of the memories heavy on him. He wasn’t just fighting HYDRA anymore—he was fighting his own ghosts.

Nouri’s expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing her features. "It’s never easy to return to the places we’ve left behind," she said quietly, almost to herself. "But sometimes, the past speaks louder than the present."

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he simply nodded, grateful for her words but unwilling to linger on what they might mean.

"This camp... it feels empty now," Natasha remarked, her tone professional, scanning the shadows around them. "No sign of life. What about you, Nouri? You getting anything?"

Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, her ability to sense the world around her humming just beneath the surface. "No. There’s no one here. No souls lingering, no presence."

"This is a dead end," Natasha said, breaking Steve's reverie. "Zero heat signature, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off." She paused, noticing a building ahead of them. "What is it?"

Steve observed the structure for a moment before replying. "Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place."

His instincts kicked in, and he moved toward the door, using his shield to break the lock. They entered the building, the old hinges groaning in protest. As they stepped inside, they flicked on the lights, revealing a dusty S.H.I.E.L.D. office, long abandoned, but still filled with traces of its former use.

"This is S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha said, her voice low with surprise. The words tasted foreign in her mouth, and she stepped cautiously deeper into the room, as if expecting something to jump out at her.

"Maybe where it started," Steve replied, his tone thoughtful, stepping further in. His eyes scanned the old framed portraits hanging on the walls: Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, Colonel Chester Phillips.

"There's Stark’s father," Natasha noted, her voice softer now, reverence slipping into her words as she took in the portrait of the man who had helped create the legacy Steve was now a part of.

"Howard," Steve confirmed, his gaze lingering on the portrait. He looked at it like a piece of his history he hadn’t fully reckoned with yet.

Steve turned and walked further down the room, stopping by a massive bookshelf. "If you're already working in a secret office..." he mused, pushing the bookshelf aside to reveal an elevator hidden behind it. "Why do you need to hide the elevator?"

Nouri, who had been silently observing the room, stepped forward, her presence as powerful as it was subtle. "Perhaps because secrets, like the souls of the lost, are best kept hidden in places where no one dares to look." She moved with grace, her presence a calming contrast to the tense atmosphere. Her eyes lingered on the shadows of the room, sensing the weight of forgotten history.

They stepped inside the elevator, descending into the unknown. As they descended, Nouri let her hand rest lightly on the cool metal, her mind still racing with the implications of this place. It was familiar in a way that unsettled her, like a memory she couldn’t fully place. "You know," she said quietly, breaking the silence, "There is a weight to this place. Not just in its secrets, but in its purpose. It’s almost as if it was designed to conceal, not just hide."

Steve looked at her, a question forming in his eyes, but before he could ask, the elevator doors opened to a room filled with ancient-looking computers, their screens flickering as if they were still trying to remember their purpose.

"Time has a way of keeping things... dormant," Nouri mused, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. "But even the oldest of machines have their stories to tell."

They stepped out into the room, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. The hum of the old equipment filled the air, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had stopped—frozen in a time that no longer existed.

---

"This can't be the data point. This technology is ancient," Natasha said, surveying the room. The walls were lined with old, dust-covered computers, and the flickering lights cast shadows over the tech that seemed lost in time. She frowned at the sight of it.

Then, something caught her eye—a small flash drive port. She placed the drive into the slot, and the old computer sputtered to life, its mechanical sounds echoing through the space.

"Initiate system?" the computer asked in a mechanical voice.

Natasha typed on the keyboard, her fingers dancing across the keys. "Y-E-S, spells yes," she muttered with a smile as the computer began to whir and crackle.

"Shall we play a game?" the computer asked, and Natasha looked over at Steve with a playful grin. “It’s from a movie—”

"Yeah, I saw it," Steve replied, recognizing the reference. His lips twitched in a brief smile, but his gaze remained sharp, the tension never quite leaving his posture.

Suddenly, an accented voice echoed through the room, making Nouri stiffen with immediate suspicion.

"Rogers, Steven. Born, 1918. Romanoff, Natasha Avalia. Born, 1984, Ra-Khonshu Al Nouri. Born, unknown," Dr. Arnim Zola’s voice said. The camera above them shifted, analyzing them both with unnerving precision.

"It's some kind of recording," Natasha observed, a slight frown crossing her face as she continued typing.

"I am not a recording, Fräulein," the voice continued. "I may not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am."

The computer screen flickered, showing an old photo of Dr. Arnim Zola.

"Do you know this thing?" Nouri asked, glancing at Steve, her tone sharp with disdain. She already disliked this entity, whatever it was. She could feel the deceit behind its words, and it stirred something dark within her—an echo of frustration she'd long buried.

"Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He's been dead for years," Steve replied, his voice firm.

"First correction," Zola’s voice interjected, "I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972, I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body, but my mind—well, that was worth saving. On two hundred thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain."

Nouri’s brow furrowed in anger, her hands clenching by her sides. "You should have stayed dead," she muttered under her breath. The thought of someone like Zola, a parasite on humanity, thriving in the shadows enraged her. It was as though humanity never learned from the mistakes of its past, and that refusal to learn—to change—only deepened the rage in her heart. She could see it all: the endless cycles of war, suffering, and the same bloody history repeating itself. It sickened her.

"How did you get here?" Steve asked, his tone darkening.

"Invited," Zola responded, his voice tinged with amusement. The computer screen flickered again, showing an image of the Red Skull’s face, followed by images of older S.H.I.E.L.D. leaders.

Natasha looked thoughtful. "It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. S.H.I.E.L.D. recruited German scientists with strategic value."

"They thought I could help their cause," Zola continued. "I also helped my own."

"HYDRA died with the Red Skull," Steve insisted, his jaw tightening with conviction.

"Cut off one head," Zola’s voice said ominously, "two more shall take its place."

"Prove it," Steve challenged, his voice fierce, refusing to back down.

Zola paused, then the screen shifted, showing old footage of Johann Schmidt—Red Skull—and the origins of the S.H.I.E.L.D. founders.

"HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize was that if you try to take that freedom, they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded, and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside S.H.I.E.L.D. For seventy years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed."

"That's impossible," Natasha said, incredulous. "S.H.I.E.L.D. would have stopped you."

"Accidents will happen," Zola's voice replied dryly. The screen displayed a news clip showing the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark, a car accident staged by HYDRA, followed by the recent death of Nick Fury.

"HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA's new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life; a zero sum."

In anger, Steve smashed his shield into the computer screen, but Zola’s voice continued, unfazed.

"As I was saying..."

"What's on this drive?" Steve demanded, ignoring the lingering words.

"Project Insight requires insight," Zola replied, "So I wrote an algorithm."

"What kind of algorithm? What does it do?" Nouri asked, her eyes narrowing with fury. The weight of the situation was settling over her—again. Another godforsaken system of control, feeding on humanity's failure to move beyond its history of chaos. How much more bloodshed could these fools cause before they realized they were their own worst enemy?

"The answer to your question is fascinating," Zola said. "Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it."

Suddenly, the doors began to close. Steve hurled his shield between them to stop them, but it was too late.

"Steve, we got a bogey. Short-range ballistic. Thirty seconds tops," Natasha warned, her voice tight with urgency.

"Who fired it?" Steve asked, scanning the area.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.," Natasha replied grimly.

"I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain," Zola's voice came again, calm and knowing. "Admit it, it's better this way. We're both of us... out of time."

Steve spotted a small opening in the ground and, in a flash of insight, threw the metal door aside. Just as the room exploded, he threw himself, Natasha, and Nouri into the hole, using his shield to protect them. The shockwave rippled through the building, sending debris raining down. Steve shoved a block of rubble off them, managing to get them free just as STRIKE agents arrived.

The noise above them echoed in the cavernous wreckage, but Steve didn’t waste time. He lifted Natasha, who was barely conscious, and sprinted toward the car. Nouri, her hands still trembling from the heat building beneath her skin, stayed close behind. She was trying to maintain control, but the chaos was stirring something in her—something ancient, something raw.

Once inside the car, Steve threw Natasha in the back, but Nouri didn’t sit down immediately. Her hands were clenched into fists, flames licking at her skin, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface. She stared ahead, her mind racing.

HYDRA. S.H.I.E.L.D... Two sides of the same rotten coin. She’d spent eons watching humanity destroy itself—wars, greed, betrayal, and now this. It was all too familiar, too inevitable. She could feel the weight of the gods’ abandonment pressing down on her, their absence a reflection of her own disillusionment.

"Why do they never learn?" Nouri muttered, her voice tight, the frustration clear. "Their hunger for power will always lead them down this path. They are bound by their own selfishness. They think they can escape the lessons of the past. But history condemns them, Steve, and they refuse to see it." Her words burned with the heat of her anger, and Steve felt the temperature rising in the car.

He glanced at her, his gaze softening as he recognized the familiar fire in her eyes, the one that mirrored his own when facing injustice. Yet, there was something else in her—a pain, a deep disillusionment that had begun to fracture her resolve.

Her fists clenched tighter, and she couldn’t stop herself. "This... this is why they cannot be trusted. Why the gods left humanity." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her voice cracked slightly as she looked out the window, the words trailing into the silence between them.

Steve’s eyes softened as he listened, a quiet understanding taking root between them. He didn’t interrupt; there was no need. He knew her pain wasn’t just about this mission, about HYDRA or S.H.I.E.L.D. It was deeper. Her frustration with humanity, the world she had watched from afar, and perhaps even with herself.

"They don’t learn, Steve," she continued, her voice low, almost whispering. "I see them over and over again—doing the same thing, making the same mistakes. I’m tired of watching humanity fail."

Steve reached over, his hand briefly touching hers. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to draw her attention back to him. He met her gaze, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. “I know it’s hard to see sometimes," Steve said quietly. "But you’re here for a reason. You didn’t leave humanity, Nouri. You’re still here.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the softness in his voice. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she had no place in this fractured world anymore. But when she opened her mouth, the words caught in her throat.

“I refused the gods, because I believe humanity could change,” she murmured. "But now... now I don’t know anymore. Maybe the gods were right to leave.”

Steve’s hand lingered, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles, as though grounding her to the moment. “The gods might have left, but you’re still here, Nouri. And you’re still trying. That’s what matters.”

She met his eyes, a spark of something more in them. Something fragile, like a spark caught in the wind. “I didn’t think you’d understand. I... I never expected you to understand.” Her voice faltered for a moment, the weight of her words finally sinking in. "But you do, don’t you?”

Steve hesitated, his expression softening. “I understand more than you think.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, the car felt too small for everything they were both feeling. The hum of the engine was a distant background noise, but the space between them was charged. Nouri, unsure of herself, shifted in her seat, her breath quickening.

“I’m not used to feeling like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, the raw vulnerability creeping in. “I’ve been alone for so long. Alone in the world, and alone in my own thoughts. But now—now I feel something stirring in me. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Steve didn’t say anything at first, his heart pounding in his chest. His thumb brushed against her skin once more.

A quiet intensity settled in the space between them. Nouri glanced at him, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, something inside her felt... lighter. She had spent so long holding her emotions at bay, her anger, her grief. And now, standing here with him, something was slowly unraveling.

“Nouri,” Steve’s voice was soft, pulling her out of her thoughts. “The kiss... I just wanted to say... I don’t regret it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The memory of the kiss, unexpected and intense, flooded her senses. She had felt the connection, the spark. But what did it mean? What was she supposed to do with it? She wasn’t even sure if she was ready to admit to herself what she was feeling.

But Steve was waiting, his eyes full of quiet understanding, no judgment. Just... waiting.

Nouri looked at him, her heart racing. “Neither do I,” she said softly, her lips curling into a faint, unsure smile.

Steve’s gaze softened, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile and placed a hand on hers. “I’m here. For whatever it’s worth.”

Nouri nodded, her heart unexpectedly full. There was still much to process, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe she wasn’t alone in this battle. Maybe she didn’t have to carry the weight of the world by herself anymore.

As the car moved forward, the soft hum of the engine and the crackling tension between them filled the space. They didn’t need to say anything more just yet. Sometimes, the silence spoke louder than words.

---

March 4th 2014

 

The sun had risen, but Nouri remained lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the morning light streaming through the window. Her mind, usually so clear, was a turbulent sea of frustration and sorrow. Humanity's endless cycle of destruction weighed heavily on her—a constant repetition of mistakes that she couldn’t quite understand, couldn’t reconcile. Why? she thought, why do they keep repeating their mistakes?

Her eyes drifted out the window, focusing on the chaotic rhythm of the world outside. The city was waking up, oblivious to the dangers that loomed just beyond the surface. She’d seen it all before—over and over again. Wars, betrayals, pain. She had witnessed humanity’s dark side for centuries, and yet, it always managed to surprise her with its cruelty. They still don’t learn, she thought bitterly. Are they doomed to this endless cycle?

A soft sigh escaped her lips, but it was quickly swallowed by the hum of the car engine and the steady pulse of life around her. She glanced at Natasha, who sat quietly behind her, her eyes slightly closed. The Russian’s presence grounded her in ways she hadn’t anticipated, her quiet strength acting as a balm against Nouri’s mounting despair. The bond between them had deepened since New York. Despite the gravity of their situation, Natasha’s resilience never ceased to impress Nouri.

“Where are we going?” Natasha’s voice broke through her thoughts, low and groggy as she rubbed her temples, still adjusting to the morning light filtering in through the window. She winced, momentarily blinded by the sunlight.

“A safe place,” Steve replied, his voice firm and resolute. His eyes never left the road, the ever-present tension in his posture suggesting he was ready for anything, his mind always scanning for threats. As always, Nouri thought, her eyes drifting toward him.

The city outside moved too fast for her liking, its noise and rush a stark contrast to the slow and deliberate rhythm she once knew in Egypt. Her connection to this world felt fragile—like a tether fraying with every passing second. Still, she couldn’t deny the flicker of something new inside her: a bond she hadn’t expected to form with mortals. The protection she felt, especially toward Steve and Natasha, was growing, and it unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

The car came to a halt in front of a modest building, the windows slightly tinted, its unassuming exterior a sharp contrast to the dangers it harbored inside. As soon as the car parked, Nouri glanced at Natasha, noticing the slight shift in her posture as she leaned heavily against Nouri to steady herself. It wasn’t just fatigue; there was something deeper there, a weight that Natasha carried with quiet grace. Nouri offered her support without hesitation, her hand at Natasha’s back as they made their way toward the door.

Their steps were synchronized, though unspoken words passed between them in the silence. I see you, Nouri thought, feeling a rare flicker of protectiveness. It was a bond she never thought she would form with mortals—this quiet, unspoken understanding that somehow, they would make it through this chaos together.

Steve knocked briskly, and the moment the door creaked open, a man stood before them, dressed casually but exuding an easy confidence that immediately put Nouri at ease. She couldn’t help but notice the glint of curiosity in his eyes, followed by a quick assessment of the group.

“Hey, man,” Sam greeted Steve, his gaze flicking briefly over the group, noting Natasha’s state before landing on Nouri. There was something in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or caution. But there was also a glimmer of something else: understanding. He senses it too, Nouri thought, the weight of shared experience binding them in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious.

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve said, his voice heavy with the weight of their situation. His usual confidence was tempered by the exhaustion of their circumstances. “We need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” Natasha added, her words flat, but there was a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was her way of masking the fear, a defense mechanism Nouri had come to understand over the past few days. There was something more there, though—something raw and vulnerable that she rarely let show.

Sam took a moment to process the weight of their words, his brow furrowed. But after a beat, a grin tugged at the corner of his lips—though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not everyone,” he replied, his voice tinged with dry humor.

He stepped aside, opening the door wider, and ushered them in with a sharp, almost military precision. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Sam pulled the blinds down and locked the door with swift precision, his movements a careful choreography that suggested they had been here before.

Nouri followed them inside, her eyes scanning the room. It was small, modest, but there was warmth here—something that felt like a refuge, if only for a moment. She stood still for a moment, absorbing the peace of the space, before the ache in her chest returned. It wasn’t just physical fatigue she carried—it was the weight of the last few days, the constant running, the weight of the secrets and betrayals. She knew she couldn’t keep up this pace forever.

Sam turned to her, noticing the weariness in her eyes. His expression softened slightly, a subtle recognition of the toll this fight was taking on them all. “Is it possible to take a shower?” Nouri’s voice was quieter than usual, almost tentative. The weight of her grief, unspoken but ever-present, hung heavily between them.

“Sure, showers upstairs on your left,” Sam replied, his tone gentle, softer than before.

Nouri nodded, offering a small smile of gratitude. She started up the stairs with Natasha close behind her, the two of them moving in silence. The quiet between them was comfortable, a soft refuge in the midst of the storm that raged outside.

Chapter 17: Project Insight

Nouri and Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day settling between them like a familiar silence. The dim glow of a bedside lamp bathed the room in warm hues, casting long shadows that danced lazily on the walls. The mattress beneath them groaned softly with each subtle shift, a quiet reminder of their weariness, the world outside pressing on relentlessly, even as they remained still.

The distant sound of water from the bathroom was the only noise that interrupted the stillness, though Nouri’s focus was elsewhere. Her eyes remained on Natasha, whose usual sharpness seemed dulled by exhaustion, the edges of her smile softer than usual. It was rare to see Natasha’s walls down, and Nouri didn’t miss the subtle vulnerability in her posture, the way she had begun to let herself lean back, the tension in her shoulders easing.

Nouri’s voice was gentle, though it carried the weight of concern. “How are you feeling?”

Natasha, her head tilted slightly, met Nouri’s gaze with a flicker of something that was more a façade than anything real. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine,” she replied, though the words were coated with something unspoken—something Nouri sensed beneath the surface. There was a fragility in her tone, a quiet fatigue that she tried to mask with bravado.

Nouri’s gaze lingered for a moment, reading the quiet discomfort in Natasha’s features. She didn’t press, but she knew. Instead, she shifted her attention to the window. The city outside, alive with its pulse of neon and noise, felt distant and foreign to her, as though she were gazing through a veil, separated from it by an invisible barrier.

Her fingers traced absent patterns on the glass, the coolness of the surface grounding her. The outside world seemed both ever-present and unreachable.

“I think you were right,” Nouri said quietly, breaking the silence, her voice almost lost against the low hum of the world beyond.

Natasha’s smirk returned, though it held a trace of curiosity. “I usually am,” she quipped, her eyes glinting with mischief, though it couldn’t completely mask the quiet undercurrent of exhaustion.

Nouri turned back, her posture more open now, her gaze softening as she met Natasha’s eyes. “About him,” she said, her voice lowered. “About Steve.”

The change in the air was palpable. Natasha’s teasing expression faded, her posture shifting slightly as she gave Nouri her full attention. “Oh?” she hummed, her tone shifting into something more deliberate. “What’s this, Nouri? Getting soft on me?”

Nouri hesitated, fingers twitching at her side as the words seemed to catch in her throat. Her chest tightened with the weight of them, but she knew it was time to voice them. The silence that stretched between them felt heavy, and for a moment, she could almost feel the air constricting around her.

“I think…” she started, then faltered, her heart pounding against her ribs. “I think I have feelings for him.”

The admission felt strange—raw, vulnerable—as if uttering the words brought them to life in a way she hadn’t intended. The weight of them lingered in the room like smoke.

For a heartbeat, Natasha was quiet, her gaze sharpening as she studied Nouri. Then, a smile crept across her lips, this time softer, more knowing. “Well, well,” she teased, her voice light, but there was something else in her eyes—something more understanding than mocking. “I didn’t take you for the type to hold back.”

Nouri, her frustration rising with a sudden heat, grabbed the nearest towel from the bed and tossed it at Natasha, the cloth landing squarely on her face.

“Shut it,” Nouri muttered, but the irritation faded almost as quickly as it arrived, replaced by a self-conscious laugh. The spark of anger—like a brief flare of fire—died down, leaving something lighter, more vulnerable in its wake.

Natasha peeled the towel off her face, shaking her head with a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright, I get it,” she said, her tone no longer teasing, but gentler. “But you know what you’re getting into, right?”

Nouri exhaled slowly, leaning back against the headboard, her fingers threading through her hair. The weight of her feelings felt almost too much to hold, yet here they were, spilling out unbidden, raw and unguarded.

“I can’t…” Her voice trailed off, frustration threading through her words. “It breaks every law we have, it’s extremely frowned upon. The gods believe we are better than you, that we should never get attached.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, her gaze piercing through the cracks in Nouri’s composure. She leaned forward, the tension in her posture giving way to a quiet understanding. “What’s so wrong about that?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing. “You’re allowed to want something more. You may be a god, but Nouri... you’re still you.”

Nouri’s heart twisted, and she turned her gaze away, the weight of her emotions too much to bear. The tension in her chest thickened, her features pulling into a frown. “That’s just it, Natasha,” she said, her voice thick with the weight of her own self-doubt. “I’m not like my brothers and sisters. I’m not meant to be like them,” she murmured, her fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeve. “I can’t afford to… to get attached. Not like that.”

Nouri met her gaze, the quiet conviction in Natasha’s eyes striking something deep within her. “I’m not ready,” she muttered, almost to herself. She could hear the shower’s water running out, the sound of Steve moving around the bathroom, and it brought with it a strange knot in her chest.

The silence hung between them again, heavier this time.

Natasha sighed dramatically, her voice softening. “I’m not the one holding you back,” she said, almost gently. “But you’ll figure it out. Just don’t let it be too late.”

Nouri didn’t respond immediately, the weight of Natasha’s words settling over her. As much as she wanted to believe it, there was still fear—the fear of what might happen if she allowed herself to feel. She looked toward the bathroom door, her ear catching the faint sound of the water turning off.

Before Natasha could say another word, the door swung open, and Steve emerged, towel slung casually over his shoulder, his hair damp from the shower. His presence filled the room with ease, his demeanor as calm as ever.

“No more hot water,” Steve announced casually, his tone light, unaware of the tension that had built in the room.

“That’s fine,” Nouri responded, her voice quiet but steady as she rose from the bed, her gaze meeting his with a soft, knowing smile. “I can use the cold.”

Natasha muttered something under her breath, her grin widening. “Of course, you can.”

Nouri moved toward the bathroom, pausing at the door, her hand resting lightly against the frame. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the curiosity gnawed at her. What would Natasha say now?

The silence stretched out, and then Natasha’s voice broke through the quiet, smooth and teasing. “So… you and Nouri,” she said, her words laced with a knowing edge.

Nouri’s heart skipped, the heat rising in her chest as she rolled her eyes in exasperation. This wasn’t happening—not now, not like this.

“Oh, for the love of—” she muttered to herself, her face flushed with the heat of embarrassment.

Nouri groaned inwardly, rolling her eyes. Subtle, Romanoff. Real subtle.

---

Nouri stood near the bathroom door, her ear nearly brushing against the cool wood. The soft steam from her unfinished shower curled around her, mingling with the fresh scent of soap and damp cotton. Her fingers hovered just above the handle, a silent tug urging her to step back, but the curiosity was stronger. What is he thinking? Her heartbeat thudded in her chest, louder than the distant hum of the city outside. She squeezed her eyes shut, straining to hear past the pulsing beat. Is it foolish to care?

She could hear the shuffle of movements inside the room, the sound of water droplets falling onto fabric. It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, and Steve stepped out, his towel still pressed into his damp hair. And that’s when Natasha struck.

“So… you and Nouri,” Natasha said, her voice laced with mischief, but there was something else there—an undercurrent of genuine curiosity.

Steve froze for just a second, towel halfway through his hair. He didn’t meet her gaze immediately, but the slight pause didn’t escape Natasha’s trained eye. The flicker of hesitation, the smallest tightening of his jaw, told Natasha everything she needed to know. He wasn’t as composed as he liked to appear.

"What about me and Nouri?" His voice was steady, but the slight rise in pitch betrayed him. Natasha tilted her head, not missing a thing.

“Just friends?” Natasha asked, a playful smile curling on her lips.

Steve’s eyes darted away for a moment, swallowing back whatever emotions were rising in his chest. He blinked, gathering himself. “Just friends,” he said quickly, too quickly. His voice was firm, but Natasha could hear the strain in it.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, amused, but her next words were sharp. “Uh-huh. You sure about that?”

Steve exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders settling only slightly as he tossed the towel onto the bed behind him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now, a touch of defensiveness creeping into the edges of his words. “I’m sure.”

Natasha hummed, her gaze never leaving him, arms crossed as she shifted on the bed. “You don’t sound sure.”

“I am sure,” he repeated, a little louder, his frustration evident now. But Natasha wasn’t backing down.

“Liar.”

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to force the conversation away. He wasn’t going to win this battle easily. “Nat….”

“Don’t Nat me,” Natasha said, a hint of challenge in her voice. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto him. “Nothing more?”

“No,” Steve muttered, frustration seeping into his tone. “No feelings, just—”

Natasha’s lips curled into a slow smirk. “Then tell me,” she continued smoothly, cutting through the tension. “You didn’t feel anything when you kissed her?”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. Steve froze.

This is it, Natasha thought. This is where he cracks.

The room was still, the silence amplifying the rapid thumping of Steve’s heart. He didn’t speak, his breath catching, eyes fixed downward. Natasha’s sharp eyes caught every shift—his body tense, the way his jaw tightened, his pulse quickening. She saw it: the hesitation, the vulnerability he tried so desperately to mask.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, the man who could face the worst of humanity with unwavering composure, was now caught. And Natasha knew exactly how to press.

“No,” Steve whispered, the word weak and filled with reluctance. I didn’t feel anything, he tried to convince himself. But Natasha saw the lie. She knew it like the back of her hand.

A knowing smirk curved Natasha’s lips. Checkmate.

Before he could stammer out another half-formed excuse, Natasha leaned forward, her tone quieter but still teasing. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m not—”

“Steve.”

Her voice cut through his denial like a knife. The tension in the room shifted. It didn’t fade, but it softened. He ran a hand through his damp hair, staring at the floor as if looking for something to say. Anything to explain the storm of emotions brewing just below his surface.

“…Of course, I felt something,” he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t just a kiss. The words left his mouth reluctantly, as if saying them out loud made them real. “I just…” His voice faltered. “I don’t know what it means.”

Natasha didn’t rush to fill the silence. She gave him space to breathe, to process. The realization he’d just made was bigger than either of them. And she could see the weight of it settling onto his shoulders. His fingers flexed nervously against his knee, his gaze distant. She could feel the complexity of his thoughts without him needing to say more.

“How much?” Natasha finally asked, her voice quiet but firm.

Steve let out a breath, a bitter laugh escaping him as he looked down. “I don’t know,” he admitted again, frustration lacing his voice. “I’ve spent the last two years with her. She’s… she’s a goddess, Nat,” he continued, his voice thick with something deeper than words could explain. “She’s seen entire civilizations rise and fall. And me?” He exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m just a guy from Brooklyn trying to figure out which decade I belong to.”

Natasha’s laugh came suddenly, louder than Steve had anticipated. She looked at him with wide eyes, disbelief etched across her face. “Oh my God.”

Steve blinked, confusion settling in. “What?”

“You’re actually serious,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes as if the answer was obvious. “She doesn’t care about any of that.” She shifted, crossing her arms, her tone light but pointed. “She doesn’t see you as some soldier stuck in time. She doesn’t see you as some relic who needs to ‘catch up.’”

Steve’s throat tightened. “What does she see then?”

Natasha’s voice softened just enough to let him know she wasn’t teasing anymore. “She sees you.”

He stilled, the words hanging in the air like a weight he wasn’t ready to carry. What if she’s right?

Natasha continued, unrelenting. “She has feelings for you. Real ones.” She leaned forward, her eyes dark with intent. “And considering I can hear her pacing in the shower right now, she’s probably losing her mind about it.”

Steve blinked, trying to comprehend the full weight of her words. He opened his mouth, but the words stuck, his mind still processing. “No,” he muttered weakly, shaking his head. “She doesn’t—”

Natasha fixed him with a deadpan stare, cutting him off before he could finish. “Are you seriously arguing with the woman who spent her entire life being trained to read people?”

Steve shut his mouth, suddenly feeling the full weight of the conversation.

“Good,” Natasha said, satisfied. “She’s spent six thousand years watching humanity. And out of everyone—every king, every warrior, every scholar—she picked you.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken. Steve’s jaw tightened, his heart beating faster. Why me? he thought. I don’t deserve this.

Natasha’s voice softened even more, but it was unwavering. “She would burn the world for you, Steve. She’s spent her whole life being bound by gods, by rules, by fate itself. And now? She’s willing to defy everything just for you.”

Steve’s breath caught. “I don’t deserve that.”

Natasha let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Steve,” she said, shaking her head with a mix of affection and exasperation. “You are the thing she sees as legendary. Not the other way around.”

Steve just stared, his mind overwhelmed by what she was saying.

Natasha’s smirk returned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “But if you’re not ready? That’s fine too. She can handle it. She’s been waiting for a lifetime.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “What’s a little longer?”

Steve rubbed his temples, the weight of his own heart pressing against his chest. “I need time.”

Natasha nodded once, her gaze understanding. “Fair enough.”

But she wasn’t worried. She already knew exactly where this was heading.

---

Nouri had heard every word.

Every syllable, every breath, every hesitation in Steve’s voice. She braced herself against the door, still as stone, as though even the smallest shift of movement would betray her. Her heart pounded in her chest, drowning out the quiet whispers just beyond the barrier. She shouldn't care. She couldn’t let herself care.

And yet—

Steve had feelings for her.

He felt something for her.

The realization struck her with a force that left her breathless, shattering the calm façade she had built over the centuries. She had studied human emotion in all its forms, had witnessed love’s fleeting dance, the slow burn of affection, and the fires of passion that could rage between mortal souls. She’d seen wars waged for love, kingdoms rise and fall on its fragile whims.

But this?

This was different. This was hers—something she had never truly been allowed to have.

And yet, he wasn’t ready.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she pressed her forehead against the door. The cool wood did nothing to soothe the heat building within her, the same fire that was both her heritage and her burden. It coursed through her veins like molten lava, threatening to consume her whole.

Fantastic. Amazing. I love this. Truly.

She exhaled sharply, eyes shut tight as she fought to calm the storm within. There was no point in standing here like some fool, drowning in something that she had no control over. Without a second thought, she turned the shower on, the sound of the water crashing against the tub a sharp contrast to the chaos inside her. It was a calculated move, a way to end this moment before it could unravel her further.

The cold hit her like a slap—sharp and biting. She stepped under the freezing stream, letting the icy water strike her skin with a vengeance. Goosebumps spread across her arms, but the discomfort barely registered. She needed the cold to drown out the fire within her. She needed it to stop.

But of course, it didn’t work.

Her body, instinctively rejecting the chill, began to warm the water, the temperature gradually rising until the water was steaming, filling the room with mist.

Pathetic.

Even in her most private moments, she couldn’t escape her nature. The fire was a part of her, not just a power, but the essence of who she was. No matter how she tried, it was impossible to suppress.

With a frustrated growl, she scrubbed at her skin, the loofah pressing harshly against her palm. She scrubbed away the tension. Scrubbed away the frustration. Scrubbed away the undeniable truth that she had stood on the other side of that door, listening to a man wrestle with his feelings for her.

Feelings he didn’t know how to handle.

I am not thinking about this right now.

Her movements were swift, each action deliberate as she finished her shower. Rinsing, shutting off the water, wrapping herself in the towel—each step a small attempt at reclaiming control, wrapping herself in the illusion of normalcy. She would not let this moment, these feelings, take root.

By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, her face was the picture of serenity, her expression carefully composed. The same way she had hidden centuries of emotions behind a mask, she did so now. The kind of smile she wore? It could fool anyone.

She unlocked the door, stepping out with the grace she was known for, her posture relaxed, movements fluid, as though nothing had happened. As though her heart hadn’t just been torn open and left to bleed inside her chest.

“I saved the hot water for you, Nat,” she said lightly, her tone easy, casual—completely untouched by the weight that still pressed on her chest.

Natasha shot her a look. A loaded look.

Still, she nodded. “Thank you, your highness,” she replied dryly, the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips before she disappeared into the bathroom.

Nouri stood there, still, the mask in place, as her gaze landed on Steve. She caught the way his posture stiffened the moment their eyes met—how the awkwardness and nervousness radiated off him in waves. The ghost of whatever conversation had passed between him and Natasha lingered in the air, making the tension almost tangible.

Her smile never wavered. If anything, it grew sweeter.

“What did you guys talk about?” she asked innocently, tilting her head ever so slightly, her voice laced with feigned curiosity.

Steve stiffened—terrible liar that he was. He was no match for her.

“We just spoke about what happened earlier,” he said, his voice carefully even, though his eyes betrayed him.

Liar.

Nouri’s smile only deepened, the sweetness in it now tinged with something more knowing.

“Oh? Anything important?” she pressed, her tone an easy mix of polite inquiry and something else.

Steve hesitated. Just for a moment.

And that second?

It was everything.

Before he could stumble through some half-baked answer, the bathroom door swung open, revealing Natasha—hair damp, a towel draped over her shoulders, the picture of calm composure.

She was refreshing—and completely aware.

Natasha knew. Of course she did.

But instead of confronting them, Natasha merely strolled past them, snagging a second towel off the bed and flopping down with the effortless grace of someone who had seen this game before.

“You two figure it out yet, or do I need to lock you in a closet?” she asked dryly, not even bothering to look up.

Steve, caught completely off-guard, inhaled wrong, choking on air like an absolute fool.

Nouri’s smile turned absolutely serene. A picture of grace and inner amusement.

“We’re just talking, Nat,” she said smoothly, voice effortless as always.

Natasha let out a snort, utterly unimpressed. “Yeah. Sure.”

Steve, still recovering from the audacity of the statement, cleared his throat, his face flushed. Nouri, watching him short-circuit in real-time, was having way too much fun with this.

Just as Steve looked like he might implode from the sheer awkwardness, the door opened once more, and Sam walked in.

“I made breakfast,” he announced, glancing between the three of them and smirking. “If you guys... eat that sort of thing.”

There it was—the perfect distraction.

Nouri’s gaze drifted to Sam, her smile now entirely genuine.

“Thank you, Sam,” she said warmly, stepping toward him and offering him a polite nod. “We’ll definitely be having some of that."

As she turned to follow him toward the kitchen, she couldn’t help but steal one more glance at Steve. He was still trying to regain his bearings, still flustered by the encounter.

---

A few minutes later, the four of them sat huddled around Sam’s kitchen table, their breakfast plates half-forgotten as the conversation shifted from casual to tactical.

“So, the question is,” Natasha began, looking at Steve, “who in S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile strike?”

“Pierce,” Steve replied immediately, his voice firm.

Nouri, who had been idly tracing her finger along the rim of her cup, finally spoke.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” she added, her tone edged with dry amusement.

“But he’s not alone,” Steve pointed out, his focus narrowing. “Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

“Same with Jasper Sitwell,” Natasha added, her fingers tapping the table rhythmically.

Nouri’s lips pressed into a thin line, and a shadow passed over her features. “Sitwell,” she murmured, a flicker of disdain creeping into her voice. “I never quite trusted him.”

Natasha’s lips quirked in a knowing smirk. “Yeah? Join the queue.”

Steve leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “So, the real question is: how do three of the most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?”

Sam, who had been sipping his coffee, set the mug down with a satisfied grin. He looked at them, a quiet confidence in his posture.

“The answer is: you don’t.”

With a deliberate motion, he dropped a thick file onto the table in front of Steve.

Nouri raised an eyebrow as Steve flipped it open, curiosity flickering briefly in her eyes.

“What’s this?” Steve asked, his voice steady but laced with suspicion.

Sam leaned back, giving him an easy smirk. “Call it a résumé.”

Natasha picked up a photo from the file, her brow furrowing as she examined it. Recognition flickered in her eyes. “Is this Bakhmala?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?”

She glanced at Steve. “You didn’t mention he was a para-rescue.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to the next photo, his focus sharpening as he studied the man in the image—Sam’s colleague, Riley. He tapped his finger against it. “This is Riley?”

Sam’s grin faded slightly, the weight of the question settling in. “Yeah,” he replied quietly.

A brief, uncomfortable silence stretched out over the table.

Sensing the shift, Natasha swiftly moved the conversation along. “I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use? A stealth chute?”

Sam shook his head, his grin returning like a flicker of light. “No. These.”

He slid the rest of the file toward Steve.

Steve flipped through it quickly, brows furrowing as he absorbed the details. “I thought you said you were a pilot,” he remarked, glancing up at Sam.

Sam raised an eyebrow, the edge of his grin teasing. “Never said ‘pilot.’”

Nouri, who had been quietly observing, let out a small, amused huff of laughter, her gaze flicking between Sam and Natasha.

“I like him,” she murmured softly to Natasha, the words barely audible.

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, yeah, don’t inflate his ego too much.”

Steve, still deep in the file, paused for a moment before speaking, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You left for a good reason.”

Sam didn’t blink. Not even an inch.

“Dude, Captain America needs my help,” he said easily. “There’s no better reason to get back in.”

Steve met his gaze, the weight of their shared history settling between them. Unspoken understanding passed between them, deep and strong.

His expression hardened with resolve.

“Where can we get our hands on one of these things?”

Sam leaned back, folding his arms. “The last one is at Fort Meade. Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

At that moment, something in Nouri shifted.

Her eyes, usually a vibrant green, darkened—like the deep, rich brown of ancient soil, swirling with age-old wisdom. She tilted her head slightly, her focus distant, as though she were no longer in the room with them.

Her sight—beyond sight—slipped past barriers of distance and space, traveling unseen through the ether until it found the place she sought.

Fort Meade.

She saw it all: towering security gates. The twelve-inch steel wall. Fourteen guards, stationed with precision, each at their key access points.

Every detail. Every pulse of the military base. It was as though she had walked through it in person.

Her fingers twitched as she absorbed the vision, committing every detail to memory before releasing it. She blinked, and her eyes returned to their usual green, calm and unreadable.

“And fourteen guards,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just mapped out a high-security military base in mere seconds.

Sam froze, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Uh—what?”

Steve, familiar with Nouri’s abilities, didn’t react as much. He simply exchanged a glance with Natasha, who merely shrugged. This was Al Nouri, after all.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve said, his voice confident, as he tossed the file back onto the table with a quiet finality.

Sam looked between the three of them, mouth slightly agape. “Y’all just... gonna act like that wasn’t freaky?”

Natasha smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Welcome to our world, Wilson.”

Nouri’s lips curled slightly at the edges of her cup, a quiet smile playing on her lips as she leaned back, her fingers lightly tracing the rim.

Sam let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. So we’re just casually gonna break into a military base. Love that for us.”

Steve shot him a look of determination, his mind already working through the logistics. “We don’t have time for anything less, Sam. We’ll make it happen.”

Nouri, now fully focused, lowered her gaze to her cup again, but there was a subtle strength in the air around her. The warmth in the room seemed to shift.

“I trust you’ll have a plan,” she said softly, her tone unshaken but filled with an ancient certainty. “Let’s make sure we’re prepared for whatever comes next.”

Her words carried the weight of centuries, yet they were grounded in the present. Nouri had come a long way from simply observing humanity’s flaws; now, she was determined to guide them in whatever way she could.

---

The air was crisp, the cool wind biting at their skin as Steve and Natasha moved silently through the military base. The mission was clear—quick, clean, and precise. They had no room for error, and the clock was ticking.

While they were deep in their task of stealing Sam’s wings, Nouri and Sam had a different mission entirely.

They were after Jasper Sitwell.

Nouri stood beside Sam at a small, inconspicuous café nestled in the corner of a quiet street, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. The warm light from the lanterns cast soft shadows on her face, but her gaze was far away, beyond the simple surroundings of the café. Her eyes—normally a brilliant, piercing green—darkened to a rich, deep brown.

Focus, Nouri.

Her mind reached out, past the walls of the café, beyond the murmurs of the crowd, and into the sprawling city beyond. She could feel the pulse of the earth beneath her feet, the hum of human life echoing through the streets. Her power stretched, probing every corner, every shadow.

And there.

There he is.

Her vision sharpened, locking onto a private building in the distance. It was opulent, its windows lined with gold-trimmed curtains and walls adorned with cameras. Sitwell’s presence was unmistakable. He was inside, speaking to someone—Senator Stern. A conversation Nouri could feel but not hear, a thread of danger and deceit weaving between them.

She took a breath, letting the connection fade as quickly as it had come, and her eyes returned to their normal green, though the knowledge lingered in her mind like a weight.

"There," she murmured, her voice soft but sure, as though the air itself carried the weight of her words. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an earpiece, pressing it gently into Sam’s hand. "He's in a building with Senator Stern."

Sam slid the device into his ear, nodding, his expression unreadable. "What now?"

Nouri’s lips curved into a smirk, her eyes glinting with an ancient, yet playful spark. "I'll go join Steve and Nat on the roof. They'll need backup."

Before Sam could say another word, she stepped back, her body blending effortlessly into the shadows. Her movements were fluid, graceful—like a whisper carried on the wind, too quick for any human eye to catch.

"Be careful," Sam called after her, though his voice was already fading as she disappeared into the night.

Nouri paused just for a moment, her smile lingering. "Careful isn't in my nature," she replied, her voice light with amusement, but there was an edge to it—an unspoken confidence that came from centuries of existence.

With that, she was gone, her feet barely making a sound as she ran across the rooftops. Each step was effortless, as though the city itself parted for her, granting her passage. She moved through the night like a force of nature, the wind and shadows her allies, the moonlight painting her path.

Her thoughts wandered as she ran, drifting between the task at hand and her deepening connection to this strange world.

They don’t know it yet, but this is just the beginning for them…

And as she neared her destination, she couldn't help but wonder if she had underestimated her own involvement in all of this.

For once, perhaps they are worthy of my help.

---

Nouri arrived just as Natasha positioned herself with the rifle, the red laser trained on Sitwell’s tie. Her breath hitched, barely audible, as she watched Natasha work. From the street below, Sitwell’s body stiffened, a cold panic overtaking him. He muttered urgently into his phone before being escorted outside.

Seconds later—

He was thrown onto the rooftop beside them by Steve. Sitwell stumbled, coughing as he caught his breath, heart pounding. He barely had time to process the shock of the moment before Steve’s grip tightened, hurling him across the rooftop with the precision of a strike. Sitwell hit the ground hard, gasping for air.

Before he could recover, Natasha’s swift footsteps echoed in the silence. Her approach was like a storm, deliberate and quiet, and she stood over him, her gaze unwavering.

"Tell me about Zola’s algorithm,” Steve demanded, voice cold, but edged with urgency.

Sitwell, still trying to catch his breath, scoffed, his voice trembling. “Never heard of it.”

Nouri took a slow step forward, her presence imposing in the quiet tension that followed. Her eyes darkened with an unsettling calm. She tilted her head, watching him with the sharpness of a predator sizing up its prey.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?” she asked, voice too smooth, too knowing. There was no rush to her words, only an eerie certainty that echoed in the air.

Sitwell cleared his throat, his gaze flickering nervously between them. “I was throwing up,” he muttered, as though trying to shrug it off. “I get seasick.”

Steve moved then, seizing Sitwell by the collar and shoving him to the edge of the roof. Sitwell, still dazed, glanced over his shoulder at the drop, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

“Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof?” he mocked, eyes glinting with a mix of arrogance and fear. “Because it’s really not your style, Rogers.”

Steve paused. His face was unreadable, cold, and distant. But Nouri felt the shift in the air. His demeanor, always composed, was now distant, guarded.

She noticed the way his gaze turned, as if searching for something deeper in the conversation.

“You’re right,” Steve said after a beat. His tone was cool, yet something else lingered beneath. “It’s not.”

He shifted his gaze toward Natasha.

“It’s hers.”

Without a second thought, Natasha delivered a swift kick, and Sitwell screamed as he flung backward, plummeting from the rooftop. He vanished from sight.

Natasha leaned forward slightly, watching him fall. The smirk on her lips was mischievous, light.

“Oh, wait!” she called out suddenly, her voice lilting with mock concern. “What about that girl from accounting, Laura…?”

Steve, his expression unreadable, replied without hesitation. “Lillian. Lip piercing, right?”

Natasha's grin deepened. “Yeah, she’s cute.”

Nouri’s stomach twisted, an unnatural heat coiling deep in her chest. It was irrational, petty. And yet, there was something in the ease with which Steve remembered—a familiarity that sent something sharp slicing through her.

Why does it hurt so much to hear that?

She said nothing, fingers flexing at her sides as though itching for control. For the first time in years, a fire burned in her chest—one that had nothing to do with her divine abilities.

Before Natasha could respond, a blur of motion caught their attention—

Sam.

With his newly acquired Falcon jet-pack suit, he rocketed up from the street below. In a single swoop, he grabbed Sitwell by the back of his jacket, hoisting him up and dumping him unceremoniously back onto the rooftop. Sitwell crashed onto the concrete, gasping as he scrambled to sit up.

Nouri, Steve, and Natasha moved toward him in unison, a wall of silent judgment. The intensity of their collective gaze made the air thick, suffocating.

Sitwell’s fear spiked, his hands trembling as he held them up in surrender. “Zola’s algorithm is a program... for choosing Insight’s targets!” he gasped, voice tight with desperation.

Nouri stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. He knows.

“What targets?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Sitwell swallowed hard, his fear palpable as he raked a hand through his hair. “You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa City—” His voice faltered before he forced himself to continue.

He hesitated, then, with shaking breath, whispered, “Bruce Banner. Stephen Strange. Marc Spector. Anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA. Now, or in the future.”

Nouri froze. Marc Spector...?

The name stung, the connection deepening as if a thread had been pulled in the fabric of time.

Steve’s jaw clenched. “The future? How could it know?”

Sitwell sneered, regaining some composure. “How could it not?” He chuckled darkly, as if the answer was obvious. “The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it. Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls—your damn SAT scores.”

His eyes flickered toward Nouri, then quickly darted away. What does he see? Nouri’s gaze darkened as she studied him, the flames beginning to flicker on her fingertips.

“Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past… to predict their future,” Sitwell continued, voice growing weaker by the second.

Steve took a step forward, his fists clenching. “And what then?”

Sitwell’s fear surged again, palpable and raw. “Oh, my God,” he muttered, eyes darting around the rooftop as though searching for an escape that didn’t exist. “Pierce is gonna kill me.”

“What then?” Nouri’s voice was low, filled with a quiet fury that made Sitwell flinch. Her flames surged higher, dancing in the air like wild spirits—unleashed, dangerous.

Sitwell’s face drained of color, and his resolve shattered completely. “Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

His breath hitched as he glanced up at the group, then quickly lowered his gaze. “A few million... at a time.”

Her flames ignited in a rush, crackling with a heat that mirrored the fury in her chest. She stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. “That is genocide,” she hissed, every word wrapped in a growing fire.

Sitwell had nothing left to say. No defense. No plea for mercy.

Chapter 18: The Winter Soldier

The drive toward the Triskelion was thick with tension, the kind that clung to the air like a storm ready to break. The city lights blurred past the windows, a string of lights dancing by as the car hummed steadily, tires rolling against asphalt. Inside, the low murmur of voices filled the space, but the silence in the air was undeniable. Sitwell never stopped talking.

"HYDRA doesn’t like leaks," he muttered, his words laced with nervous energy, filling the car with static. Every word seemed to make the tension worse.

Sam glanced at him through the rearview mirror, unamused. "So why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?"

Nouri barely heard them. Her mind was elsewhere, feeling a subtle shift in the air, a ripple she couldn’t explain. It settled uneasily in her chest, familiar yet foreign. Something was wrong. Her instincts, older than this world itself, screamed in warning.

Beside her, Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low but clear. "Insight launches in sixteen hours. We’re cutting it close."

"I know," Steve answered, his voice unwavering, the weight of leadership carried with quiet strength. His hand rested on his shield, fingers brushing the smooth surface. "We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly."

Sitwell paled, the color draining from his face as panic set in. "What?! Are you crazy? That is a terrible idea—"

Before he could finish, the roof dented with a crash that echoed through the car, and Nouri’s head snapped up, every instinct on high alert.

A metal hand pierced the window with terrifying force.

Glass shattered. Wind roared through the broken frame. Sitwell barely had time to scream before his body was yanked into the night with unnatural strength. A sickening thud rang in the air, too brutal to ignore.

Gunfire followed, automatic and precise, the bullets tearing through the night with deadly intent.

"Get down!" Steve shouted, his voice snapping everyone into action.

Sam cursed under his breath and yanked the wheel, but before he could even try to regain control, another car—black, armoured, and hell-bent on precision—slammed into them from behind. The force sent them lurching forward, metal screeching, tires skidding. The vehicle careened off the road, spinning wildly out of control.

Nouri’s shoulder slammed into the dashboard, pain shooting through her, but she didn’t flinch. The world blurred in a whirlwind of chaos—glass splintering, airbags deploying, the cold bite of fear rising in her chest. The second impact slammed into them from the side, sending the car skidding like a leaf in a storm, out of control.

And then—there he was.

The Winter Soldier.

He landed on the hood with a near-silent thud, crouched low, balanced with unnatural precision. His gaze—cold, unreadable—locked directly onto Nouri’s.

Through the cracked windshield, she met his eyes. No warmth, no hesitation. Only calculation. The darkness inside him feels like a void, she thought. I can’t see him, not like I can others.

Without warning, the Winter Soldier punched through the glass, his metal fingers tearing it apart like tissue paper. Shards flew, glass raining down in a chaotic burst. The car lurched as he grabbed the steering column, wrenching it free with ease.

"Shit!" Sam yelled, struggling to keep the car steady, but the Winter Soldier was already pulling them toward oblivion.

Steve was the first to react, breaking open the door and hauling Natasha and Sam out of the wreckage. They slid across the car’s surface, desperately trying to evade the chaos consuming the streets.

But Nouri... Nouri was still inside.

The wrecked vehicle careened wildly, the metal groaning under the strain, and Nouri’s grip tightened on the frame. This is no ordinary mortal, she thought, her breath steadying, fire simmering beneath her skin. I can’t wait. He’s too fast. Too controlled.

With a surge of heat, she ignited flames in her palms, the fire crackling with a familiar intensity. The car veered again, sending it off course, but Nouri didn’t hesitate. Flames surged around her, propelling her forward with the force of an explosion. The windshield shattered outward in a fiery burst, and she flew from the wreckage, landing hard, feet scraping against the pavement as smoke trailed from her fingertips.

And there he was.

The Winter Soldier was already on his feet, moving like a shadow, too fast, too precise. His metal arm whipped toward her in a deadly arc. She barely had time to react, twisting just in time to avoid the punch that would’ve crushed her.

He didn’t hesitate. His fist collided with the asphalt, sending shockwaves through the ground, the crack of concrete shattering in the still night air.

Nouri’s pulse quickened. This isn’t a fight I can afford to lose, she realized, every instinct screaming at her to protect what she could, even as the overwhelming force of the soldier’s presence threatened to swallow her.

With a burst of flames, she shot fire straight at his face. The flames roared, engulfing his upper body in a blistering inferno, the heat bending the air around them. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even move—he surged through the fire as if it was nothing more than a breeze.

He lunged.

Nouri twisted around him, barely avoiding the deadly punch. Her hands flared with fire again, blue-hot flames spiraling toward him like a blade. The fire struck his arm, but it sputtered out before it could cause more than a momentary flicker.

Her breath caught. Too strong, she realized. He’s not like them. He’s not human.

The Winter Soldier’s fist slammed into her ribs, lifting her off the ground. She flew backward, the air knocked out of her lungs, slamming into the wreckage with bone-crushing force. A cough escaped her as she staggered to her feet, pain lancing through her body, but the fire within her never flickered out.

The soldier was already there, his metal hand closing around her throat in a vice-like grip. Cold. Unforgiving.

Her vision blurred. I will not let him break me.

Her fingers flexed, flames bursting from her body in a searing shockwave, sending them both flying apart. The Winter Soldier slid back, his boots scraping against the pavement, but he was already back on his feet, charging at her with the precision of a predator.

This time, she was ready. Fire surged around her as he swung. She ducked beneath his fist, twisting around his strike, and with a snap of her wrist, flames shot toward him again, this time slicing through the air with the force of a blade.

But the fire died out instantly. His metal arm grabbed her wrist, slamming her into the ground before she could react. Pain exploded in her skull as his fist collided with her jaw, and the world tilted, threatening to slip away.

She staggered back to her feet, blood dripping from her split lip, but the fire never left her fingertips. The Winter Soldier was relentless. But so was she.

This time, a wave of fire erupted from her hands, crashing into his chest. The heat pushed him back, but he didn’t stop. His eyes were unblinking, unwavering.

She saw it—just for a split second. Hesitation.

Before she could take advantage of it, gunfire echoed through the streets. HYDRA agents swarmed in from all sides, weapons raised, their boots pounding against the pavement. Bullets ripped through the air.

"Move!" Steve shouted, breaking the silence.

The group scattered, diving for cover as gunfire rained down on them. Nouri twisted, ducking beneath the barrage, her body moving with an instinct older than time. Heat flared beneath her skin, her fingers crackling as she prepared to strike again.

Her eyes flicked to Natasha, who had already found cover behind a rusted-out truck. She fired, her shots hitting their mark with deadly accuracy, and as she ducked back into cover, she called to Nouri.

"Go!"

And Nouri ran, her body a blur, weaving through the chaos.

Behind them, the echo of gunfire rang out, a stark reminder that time was running out. HYDRA agents cut through the streets like hunters, their pursuit relentless. The Winter Soldier was already on his feet, quick as ever, despite the damage to his mask. He raised his rifle, but before he could squeeze the trigger—

Flames exploded into life.

Nouri spun, her hands igniting in a fierce blaze of golden fire. The air rippled around her as the heat surged, warping everything in its path. Without hesitation, she thrust her palm forward, sending a wave of fire surging toward him like a living creature.

The Winter Soldier dived, narrowly evading the flames as they engulfed the ground where he had stood. The pavement cracked and hissed under the onslaught. But his movements were calculated—he wasn’t shaken.

He adjusted, his eyes narrowing, unfazed by the searing heat. He lunged at her, his metal arm gleaming under the streetlights, cutting through the fading flames with terrifying precision.

Nouri barely twisted out of the way, feeling the rush of air as his fist missed her skull by mere inches. The proximity sent a shiver down her spine, but she responded instantly, spinning on her heel. Fire curled from her fingertips, a crescent-shaped arc slashing toward him.

It hit—but not where she intended. Her breath caught as the flame veered off course, its impact grazing his side rather than striking him directly.

No time to correct it.

He was already moving again. A punch came toward her with lethal speed, and though she ducked, the wind of his strike grazed her cheek. The force was so immense it stung the skin beneath her hair. Nouri, using his momentum, twisted under his arm, driving her foot into his ribs. The force of the blow sent a burst of flame exploding from the point of impact, searing the air.

The Winter Soldier staggered, but his body didn’t falter for long. He recovered with unnerving speed.

He doesn’t even flinch.

Before Nouri could press her advantage, his blade was already in motion—a gleaming, merciless flash of steel aimed straight for her gut.

No.

In one smooth motion, Nouri ignited her whole body, flames bursting around her like a protective barrier. The explosion of heat sent them both skidding backward, but he was already on his feet, barely fazed by the blast.

Nouri’s fists clenched, heat rising in her veins, but before she could advance, the HYDRA agents shifted their fire—forcing her to retreat.

"Find Rogers! She's mine!" The Winter Soldier’s voice was cold, his words clipped with the sharpness of a command in Russian.

The agents veered off, focusing their weapons on Steve and Sam as they fought back, keeping the chaos at bay with sheer tenacity. The Winter Soldier's attention, however, stayed fixed on Nouri and Natasha.

Natasha had vanished into the shadows, moving like a whisper, leading the Winter Soldier astray. Yet, he was no fool. His movements slowed, his senses heightened, and every step he took was calculated—like a predator locking in on its prey.

A voice crackled over the comms—"I make an LZ, twenty-three hundred block of Virginia Avenue. Rendezvous in two minutes. Taking fire above and below expressway. Civilians threatened. Repeat, civilians threatened."

It was a trap—a trick designed to throw him off, to lead him into the open.

With the precision of a machine, he rolled a bomb toward Natasha’s last known position, waiting for the explosion to force her out.

The blast was instant. A shockwave of white light split the street in two.

And just as he advanced toward Natasha’s position—

A shadow fell from above. Natasha struck, wrapping her arm around his throat and locking her legs around his back in a chokehold. The Winter Soldier reacted violently, slamming her into the pavement with a brutal force that rattled the air.

Before he could raise his weapon, Nouri was already there.

Not this time.

Flames erupted from her palm, a spiraling column of heat aimed directly for his face.

He twisted, narrowly avoiding the full force of the blast, but his coat caught fire—flames licking at the fabric.

His expression didn't shift. He ripped the jacket away, ignoring the smoke, and advanced.

This time...

His fist collided with Nouri’s ribs, knocking the breath from her chest in an instant. The pain was sharp, but she refused to give in. She staggered, gasping for air, but her resolve hardened. The Winter Soldier didn’t wait. He moved with mechanical precision, knife already flashing in the low light.

His weapon came for her throat with lethal intent.

With a defiant growl, Nouri caught the blade mid-air. Her hand flared with fire, heating the steel until it was molten, turning the weapon to liquid iron between her fingers.

He didn’t hesitate, discarding the useless blade and slamming his knee into her stomach instead. The force of the strike sent her reeling, fire flickering erratically as she crashed into the side of a parked car.

Focus.

But before she could regain her footing, the Winter Soldier was on her again. His knee crashed into her ribs, the shock rippling through her body, leaving her breathless and disoriented.

And then—just as the strike took her off balance, Natasha, injured but still fierce, managed to slam an electric device onto his metal arm.

The shock tore through him, making his entire body spasm violently. It gave them the seconds they needed.

“Move!” Natasha barked, grabbing Nouri’s arm.

They ran, pushing through the chaos, the sound of gunfire following them as they weaved through the civilians in the street.

But—

A single gunshot rang out.

The sharp crack split the air. Natasha collapsed, a bullet tearing through her shoulder.

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat. She turned, seeing the Winter Soldier’s rifle still raised, eyes locked on Natasha as he advanced, ready to end her.

But just as he stepped forward—

A shield slammed into him with bone-crushing force.

Steve barreled in from the side, intercepting him in a blur of motion. The impact was so violent, it rattled the air, knocking the Winter Soldier back several steps.

The Winter Soldier’s hand closed around the shield, wrenching it from Steve’s grasp in one brutal twist.

The shield flew back at Steve like a lethal discus, spinning through the air at breakneck speed. Steve dodged, twisting just in time as it whistled past his head, embedding itself deep into a parked truck with a loud metallic crunch.

Steve barely had time to recover before the Winter Soldier was on him again.

The two collided—each strike a brutal, vicious exchange. Metal against flesh. Each blow delivered with inhuman strength, precision, and rage. The Winter Soldier fought like a machine—no hesitation, no wasted movements.

Steve was struggling to hold his ground, each block rattling his bones, each hit testing his limits. But still, he pressed on—fighting with every ounce of training, experience, and willpower he had.

The Winter Soldier’s uppercut caught Steve beneath the jaw, sending him stumbling back.

The Winter Soldier pressed forward, no mercy in his eyes.

And just as his fist was about to meet Steve’s temple—

Fire exploded between them.

Nouri’s voice rang out with ferocity.

“You don’t get to ignore me.”

Her hands were wreathed in flames now, her entire form blazing with heat and power. She moved like a force of nature, fluid as flame itself, spinning toward him. Her foot connected with a fiery arc aimed straight for his head.

The Winter Soldier barely ducked, the heat from her kick searing close enough to singe his hair.

But he didn’t stop. His knife flashed as he lunged at her again.

Nouri was faster. She caught the blade, heating it with such intensity that it melted in her hand. The Winter Soldier abandoned it, not missing a beat as he drove his knee into her ribs.

She gasped, the wind knocked from her, but she stood firm—refusing to fall.

With a twist, she drove her elbow into his jaw, her palm sending a burst of fire into his chest. He skidded back, but again, he was unyielding, undeterred.

He advanced, relentless.

But just as he raised his fist to strike—

Steve tackled him.

The two men crashed to the ground, their bodies twisting and turning in a brutal dance of struggle. Steve’s fist collided with the Winter Soldier’s ribs, the force sending him sprawling back—yet, this time, Steve caught his arm mid-motion, twisting it with all the strength he had left. With a final, powerful heave, he threw the man aside. The Winter Soldier hit the ground hard, his body skidding across the asphalt.

As he landed, his mask tore free, rolling across the pavement like an abandoned shell. Nouri froze, clutching her bruised ribs, her heart skipping a beat. The face that stared back at them was no stranger.

It was James Buchanan Barnes.

"Bucky?"

The name fell from Steve’s lips, barely a whisper, his chest tightening as recognition hit him with the force of a freight train. This couldn’t be real. The man he’d lost, the one he had mourned... he was alive.

Steve staggered a step forward, his breath shallow, his mind spinning. His best friend, the one who had fought beside him, who had been by his side in every battle... was standing here, right in front of him.

His heart hammered in his chest, but there was no joy, no relief—only the bitter sting of confusion and loss.

The Winter Soldier’s expression was unreadable, cold, detached. His steel-blue eyes were empty, void of the warmth that Steve had once known.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” The words sliced through the air, sharp and emotionless.

Steve looked as though he had been physically struck, the air stolen from his lungs. Nouri’s heart tightened, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the heat of her power flicker at her fingertips. This... this isn’t the man Steve knew.

Bucky didn’t remember.

Before the weight of those words could sink in, the Winter Soldier moved—his hand jerking toward his side, drawing a pistol with practiced ease. His finger tightened on the trigger—

A blur of red and silver shot through the air, cutting through the tension.

Sam.

He swooped in like a missile, his wings snapping open as he kicked Bucky mid-motion, knocking the gun from his grasp. The weapon clattered to the ground, the sound hollow in the silence that followed. For the briefest second, something flickered across Bucky’s face—recognition.

It was there, just for an instant. Then, it vanished, replaced by a cold, lifeless stare. He reset, recalibrating, his expression blank once more.

He reached for his rifle—

But before he could grasp it, a deafening explosion tore through the air.

Natasha.

Hidden in the shadows, she had fired a grenade launcher directly at him. The blast sent shockwaves through the street, smoke billowing into the air, flames licking at the edges of the pavement.

When the dust cleared—

Bucky was gone.

A sharp, high-pitched ringing filled Nouri’s ears, the flames still simmering at her fingertips, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The rush of battle still buzzed beneath her skin.

And then—

The wail of sirens cut through the air. The scent of gunpowder and smoke filled her lungs, the red and blue lights painting the street in harsh, fractured streaks. The pavement was shattered, debris smoldering in the wreckage. HYDRA agents poured into the scene, their rifles raised, moving with calculated precision, like predators closing in on their prey.

Steve’s fingers flexed at his side, his breath still coming in uneven bursts, his mind reeling. Nouri stood rigid beside him, every muscle taut, her body humming with the aftershocks of battle and fire.

Bucky was alive. He had no memory of Steve. He was HYDRA.

Nouri’s chest tightened. The weight of it all settled over her, thick and suffocating, but Steve’s controlled exhale kept her rooted, kept her from moving. Her gaze flicked to him, searching his face for something—anything—that might suggest how to proceed, how to help him in this raw moment of betrayal.

Steve slowly raised his hands in surrender, his jaw clenched, his eyes still locked on the area where Bucky had disappeared.

Rumlow stepped forward.

His boots crunched over the broken glass, slow, deliberate, mocking. His smirk was full of arrogant satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

“Drop the shield, Cap,” he barked, the words heavy with contempt.

Steve’s grip on his shield tightened. The weight of everything that had just transpired hung over him like a suffocating fog. Bucky... Bucky was alive. He didn’t remember. He was HYDRA.

His knuckles whitened on the edge of his shield, his muscles straining against the tension that wanted to explode from him. But he stood still, fighting the storm in his chest. His eyes shifted to Nouri for a fleeting moment, the weight of everything unspoken between them—his struggle, her restraint.

She felt the heat surge beneath her skin, the fire threatening to spiral out of control. Her heart screamed to act, to protect Steve, to act on the fury coursing through her veins. But Steve’s breath, sharp and controlled, was the only thing that kept her anchored.

Not yet.

She remained rooted, her body tense but waiting, trusting in Steve’s decision.

Rumlow’s grin widened, and he leveled his gun at Steve’s chest.

“On your knees!”

The command rang through the air, vicious, like a crack of a whip. Rumlow’s gun twitched, the barrel aimed at Steve with cold precision.

“Now! Get down! Get down!” he ordered, the gun motioning downward.

Steve hesitated—his body frozen between instinct and the blurring images of the past and present, between the man who had been his brother and the enemy he had just fought. His breath was shallow, his mind reeling.

How could he surrender? How could he kneel before the man who once was his closest ally, now twisted by HYDRA’s hands?

Steve’s eyes were wild with disbelief, his heart racing. His body trembled under the weight of this betrayal, but he slowly dropped to his knees, his grip loosening on the shield.

Nouri was burning with the present, a fire that was both literal and figurative. Her fingers twitched, and the heat pulsed outward, waves of firelight flickering at her fingertips. The very air around her seemed to tremble, the intensity of her anger making reality itself recoil in response.

Rumlow’s eyes snapped to her, a slow, mocking sneer spreading across his lips.

"Ah, ah," he chided, his tone syrupy and dripping with disdain. It was as if he were scolding a child throwing a tantrum. The barrel of his rifle tilted toward her, just slightly, a casual, half-hearted threat that meant nothing in the face of the storm she was controlling.

"Try it, sweetheart," he sneered. "I’ll put a bullet in your pretty little head before you can even blink."

Nouri’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached, the sensation of restraint sharpening her focus. The fire in her hands flickered, curling around her wrists like a living thing, but still, she didn’t unleash it. Not yet. One more step, and she would.

She let out a slow, controlled breath. "Do not speak to me," her voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in it.

The very air trembled as if the world itself was recoiling from the sheer weight of her words. Rumlow’s smirk faltered for a second—just a moment of hesitation—but it passed, his arrogance undeterred.

"I am a goddess," she said, her voice smooth, unwavering, and filled with the kind of quiet power that could topple empires. There was no boast in her words, just the truth, the inevitable fact of her existence. He will learn, she thought, in time.

"I could take your miserable little life in an instant," she continued, her tone dropping lower, sharper, fire snapping at the edges of her control. "And I would make sure you spend eternity frozen in the sands of the Du'at."

The ground beneath her cracked open, glowing cracks spreading beneath her feet, the heat radiating outward like a warning. Steam rose from the asphalt as if the earth itself was scorched by the intensity of her presence. Rumlow’s expression flickered—just for a second, a crack in his bravado—before his trademark grin returned, a smirk too confident for his own good.

"A goddess, huh?" he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s cute." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head like he was disappointed. "Well, your ‘divinity’ sure looks a whole lot like a bitch on a power trip to me."

Nouri’s flames coiled tighter in her hands, snapping outward in a brief, furious flare, but Rumlow didn’t flinch. His stance remained casual, unbothered, and it made her blood boil even more. The contempt he held for her—for what she was—was unbearable.

"You know what I think?" he continued, his voice lowering just a touch. He stepped toward her, almost daring her to react, his rifle hovering in his grip like it was no more than a toy. "I think gods are just fairy tales we tell ourselves when we don’t wanna face the truth."

His grin widened, eyes glinting with the thrill of the challenge.

"And the truth is, sweetheart?" he whispered, leaning in just slightly, his voice a mockery of softness. "Gods bleed just like the rest of us."

Gods bleed, she thought, feeling a familiar twinge of bitter irony. It was true, but she was not a mere god. She was the daughter of both Ra and Khonshu, woven of fire and moonlight. Her existence was beyond the petty squabbles of men, beyond their fragile, transient lives. But he will learn. Soon enough.

Her fire exploded outward, a searing wave of heat and fury that sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield. The pavement beneath her feet cracked open in response, molten heat rising from the earth. This was the cost of disrespect,she thought, the righteous fire of her will burning brighter with every passing second.

But still, Rumlow stood firm. He grinned, as if the display of divine wrath meant nothing to him. He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound.

"That’s real cute," he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Let me guess—you gonna smite me, ‘goddess’?" He gestured vaguely to the scorched battlefield around them. "’Cause I don’t see any divine retribution raining down on my head."

Her fire snapped again, this time violently, but Nouri didn’t move. Not yet.

He knows nothing of power, she thought. He doesn't know what I could do.

But before she could unleash her full fury, a calm voice cut through the storm.

"Nouri."

Her head whipped to the side, her heart pounding. Steve.

He was already surrendering—his gaze fixed on hers, his expression calm but firm, an unspoken message hanging in the air. Not now.

Her fire, still raging at her fingertips, flickered, hesitated. The flames within her begged for release, but something inside her held it back. For him.

She didn’t move. For now, she let HYDRA win.

Rumlow’s smug grin spread wider. "That’s what I thought," he said, his tone victorious.

And then, with a sudden, brutal movement, he kicked Steve’s leg out from under him. The impact of his knee slamming into the ground was sickening—Steve’s breath knocked out of him.

"Steve!" Nouri’s voice cracked, a rush of anger surging within her, her fire flaring again, a brief burst of flame leaping at her command. Her whole body vibrated with restrained violence, but still, she did nothing.

Rumlow didn’t even glance at her as he stepped over Steve’s fallen form, his rifle still trained on them all.

"Don’t move," he murmured, his tone condescending. "Put the gun down. Not here. Not here."

One of his men—Rollins—hesitated for just a moment, before lowering his weapon, following orders like the obedient puppet he was.

Nouri’s chest burned. Not with fire, but with hatred. Rumlow’s smug arrogance, his dismissal of her power, his very existence—it was a wound that would not be forgotten. He had dared to mock her, to dismiss her as if she were nothing more than a myth.

But it was more than that. It was a betrayal of everything she had fought for. A betrayal of her mission. Of humanity itself.

And then, as the distant chop of helicopter blades filled the air, Steve’s mind was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere between the battle that had just ended—and the friend he had just lost all over again.

Nouri’s heart twisted. She wanted to destroy him—destroy them all. But she wouldn’t. Not yet.

Her eyes lingered on Steve, her resolve hardening. She would get him out of this. She would protect him.

The battle wasn’t over. Not yet.

---

The ride in the van was silent at first, the low hum of the engine and the occasional groan of the vehicle’s frame as it lurched over the uneven pavement the only sounds breaking the stillness. The air inside was thick, laden with unspoken grief, the heavy weight of realization hanging over them like an iron shackle. It wasn’t fear that gripped them, but something deeper—an emotion tangled with the rage and sorrow of seeing something lost, something broken, and the toll of an old, buried truth resurfacing.

Steve sat rigid, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. His head was bowed, not out of exhaustion, but as if the weight of the world had pressed him too far down. His mind wasn’t here, not in the present, not in the van speeding through the dark. It lingered on the battlefield, on the face that had haunted him for decades, the face he had thought he would never see again—the one that had looked at him as if he were a stranger.

Steve exhaled sharply, his breath shaky, and barely above a whisper, the words slipping out like they didn’t belong to him.

“It was him.”

His voice cracked under the strain, raw and filled with the weight of a memory that refused to stay buried. His fingers twitched as though they could still feel the weight of that lost connection, that familiar presence, now a shadow.

Sam, sitting across from him, lifted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”

Steve swallowed hard, staring at his hands as if they held answers that couldn’t be found. “He looked right at me—like he didn’t even know me.”

The words hung in the air, empty and hollow, like a question that had no answer.

Sam let out a slow breath, his face hardening with a quiet disbelief. "How’s that even possible? It was like seventy years ago.”

“Zola,” Steve replied, the name a bitter edge on his tongue. His voice carried the weight of war, of history, of things long buried and never truly forgotten. “Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did... it must have helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him, and…”

His voice trailed off, the words not wanting to come, the thought too dark to fully utter. It felt like a betrayal, something too terrible to face.

Nouri’s gaze flickered toward Steve, watching how his posture stiffened, how his fingers twitched, like he was still holding onto something that wasn’t there anymore. She could feel the weight of his grief in the stillness, his sorrow rolling off him like a storm just waiting to break.

Before he could spiral further, Nouri spoke, her voice soft but resolute. “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Her words carried the weight of centuries of loss, of grief and understanding so deep that it could be felt in the very air around her. She had known that kind of loss—felt the pain of a piece of your soul being ripped away and left to wander in the void. But this? This was different. This was personal. This was Steve.

Steve turned his head slightly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something, some deep part of him still grasping for meaning in a world that was slipping through his fingers. “Even when I had nothing,” he murmured, his voice a quiet ache. “I had Bucky.”

Nouri’s chest tightened. She understood loss—intimately. But she had also seen people rise from it, time and time again, and perhaps that was where the answer lay. Perhaps in this world that she had so recently returned to, Bucky could be saved, even from the darkest of places.

The moment stretched, heavy, until Sam’s voice cut through it, his usual sharpness breaking the silence.

“We need a doctor in here,” he said, nodding toward Natasha’s bleeding shoulder and then glancing at the HYDRA guards sitting stiffly in front of them. “If we don’t stop that bleeding, she’s not gonna make it.”

The guards didn’t seem to notice, their attention fixed on the road ahead.

But one of them stirred, his hand shifting just slightly toward his belt, fingers brushing the edge of his stun baton.

Then, without warning, there was a flash of blue—a sharp crackle of electricity filling the van as the first guard swung around with blinding speed, the electric rod hitting the second guard’s side with a crackling jolt. The second guard stiffened, his body jerking violently, before he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

The van fell into sudden silence.

Everyone froze.

Nouri’s hands twitched at her sides, fire sparking at her fingertips, but she held herself back, waiting for the next move. Her pulse quickened, the battle instinct from millennia of watching over souls rising to the surface. This wasn’t a fight, but it was close enough.

And then, the first guard slowly removed his helmet.

“Ah,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “That thing was squeezing my brain.”

The realization hit like a ton of bricks.

Maria Hill.

Sam blinked. Then, without missing a beat, he gestured toward Steve. “Who’s this guy?” 

Nouri smirked, a flicker of humor breaking through the tension. “That’s Hill.”

Maria threw the helmet aside, a flat expression on her face as she ripped off her gloves. “Nice to see you too, Nouri.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve’s voice was sharp now, urgency clawing its way through his disbelief.

“Extracting you, obviously,” Maria replied dryly, her gaze never leaving her task as she scanned the inside of the van. “But we don’t have time for pleasantries. HYDRA thinks they’re transporting you to a secure black site. I’ve rerouted the coordinates.”

Steve stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Where?”

Maria smirked. “Somewhere a lot less fun than where you were heading. But a hell of a lot better than where you would have ended up.”

She reached into her stolen gear, pulling out a high-powered plasma cutter, flipping the switch as the blade glowed a fierce white-hot. With a hiss, she started carving through the metal floor of the van, molten fragments sparking in all directions.

“We need to move,” she snapped, her voice clipped as she sliced through the metal like butter, the heat distorting the air around them.

The metal panel fell away with a loud clatter, revealing the blurred road beneath them—a ribbon of dark pavement rushing by at seventy miles an hour.

Maria didn’t pause for a second.

“Jump. Now.”

Steve and Nouri exchanged a glance.

Then, without another word, they were in the air.

The wind whipped past them as they leaped from the van, adrenaline surging through their veins as they hit the ground, rolling to absorb the shock. Nouri’s thoughts were clear, a perfect alignment of her purpose and the resolve she had forged over centuries. She was no longer an observer. Now, she was an agent of change.

Notes:

I've rewritten this chapter several times and finally its good <3 feel free to leave a comment if you like it or if there's something specific you want to see <3

Chapter 19: I would lay down my life for you

Notes:

Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3
Hope you enjoy <3I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Maria had taken the four of them to a secret facility, and as they approached, a man rushed toward them, his gaze immediately locking onto Natasha’s wound. Nouri marvelled at the sheer magnitude of the place, awe flickering in her eyes. She hadn’t seen anything like it in centuries—the technology, the speed, the stark contrast to her own world.

"GSW," Maria stated calmly, but her tone carried urgency. "She's lost at least a pint."

"Maybe two," Sam added, his expression grim as he kept his eyes on Natasha.

"Let me take her," the doctor said, stepping forward with practiced efficiency.

Maria shook her head. "She’ll want to see him first."

Nouri followed silently, her curiosity piqued, trying to make sense of the whirlwind around her. There was so much noise, so many people, and yet her mind kept drifting to the weight of the situation. She had seen mortals suffer before, but this felt different—closer, personal.

They reached a room, and Nouri’s breath caught as they saw Nick Fury lying in bed. The sight of him alive was enough to stop everyone in their tracks, their collective shock filling the air.

The trio stared at him, disbelief hanging in the room like a heavy fog. Nouri chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to surprise even her, shaking her head in disbelief.

"About damn time," Fury muttered, his voice laced with relief.

As Natasha’s wound was being treated, Fury continued his usual detached tone, listing off injuries with a disturbing calmness. "Lacerated spinal column, cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache."

The doctor responded quickly, checking the list off. "Don’t forget your collapsed lung."

Fury waved it off nonchalantly. "Oh, let's not forget that. Otherwise, I’m good."

Natasha, still processing everything, couldn’t help herself. "They cut you open, your heart stopped?"

Fury’s look was one of wry amusement as he glanced at her. "Tetrodotoxin B. Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn’t work so great for him, but we found a use for it."

Nouri stood by, observing the interplay, but her focus drifted to Steve. The distraught look on his face, the pain in his eyes, the subtle tension in his posture—it was something she hadn’t seen in him before.

Steve stepped forward, his brow furrowing with concern. "Why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us?"

Maria answered him sharply, her voice firm with authority. "Any attempt on the director’s life had to look successful."

Fury’s eyes, cold as ever, met Steve’s. "Can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides, I wasn’t sure who to trust."

The words hung heavily in the air, each one weighing more than the last. Nouri’s expression softened, her empathy for Steve deepening. She could feel the weight of his confusion and pain. A part of her—a small, human part—felt the same confusion.

Maria turned to Nouri, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "Did you know?" she asked, her voice carrying an edge of curiosity.

Nouri hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve as she contemplated how to answer. She hadn’t been able to feel Fury’s passing, the strange absence that should have been there was... missing. "I had a feeling," Nouri admitted, her voice quiet, her gaze never leaving Steve’s troubled face. "Couldn’t feel him pass. Something was up."

Maria gave a sharp nod, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. "Thank you for not saying anything."

Nouri simply nodded, offering no response beyond the silent understanding that passed between them.

The doctor continued his work on Natasha’s shoulder, the room filled with the sounds of medical equipment and muffled conversation. They spoke of Zola, of Bucky, of HYDRA’s infiltration, and yet Nouri found herself lost in thought. It was all too familiar, all too much like what she had seen before. She had watched the rise and fall of kingdoms, the treachery of gods and men alike. She had known war—had seen the best and worst of humanity. But somehow, this felt more... personal.

Her gaze lingered on Steve. She had seen him fight, had heard the stories, but now, as she watched him trying to process the devastation, his confusion over Bucky—someone he had known, trusted—it made her heart ache. She had always found strength in distance, but now, standing so close to him, she felt the pull of something she wasn’t ready for. Something that scared her.

The room was filled with tension, the secrets weighing heavily on everyone. And yet, as Nouri stood there, her mind kept returning to one thing—her connection to this world, this war. She couldn’t help but feel responsible, drawn into the chaos she had avoided for so long. But was it her place to intervene?

Steve’s eyes met hers for a split second, and in that brief moment, she saw the pain, the frustration, the helplessness. It was raw and real, and it echoed in her heart.

She hadn’t realized how much she cared; how much her emotions had begun to shift. She had always kept her distance from mortals—too scared of their fleeting lives and the heartache that came with caring—but Steve Rogers was different. In his silent pain, she saw something in herself, something she hadn’t fully understood.

Nouri had always been a guide. She had always tried to keep balance, never too close, never too involved. But as she stood there, the weight of her own isolation came crashing back. She wasn’t just an observer anymore. She had chosen to stand by them, to fight.

And perhaps, for the first time, she wasn’t entirely sure what that would cost her.

---

Fury sat in a chair; his gaze fixed on a photo of Alexander Pierce. "This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said, 'Peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility.' See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues."

Nouri, standing off to the side, didn’t hesitate to speak. "We cannot waste time. We have to stop the launch." Her voice was steady, calm but unwavering—a reflection of her wisdom, as though she'd already seen the unfolding of this moment in the patterns of time.

Fury’s eyes flicked to her, darkening. He opened a case, revealing three chips. "These are our way in."

Sam raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving between the chips and Fury. "What exactly are these?"

Maria stepped in, her voice firm, almost urgent. "Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized."

Fury’s tone matched the gravity of the situation. "We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with ours."

Maria continued, her tone unwavering. "One or two won’t be enough. We need to link all three carriers, or this is all for nothing. If even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are going to die."

Fury nodded gravely; his jaw tight. "We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe... just maybe, we can stop this from going any further."

Steve stepped forward; his eyes sharp with resolve. "We’re not salvaging anything. We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down S.H.I.E.L.D.."

Fury's gaze grew harder, the weight of his own guilt heavy on his shoulders. "S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with it."

Steve's voice was calm, but laced with quiet fury. "You gave me this mission, Fury. This is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s been compromised from the inside. HYDRA grew right under your nose, and nobody noticed."

Fury’s eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, his expression softened with the knowledge of the price they'd all paid. "Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed."

Steve stepped closer; his voice low but filled with accusation. "And how many paid the price before you did?"

Fury’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t back down. "Look, I didn’t know about Barnes."

Steve’s eyes hardened, and his voice dropped, holding a quiet, cutting weight. "Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA... it all goes."

Maria spoke up, her voice almost reluctant but steady. "He’s right, Nick."

Fury’s gaze flicked toward Nouri, Natasha, and Sam; his face unreadable as though the weight of his actions pressed down on him. Nouri stood quietly, her expression as serene as ever, but her eyes revealed a depth of understanding, an ancient wisdom that seemed to transcend the moment. She had seen such turmoil before—gods and men alike, all caught in their cycles of self-doubt.

Sam sighed, rubbing his neck, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Don’t look at me. I do what he does, just slower."

Nouri’s voice broke through the tension, her words soft but imbued with the weight of her experience. "I do not lead as you do, Fury," she said calmly, her eyes briefly meeting his. "I command the Medjai, and I guide souls into the afterlife." She turned her gaze toward Steve, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them. "I follow him," she added, pointing her head toward Steve, her tone filled with quiet reverence.

Steve, who had been steeling himself for the worst of the conversation, turned toward Nouri with a small, appreciative smile. His respect for her was growing, not just because of her abilities, but because of the quiet strength she carried.

Fury’s gaze lingered on Nouri for a moment, the complexity of his emotions hidden behind his usual mask of control. He then turned to Steve, his voice steady, yet tinged with something else—an acceptance, perhaps. "Well... looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain."

---

Time had passed. The night stretched on, quiet and endless, with only the faint hum of the city in the distance. The sun had yet to rise, and the air held a chill that whispered of the day’s promise. Steve, after quietly slipping away from the rest of the group, found solace standing on the edge of the bridge. His gaze was lost in the dark waters below, his thoughts tangled in the shadows of his past.

Nouri, moving with the quiet grace of someone who belonged neither here nor there, joined him on the bridge. Her presence was like a soft glow against the night, her form both ancient and timeless, yet fully part of the world around her. She stood next to Steve, her eyes scanning the darkness, as if searching for answers only she could see.

"He's gonna be there, you know?" Nouri said, her voice steady, though there was a tinge of concern behind her words. Her eyes lingered on Steve, reading him as she always did.

Steve nodded without looking at her, his jaw tightening, his thoughts locked in a battle of their own. "I know."

She watched him for a moment, the quiet strength in his stance impossible to ignore. But there was something else—a quiet sorrow, a lingering pain that not even his unshakable resolve could hide. Her expression softened, but the truth of what she said remained. "He’s not the same man you once knew," she said gently. "His heart is clouded, confused. I don’t think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop."

Steve’s muscles tensed at her words, but he didn’t look away from the distant lights across the water. His eyes were distant, haunted. "I don’t know if I can do that," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Nouri’s gaze softened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You won't have a choice, Steve. Not when you see him... not when you see what he's become. He doesn’t know you anymore."

Without thinking, Nouri stepped closer, her hand gently brushing his arm. The touch was light but purposeful—her way of grounding him, of offering her quiet support. Her eyes locked on his, and for the first time in a long while, Steve felt something more than his inner turmoil. There was warmth in her touch, a silent understanding that made the heavy weight on his chest feel a little lighter.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the situation hanging between them like an unspoken truth. Her presence was a quiet force beside him, offering comfort in a world that had turned so harsh and unfamiliar.

Steve clenched his fists at his sides, his expression hardening with the determination that had always been his strength. He exhaled softly, the steady rise and fall of his breath betraying the storm inside. "He will," he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet, fierce resolve. He turned then, a soft exhale escaping him as he walked toward the direction of the museum.

But as he walked, he didn’t shake off the feeling that something had shifted. Something about her presence, her touch—something he hadn’t expected. His heart was no longer as heavy as it had been moments before, and though he still had no clear path ahead, the quiet warmth from Nouri lingered. For just a second, he felt less alone.

Nouri watched him for a heartbeat, the weight of his pain settling deep within her. She had seen so many faces, so many lives, but Steve Rogers... He was different. The bond between them—fragile, new, still untested—was undeniable. There was something stirring inside her, something she hadn't expected to feel for a mortal.

She shook her head, the softest of smiles tugging at her lips as she quickened her pace to catch up with him. "Where are you going?" she called after him, her voice light, though it betrayed a tenderness she hadn’t yet admitted.

"Smithsonian," Steve replied, the hint of hope in his voice impossible to miss, despite the weight it carried. Even now, when so much felt lost, he clung to the idea of something—someone—still worth saving.

Nouri chuckled softly, the sound of it warm and unexpected, yet comforting. "Really? The Smithsonian?" she teased, unable to resist the playful banter, the kind that had eluded her for so long.

Steve smirked, a flicker of the man he had once been slipping through. "Need a suit," he said, his words tinged with the kind of defiance she had always admired.

They arrived at the museum, and its quiet hum felt almost too serene in contrast to the chaos brewing in their hearts. As they passed through the halls, the statues of the past loomed like silent watchers, their cold eyes unwavering. They spoke no judgments, only memories.

A guard, walking through the Egyptian exhibit, paused in front of the Captain America display. His eyes scanned the empty pedestal where the WWII uniform once stood, a symbol of a hero frozen in time, a reminder of Steve’s past, now lost to history. As the guard walked away, unaware of their presence, Nouri moved quietly into the Egyptian exhibit.

She slipped in silently, her fingers brushing against the ancient relics she had once known so well. The feel of the Medjai pieces against her skin was grounding, comforting in a way nothing else had been since her release. She still wore modern clothes, but her heart ached for the past—the strength of the warriors who once stood by her side, the power of her people.

Dressing quickly, she changed into black cargo pants that fit her like a second skin, pairing them with a tight, long-sleeve top. Her wild, dark hair was hidden beneath a scarf, leaving only her piercing eyes visible. As she caught her reflection in the glass, she saw not only the woman she had become but the spirit of the Medjai warriors, their strength still alive in her.

When she rejoined Steve, her gaze caught his, and for a moment, everything else faded. He stood before the empty Captain America display, his eyes filled with a sadness she knew all too well. Nouri’s heart softened, and she approached him slowly, her hand brushing lightly against his arm. The contact was simple, almost fleeting, but it spoke volumes.

"You don’t have to do this alone," she said quietly, her voice like the warmth of sunlight breaking through the night.

Steve didn’t look at her at first, but he relaxed under her touch, his body softening in a way that made her heart ache. "I know," he whispered, his voice gentler than she had heard it in days. "But I have to try."

Nouri nodded, understanding the weight of his burden better than she cared to admit. The distance between them felt smaller now, their quiet connection growing with each passing second. For all their differences, for all the time that separated them, she realized she had come to trust him. And maybe—just maybe—he would trust her in return.

As they turned to leave, Nouri couldn’t help but glance at Steve again. The admiration in her eyes was unspoken, but it lingered. The weight of centuries had given her wisdom, but it had also left her with something else, a longing she hadn’t expected, a deep ache for something fleeting. For someone who could love and lose so deeply, knowing that time wasn’t on his side.

Perhaps it was that very impermanence that made him so precious. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as detached from humanity as she once thought.

With a soft, steadying breath, Nouri reached out, her hand finding his as they walked side by side. The gesture was simple, a quiet promise, but it spoke of something more. A connection forged not in the past, but in the fragile present they shared.

---

March 5th, 2014

 

The early morning light filtered through the windows of the car, casting a muted glow on the tense faces inside. The mission ahead weighed heavily on everyone, but for Nouri, it was a reminder of the weight she carried—being a bridge between the ancient world and this modern chaos. Still, she kept herself grounded, knowing her role here was to protect, not to dominate.

Nouri closed her eyes as the car rumbled through the city streets. She turned her face upward toward the heavens, the subtle light of the rising sun reflecting off her skin. Her palms rested on her knees, open, as though in silent conversation with the stars above.

"Dua Khonsu, sa-a rekh, djed-i nek! Djed-i nek, setep-i m kheper en Sahu-en-Iah! Nedj-i peret henqet, kheperu en nehet! Sekhmet, netjeret neferet, akh im pet! Sa-a hena setep, sedjem-i m uw, ta-a nety menekh!,"* she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, though every word resonated within the confines of the car.

Sam, Maria, and Fury exchanged confused glances, unsure of what they had just witnessed. Natasha, sitting beside Nouri in the backseat, spoke without missing a beat.

“She does it every time,” Natasha said, her voice low, casual.

Nouri didn't respond. Her prayers were personal, and though they might seem strange to others, they were a thread of connection to the divine—an anchoring force in this fast-moving world. In these moments, she felt the weight of time itself, both the celestial and mortal realms pressing upon her.

As the car screeched to a halt in front of the Triskelion, Fury and Natasha immediately stepped out, disappearing into the building. The remaining team—Nouri, Steve, Sam, and Maria—entered in quiet unity, the silence of their walk punctuated only by the soft click of Nouri’s knives, her weapons always at the ready, her mind sharp.

They entered the security room, the door sliding open to reveal a young officer, who froze when he saw them. Sam and Maria raised their guns in an instant, but Nouri kept her knives aimed with unhurried precision, their gleaming blades reflecting the stark light above.

Steve stepped forward, his voice calm and steady, a sharp contrast to the tension in the room. “Excuse us,” he said, his eyes locking with the officer’s.

The tech’s hands shot up in surrender, and he stepped aside, silently acknowledging the weight of the situation. There was no hesitation in Steve’s movement as he crossed the room to the microphone, his posture resolute.

"Attention, all S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. This is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time you know the truth. S.H.I.E.L.D. is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crews are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in this building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want: absolute control. They shot Nick Fury, and it won't end there. If you launch those Helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high, it always has been, and it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not."

As Steve’s words lingered in the air, the silence in the room deepened, but Sam’s voice broke the tension, leaning toward Steve with a teasing smirk. "Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?"

Nouri let out a soft laugh, the sound warm, like the flicker of a flame in the quiet night. “A good speech. The truth always carries its weight,” she said, her tone surprisingly light, though her eyes held a sharpness that belied her casual words.

Maria, already sitting at the console, spoke with urgency. “Alright, guys, go. I’ve got it from here.” She slid into the chair, fingers tapping rapidly over the keyboard.

The trio of Steve, Nouri, and Sam exchanged a brief nod before heading out, making their way toward the heart of the building, the sense of urgency thickening with every step.

“They’re initiating launch,” Maria’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Time to go to work,” Nouri said, her voice low but steady, the edge of resolve clear in her tone.

She glanced at Steve, who was leading the charge, and Sam, who was already pulling ahead. Their bond had been forged through battle and shared struggle, but there was something about this moment, about this fight, that made her heart stir with something more.

---

The sound of Helicarriers echoed across the roof as Sam, Nouri and Steve sprinted toward the edge, the wind whipping around them. Below, the Helicarriers were preparing for take-off—massive, menacing, and ready for battle.

"Hey, Cap," Sam asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "How do we know the good guys from the bad guys?"

Steve's reply came quickly, his tone flat but resolute. "If they're shooting at you, they're bad."

Without another word, Sam, in his Falcon suit, took off into the sky, soaring toward the chaos below. Nouri’s heart quickened as she followed Steve’s lead, leaping from the rooftop and landing with an unyielding grace on the Helicarrier. She barely made a sound as her boots hit the metal surface, the steady pulse of her power radiating from her as she surveyed the battlefield.

HYDRA agents were already firing, their shots ricocheting off the Helicarriers hull. Steve immediately threw his shield up, deflecting the bullets before they could reach Nouri. She stayed close to him, her fiery aura beginning to flicker as the flames she wielded responded to her resolve.

"Cap!" Sam’s voice crackled in their earpieces. "I think I’ve found those bad guys you were talking about!"

"You okay?" Steve asked, his voice still laced with concern.

"I’m not dead yet," Sam shot back, weaving through the air, narrowly dodging another barrage of gunfire from the HYDRA agents. "But they sure are trying their best."

Nouri couldn’t help but smile at the banter, but the battle called for her attention. She turned her focus to the advancing HYDRA agents; her flames beginning to dance and swirl with an intensity that matched the growing chaos. Her hands glowed with fire, each flicker a reminder of her ancient power.

“Today’s not the day for dying,” Nouri said, her voice light but carrying the weight of an ancient purpose. Her words brought a small chuckle from Steve, who was already moving forward, shield raised high.

“Stay close,” Steve said, his eyes scanning the field ahead of them. “You go left; I go right.”

Nouri nodded without hesitation, her eyes sparking as she set her sights on her own target. She wasn’t a warrior by nature, but when the time came, there was no one better to fight alongside Steve. She moved with precision and power, her fire streaking through the air in sharp bursts as she cleared the path.

She saw Steve duck and spin to the left, sending his shield ricocheting toward a group of agents. As they fell, Nouri’s fire blazed across the space, incinerating weapons and knocking agents off their feet. She flowed through the chaos, always in perfect sync with Steve, her flame serving as both weapon and guide. Her connection to him was effortless, like a silent agreement between two warriors, each of them anticipating the other's moves.

A HYDRA agent lunged toward her, but Nouri spun, her flame cutting through the air and igniting the agent's weapon, sending him stumbling back. “Not today,” she muttered under her breath, her voice calm despite the fury in her heart. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, the need to protect those she was growing to care for—especially Steve.

“Cap, I’m clearing the way!” Nouri called out, throwing a burst of flame toward a group of agents advancing from the right.

Steve nodded, his shield crashing down on another agent. “Good work, Nouri.”

She grinned, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. This—fighting alongside these heroes, these mortals—was her true purpose. She wasn’t just an observer anymore. She was a protector.

The battle raged on, but Nouri felt the tide shifting. Each moment, each movement, made her feel more connected to the world she had once been apart from. She wasn’t just protecting humanity now—she was finding her place among them.

“This is it, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, her voice soft but heavy with the understanding of what was at stake.

Steve didn’t answer immediately, but she could see it in his eyes—he didn’t need to. They both knew what had to be done.

“Let’s finish this,” he said.

And with that, they both surged forward, each strike a step closer to saving the world they had both come to love.

---

"Falcon, status?" Maria's voice crackled through the comms.

"Engaging," Sam responded, expertly weaving through the chaos in the sky. He swiftly dispatched the HYDRA jets on his tail with precise manoeuvring. "Alright, Cap, I'm in," Sam said, but before he could even let out a relieved breath, two more jets appeared, firing missiles at him.

"Shit!" Sam grunted, narrowly evading the incoming fire. His heart raced as he turned sharply, but one missile locked onto him. Just as he was about to be hit, a voice from below called out.

"Watch out!" Nouri shouted, her eyes blazing with power. She raised her hand, and a massive fireball erupted from her palm, flying into the sky and taking down one of the pursuing jets in a burst of flames.

"Thank you!" Sam yelled over the comms, his voice filled with gratitude and surprise. Nouri let out a laugh, the sound echoing with a lightness that was unusual for her in this tense situation.

"Stay focused, Falcon," Steve's voice cut through the chatter, his tone firm but supportive. Nouri's fire flickered beside them as they dove into the fray, pushing forward toward the Helicarrier.

The winds whipped around them, and Steve and Nouri worked in perfect sync, dispatching HYDRA agents with ruthless precision. Nouri’s flames lit up the battlefield, burning through enemies with a power that was both breathtaking and terrifying. The two of them moved as if they had fought together for centuries.

"Eight minutes, Cap," Maria informed them, her voice calm despite the urgency of the mission.

"Working on it," Steve replied, his voice steady as always. He slashed through another agent, his eyes never straying from the goal.

"Stay close," Nouri said to Steve, her words almost poetic in their urgency.

They fought their way into the Helicarrier, a path cleared in their wake. Nouri’s fire had scorched the hallway, but they kept moving forward, driven by the mission.

"Alpha locked," Nouri called out once they reached the systems room, her hand glowing faintly from the energy she'd used to unlock the Helicarriers Alpha chip.

"Falcon, where are you now?" Maria's voice echoed through the comms, cutting through the chaos of the battle.

"I'm taking a detour!" Sam responded, his voice sounding both determined and playful, even amidst the danger. Heat-seeking missiles fired at him, locking onto his position. "I’ve got this," Sam muttered, dodging the missiles with a skill only he possessed.

Sam dove and swooped, using the speed and agility of his suit to deflect the missiles with expert precision. The missiles veered off course and crashed into the Helicarrier, clearing a path for him.

"Ha! Oh, yeah!" Sam cheered; the excitement clear in his voice. He shot through the opening he'd created, his eyes focused on the mission. "Bravo locked," he added with a satisfied grin, his voice laced with pride. He shot out of the Helicarrier, the wind rushing past him as he zoomed away.

"Two down, one to go," Maria said, her focus unwavering, even as the battle raged on around her.

Nouri’s eyes flickered with determination, the weight of the mission settling on her shoulders. She glanced at Steve, a silent understanding between them as they moved to the next challenge. They were running out of time, but Nouri’s confidence in the team’s ability was palpable.

Steve glanced at her, a small, appreciative nod. "Just one more to go. We finish this together."

The tension in the air was thick, but there was a sense of resolve in both of them. As the countdown continued, they fought with everything they had, and nothing could stop them—not now.

---

Back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, the tension was thick in the air. Maria was intently monitoring the chaos unfolding on the various screens. Her fingers flew over the console, reporting with sharp precision. “Charlie Carrier’s forty-five degrees off the port bow,” she called out, eyes glued to the data. Her gaze flicked to the entrance. Two HYDRA agents, weapons drawn, stormed through the door. Without hesitation, Maria dropped them both with lethal accuracy, swiftly securing the area. “Six minutes.”

Nouri, eyes narrowed and focused, glanced at Steve beside her. The battle on the Helicarrier raged around them, but in the midst of it all, there was a stillness between them. “He’s here,” Nouri murmured, almost to herself, but Steve caught the words.

Her eyes met his, filled with a quiet certainty. “Bucky.”

The name hung in the air like a distant storm, and Steve’s jaw tightened as he pushed forward, cutting through a group of approaching HYDRA agents. He was quick, but Nouri’s presence beside him was like a fire at his back, watching over him. Her power simmered just beneath the surface, restrained, but ready.

“Sam, we’re gonna need a ride!” Steve called out over his communicator, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he knocked out another agent.

"Let me know when you're ready," Sam’s voice crackled through the comm, his voice calm but with a note of readiness.

The tension in the air intensified as Steve and Nouri fought their way to the edge of the Helicarrier. Together, they leapt off the edge, the wind whipping past them. As a HYDRA agent aimed a missile directly at them. Just as the missile locked onto its target, Nouri’s fire-wielding powers flared—crimson flames licking the edges of her fingers as she created a barrier of fire between them and the missile. It detonated with a massive explosion, but they were already descending fast, and Sam swooped in at the last second.

“We just did!” Nouri shouted with a grin, holding onto Steve as Sam’s suit shot forward to catch them midair. The force of the landing jarred them for a split second, but Sam’s voice cut through the tension.

“You know, you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Sam quipped, his tone light.

Steve chuckled, slightly out of breath from the adrenaline. “I had a big breakfast.”

Nouri laughed, the sound ringing clear in the chaos. There was a moment of levity amidst the danger, a bond forming through the shared intensity of the situation. But that moment was brief.

Suddenly, Bucky appeared from the shadows, his cold gaze locked onto Steve. Before anyone could react, Bucky grabbed Steve and threw him off the edge, sending him careening toward the lower decks.

“Steve!” Nouri yelled, her voice full of concern, but before she could move, Bucky was already upon Sam. The Winter Soldier's gloved hand gripped one of Sam’s wings, wrenching it free with terrifying strength. Sam fought back, but Bucky was relentless, pulling him out of the sky and kicking him from the Helicarrier.

“Sam!” Nouri shouted, preparing to fly after him, but Bucky was too quick. With a swift movement, he grabbed Nouri’s arm, holding her back. Nouri’s eyes flashed with fire as she struggled to break free, but the moment of hesitation was enough for Bucky to disappear back into the chaos.

Sam’s voice crackled through the comms; his words tinged with concern. “Cap? Cap, come in. Are you okay?”

"I'm here! I'm still on the Helicarrier," Steve responded, pulling himself back onto the deck, his muscles straining with the effort. "Where are you?"

"I'm grounded, the suit's down. Sorry, Cap,” Sam said apologetically.

Nouri, her expression firm, her body still burning with restrained power, looked at Steve. “Don’t worry, we got it,” she reassured him with a calmness that belied the chaos surrounding them.

Steve nodded, turning toward the entrance of the Helicarrier.

They split, each moving in their own direction. Nouri’s eyes were locked on the corridor ahead, her every sense heightened as she could feel the weight of their mission pressing on her. They needed the element of surprise, and Nouri was ready to deliver it.

A surge of flames whispered around her fingertips, just a hint of what she could unleash if things escalated. But for now, she was focused—focused on guiding Steve through this, and trusting that they would find their way. The battle was far from over.

---

The chaos inside the Helicarrier was deafening, the tension thick enough to suffocate. As Steve and Bucky’s brutal fight unfolded above, Nouri remained below, watching with a heavy heart. She could feel it in her chest—the pain of witnessing Steve fight to save the world while Bucky remained trapped in the ghosts of his past. She had witnessed many souls, felt their pain, but this... this was different. Steve’s battle was her own, and Bucky’s torment reflected the isolation she had known for centuries, bound to time, unable to break free.

When the shield flew past and Bucky’s cold, empty eyes locked with Steve’s, Nouri’s chest tightened painfully. She could not bear to see the man Steve had once called his best friend reduced to this—an enemy. It tore at her, this cruel twist of fate, but what could she truly offer in the face of this grief? She, who had walked beside so many souls, felt the weight of her own burdens even more acutely. She had no answers, only the painful, relentless reminder that even gods could fail.

Her reverie was shattered when Bucky lunged toward Steve once more, their fight intensifying, a brutal dance of fury and pain. In that moment, Steve’s eyes met hers, his silent plea clear. Help him.

Without hesitation, Nouri’s fire flared to life. Her fingers glowed with the intensity of the sun, the flames flickering in response to her emotions. She rushed forward, her body moving with the fluid grace of someone born of the heavens, her power radiating outward, pushing Bucky back, a barrier between him and Steve. But Bucky was fast—faster than she expected. In a blink, his knife flew through the air with lethal precision, striking Nouri in the leg before she could react.

A sharp gasp of pain escaped her lips as she crumpled to the floor, the fire around her flickering out, her strength waning. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her leg, but the true weight of failure came crashing down on her, colder than any wound.

“No…” she whispered, the chip slipping from her hand as the blood began to pool beneath her.

Bucky didn’t even flinch. His eyes were still cold, focused solely on the prize—the chip. As he moved toward it, Steve’s determination surged. He was already there, the two locked in combat once more. But in that brief moment of distraction, Bucky’s second knife found its mark, plunging deep into Steve’s shoulder with sickening precision.

Nouri’s vision blurred, the edges of the world growing dim as the overwhelming ache of defeat clouded her mind. But she wasn’t finished yet—not while she had even the smallest fragment of strength left. Ignoring the sharp sting of her wound, she pushed herself to her feet, her hands trembling but resolute. She staggered toward the chip, her breath shallow as she felt the need to act, to stop Bucky, to protect Steve.

With all her remaining strength, Nouri launched herself at Bucky, hoping to strike him from behind. But he was too quick—his reflexes honed from years of training and war. In a fluid motion, Bucky turned and caught her by the throat, his grip like iron, and she gasped for air. Her legs dangled helplessly as he effortlessly lifted her, his eyes locked on her in cold indifference. Without a moment’s hesitation, he shot the glass behind him, sending it shattering outward into the cold void of the sky. With a brutal swing, he threw her across the cabin.

Nouri’s body sailed through the air, weightless for a moment, before it collided with the broken glass, sending her spiralling into the darkness beyond the Helicarrier. The wind howled around her, a blur of icy air as she fell toward the waters below. Her mind screamed to fight, to fly back into the chaos of the battle, but the darkness of the sea loomed, the cold grip of unconsciousness pulling at her.

As the sea surged up to meet her, the last thing she heard was the echo of the battle above, a battle she could no longer be part of. She could only hope she had done enough—whether it was saving Steve, stopping Bucky, or finally facing the truth of her own limitations.

---

Nouri swam to shore, gasping for air as the cold water stung her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her leg burned from where the knife had struck. She could feel the weight of her powers, of the fire that simmered just beneath her skin, but she kept it contained. Now wasn’t the time for unleashing her flame.

"Nouri, status?" Maria’s voice crackled over the comms; her tone urgent.

“I don’t know," Nouri coughed, barely catching her breath. "Steve’s up there. Bucky... he threw me out.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth, and anger boiled in her chest. Her mind raced—what had Bucky done? What had she missed?

"Get to the roof," Natasha’s voice was firm, and Nouri’s eyes flicked to her leg. She winced, pulling out the knife and quickly discarding it before running inside, dodging bullets and HYDRA agents. Her fire burned hotter with each step, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep it under control. There was no time for restraint, not when Steve’s life was on the line.

The anger, the confusion, the pain—she couldn’t make sense of it all, but she could channel it into action. Her flames danced at her fingertips, but she stayed focused.

She reached the roof and, without hesitation, jumped into the helicopter with Fury and Natasha. The rotors kicked up a storm of wind as the helicopter began to rise. Nouri stood, gripping the side, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The Helicarrier loomed ahead, a symbol of everything she was fighting for. Or was she? The gods had their rules. Humanity had its flaws.

And yet, there she was, watching the battle unfold.

---

“Charlie locked,” Steve’s voice crackled over the comms.

Nouri’s breath caught as she listened. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the tension almost suffocating. She could feel the chaos unfolding, the pressure of the mission bearing down on them all.

Maria’s voice came through, a mix of uncertainty and reluctance. "Okay, Cap, get out of there."

"Fire now," Steve’s command came sharp and clear, his urgency cutting through the air.

Maria hesitated. "But Steve—"

"Do it! Do it now!" His voice, already raw with pressure, cracked through the silence, sending a shiver through Nouri. She clenched her fists, her pulse racing in sync with the growing storm.

Reluctantly, Maria gave the order, and Nouri’s gaze snapped to the Helicarriers weapon systems. The sound of weapons locking into place was deafening as targets began to open fire on each other. She stood frozen, unable to breathe, her eyes wide with horror.

Sam’s voice broke through her trance, urgent, but calm. "Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!"

Natasha’s voice followed, steady but tinged with concern. "Sam, where are you?"

"41st floor, north-west corner!" Sam shouted. There was a desperate edge to his words.

"We’re on it, stay where you are!" Natasha called back, but Sam’s frantic eyes were enough to tell her that it wouldn’t be enough. "Not an option!"

The building around Sam began to crumble, and with no other choice, he leaped from the window. Nouri’s heart clenched as time seemed to slow, watching him fall, the wind barely catching him in the air.

At the last possible moment, the helicopter swooped in, and Nouri reached out, grabbing him just in time. She held Sam, her grip firm, but her eyes stayed focused on the scene unfolding.

“41st floor! 41st!” Sam shouted, barely hanging on to her.

Fury shot him a dry look, barely containing his irritation. "It’s not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building."

“Got it,” Natasha’s voice came through again, though urgency laced every word. "Hill, where’s Steve? You got a location on Rogers?"

Nouri winced, her heart tightening. Where was he? She strained to listen, her senses reaching out. But there was nothing—no sign, no trace. It was as if the air had grown heavier, colder.

Maria’s voice came again, almost a whisper. "We’ve lost him. Can’t find him anywhere."

“Nouri, can you see him?” Sam asked, his voice edged with panic.

Nouri shook her head, her heart sinking as her hand clenched tighter around the comm. She could feel the weight of the moment, the crushing fear that tightened her chest. I’m failing them, she thought, the sharpness of her own self-doubt gnawing at her.

He’s out there, she told herself. 

And then, just as her thoughts started to spiral, a crash of debris from the roof struck the bottom of the Helicarrier, shaking the very air beneath them. Nouri felt the impact resonate through her bones as the Helicarrier and Steve plunged into the river below.

“There!” Nouri shouted, her voice raw, as she saw Steve fall, his form disappearing into the rushing water. The image sent a bolt of panic through her chest. Without thinking, she leaped from the helicopter, her body twisting mid-air to dive into the water below.

The cold hit her like a shockwave as she plunged beneath the surface, her muscles screaming from the chill. But she didn’t hesitate. She swam, faster, harder, heart pounding in her chest as she pushed forward.

As she broke through the water’s surface, gasping for air, she saw him—Steve. His unconscious body was being pulled by someone else. Bucky.

Without a second thought, Nouri swam toward them. Her hand pressed against Steve’s chest, feeling the faint pulse beneath her fingers. He was alive, but barely. Relief and dread both washed over her in equal measure.

Bucky, silent and distant, began to disappear into the forest, vanishing like a shadow, leaving Nouri alone with Steve.

“I got him,” Nouri said over comms, her voice trembling, but steady.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she helped lift Steve, her hands surprisingly gentle despite the urgency. She moved quickly, feeling the weight of him, of this responsibility. She couldn’t let go now. She wouldn’t.

As they reached the shore, she called out for help, and within moments, an ambulance was waiting, ready to take Steve to the hospital.

The cold and fear still lingered as she placed Steve into the ambulance, a heavy silence wrapping around them. As she moved back, she looked down at him one last time. He had been through so much. She had been a silent observer, for the most part, but now... now, she couldn’t stay on the sidelines anymore. She had made her choice.

Notes:

* Translation:
"Praise be to Khonshu, hear my call! I call upon you—grant me the might of the Moon Knight! Let this task pass like the rising wind, let victory take form! Sekhmet, great and fierce goddess of the sky! Shield us with your power, let no harm befall us, let us stand unbroken!"

Chapter 20: Another Trial before the Ennead

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

March 7th, 2014

 

Two days had passed since the fight. Steve was still unconscious, lying in a sterile hospital bed, his chest rising and falling with the rhythmic sound of the machines around him. Nouri hadn't left his side once. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t slept—her only focus was him. Her hand rested gently on his, fingers interlaced, her body curled up in a chair beside his bed, her head tilted slightly as she dozed, exhaustion creasing her brow. Every so often, she would stir, her fingers lightly brushing against his face, her lips pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The room was always guarded by two guards at all times, but Nouri paid them no mind. She was used to her isolation, accustomed to being apart from the rest of the world. But here, in this quiet hospital room, with Steve so near, she could feel something stirring inside her—a connection that had long been absent from her life.

"Sleep," Sam’s voice cut through the silence, soft but firm. His eyes, though kind, betrayed a hint of concern.

“I can’t,” Nouri’s response was barely a whisper. Her voice, though steady, carried an undercurrent of weariness.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam reassured her, his gaze flickering from Steve to Nouri. “If he wakes up, I’ll wake up too.”

Nouri didn't respond right away, but she did allow herself a moment to rest her head on the edge of the bed. The sterile hum of the room filled the air, but it was the soft melody of Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man playing on the nearby radio that wrapped around the quiet like a comforting blanket. Nouri closed her eyes for just a moment, her heart full of an emotion she hadn't quite understood until recently.

Steve stirred in his bed, his body slowly regaining strength as he awoke. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he noticed was Sam sitting next to him, a warm smile on his face. But it was the sight of Nouri, her body still leaning toward him, her hand holding his so gently that caused the faintest smile to tug at his lips.

“On your left,” Steve murmured, his voice low but familiar. He was still disoriented, but his tone was unmistakable comforting, as if no time had passed at all.

Sam turned, the recognition in his eyes evident. “She just fell asleep,” he whispered with a grin, glancing at Nouri. “She hasn’t left your side for two days.”

Steve's eyes softened as he looked at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each slow, peaceful breath. She looked so calm, so at peace, and for a moment, he found it hard to believe that she was the same powerful woman who had fought beside him in battle.

They sat together in silence for a while, the weight of their surroundings sinking in. It was quiet in the room, save for the faint beeping of machines and the distant hum of the hospital. As the night stretched on, Sam finally stood, his movements slow, careful not to disturb the fragile calm in the room.

“She’s the only one allowed here at night,” Sam said in a low voice, a slight smile on his lips. He met Steve’s gaze. “Talk to her.”

As Sam quietly exited the room, Nouri stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “You’re awake?” Nouri’s voice, soft yet filled with a touch of surprise, broke the silence. She leaned forward, her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from Steve’s forehead, her fingers grazing his skin with the gentlest of touches.

Steve’s eyes slowly opened, blinking as he adjusted to the dim light of the room. His focus landed on her, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, I guess I am,” he murmured, his voice raspy from sleep. “You didn’t have to stay here the whole time... I’m fine.”

Nouri’s lips quirked up into a tender smile, but her eyes were full of concern. She didn’t move from her spot, still watching over him with the same protectiveness she’d had since the moment he’d been brought in. “Are you in pain?” she asked, her tone softer, as if afraid of the answer.

“Just a bit,” Steve replied with a faint smile, trying to make light of it, but his eyes betrayed a hint of exhaustion. He paused, looking at her with quiet admiration. “How’s your leg?”

Nouri smiled, lifting her leg slightly to show him where the knife had struck her earlier. The wound was already healed, the skin smooth and unmarred. “Courtesy of Sekhmet,” she said with a soft laugh, her eyes brightening as she looked at him. “I’m glad you’re alright, Steve.”

Her voice held a tenderness that surprised even her. She didn’t often allow herself to be vulnerable, but with him—here, now—it felt like the walls she had carefully built around her for centuries could finally begin to crumble.

“I’m glad you’re alright, too.” Steve’s voice softened, and there was something almost intimate in the way he looked at her, as if he could see beyond the surface—beyond the goddess, the protector, and into the person she was beneath it all. “You’re incredible.”

The words settled in the space between them, a quiet kind of admiration. Nouri’s heart gave an unexpected flutter at the sincerity in his gaze, but she quickly masked it with a steady breath.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice almost a caress as she leaned closer to him. Her hand reached up to gently cup his face, her fingers warm against his skin. The touch was grounding—something to tether them both in this fleeting moment where neither of them knew what the future held.

Steve closed his eyes at the feel of her touch, his heart thudding in his chest. He wanted to say so much more—about how he’d never met anyone like her, how he felt this pull toward her that he couldn’t explain. But the words never came. Instead, he simply murmured, “You really are incredible.”

Nouri stayed quiet, her heart swelling in her chest, but she didn’t know how to answer. What could she say? She was a god, eternal, unchanging, and yet here, in this moment, with him—she was something entirely different. She wanted to stay, wanted to hold him close and let time stretch on, but the weight of her duties tugged at her.

She slowly stood up, her movements fluid and graceful as she prepared to leave. “I just needed to make sure you were alright,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go to Egypt... I need to speak with the Ennead Council.”

Steve’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The Council?” he repeated, sitting up a little, though his movements were slower, more deliberate. “What’s going on?”

Nouri’s expression grew unreadable, a faint shadow crossing her features. “There are questions I need to answer,” she said, her gaze distant as though searching for the right words. “I don’t know what they’ll decide, but they determine what I do and where I go.” She paused, looking at him with soft eyes. “I’ll be fine. It’s just... something I need to do.”

Steve didn’t want to let her go. He could feel the space growing between them, and the thought of her leaving unsettled something deep inside him. “When will you be back?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his usual stoic demeanour betraying a touch of vulnerability.

Nouri turned back to face him, her heart aching as she looked at him. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, and it mirrored her own. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, her voice soft. “A few days at most. I just hope everything will go in my favour.”

There was a silence between them, heavy with the unspoken things they both felt but didn’t know how to say. Steve nodded, but there was an intensity to his gaze, an unspoken desire that both scared and comforted him at once. “When you get back,” he said, the words slower than usual, “I want to take you out.”

Nouri blinked, taken aback, her heart skipping a beat at his sudden admission. “On a date?” she asked, her voice caught somewhere between surprise and amusement.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a small, sheepish smile, his eyes avoiding hers for a moment as if suddenly shy. “If you’ll have me.”

Nouri’s lips curved into a smile as she stood there, not sure whether to laugh or be moved by the sincerity in his words. She couldn’t help herself—there was something so raw, so beautiful about how he was willing to put his heart out there, despite everything. "Sure, Captain," she said, her voice light with a hint of playfulness. She never thought she’d feel this way about anyone—especially not a mortal—but Steve had a way of making her feel... human. It was a feeling that scared her and excited her at the same time.

She leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, a silent promise that she didn’t have the words for. As she pulled away, Steve’s hand reached up, his fingers brushing over hers before he tightened his grip, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Nouri’s heart fluttered in her chest. She hadn’t expected to feel so much, so deeply. But here, with Steve—everything was different. The weight of her centuries of existence seemed to momentarily lift, replaced by something lighter.

"I’ll be back soon," she promised, her voice softer now, almost a whisper for his ears alone. "I’ll make sure of it."

He smiled up at her, his eyes soft. "I’ll be waiting," he whispered, the words carrying more meaning than he could express.

Nouri turned toward the door, her steps light as she prepared to leave, but she paused. The silence of the room felt different now, as if something had shifted between them. She glanced over her shoulder, catching his gaze one last time. There was something unspoken in the way they looked at each other—a shared understanding, a bond that neither of them had dared to fully acknowledge until now.

As she left, the soft sound of Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man continued to play, echoing in the distance, a gentle reminder of the human world she was still learning to navigate, and the man who, for the first time in a long while, made her feel something more than just duty.

---

Natasha stood near the entrance of the hospital, arms crossed, her usual stoic expression softened by the smallest of smirks. She saw Nouri approaching, her presence both graceful and otherworldly, yet so human in her weariness.

"Your ride, your highness," Natasha teased, her voice light, as she gestured toward the waiting car.

Nouri’s laugh rang out, genuine and warm. "Why thank thee," she replied, her voice laced with playful affection, before gracefully sliding into the vehicle. Her eyes briefly caught Natasha’s; a silent bond formed over their shared moments of quiet understanding.

As the car began to move, Natasha leaned forward, glancing over her shoulder to meet Nouri's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I packed a few things for you," she said, her tone shifting to that of a commander, though there was a hint of concern beneath it. "And you should get some rest. You’ve been through a lot."

Nouri gave a slight nod, her fatigue from the recent battles evident. “I will, Natasha. Thank you.” She sank back into the seat, letting her eyes close as the hum of the car and the chaos of the city faded behind her.

Hours passed in a blur, and before long, the car slowed to a stop. When Nouri opened her eyes, the last remnants of sleep still clung to her, but she sat up, surprised to see the sprawling tarmac ahead. The plane was already visible in the distance.

“Courtesy of Stark,” Natasha remarked with a smirk, her eyes glinting as she watched Nouri’s reaction. “I figured a small jet was more your speed than a regular commercial flight.”

Nouri’s eyes softened, her mind racing with gratitude. “He truly is an odd one, isn't he?” she mused aloud, but there was warmth in her voice. "I think I might have underestimated him."

“Everyone does,” Natasha said, unloading the bags from the car with practiced ease. “He’s full of surprises.”

Nouri smiled as she stepped out of the car, the weight of everything she’d endured pulling at her, yet also leaving a sense of something new stirring within her. The trip to Egypt wasn’t just an escape—it was a return. A return to the land that had seen her born, to the world she once protected with all her being.

As Natasha handed her the final bag, the two exchanged a brief but meaningful hug. The embrace was comforting, filled with unspoken words. Nouri pulled away, her hand lingering for a moment on Natasha's shoulder.

“Thank you for everything,” Nouri said quietly, sincerity in her eyes.

“No need to thank me," Natasha replied with a rare softness. "Just get yourself together. We need you at your best."

Nouri nodded, taking a final look at the airport before stepping onto the plane. The engines roared to life as she settled into her seat. The hum of the aircraft felt both familiar and foreign, the metallic hum a stark contrast to the ancient sands of Egypt she had left behind so long ago.

As the plane took off, Nouri pressed her fingers to the cool glass of the window, her thoughts drifting back to the land of the sun and moon. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind. This is where you were born. This is where you are meant to return.

Her eyes closed for a moment as the plane soared into the sky, leaving behind the world that had changed so much.

---

Nouri stood tall, her presence commanding the attention of all who looked upon her. Her golden caftan shimmered in the sunlight, each intricate stitch catching the light in a beautiful display. The face jewellery, crafted from delicate gold, framed her features like an ancient queen’s crown. She had always worn humility like a cloak, but today, her regal attire embodied the full measure of her divine essence.

As the plane's doors opened, she stepped onto the ground, and the air seemed to hum with an almost palpable reverence. The crowd that had gathered outside the pyramids froze in awe as she walked. Their eyes followed her every move, admiration and curiosity etched on their faces. People tried to approach, eager to offer gold and treasure, but Nouri simply smiled softly, her gaze distant yet warm.

With a flick of her wrist, flames erupted from her hands, twirling and dancing in the air like living entities. The crowd gasped in awe, a few of them even reaching out to touch the fire, mesmerized by its beauty. Nouri’s control was flawless—the fire bending to her will, bright and wild, yet never out of control.

As she neared the pyramids, the people slowly parted ways, like waves receding from the shore, their whispers trailing behind her. She passed through the secret entrance hidden beneath the sands, her feet falling softly on the stone steps leading into the heart of the ancient structure.

Inside, the chamber was vast and silent, filled with the presence of the gods who had once ruled her life. Their figures stood in solemnity; their eyes fixed upon her as she entered. Ra, Anubis, Horus, Isis, Osiris, and Thoth—all gods who had once shaped her existence, now waiting for her to take her place.

Nouri stood in the centre of the chamber for a moment, taking in the sight of them all, their ancient forms unchanging. The room felt heavy with their expectations.

"Not the whole council?" Nouri’s voice, though soft, resonated through the chamber, a mix of curiosity and quiet defiance.

"Not this time, child," Isis replied with a knowing smile, her arms open wide as she walked toward Nouri. "You’ve always been the one who walked your own path, and today is no different."

With those words, Isis enveloped Nouri in a tight hug, one that lingered with a sense of old affection. Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself the comfort of being held, of feeling something familiar. She had spent so long without it.

Ra’s voice broke the silence, filled with the weight of authority. "Al Nouri," he said, his eyes piercing, "You are here to answer the Council’s questions."

Nouri’s gaze met Ra’s, her eyes steady, imbued with the weight of centuries of wisdom. “I know why I am here,” she said, her voice resonating with the quiet power of the ages. She moved gracefully toward the stone seat placed at the centre of the chamber, each step measured, the air heavy with the presence of the Ennead. The silence between them was thick with questions unsaid, yet the moment was unspoken.

Thoth, with his gaze sharp as the edges of wisdom itself, spoke first. “What transpired in Washington, daughter of Ra and Khonshu?”

Nouri's voice was calm, though the weight of her words seemed to fill the vast space of the chamber. “An organization, believed to have been destroyed, rose from the ashes. Alongside Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, and Sam Wilson, I fought to dismantle an operation that threatened to claim the lives of millions.”

Ra’s eyes narrowed, his ancient gaze piercing through Nouri. “Why?”

Nouri’s eyes, though aged with time, still held the fire of the sun. “The operation sought to eliminate any individual or group they deemed a threat to HYDRA. As though they had the right to judge humanity before their actions even took form. It was a dark reflection of the flaws I have seen time and again. They believed in control, in deciding who would rise and who would fall, before even giving them a chance.”

Isis, ever wise and compassionate, her voice as soft as a whisper in the winds, spoke. “This need to control their fellow mortals... it pains you?”

Nouri’s hands clenched slightly, her flame flickering with the emotion that stirred within her. “Yes, it does. I have witnessed their wars, felt their pain, their struggles. It makes me question whether they deserve to have me walk amongst them. I am torn between my deep love for humanity and the growing realization that their worst qualities may outweigh their best.”

Anubis, whose voice echoed through the afterlife with the weight of judgment, spoke with a quiet intensity. “Do not let their darkness weigh down your heart, Al Nouri. You are not blind to their flaws, but you also know the beauty that exists in their souls.”

Nouri nodded slowly, the fire in her eyes dimming as she absorbed his words. She looked up at the gods gathered before her, her voice a blend of reverence and admiration. “I shall not forget, Anubis.”

Osiris, with the solemnity of ages, leaned forward, his eyes searching Nouri’s soul. “What of the mortals who fought alongside you, Al Nouri? What can you tell us of them?”

Nouri’s expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she spoke. “Their hearts are pure. Natasha Alianovna Romanoff, one of the most talented spies and assassins of the modern age, she is more than a weapon. Her bravery is unmatched, and she walks with the weight of her past to shape a brighter future.”

She paused, letting the memory of Sam’s unyielding loyalty settle in her mind. “Sam Wilson... a man forged in the flames of service, a former United States Air Force pararescue airman. I met him on a morning run, and his help was undeniable. His strength is not of the body alone, but of the spirit.”

Nouri’s gaze shifted, her words lingering in the air like a prayer. “And then there is Captain Steve Rogers. A World War II veteran, Earth's first known superhero.” A faint flush of warmth spread across her cheeks, her voice faltering slightly. “His heart is lighter than Ma'at’s feather, his unwavering commitment to righteousness is what makes him a hero.”

The room was suddenly still, the silence thick with an electric charge. Isis’ voice broke through the quiet, her tone gentle but laden with the gravity of truth. “This mortal... is he dear to you?”

Nouri’s cheeks flushed, and her breath caught for a moment. “Yes… I am not blind to the consequences, and I know of the laws that bind us. Yet, in my heart, I cannot deny it. He is dear to me not because of his strength or his status as a hero, but because of the purity of his heart. He chooses what is right, even when the world around him crumbles.”

Ra’s voice thundered, the intensity of his authority filling the chamber. “This is forbidden, Al Nouri! You know the laws! You cannot be in love with a mortal!”

Nouri’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, her eyes reflecting the weight of the moment. She stood before the Ennead, feeling the immensity of the chamber, the gods’ ancient presence pressing down on her. But when she looked up again, there was no hesitation in her voice, only the unwavering clarity of her heart.

"I know of this," she spoke with calm resolve, her voice steady, like the echo of distant stars. "But in my heart, I feel as though this is the path I am meant to walk. The gods have set their laws, yes, but the stars themselves speak to me in ways I cannot ignore. And I feel his purity echo within me, as though his spirit were woven into the very fabric of the universe."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber. The gods, ageless and wise, watched her, their gazes filled with both scrutiny and doubt. The air seemed thick with their unspoken judgments when Khonshu's voice cut through the stillness like a sharp blade, booming with the weight of the night itself.

“You gods are all the same—predictable, weak, and utterly blind,” Khonshu's voice reverberated with contempt, making the very walls tremble. His presence, though unseen, was undeniable, a cold gust that swept through the chamber, its force overwhelming. “You’ve failed them, every one of you. And I’ve seen the truth within my daughter.” He scoffed, his laugh dark and mocking. “This mortal love she speaks of? It’s not weakness—it’s strength. The purest strength you could never understand, never even begin to comprehend.”

The gods shifted uneasily, their eyes flicking toward the source of the voice. Khonshu's words had the sting of an ancient storm, as if the very sky had cracked open to lash out at them.

Ra, sitting at the head of the council, scowled, his gaze hardening. His ancient voice boomed, like thunder echoing across a barren desert. “Khonshu, you’re banished from the Ennead!” he roared, unable to hide the wrath in his voice. “You dare speak in favor of this... mortal love? Of the path she walks?”

Khonshu’s laugh was cold, laced with bitterness, and his form flickered briefly in the light, his moonlit figure casting a stark shadow. “And what? You expect me to sit idly by, like you lot, and watch while the world crumbles? I speak for her because I can, Ra. Because she’s mine to protect.” His voice dropped to a dangerous snarl, his words dripping with arrogance. “Al Nouri sees beyond what you could ever dream of. She sees the stars, sees the hearts of mortals—and unlike you, she doesn’t hide in her ivory thrones, detached from the very world she was meant to guide.”

The gods exchanged uneasy glances, uncomfortable with the truth of his words, though none dared to challenge him immediately. Khonshu’s sheer force of will filled the room like a storm cloud on the verge of breaking.

Horus, ever the dutiful one, stepped forward, his voice sharp and commanding. “This cannot be! The laws of the Ennead must be upheld! Al Nouri belongs to the divine, not to these mortals. She’s bound by our rules!”

Khonshu sneered, his gaze cutting through Horus like a blade. “Rules? Rules?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes with a venomous amusement. “Those rules were set eons ago, when the world was a different place! You have done nothing to change with it. You sit on your thrones, pretending to know what’s best, while humanity burns itself to the ground!” His voice grew louder, seething with frustration. “She sees that. And unlike you, she refuses to ignore the suffering, refuses to let them destroy themselves for nothing. She's doing what you should’ve done a long time ago.”

Thoth, usually the calm mediator, stepped in, his voice still firm but carrying a note of understanding. “If she chooses this path, Horus, it is not our place to punish her. Her heart, her compassion—those are forces we cannot deny. The world has changed, perhaps it is time we acknowledge that.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, but Nouri stood unwavering, her presence commanding as ever. Her voice, calm and regal, broke through the tension. “I’ve seen the suffering. I’ve walked among them. I want to help, to guide them. The world has shifted, and so must we.” She turned her eyes to the gods with quiet strength. “If you met him—the man I speak of—you would understand. You would see why I cannot turn my back on them now.”

Ra’s fury was palpable, but before he could voice his outrage, Khonshu’s voice once again rang out, cutting through the rising tension. “She’s right, of course. You are all blind. You sit up here, above it all, and pretend to understand. You’ve forgotten the true purpose of the gods. You’ve forgotten what it means to protect humanity.” His words rang with biting sarcasm, his tone dripping with disdain. “If this is a crime, then I’ll take the punishment, because unlike you, I will stand by my daughter. She is my blood.”

Ra’s eyes were cold with anger, but his voice softened as he spoke, a rare moment of tempered judgment in his tone. “Al Nouri,” he said, his voice heavy with ancient wisdom, “your place remains with us, but your path... it is no longer ours to decide. You have outgrown the rules we set. You are free to walk your own destiny.”

Nouri's gaze softened, but her voice was still filled with quiet resolve. “Then I will walk that path. And I will do it with my heart guiding me, not the empty laws of the past.”

A murmur passed through the room, but before anything further could be said, Khonshu stepped forward, his towering form casting a chilling shadow over them all. His gaze locked onto Nouri’s, and for the first time in centuries, there was a flicker of something like pride in his eyes. “You’ve done well, daughter. But don’t get soft on me now,” he growled, his voice still firm but carrying a strange warmth. “Your anger... it has its place, but don’t let it cloud your judgment. This path is yours to walk, but I will be by your side.” He stepped closer, his moonlit staff gleaming in his hand. “I’ll remind you of that when you need it.”

Nouri swallowed hard, a flicker of emotion passing through her eyes. “It’s about time you acknowledge me,” she quipped, the teasing edge in her voice carrying the truth of their complex relationship.

Khonshu's lips tightened for a moment, but there was no more anger—only a cold amusement. "Don’t get too comfortable, little one," he sneered. "You’re still my blood, and I’ll remind you of that when necessary."

Isis stepped forward then, serene as always, her voice like a calm breeze. “We are proud, Al Nouri. You’ve become the light, the balance—the keeper of the path.” She placed her hand on Nouri’s shoulder, her touch warm. "You have truly come into your own."

Anubis, standing just behind her, added, his voice rich with a quiet humor, “The afterlife’s been quieter without you, but I stand with you. The world’s in turmoil, but I see your heart. The judgments of others will not define you.”

Nouri felt the weight of their words, the centuries of loneliness beginning to lift. Her family—the gods—spoke to her with understanding and compassion. She leaned in to embrace them, grateful for the support, but as they pulled away, her attention turned back to Khonshu, still standing like a looming figure in the room.

Nouri felt a wave of relief wash over her, but as always, her gaze turned back to Khonshu. She tilted her head, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Banished, huh? Seems like you’re doing just fine," she quipped.

Khonshu’s eyes flickered briefly with something softer. “I cannot make laws or decisions for the gods anymore," he said, his tone tinged with something more resigned than angry. "But I am still your father, Nouri. I will aid you in whatever way I can. Even if that means offering you this—" He stepped forward, holding out his crescent moon staff. Its gleam was cold but familiar, its power resonating through the air. "May it serve you in your journey."

"Thank you," she whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken histories and unfulfilled promises.

Khonshu nodded, his gaze softening ever so slightly, though his voice was still firm. "I cannot guide you as I once did, but my strength, my love—will always be with you. Don’t forget that."

Nouri looked up at him, a flicker of something warmer in her eyes, though her tone remained steady. "I won’t."

Khonshu’s lips parted for a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something more—but he held it back. Instead, he gave her a small, knowing look, his voice dropping lower. “Remember, daughter, you carry the fire of both sun and moon. You are the one who must decide where your path leads. Not me. Not the gods. You.”

A brief shadow of doubt crossed Nouri’s mind, but she quickly masked it, her expression firm and resolute. "I’ve made my choice. I’m not turning back now." She paused, her eyes steady. "And I’ll do it my way."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Nouri’s heart, but she masked it swiftly, her expression unwavering. She had made her choice long ago—to guide, to protect, to help those who could never fully comprehend the weight she carried. Yet, there was still so much to understand.

"Who is Marc Spector?" Nouri inquired, her voice serene, the question simple but brimming with a deeper meaning.

Khonshu’s expression was unreadable, his form cast in shadow as always, his presence looming over the divine council. "A fractured mind," he murmured, the words filled with both an edge of sorrow and an unreadable weight. "He is one who walks between worlds, haunted by memories not his own."

A shadow passed over Nouri's heart, an uneasy feeling creeping through her as she reflected on the words. "Is he worthy of redemption?" she asked, a faint thread of compassion in her voice, though her gaze remained unwavering.

Khonshu's voice rang out, authoritative yet tinged with the faintest edge of sorrow. "Each soul is bound by its own trials, Al Nouri. His fate... is his to decide."

Her gaze flickered back to Khonshu, who offered her a quiet nod. She saw the burden in his eyes—he, too, knew the pain of walking between realms, of understanding mortals yet never truly belonging to their world. He had always stood by her, even when the council condemned her. Now, his support was unspoken, but she could feel it, just as surely as the fire that flowed through her veins.

With a final, lingering look at her father, Nouri straightened, her steps light yet resolute. Her path was set before her, though the road ahead was as uncertain as it was long. As she moved toward the threshold of the chamber, a final whisper reached her ears.

"Do not fear the darkness, my child. You are not alone, even in the deepest shadows."

As she made her way toward the bustling city, the air seemed heavier, charged with the divine energy that still clung to her. The gods’ final words echoed in her mind—hope, belief, and the trust they placed in her. Hope. A word she had not spoken in centuries, but one she now felt stirring within her chest, growing with each step.

For the first time in many, many years, Nouri felt the embrace of something she had longed for—hope. It was fragile, like the first flicker of a flame, but it was there, burning steadily in her heart.

And with it, a renewed sense of purpose filled her soul. She would not be a mere observer any longer, but an active guide—one who would help shape the future of both mortals and gods alike.

Chapter 21: Avengers Tower

Nouri stepped off the plane, the hum of its engines still ringing in her ears as she glanced around. A car waited for her on the tarmac, sleek and black, its windows tinted.

“From Stark,” the pilot said, his voice cool but respectful.

“Ah, thank you for flying me,” Nouri replied, her tone warm as she nodded toward the crew. She was still getting used to this modern world, but the flight had given her a moment of quiet reflection. She stepped into the car, which rumbled to life almost immediately. The driver handed her a neatly folded letter as the cityscape of Washington faded behind them.

She unfolded the letter.

Following the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D., your belongings have been relocated to Avengers Tower, NYC. - Pepper Potts

"How intriguing," Nouri mused, staring out the window as the car sped through the streets. It had been some time since she’d called this city home—long before the modern skyscrapers and bustling streets. Yet, something about the way New York shone now, under the glow of endless lights, felt familiar. The energy of it, the chaos, the sense of constant motion, reminded her of the ancient cities she once walked.

As the car drew closer to its destination, the towering structure of the newly renovated Avengers Tower appeared in her sight. It gleamed, reaching toward the sky like a beacon. But even brighter than the building itself was the sense of purpose Nouri could feel emanating from it. This place, she realized, wasn’t just a headquarters—it was a symbol.

The car stopped, and the driver hurried to open the door for her. Nouri smiled at him and stepped out gracefully.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, nodding as she made her way inside.

The lobby was modern, sleek, and polished. A man greeted her with an enthusiastic smile as she entered, causing her to pause in surprise.

“Ah, Al Nouri!” the man exclaimed, his face lighting up. “I’m Happy Hogan, Head of Security for Stark Industries. It’s an honour.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused, before taking his extended hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll take care of you from here,” he said, smiling warmly as he led her toward the elevator. “Got the letter from Pepper, huh?”

Nouri nodded, holding the letter up. “Yes. It seems I’ve been given a new... home.”

Happy chuckled, nodding as they entered the elevator. “It’s been a bit hectic around here lately, but Tony made sure your things were brought over. You’re gonna love it here.”

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hum, and Happy pressed a button. “Good trip?” he asked, glancing over at her.

“Yes, very much so,” Nouri replied, her voice calm, though her mind was still preoccupied with the strange world around her. "It’s strange to return to a place I once knew, yet it feels so new.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Happy said with a knowing smile, his fingers tapping lightly on the elevator panel. “92nd floor is where your room is. You’ll be right next door to Steve’s.”

Nouri blinked in mild surprise. “My room?” she asked softly, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

Happy gave her an easy smile as the elevator glided to a stop. “Yep, yours is on the right, Steve’s on the left. All set up for you.”

The elevator doors opened, revealing a hallway with soft, golden lights. The floor it’s own living room and kitchen. Nouri stepped out, following Happy as he guided her down the hall toward her new room.

He opened the door with a flourish, and Nouri’s eyes immediately took in the space. It was larger than her apartment in Washington, with high ceilings and tall windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. But it wasn’t the size that caught her attention—it was the atmosphere.

Her room was modern, yet it carried the weight of her ancient heritage in the softest way. The furniture was sleek and simple, with light, neutral colours that evoked both comfort and elegance. The walls were adorned with a few art pieces, paintings and pictures, of ancient Egypt, showcasing the sun and moon in their eternal dance. Constellations and symbols of the stars were woven into the decor, blending seamlessly with images of her temple and the pyramids. The hum of the city outside was barely noticeable here, and for a brief moment, Nouri felt a quiet peace settle over her.

There was a desk positioned perfectly to face the city, a place where Nouri could watch the stars at night. A tiny sarcophagus sat on the corner of the desk, serving as a paperweight. Her fingers brushed over a collection of ancient relics on a nearby shelf—objects that had once belonged to her temple, now carefully placed among her personal items. Books, ancient and modern, lay scattered across the desk. Some were opened to pages on Egyptian history, while others were works of fiction, like Jane Austen and J.R.R. Tolkien, evidence of her growing interest in human literature.

A few photographs were pinned to the wall, many of her with Natasha, a few with Steve, capturing moments of connection and shared warmth. The bed was large, its plush white linens inviting comfort.

“I trust it is to your liking?” Happy asked, his voice breaking her reverie.

“Yes,” she replied, her gaze lingering on the soft glow of the gold art, a silent tribute to her life’s story. “It reflects much of me, in ways I had forgotten.”

Happy smiled, his expression softening. “Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Nouri turned to him with a slight nod. “I believe I’ll take some time to settle in first. There is much to process.”

He gave her a respectful bow before stepping out, closing the door gently behind him.

Alone now, Nouri sank down on the bed for a moment, her thoughts swirling. The letter from Pepper, the room that felt both strange and familiar... It was all so overwhelming.

---

Nouri changed into more comfortable clothes, she adjusted the simple blouse and pants, running her fingers through her curly hair, then walked to the door. She could hear movement in the hallway.

When she stepped outside, Steve was waiting for her, a smile spreading across his face the moment he saw her.

"You’re back," he said, his voice warm, that familiar grin making her heart skip a beat.

"Yes, I just landed a few hours ago," Nouri answered, returning the smile. She could feel the weight of the day lift just by seeing him.

"Tell me everything," Steve said, gently taking her hand and guiding her toward the living room. His touch was comforting, though she couldn't help but notice how natural it felt, how much she liked the way he held her hand. She caught herself and quickly pushed the thought away.

“Well, I met with the Council,” she began, sitting down on the couch, “told them what happened in Washington. It reminded them of one of their fellow gods, Ammit. She, too, tried to punish humanity before they committed sins.” Nouri paused, her eyes softening as she thought about the gravity of her conversation with the gods. “I spoke of Natasha and Sam... and you,” she added, her voice dropping slightly.

Steve raised an eyebrow, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Me? Why?”

Nouri’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, a warmth spreading across her face. "They wanted to know who I was fighting alongside with. And... well, I couldn't leave you out," she said, her gaze dropping to her lap, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “It seemed important to them.”

"Important to them or to you?" Steve asked softly, his voice teasing yet kind, and Nouri felt her heart race.

She caught the hint of a smile on his face but chose not to comment, instead continuing, “I also spoke with my father after...”

"Your father?" Steve echoed, intrigued.

“Yes,” Nouri said, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Khonshu. It was... complicated, but I think we’re starting to understand each other better now."

"That sounds... intense," Steve said, his voice a bit hushed, as if he were still processing the complexity of her divine world.

Nouri nodded, but then she shifted the topic, a sudden thought crossing her mind. “You were discharged?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Steve’s expression softened. "Yeah, I’m good. Been settling in. I helped move my things—yours, too." There was a hint of modesty in his tone, and Nouri felt her heart flutter at the thought of him taking the time to help her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, genuinely grateful for his kindness.

“Of course," he replied, giving her a small smile. Then, after a brief pause, he asked, "Are you tired?"

Nouri shook her head. "No, I’m fine.”

“Good,” Steve said with a wink. "Get dressed."

With that, Steve turned and left the room, leaving Nouri staring after him in slight confusion. She wasn’t sure what was coming next, but the thought of him telling her to ‘get dressed’ lingered in her mind. She shrugged it off, though, and made her way back to her room.

She chose a simple black dress, something easy yet elegant, with a pair of cute heels. The soft fabric hugged her in all the right ways, and she smiled at her reflection. When she finally made her way back into the living room, Steve was waiting for her, and the sight of him took her breath away.

He was dressed in a sharp dress shirt and tailored pants, the casualness of his usual outfit replaced by something more refined. His posture was relaxed, but the way he carried himself showed his usual strength. Nouri had to fight to keep her mouth from falling open, her heart unexpectedly racing.

Steve looked her over, his eyes lighting up. “Ready?” he asked, his voice smooth, but there was a warmth there that made Nouri’s heart skip once more.

“Y-Yes,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure. She took a deep breath and moved toward him, offering her hand with a shy smile.

Steve gently grasped her hand, a little smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his words soft and genuine.

Nouri’s cheeks flushed again, but she couldn’t hide the flutter in her chest at his kindness. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise in her face.

“Shall we?” Steve asked, guiding her to the door with an easy, gentlemanly air.

Nouri nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation mix with the nervousness bubbling inside her. As they stepped out of the building together, the city’s lights reflecting in their eyes, Nouri couldn’t help but wonder what this night might bring. She had never quite felt like this before, not even in her centuries of existence, and she wasn’t sure where this path would lead.

---

They walked side by side, the streets of New York still bustling with life, though there was a calmness in their small corner of the city. The Italian restaurant was tucked away from the chaos, its warm, inviting glow beckoning them inside. They settled into a quiet corner booth, the soft hum of background chatter and clinking glasses a gentle accompaniment to their conversation.

Dinner passed slowly, as they spoke about everything and nothing. Steve spoke of his and Sam’s plan to track down Bucky, and Nouri shared her dreams of returning to Egypt. “I want to rebuild my temple in Thebes,” she said, her voice distant but full of purpose. “But I’ll have to fly back and forth between here and Egypt quite a lot.”

Steve’s gaze softened. “I can’t imagine what that’s like... To feel so tied to two worlds like that.” He smiled gently, raising his glass. “But I know you’ll make it happen. You always do.”

Nouri returned the smile, grateful for his kindness, but the conversation soon turned to lighter topics. They laughed over shared memories and stories, the evening stretching into hours. Steve, always the gentleman, insisted on paying, and they walked back to the tower, the weight of the night’s emotions hanging between them.

As they neared the entrance, Nouri stopped in her tracks, a shy smile crossing her face. “You know… this is my first date,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve turned to her, blinking in surprise. “Really?” He chuckled. “Mine too. Natasha… well, she kind of pushed me into this.” His smile widened at the thought of his red-headed friend’s persistence.

“Oh, really?” Nouri’s laughter bubbled up; her eyes sparkling. “I can just picture her, trying to get you out of your shell.”

Steve nodded, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, she told me something while we were at Sam’s place…”

“What did she say?” Nouri’s curiosity piqued as she turned to face him fully, stepping closer.

Steve hesitated, glancing away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “She said that you would… break your own sacred laws… for me.” He murmured the last part, his voice low.

Nouri’s breath caught at his words, the weight of them settling heavily in her chest. She stepped a little closer, her fingers brushing against the hem of her sleeve. “It’s true,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. “I would… I would follow what my heart says, even if it means defying the laws of the gods.” Her gaze lowered, her words becoming quieter. “The Council agreed that should I choose a life they don’t approve of no consequences would befall me.” She paused, realizing how much she’d said, and her eyes dropped to the floor, cheeks warming. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

Steve shook his head gently, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His hand instinctively reached for hers, his fingers brushing against her skin in a way that sent warmth flooding through her. “No,” he said, his voice a steady whisper, “you’re not rambling. I understand.” He squeezed her hand gently, his touch reassuring. “I’m honoured. Truly. You’re… you’re stronger than you know, Nouri.”

For a moment, they stood there, the quiet connection between them palpable. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in the soft, flickering light of the elevator.

As the elevator doors opened, Steve led her toward her floor. The silence between them now felt heavier, filled with unspoken words, their closeness both a comfort and a slight tension hanging in the air. Every step seemed to echo the uncharted path they were walking together.

When they reached her door, Nouri turned to face him, her heart suddenly beating faster, the reality of the night settling around her. “Thank you for tonight,” she murmured, her voice almost a whisper, the vulnerability in it catching her off guard. “I really enjoyed myself. I— I didn’t expect to feel so... at ease.”

Steve’s expression softened; his eyes warm as he took a step closer. “It was my honour, Nouri,” he said, his voice gentle. He took her hand in his once again, lifting it to his lips in a delicate kiss. His touch was respectful but filled with a quiet affection that made her heart skip a beat. “I’m glad you felt that way.”

Nouri’s pulse quickened as she met his gaze, feeling an unspoken pull between them that she couldn’t quite ignore. The way he looked at her made her feel seen, like someone who mattered in a way she hadn’t expected.

The tension in the air seemed to grow stronger, like the world had slowed down just for them. For a heartbeat, she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing.

And then, without thinking, she reached up, her hands cradling his face. She pulled him into a kiss, soft at first, unsure, but then deepening as her emotions took over. It wasn’t like their first kiss—fleeting, almost shy—but this time it was full of everything she hadn’t said. Her lips moved against his, the connection between them growing stronger, and she felt Steve’s hands gently pull her closer, his warmth spreading through her, giving her the courage to press further into the kiss.

It was like nothing she had ever felt. The world around them disappeared, and there was only this moment, this quiet rush of feeling that she hadn’t allowed herself to experience in years.

But, eventually, she pulled away, breathless, her hands lingering on his face as she looked into his eyes, searching for something—anything—that would help her understand what had just happened. Her pulse raced in her ears, and her chest was tight with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

“I’m sorry…” she murmured, her voice trembling, her gaze flicking away from his. “I— I shouldn’t have…”

“No,” Steve interrupted her gently, his voice soft but firm. He stepped back slightly, giving her space, though his eyes never left hers. “No, Nouri. Don’t apologize. I wanted that. I just— I think I need a moment to... process it.” His words were honest, but there was a vulnerability there, a sense of not wanting to rush what was clearly an important step for both of them. “I’m not used to... this. To feeling this way.”

Nouri stood frozen for a moment, her heart still racing, and she watched him step back, the distance between them growing in a way that left her feeling exposed, even as the warmth of the kiss still lingered on her lips. It wasn’t rejection—she knew that—but the sudden change in their dynamic left her feeling a little off-balance.

“Of course,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She nodded, trying to steady her breath as she looked up at him. “I understand.” Her fingers instinctively went to her lips, still feeling the echo of his kiss, the warmth of it.

Steve smiled softly, though there was still something uncertain in his eyes. “I just need a moment,” he said quietly, stepping toward his own door. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Nouri.”

Nouri watched him for a moment, her heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions. “Thank you, Steve. For everything,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As he stepped into his room, the door closing softly behind him, Nouri stood there for a long moment, her mind spinning with what had just transpired. She pressed her palm to her lips again, still feeling the faint trace of his kiss.

“What have I done?” she whispered to herself, her heart racing, but a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

It had been the right thing, she thought. Even if it wasn’t all clear yet, it was real. And for the first time in a long time, Nouri allowed herself to believe that she might have a place in this world, just as she was.

---

The year that followed was one of those rare, precious stretches of time when life fell into a quiet rhythm—something both Nouri and Steve had longed for but never truly expected to find. Their connection, deep and undeniable, had grown into something unspoken, yet it was there in every glance, every touch, and every shared moment.

Nouri’s time was often split between New York and Egypt, with her deep passion for her heritage constantly pulling her in both directions. In New York, she found herself immersed in the world of museums, where she worked tirelessly with curators and archaeologists to help curate exhibits that spoke to the glory of ancient Egypt—her history, her people, her legacy. Every detail, every artifact, seemed to carry a part of her soul, and each exhibit felt like another small piece of her past was being shared with the world, revealing stories that had been buried for centuries. The scholars and students clamoured for her expertise, and she was often invited to guest lecture at prestigious universities, each of them eager to hear her insights on the ancient world. The lectures themselves were an experience in and of themselves—Nouri could see the way the students hung on her every word, how they were transfixed by her stories of empires long gone and the wisdom she had accumulated over millennia. And yet, despite the bustle of New York, despite the respect and reverence with which she was received in those academic circles, her thoughts always found their way back to Steve. His quiet strength, his kindness, and the way his smile made everything feel like it could be okay—she couldn’t help but think of him, even in the midst of her busiest days.

When she wasn’t in New York, Nouri was back in Egypt, overseeing the rebuild of her ancient temple. The Egyptian Ministry of Culture had offered their full support, and Nouri felt a deep sense of purpose as she walked through the ancient stones, her fingers brushing against the carvings that told the stories of her ancestors. But still, there were moments—quiet, fleeting—that she felt something missing. Something, or rather someone, she hadn’t fully realized she needed until Steve had come into her life.

Steve, on the other hand, spent much of the year with Sam, his search for Bucky a mission that consumed him, body and soul. The pain of losing his best friend to the darkness of HYDRA was a wound that hadn’t healed, and he’d dedicate every moment to finding Bucky—no matter the cost. But in the quietest of moments, when he wasn’t on the trail of his old friend, Steve would think of Nouri.

There was something about her—a calmness, a wisdom—that made everything else feel lighter. When they were together, it was like the world fell away. It didn’t matter if she was dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans or the regalia of her divine heritage—Nouri was a force, but she had a softness that called to him. And in return, Steve had become her steady anchor. Her heart had known no home until him.

When their schedules allowed, Steve would fly to Egypt to spend time with her as she oversaw the temple’s reconstruction. And whenever she was in New York for a lecture, Steve would be there, ready with a quiet smile and a reassuring touch.

Their dates were simple, often ending with them taking long walks through the quiet streets of New York, hand in hand, or sharing a meal together. But each date ended the same: with a kiss. It started slow, tentative, as if neither could believe they were finally giving in to the overwhelming pull between them. But each kiss became longer, deeper—an unspoken promise that, despite the chaos of their lives, they had found something true.

Nouri never could have imagined the peace she found in Steve’s arms. The way he held her, the way his voice calmed her when the weight of her past became too much. Their connection wasn’t just built on the world’s need for them—it was built on shared silence, on the way their hands naturally found each other’s in the quiet of the night. They were partners, not just in battle but in life, and though neither of them ever said the words out loud, they didn’t need to. It was there, in the gentle brushing of her fingers against his when she needed comfort or in the way he would pull her close, no matter where they were.

Some nights, after a long day, they would simply find themselves curled up in the living room on their floor in the Avengers Tower, with the lights dimmed low, a movie playing in the background. Their legs tangled beneath a soft blanket, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the popcorn bowl and the occasional laughter that broke the silence. Hours would pass without them realizing, just holding hands and talking about everything and nothing at all. Nouri had never been one for idle chatter, but with Steve, it was different. She found herself speaking more openly, sharing stories of her people, of her past, of the loneliness she felt while she was imprisoned. Steve, ever the listener, would offer her a smile and a word of encouragement, and in return, he shared his own stories—of growing up in Brooklyn, of the friends he had lost, of his desire to make the world a better place.

But it wasn’t all quiet nights and gentle moments. Sometimes, in the middle of a strategy meeting, or when they were all gathered at the tower, Steve and Nouri would sneak off to a hidden corner, hidden from the others, to simply kiss or hold each other. Their love, still in its infancy, was something sacred to them—something they cherished quietly and privately. No one else needed to know, but when they couldn’t help themselves, when the world felt too heavy, they would find each other and steal a moment for themselves.

---

The snow was falling softly, blanketing New York City in a serene layer of white. Inside the cozy living room of the Avengers Tower, the fire crackled in the fireplace, adding warmth to the room. Steve and Nouri were seated together on the couch, their laughter filling the quiet space. Steve’s hand rested gently on her thigh, while her hand rested on his broad shoulder, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt.

The two of them had spent countless hours like this—just talking, laughing, sharing stories from their vastly different worlds. Though Nouri was far older than him, she had a way of making every moment feel fresh and alive, and Steve cherished those quiet moments with her more than he could express.

Natasha, who also lived in the tower, often caught them sneaking away. She’d raise an eyebrow, her lips curling into a grin as she watched them, but she never said anything. Instead, she’d just smile and continue with whatever she was doing, occasionally throwing in a comment like, "You two are a little too obvious, you know," or "You guys should just make it official already."

That particular evening, as winter had settled over the city, Natasha had found them once again, hidden in a cozy corner of the tower, wrapped in each other’s arms. They had been talking quietly, Steve’s voice low as he brushed his fingers over Nouri’s hair, making her laugh softly. Natasha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching them with an amused expression.

"I swear, you two are like magnets," Natasha said with a dramatic sigh, her voice teasing but fond. "Is this what I have to look forward to in my future? Because, honestly, it’s making me question everything."

Nouri, her cheeks flushed from Steve’s latest kiss, chuckled softly. "I think you’re just jealous," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Steve looked over at Natasha, his smile unshaken by the teasing. "You can join us anytime, Nat," he said in his usual gentlemanly tone, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. "But no stealing her away from me."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the affection in her expression was clear. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in becoming the third wheel to the most perfect couple on the planet."

"Not yet, anyway," Nouri said, her voice light with humour, though there was an underlying warmth in her gaze.

The teasing continued, but Steve and Nouri didn’t care. They knew they had something rare, something special. Each kiss, each stolen moment, was a reminder that even in a world filled with chaos, love was still the one thing that could hold everything together. They were learning to let go of their fears and embrace what they had, and as they stole another kiss, they both knew that no matter where their paths led, they had found something worth fighting for—each other.

---

April 27th, 2015

 

Nearly a year had passed since the battle in Washington, and Steve remained tirelessly searching for any lead that might bring him closer to Bucky. Despite his repeated inquiries, each time he asked Nouri about it, she shook her head. "Bucky's heart and soul is too clouded for me to see him clearly," she would say softly. "This path, Steve, you must walk alone."

It frustrated him, but he knew better than to press. Nouri's wisdom was beyond mortal comprehension, and while Steve felt a deep ache to find his friend, he understood that sometimes, some journeys were meant to be taken without guidance.

In the meantime, Nouri had been busy in her own way, focused on architectural plans for her temple in Thebes. She’d enlisted the help of Maria, who had eagerly joined in. Together, they worked to design something that would serve as a monument to knowledge and history, not grandeur.

Nouri sat hunched over her desk, her hands lightly tracing the inked lines of the architectural blueprints. Her brow furrowed as her mind tried to marry her vision with practicality. She let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers tangling in her dark curls. "My head might explode," she muttered under her breath, before looking up to see Thor entering the building with his usual boisterous presence.

“They’ve found Loki’s spectre,” Maria said, not even bothering to look up from her desk. Nouri’s curiosity piqued, and as she glanced toward the conference room, she saw the Avengers gathered, deep in discussion. She entered the room and stood beside Steve, who was seated at the head of the table. Without thinking, she placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a small, reassuring touch. He immediately leaned over and kissed it in a soft, fleeting gesture.

“Ah, Nouri, how nice of you to join us,” Tony called out with his typical smirk. Nouri greeted the others, nodding politely as she took in the tense atmosphere.

“Lady Light!” Thor boomed, his voice echoing in the room. Before she could protest, he was upon her, lifting her into a bear hug that nearly crushed the breath out of her.

“Thor,” she managed to laugh, “Please, you're going to ruin my clothes.”

“Forgive me, Lady Nouri!” he said with a gleam in his eye, finally setting her down.

"You found Loki's spectre?" she asked, her voice calm but full of concern.

"In Sokovia," Natasha whispered as she leaned in toward Nouri. "We leave tonight."

"We would love your help," Tony added, his tone slightly more earnest than usual.

Nouri met his eyes, her expression soft but unwavering. “Sorry, Stark,” she said with a small smirk, “Avenging the world is your task, not mine. I protect those who are lost in battle.” She chuckled quietly, enjoying the playful jab.

The meeting wrapped up soon after, and as the night fell, the team gathered their things to depart. Nouri walked with them to the Quinjet, her mind still partially on her temple and her unfinished plans.

"Nat! Take these," Nouri called out, pulling a pair of her knives from her belt and handing them to Natasha. “They are blessed with my powers.” Natasha took them, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” Natasha replied, giving her a firm nod.

Nouri’s attention shifted, and she turned toward Steve. She leaned in, a smile gracing her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Be safe. Don't come back with holes in you… again," she teased.

Steve laughed, a deep warmth in his eyes. “No ma’am, I’ll do my best.” He kissed her softly before stepping toward the Quinjet, giving her one last smile as he climbed aboard.

As the Quinjet’s engines roared to life, Nouri waved them off, watching until they disappeared into the sky. The wind carried the faint hum of the departing craft, but for a fleeting moment, it felt as though time had slowed. The night air was cool, but there was something familiar about the presence that loomed before her. She turned fully, her eyes narrowing just slightly in recognition, and there, perched on the edge of the stone, sat Khonshu. His silhouette was bathed in the soft light of the waning moon, his form as imposing as ever, yet somehow softer in the stillness of the night.

"Well, well," Khonshu sneered, his voice dripping with a mixture of condescension and amusement. "Your precious mortal. A model of justice, isn't he? A mere mortal, yet he seems to have captured your attention. How quaint."

Nouri turned to face him, her gaze narrowing, but she didn’t hide the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface. "Have you come to mock me, Father, or do you actually have something to say this time?" Her tone was calm, but her voice betrayed the frustration that had been bubbling within her for so long.

Khonshu studied her, his sharp gaze piercing the stillness of the night. "Mock you? Of course not," he replied, his words biting. "I am your father, and I am here to remind you that you are a goddess, not some... pathetic mortal like Rogers. You're wasting your time with these foolish feelings." His voice was dripping with disdain, as if he couldn’t fathom how she could possibly care for something so insignificant. "But I understand," he added, with a sigh that bordered on exasperation, as if tolerating her weakness. "Humanity has its... appeal, I suppose."

Nouri took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the ground as she sat beside him, the weight of her inner conflict pressing heavily on her chest. “And you understand why?” Her voice softened, almost too quietly. "I can't turn my back on them. Not after everything I've seen. They have the capacity for change, for redemption. I can’t ignore that, Father. Not after everything I’ve witnessed."

Khonshu's gaze flicked to her, sharp and calculating. "You believe in them, don’t you?" His words came out slowly, as though savoring the admission. "But is this the life you want? To be nothing more than a historian, spreading knowledge to mortals who can barely comprehend the weight of our past, let alone the power that we wield?"

Nouri stiffened, her frustration bubbling over. "No... I miss protecting and fighting," she admitted, her voice dropping. "I believed in it—the power to change things, to guide them in the right direction." She could feel the pang in her heart as she thought back to those days when she had walked among them, intervening when she could, thinking she could make a real difference.

Khonshu's eyes never left her, his expression unreadable, before he spoke with his usual venom. "And yet, here you are. Hiding away with these pitiful mortals, playing at being some mortal historian. Pathetic." He tilted his head, almost as though considering her. "You could be more. You are more."

Nouri looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, a faint flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. "I need to finish the drawings," she said firmly, her voice steady with purpose. "I have a meeting with Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly. He’s leading the build of the temple. I have to finalize the designs. It’s something I promised myself. I need to complete it." Her resolve was clear, even if her heart ached at the thought of what she was leaving behind.

Khonshu regarded her, the sharp edges of his gaze softening, but only slightly. “Fine. Do what you must,” he said, his tone still laced with an air of command, as though granting her permission to do what she thought was necessary. "But do not mistake your little temple for some grand act of change. It’s just another distraction, another way for you to hide from what’s truly important." His voice was thick with contempt, but there was something beneath it—something almost tender, if such a thing could exist in Khonshu's world. "For your sake, I hope you finish it. You’ve waited long enough."

Nouri stood, her back straight, regal in posture, but weary in her heart. "I must," she whispered to herself more than to him. As much as she longed to be part of the Avengers' fight, she knew deep down that the temple needed her. The work she had started needed to be completed—for her people, for her history, for herself.

Khonshu’s gaze softened just enough for Nouri to notice, though his voice remained as imperious as ever. "The gods are watching, Nouri," he said, his words carrying weight, though his tone held the faintest note of approval. "This temple will honor the past, but it will guide the future. Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment, child. You are mighty. You always have been. You can accomplish anything." His voice lowered, carrying the kind of emphasis only a father could manage—deep, heavy, yet undeniably sincere. "Just remember who you are."

Nouri hesitated, her thoughts drifting toward Steve. She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart aching. "I love him," she whispered, her voice barely audible but heavy with the weight of truth. "I wish you could meet him, Father. He’s... everything I never thought a mortal could be. He’s kind, strong, and he believes in something greater than himself." She paused, her gaze lifting to the moon above, before she continued, "I know it’s not what you want for me, but I can’t ignore this. I can't ignore him."

Khonshu’s gaze lingered on her, unreadable for a moment. Then, with a flick of his hand, he turned his eyes to the sky. "Love?" He scoffed. "You are a goddess, Nouri. Love is a weakness. It binds mortals to their foolish desires." He glanced back at her, a strange softness crossing his features. "But if he is truly worthy of you, he will understand that you are above all of them. You will outlive them, Nouri. That is the path we walk."

Nouri swallowed hard, the weight of her father’s words settling in her chest. Before she could say anything more, Khonshu's figure flickered, his presence fading like smoke in the wind. His final words lingered in the air, the force of his authority echoing as he vanished;

“Remember, Nouri, you are mighty. And you will always be a force to be reckoned with.”

His form flickered one last time, and then he was gone, leaving only the chill of the night and the faint echo of his words.

As the darkness settled around her, Nouri exhaled deeply. The weight of her decision pressed down on her chest, but there was a strange sense of peace in it, too. She spent the entire night, pouring her soul into the drawings for the temple. Each line she drew seemed to lighten her burden, the purpose clearer with every stroke. The walls, the columns, the inscriptions—they would all reflect the truth of their history, the connection between gods and mortals, the path that had been lost over centuries. It was something she could control, something tangible in the face of the chaos she had once thrived in.

---

By morning, the plans were finished, and Nouri felt a sense of completion. Her fingers still trembled slightly from the weight of her work, but the ache in her heart had eased, if only a little. She sent the documents off with a steady hand, then met with Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly. He was competent, capable, and as he reviewed the plans, she could see the respect he held for the vision she was bringing to life.

"This is perfect," Dr. El-Faouly said, his voice sincere as he looked over the intricate designs. "The temple will be built, just as you envisioned it."

Nouri gave a small nod, her heart lightened just slightly. "Good," she replied, her voice calm but carrying a depth of quiet resolve. "Because I will be leaving you in charge. Should you have any questions, ask the council of scholars I have assembled. I pass on this task to you."

She paused for a moment, letting the weight of her words settle between them. Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of pride in her eyes. It wasn’t just about the temple; it was about entrusting her vision to someone who could carry it forward. She could feel the burden of her own longings ease, knowing that this part of her journey was no longer hers to complete alone.

"You’ve honored this work well, Dr. El-Faouly," Nouri continued, her voice quieter now, "and I trust you’ll see it through, with care and reverence. This temple, it’s more than just stone and design—it’s a reflection of something much greater. You understand that, don’t you?"

Dr. El-Faouly nodded with quiet determination, clearly moved by her words. "I do," he said. "And I won’t take it lightly. It will be my honor to see this temple rise, just as you imagined it."

A sense of fulfillment washed over Nouri, her thoughts drifting momentarily to the task ahead of her. She had done her part here, and now it was time to step away. Time to honor her own path, even if it led her away from this place. The task would be carried on by others, and for that, she could rest a little easier.

With one last look at the plans, she gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Then it is done," she said, turning toward the door. "I leave you to it, Dr. El-Faouly. Do not disappoint me."

Nouri finished the meeting just in time for Maria to tell her that the team was returning from Sokovia. The words hit her like a wave, pulling her focus back to the present. There was no time for rest, no time to wonder if she could have done more.

Chapter 22: Party Time

April 29th, 2015

 

Maria knocked lightly on Nouri's desk. "They're landing," she said, her tone steady.

Nouri nodded, rising smoothly from her chair. She walked toward Maria, and together they made their way to the landing area. The Avengers' aircraft touched down at Avengers Tower in New York, the familiar hum of the engines echoing in the vast space. As the ramp lowered, Clint was escorted by Dr. Cho to tend to his wounds.

Maria approached Tony, who was standing near the entrance. Nouri, however, walked up to Steve, her eyes softening when she saw him. He turned toward her with a smile, and for a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade.

"I missed you," Nouri said, her voice quiet, laced with warmth.

Steve's smile widened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I missed you too."

Maria's voice cut through the moment. "Lab's all set up, boss," she said, looking toward Tony.

Tony, with his usual smirk, gestured toward Steve. "Uh, actually, he's the boss. I just pay for everything, design everything, and make everyone look cooler."

Steve gave him an exasperated look but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned back to Maria. "What's the word on Strucker?"

"NATO's got him," Maria replied, her tone even. The three of them walked to the elevator.

Steve’s eyes sharpened. "And the two enhanced?"

“Enhanced?” Nouri asked, her brow furrowing slightly, intrigued by the term.

"Twins. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Orphaned at ten when a shell collapsed their apartment in Sokovia," Maria explained, her gaze shifting to Nouri, noting her puzzled expression. "Sokovia's had a rough history. It’s nowhere special, but it’s on the way to everywhere special."

Steve's gaze remained fixed, absorbing every detail. "Their abilities?"

Maria nodded; her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "He's got increased metabolism and improved thermal homeostasis. Her thing is neural electric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation." Maria paused as Steve looked at her with a con-fused expression. She quickly rephrased. "He's fast, and she's... weird."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "And they volunteered for Strucker’s experiments? That’s... quite a choice."

Maria shifted uncomfortably. "It’s nuts. They volunteered, yeah. They didn’t have a lot of options, but Strucker’s experiments... they took them on a path they might never get off."

Steve's jaw tightened. "Right. What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country?"

"Exactly. Monster," Nouri scoffed, the word leaving her lips almost humorously, though her eyes were hard, the undercurrent of pain clear.

Maria’s tone shifted to something more serious. "We're not at war, Captain."

"They are," Steve responded quietly, his words heavy as the elevator doors closed with a soft ding.

“What happened?” Nouri asked, her voice soft, betraying concern.

"Clint got hit," Steve explained, his eyes flicking to Maria. "Then those twins showed up—kids, really. The boy’s fast, I didn’t get a good look at the girl, but they were Strucker’s latest experiment."

The elevator doors opened to their floor, the usual buzz of the Tower greeting them. But it felt different today. In the year that had passed, the floor had changed. It had become the place where they all came together, where Nouri and Steve had combined their rooms into one peaceful haven. The room was white and serene, filled with photos of their adventures, but there were a few carefully placed pictures of Egypt as well—reminders of her roots.

"I’ve never heard of anything like this before. I’ll keep an eye out for anything," Nouri said, squeezing Steve's hand before she turned toward the door to their room.

"You’ve stopped showing your hieroglyphs," Steve said, his voice quiet but filled with concern.

Nouri paused, her hand still on the door. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve stopped showing them," Steve repeated, his expression sincere, almost vulnerable. "I... I fear you’re forgetting who you are."

Nouri stood still for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. She let out a breath, turning to face him fully. "Khonshu said the same... He fears I’ve become too detached from who I am, too focused on the mortal world. That I’ve become a historian and not a guide for souls in the afterlife... I fear he’s right. I haven’t done my duties in years." Her voice softened; the guilt unmistakable as she sat on the edge of the bed. "I’ve been so focused on rebuilding my temple and teaching... but I should have been fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves."

Steve moved to her side, sitting next to her on the bed. He reached out, gently brushing a curl behind her ear, his touch tender. "If you believe this is the path you’re meant to take, then take it. I’ll always support you, Nouri." He smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

A small, rueful laugh escaped her. "If I believe it’s the right path," she repeated, as if still convincing herself. "I’ve let my emotions cloud my judgment. And I gave the task of rebuilding to a renowned archaeologist. He’ll lead it while I focus all my energy on you... and on saving the world."

Steve’s smile grew warmer, and he kissed her head again. "Then that’s what you’ll do. You don’t have to carry it all alone."

Nouri leaned into him for a moment, allowing herself the comfort of his presence. Then, she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Is Stark still throwing that party in a few days?"

Steve laughed, the sound light and easy. "Yep. You’re not escaping that one, Nouri."

Nouri sighed dramatically, though her lips curled into a smile despite herself. "Guess I’ll just have to endure it."

"Yeah, sure," Steve teased. "I’ll make sure to save you from all the awkward small talk."

The moment hung between them, filled with understanding and comfort, the weight of their shared past and uncertain future tempered by the quiet strength of their connection. Whatever battles lay ahead, they would face them together.

---

May 2nd, 2015

 

It was the eve of the celebration, a party to mark the Avengers' victory in Sokovia. Nouri wasn’t one for parties—too much noise, too many faces, and too much superficial celebration for her tastes—but she endured it for one reason: Steve.

She wasn’t running that late, but as usual, Steve had been ready hours ago, his punctuality always outshining hers. Tonight, though, she would make sure she stood out.

Her dress shimmered in the light—a deep red halter dress, sparkly and daring, with a slit that exposed her leg when she walked. She wore heels to match, as graceful as she was powerful. Tonight, her hieroglyphs would catch the light if it hit just right, gleaming along her skin like a reminder of her ancient lineage. Her hair was styled in Hollywood curls—old-fashioned, yet timeless—and a deep red lip completed her transformation. She was every bit the goddess in that moment—beautiful, confident, and undeniably captivating.

As she entered the elevator and made her way down to the party, she caught sight of the familiar hum of jazz music and voices mingling. She entered the room, the warmth of the gathering contrasting sharply with the cool calm of her demeanour. As she moved through the crowd, Nouri's eyes landed on Steve. He was standing with Rhodey, Maria, Thor, and Tony. The moment their gazes met, Steve winked at her, a smile tugging at his lips.

Rhodey leaned back, a confident grin spreading across his face as he launched into his latest story. "Well, you know, the suit can handle the weight, right? So, I take the tank, fly it straight up to the General's palace, drop it at his feet, and I'm like, 'Boom! You looking for this?'" He paused dramatically, waiting for the punchline.

But Stark and Thor just stared at him, blank expressions in place. Rhodey let out an exasperated sigh. "Boom! Are you looking...?" He looked at the two of them incredulously. "Why do I even talk to you guys? Everywhere else that story kills."

Thor raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. "That's the whole story?"

Steve chuckled, his lips curling into a grin. "Yeah, it's a War Machine story," he said with an amused shake of his head.

Thor's serious face cracked into a smile. "Well, it's very good then. Impressive."

"Quality save," Rhodey nodded approvingly. He then shifted the topic, noticing the absence of some familiar faces. "So, no Pepper? She's not coming?"

Tony shook his head, a faint sadness in his eyes. "No," he said simply.

Maria, who had been listening nearby, interjected, her voice carrying over. "Hey, what about Jane? Where are the ladies, gentlemen?"

Tony responded with a shrug. "Well, Miss Potts has a company to run," he said nonchalantly.

Thor nodded, chiming in, "Yes, I'm not even sure which country Jane’s in anymore. Her work on the convergence has made her the world's foremost astronomer."

"Right," Tony said, tapping his glass thoughtfully. "And the company that Pepper runs is the largest tech conglomerate on Earth. It's pretty exciting."

Thor’s face lit up as he added, "There's even talk of Jane getting a... uh, Nobel prize."

Before Tony could continue, his gaze shifted to the stairs, where a familiar figure appeared. "Lady of fire isn’t showing?" he mocked playfully, but Steve’s attention was already on the figure descending, his face lighting up at the sight.

Nouri was walking down the stairs like she belonged in a dream, her presence practically glowing in the soft lighting. She was radiant, every step exuding grace and power. The room seemed to hold its breath as she moved, and for a moment, even the laughter in the background faded. Rhodey, Tony, and Thor were all struck speechless, their eyes following her as she walked past them toward the bar.

"Excuse me, boys," Nouri’s voice was smooth and confident as she passed, sending a wave of warmth through the group. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at them, a playful edge to her tone. She moved with purpose, gliding through the crowd.

She stopped briefly by the bar to grab a drink, turning toward the group with a light, teasing smile. "Gentlemen, Maria," she greeted with a raised glass, her presence unmistakable.

And with a final glance at them, she walked past to where Natasha and Clint were standing, her confident steps never faltering.

---

As Nouri made her way toward Natasha and Clint, the two women exchanged a quick, knowing glance. There was an unspoken amusement between them, something about watching the rest of the guys in stunned silence as Nouri entered the room. Natasha smirked, raising an eyebrow, and couldn’t resist the playful jab.

"Looks like the room just got a whole lot hotter," Natasha teased, her voice full of humour that carried a spark of admiration.

Nouri laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with the same warmth. She leaned casually against the bar, her posture graceful yet unassuming. "I’m sure they’ll recover eventually," she replied, her tone light. "But it’s always nice to make an entrance."

Clint, who had been standing nearby, chuckled as he took a sip from his drink. "No kidding," he muttered, shaking his head. "I think Rhodey might need a minute. I haven’t seen him speechless before."

Nouri caught Clint’s eye and raised an eyebrow, sensing his light-heartedness masking something more. She turned her gaze to Tony, who was still blinking in disbelief. “I think Tony’s still processing the fact that the room isn’t entirely about him for once,” Natasha added, her tone dripping with humour. “He’ll adjust.”

Nouri’s gaze shifted back to Clint, her smile fading slightly as she observed him more closely. She noticed the subtle stiffness in his movements, the faint wince when he shifted his weight. A softness crept into her expression as she studied him. “Clint,” she said, her voice suddenly turning more serious, “are you okay? I heard you took a hit.”

Clint waved her off, his grin a little strained as he shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm fine, just a scratch," he said, his tone attempting to sound carefree. "Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve had worse."

Nouri’s eyes narrowed slightly, unconvinced by his words. She leaned a little closer, her voice softening but firm. "You’re not fooling anyone, Barton."

Clint chuckled, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, but there was a weariness that tugged at his smile. “I’m fine,” he insisted, throwing her a mock pout. “Really. Just a little bruised ego."

The three of them stood there, laughing softly, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the world outside could wait. It was a rare, peaceful respite—one that Nouri cherished more than she let on.

Just as the laughter began to fade into comfortable silence, a familiar presence materialized beside Nouri. Steve’s warm, yet firm, voice broke through the quiet. “Ma’am,” he said, his smile a quiet invitation.

Nouri turned to see him standing there—posture relaxed, but those familiar, steady eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter. She knew what was coming, but a part of her was surprised by the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him.

“Captain,” she responded with a soft smile, her voice gentle but purposeful, her attention entirely on him. There was an ease in her tone, though the presence of his gaze unsettled the emotions she preferred to keep hidden.

“Do excuse me,” Nouri said to Natasha and Clint, her voice warm, offering a graceful nod of acknowledgment before she focused on Steve once more.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her with a grin, his smile deepening just slightly. “Shall we?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable kindness in his voice, and the warmth in his eyes spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Nouri took his hand, her fingers brushing his. The touch sent a surprising jolt through her—electric, immediate, and filled with an emotion she hadn’t expected. She squeezed his hand lightly, feeling a pull, she couldn’t quite explain. “We shall,” she replied, her voice quieter now, as though she herself were caught in the moment.

Steve glanced at her, his eyes flickering toward the ancient symbols still visible on her skin. “Hieroglyphs on display?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his tone playful but tinged with genuine curiosity.

Nouri smiled, a little mischievous, but the flicker of warmth in her eyes remained. “I do listen to you,” she replied with a soft chuckle, the exchange comfortable, as though they were two old friends who understood each other’s complexities without needing to say much at all.

Nouri and Steve stood together at the top of the stairs, gazing down at the lively party below. Steve’s hand was at her waist, a protective gesture that subtly grounded her as the chaos of modern life swirled around them. The lights, the laughter, the noise—it was all a bit overwhelming for Nouri, still adjusting to this fast-paced, unfamiliar world.

Sam stood beside them, his eyes scanning the crowd, before letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like a hell of a fight. Sorry I missed it.”

Steve shrugged; his voice casual but with an underlying warmth. “If I had known it was going to be a firefight, I absolutely would have called you.” He glanced at Nouri, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Sam’s smirk was almost audible. “No, I’m not actually sorry. I’m just trying to sound tough. Honestly, I’m happy enough chasing cold leads on our missing persons case. Avenging? That’s your world. Your world’s crazy.”

Steve laughed, though it was tinged with a self-aware humility. “Be it ever so humble.” He then turned back to Nouri, his hand instinctively resting on her waist again as if to anchor them both. “You’ve been quiet tonight. What do you think of all this?”

Nouri gave him a thoughtful look, her gaze lingering on the crowd below. “I think they’re all seeking something. A purpose. A connection. Something greater than themselves.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at her. “Now that sounds like some ancient wisdom talking. You must have seen a lot over the centuries, huh?”

Nouri nodded slowly. “I have... and yet, this modern world feels so distant. So... fragmented.” Her eyes flickered over the partygoers, then back to Sam and Steve. “There is beauty in their strength, but they seem so often lost in their own pursuits.”

Steve’s expression softened, understanding the quiet depth in her words. “Yeah, sometimes it’s easy to forget what we’re really fighting for, huh?”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Nouri’s lips, though her eyes held a hint of sadness. “It’s not always the battle that matters, Steve. It’s what we choose to do once the fight is over.” She glanced toward the dance floor, where people laughed and clinked glasses, searching for a fleeting connection.

Sam cleared his throat and nudged Steve again, but this time with a more serious tone. “Find a place in Brooklyn yet?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think I can afford a place in Brooklyn.” His voice was light, but there was an edge of exhaustion beneath it.

“Yeah, well, home is home, you know?” Sam said, his tone softer now. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting to go back to his roots. Even if it's... a little too crazy.”

Nouri excused herself with a graceful nod, her soft smile lingering as she stepped away from the two men. “Do excuse me,” she said quietly, before walking down the stairs.”

Steve watched Nouri walk away, his gaze softening as she made her way down the stairs, blending effortlessly into the crowd. A quiet contentment filled his chest as he admired her graceful movements. Sam noticed the subtle shift in Steve's expression and raised an eyebrow.

"You two... seem like you're getting closer," Sam remarked, the teasing edge in his voice not entirely hidden.

Steve blinked, pulling his attention away from Nouri for just a moment, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “We are.”

Sam’s smirk grew wider. “You happy?”

“Absolutely,” Steve replied without hesitation, though his voice held a tenderness that was unmistakable. He chuckled, trying to mask the warmth creeping up his neck. “I just hope I live up to her standards.”

Sam shot him a grin, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. “Dude, you’re Captain America. Of course you do.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips betrayed him. His gaze returned to Nouri, watching her move through the crowd with an elegance that seemed to transcend the mundane. There was something almost ethereal about her presence, a reminder of her ancient origins.

---

Later, most of the guests had left, and it was just the Avengers, Dr. Cho, and Maria sitting around in the common area of the Avengers Tower. Thor's hammer rested on the table between them, drawing everyone’s attention.

Nouri, seated beside Steve, watched the banter with quiet amusement. Steve’s arm was casually draped around her, a small but comforting gesture. She could feel the warmth of his presence beside her, even as the others joked around. Her gaze lingered on the hammer; the weight of the moment not lost on her.

Clint eyed it sceptically. “But it's a trick!” he said, motioning to the hammer.

Thor raised an eyebrow, his voice filled with a calm confidence. "Oh, no. It’s much more than that."

Clint scoffed, crossing his arms. “Uh, 'Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power!' Whatever, man! It’s a trick.”

Nouri chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I don't know, Clint. Seems like there’s more to it. Do you really believe it’s all just a game?”

Clint shot her a wry smile. “Hey, it’s all fun and games until someone gets smote by lightning, right?”

Thor leaned back, his grin widening. “Well, please, be my guest.”

Tony, unable to resist, chuckled. “Come on, Clint. Show us how it's done.”

Clint hesitated, glancing between the hammer and the eager faces around him. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Thor urged; his voice thick with amusement.

Clint stood up slowly, walking toward the table.

Rhodey grinned from his seat. “Oh, this is gonna be beautiful.”

Tony laughed, unable to stop himself. “Clint, you’ve had a tough week. We won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”

The others chuckled at the light-hearted jab, but Nouri’s eyes softened with a faint smile. She understood the weight of their joking—humour, in times of tension, was a way of connecting. Still, her attention was mainly on Clint, who was now eyeing the hammer like it might bite.

Clint shot a look at Tony. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

He grasped the hammer, giving it a firm tug. It didn’t budge. He looked at Thor, shaking his head. “I still don’t know how you do it.”

Tony’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Smell the silent judgment?”

Clint rolled his eyes, grinning. “Please, Stark, by all means.”

Tony jumped to his feet, clapping his hands together. “Alright, here we go!”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “Oh, here we go.”

Maria chuckled from the side. “This should be good.”

Rhodey muttered under his breath, “Uh-oh.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, a smug smirk on his face. “Mm-hmm.”

Tony straightened up, cracking his knuckles with dramatic flair. “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge.”

“Get after it,” Clint called from his seat, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Natasha sighed with an amused shake of her head. “Here we go.”

Tony cracked his knuckles again. “It’s physics, people.”

Bruce chimed in, eager for a distraction, “Physics!”

Tony grasped the hammer, testing its weight with a grunt. “Right, so if I lift it, I... I then rule Asgard?”

Thor nodded seriously, as if there were no other answer. “Yes, of course.”

Tony grinned. “Well, then, I’ll be re-instituting Prima Nocta. It’s a first step, really.” He gave it another try, grunting as he tugged at the hammer—nothing. “Okay, okay, I’ll be right back.”

He returned wearing his armoured hand and tried again. Still nothing.

Both Tony and Rhodey, now sporting their armoured hands, took their turns together, tugging at the hammer with all their might.

Rhodey shot a glance at Tony. “Are you even pulling?”

Tony shot back with his usual wit. “Are you on my team?”

“Just represent! Pull!” Rhodey urged, his voice rising with laughter.

Tony gritted his teeth. “Alright, let’s go!”

They both strained, but still, the hammer didn’t budge.

Bruce stepped up, shaking his arms as if preparing for something grand. “Alright, alright. This is gonna be good.”

Everyone looked at him with varying degrees of wariness and amusement.

Bruce paused, his face deadpan. “Huh?”

The tension in the room thickened, everyone watching him with bated breath, as if waiting for him to turn into the Hulk and finally get the job done.

Next, Steve stood and walked over, a little amused. Nouri watched, her arms crossed over her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. She couldn’t help but find it amusing to see Steve struggle with Thor's hammer, but she also understood its significance. She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tony, who was watching intently.

Tony grinned. "Let’s go, Steve, no pressure."

Rhodey added, "Come on, Cap."

Steve grabbed the hammer’s handle and began pulling. His efforts made it budge a little, and Thor's eyes widened slightly with alarm, and so did Nouri’s. She knew Steve’s scales were balanced, so it didn’t surprise her when the hammer budged a little. It was just… interesting to see it happen. Steve continued to pull, his muscles straining, but despite his efforts, he still couldn’t lift it.

Thor let out a relieved laugh, crossing his arms. “Nothing,” he said, his voice full of feigned superiority.

Tony looked at him with raised eyebrows. "And?"

Bruce nudged Natasha. "Widow?"

Natasha smirked and shook her head. "Oh, no, no. That’s not a question I need answered."

Tony turned to Nouri, leaning forward with curiosity. “Nouri?”

Nouri tilted her head, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Oh, no no no no," she said, her voice light but assured, "the scales of Ma'at are balanced for me. That holds far more weight than lifting his hammer ever could."

Tony grinned at Thor. "All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king, but it’s rigged." He gave a mock bow to Thor.

Clint nodded. "You bet your ass."

Maria piped up, smirking. "Steve, he said a bad language word."

Nouri laughed, clearly amused. “Oh, I heard that. The comms in Sokovia were practically a soap opera.” Her voice carried an affectionate sarcasm, knowing well that the banter among them could rival anything on a reality show.

Steve turned to Tony, frowning. "Did you tell everyone about that?"

Tony shrugged with his usual nonchalance. "The handle’s imprinted, right? Like a security code. 'Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints' is, I think, the literal translation?" He waved a hand dismissively, as though it was common knowledge.

Thor raised his eyebrows, clearly entertained by Tony’s explanation. "Yes, well, that’s, uh, that’s a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one." He stood up, his grin widening. With a single motion, he casually grasped the hammer, lifting it effortlessly. He flipped it in the air with a flourish, making it look easy. "You’re all not worthy."

A chorus of discontent filled the room as everyone groaned in unison.

Chapter 23: Party Gone Wrong?

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback

A loud screeching noise filled the air, like microphone feedback, causing everyone to cover their ears. The sound faded, and they slowly lowered their hands. Tony pulled out his device, scanning the room. One of the Iron Legion suits, heavily damaged and housing Ultron’s consciousness, stumbled into the room.

Ultron’s voice echoed through the wreckage. “Worthy... No, how could you be worthy? You're all killers.”

“Stark,” Steve called out, eyes narrowing.

Tony was already tapping away at his device. “JARVIS.”

Ultron’s voice flickered. “I’m sorry, I was asleep. Or... I was a-dream?”

Tony’s fingers flew over his device. “Reboot, Legionnaire OS, we got a buggy suit.”

Ultron seemed to stumble mentally, the words trailing off. “There was a terrible noise... and I was tangled in... in... strings. I had to kill the other guy. He was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Nouri asked, confused. Her voice was calm, but a hint of concern lingered. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her hands glowed with a soft, flickering fire that illuminated her face in the otherwise dark room.

“Wouldn’t have been my first call,” Ultron replied, a strange calmness in his voice. “But down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

Thor stepped forward, his voice booming. “Who sent you?”

Ultron replied by replaying a recording of Tony’s voice. “I see a suit of armour around the world.”

“Ultron!” Bruce shouted, the tension rising. Nouri sat straight up, eyes narrowing as she conjured fire in her hands, ready to strike at the next moment of aggression. She could feel the power coursing through her veins. Her connection to the sun itself seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat.

Ultron’s voice returned, dripping with irony. “In the flesh. Or, no, not yet. Not this... chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

“What mission?” Natasha demanded.

“Peace in our time,” Ultron declared, his tone almost mocking.

Suddenly, the walls exploded. Several Iron Legion bots barrelled into the room, attacking without hesitation. Steve kicked up the table as Nouri manipulated the fire from her hands, sending flames roaring through the air, disintegrating a few of the incoming bots with a swift, precise blast. She could feel the heat building as the flames burned hotter, her emotions fanning the fire's intensity. Each strike of fire was controlled, but it was her frustration that fuelled it.

The Avengers sprang into action, going on the defensive. Rhodey was knocked through a window.

“Rhodey!” Maria shouted, panic in her voice.

The fight raged on, the Avengers fighting back with everything they had. Nouri, her focus razor-sharp, was busy trying to melt the metal of one of the Iron Legion bots when another bot came at her from behind. Before she could react, the bot slammed into her, sending her crashing toward the glass of the tower.

The impact was brutal—her body collided with the glass, the force of the blow nearly enough to send her crashing through it. Her hands flared with fire as she tried to stabilize herself, her feet scrambling for traction against the smooth surface of the glass. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, the weight of the bot pushing her closer to the precipice.

No. Not like this, she thought, her breath quickening, as the coolness of the glass and the cold wind from the open city below threatened to send her flying.

But before the bot could throw her out completely, Thor’s hammer came hurtling through the air, a brilliant arc of divine power. It struck the bot square in the chest, sending it flying across the room with a tremendous crash. The hammer’s impact forced the bot to release its grip on Nouri, and she managed to regain her balance, her fire flaring up to steady her as she caught herself.

Nouri's breath was ragged, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of her flames, still alive in her palms, but it was a relief—pure and simple—that she was still on solid ground.

“Thanks, Odinson,” Nouri muttered, her voice laced with both gratitude and a hint of sarcasm, as she brushed the glass shards off her attire, her hands still crackling with fiery energy. The heat in her palms dissipated only slightly, but the fire was always there, just beneath the surface, ready for her command.

As she turned to face the chaos, she spotted a half-destroyed Iron Legion bot hovering near Dr. Helen Cho, its voice monotonous. “We are here to help. Is unsafe. Please back away.”

Ultron’s voice cut through the chaos. “Hmm.” As the Iron Legion bot lowered its weapon, Nouri seized the opportunity, reaching out with one hand and melting the bot down with a focused stream of fire. The bot’s metal frame twisted and crumpled as it collapsed into a pile of molten slag. The fire swirled around her fingers, flickering in her palm as if her divine essence was as much a part of the flames as the world itself.

“Thor!” Steve shouted as he steadied himself against a column, preparing for another strike.

The Iron Legion bot continued its chant, even as Stark swung wildly with his fork. “It’s unsafe. It’s unsafe. It’s unsafe.”

“Come on! That’s the one!” Tony shouted back, frustration lacing his words.

With a final, harsh “It’s unsafe,” the bot powered down, collapsing to the floor. The fighting continued, chaos all around them. Clint threw Steve’s shield to him, offering a moment of reprieve.

“Cap!” Clint called out; his voice clear.

Steve caught the shield effortlessly, and in one swift motion, he used it to dismember the last Iron Legion bot. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, smoke, and scorched metal.

Ultron’s voice cut in, dripping with mockery. “That was dramatic! I’m sorry, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through. You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?” He picked up one of the dismembered Iron Legion bots, his hands crushing it with ease. “With these? These puppets?” He sneered, crushing the bot’s head under his palm. “There’s only one path to peace: The Avengers’ extinction.”

Thor’s hammer swung through the air with divine force, shattering Ultron’s body in a brilliant explosion of sparks.

But Ultron wasn’t gone. As his form disintegrated, he began to sing. “I had strings, but now I’m free. There are no strings on me, no strings on me.” His voice echoed, warped and eerie, sending a chill down Nouri’s spine. The way his words twisted in the air was almost maddening. She could feel the echo of his false peace vibrate through her. The false notion of evolution by destruction.

Nouri stood with her back straight, fire still flickering in her hands. “No strings, no purpose,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes locked on the twisted form of Ultron. “Peace through destruction. The arrogance of it.” Her words were full of disdain as she turned to face the rest of the team. “He speaks of peace, but what he desires is chaos. It is not through the destruction of all that he will find his answer.”

Her voice was low, but it carried a force that made the others take notice. She looked at each of them, her gaze sharpening, almost as if trying to remind them why they fought.

The fight wasn’t over, and she knew it was far from it. Her mind was racing with thoughts of Ultron’s twisted words, but as she turned back to the team, her gaze softened. There was no more time for introspection. The world was still at stake.

---

The team gathered in the lab, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Steve noticed a cut on Nouri’s arm, probably from when she had been thrown into the wall. Her expression remained cool, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him, her voice calm, though there was an underlying sharpness to it. She bent down, carefully helping Maria pull shards of glass out of her foot.

Bruce’s voice cut through the silence; his frustration evident. "All our work is gone. Ultron cleared out, used the internet as an escape hatch."

Steve frowned, his jaw tightening. "Ultron."

Nouri glanced up briefly, her eyes still focused on Maria’s foot, but her voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving. "He's been in everything. Files, surveillance. He probably knows more about us than we know about each other."

Rhodey’s face darkened, the weight of their situation sinking in. "He's in your files, he's in the internet. What if he decides to access something a little more exciting?"

"Nuclear codes," Maria chimed in, her voice heavy with the realization of the danger they were facing.

"Nukes?" Natasha echoed, her disbelief mixing with anger. "He said he wanted us dead."

Steve shook his head, correcting her with his usual calm, firm tone. "He didn’t say dead. He said extinct."

Clint’s eyes narrowed, deep in thought. "He also said he killed somebody."

Maria added, her voice softer but no less urgent, "But there wasn't anyone else in the building."

Tony leaned forward; his intensity palpable. "Yes, there was." With a few quick gestures, he brought up a now-destroyed 3D image of JARVIS' consciousness. The room fell into a tense silence as they all stared at the eerie, fragmented display.

Bruce shook his head in disbelief. "This is insane."

Steve scrutinized the image, piecing things together. "JARVIS was the first line of defence. He would’ve shut Ultron down, it makes sense."

Bruce nodded, his face darkening. "No. Ultron could’ve assimilated JARVIS. This isn’t strategy. This is… rage."

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Thor strode in, fury radiating off him like a storm. Without hesitation, he grabbed Tony by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

Nouri, her voice dripping with mocking amusement, laughed loudly. "Woah, woah, woah! It’s going around, huh?"

Tony, unfazed, looked up at Thor, his lips curling into a smirk. "Come on. Use your words, buddy."

Thor’s eyes flared with fury. "I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark."

Steve stepped forward, his voice firm and authoritative. "Thor! The Legionnaire."

The tension in the room grew thick, but after a few beats, Thor released Tony, his grip loosening as he stepped back. "Trail went cold about a hundred miles out, but it’s headed north, and it has the sceptre. Now we have to retrieve it. Again."

Natasha shook her head, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron."

Dr. Helen Cho, still trying to process everything, spoke up, her voice filled with confusion. "I don’t understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?"

Tony let out a hollow laugh, but it quickly faded. Banner subtly shook his head, silently urging Tony to stop.

Thor’s voice was filled with frustration and barely contained rage. "You think this is funny?"

Tony paused, his face faltering, before he let out a strained chuckle. "No. It’s probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so... is it so... it is. It’s so terrible."

Thor growled, his anger rising. "This could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t played with something you didn’t understand."

“Insanity!” Nouri hissed, her eyes flashing with an ancient fire, though her words were tinged with weariness. She couldn’t help herself. "Yet again, humanity plays with something they can’t understand."

The team went quiet for a moment, feeling the weight of her words. She had seen civilizations rise and fall, and this endless cycle of hubris was nothing new to her. It was just... exhausting.

She stood up, her eyes flickering briefly to Tony before returning to the group. "Do you mortals never learn? You tamper with forces beyond your comprehension, and now we have this mess to clean up." Her tone softened slightly, but there was no hiding the frustration there. "We all pay the price, don't we? And yet, it’s always someone else’s fault."

Tony's eyes flared with a sharp response and then he started to laugh. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this."

Bruce interjected, his voice calm but firm. "Tony, maybe this might not be the time to—"

Tony shot him a look, cutting him off. "Really?! That’s it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls?"

Bruce’s reply was quiet, measured. "Only when I've created a murder bot."

Tony’s frustration reached its boiling point. "We didn’t. We weren’t even close. Were we close to an interface?"

Steve’s voice broke through the escalating tension, steady and firm. "Well, you did something right. And you did it right here. The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD."

Tony’s expression softened for a moment, his voice heavy with a mix of regret and disbelief. "Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?"

Rhodey smirked, his voice dry. "No, it's never come up."

"Saved New York?" Tony pressed, trying to make his point.

"Nope, never heard that," Rhodey quipped, adding a sarcastic edge.

Tony let out a breath, his frustration turning into something darker. "Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all day long, but that up there? That’s... that’s the endgame. How were you guys planning on beating that?"

Nouri stood silently at the edge of the conversation, her arms crossed tightly, her eyes cold and hard as she listened. Her anger, barely contained beneath the surface, began to seethe, and the simmering tension in her was palpable. She couldn’t stay silent anymore.

Her voice broke through the room, sharp as a knife, carrying the weight of centuries. "You think you've seen the worst of humanity, Tony?" Her gaze locked onto his, fiery and intense, as though she were speaking from the depths of ancient history. "That alien invasion wasn’t the endgame, Tony. No. You haven’t even scratched the surface." She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her frustration pushing against the walls of the room, her voice rising, an ancient fury spilling free with each word. "You people... your kind, with all your advancements, your inventions, your greed, your unrelenting ambition, you've toppled civilizations. I've watched them fall. Over and over. I've seen your ancestors tear each other apart over things that meant nothing—nothing in the grand scheme of things. And now, you think this—" She gestured vaguely to the mess around them, "— this is the worst humanity can do? It’s nothing. Ultron’s just a symptom of the disease that’s been festering in your kind for millennia"

The room went still, her words hanging in the air like a suffocating weight. Tony’s smirk faltered, his arrogance draining away as her anger washed over him.

"You think you’re the first to try and play God?" Nouri’s voice was a growl now, her words coming faster, sharper, like a blade she could barely restrain. "You will never be a god, Stark. The gods left humanity, because humanity never paid the price for their actions." She stepped forward, each movement deliberate, her eyes burning with centuries of frustration. "I’ve seen the ruins of entire kingdoms. Gods and men alike, all fallen—crushed—because they thought they could control things that were never meant to be controlled." She loomed closer, eyes burning with ancient fury. "Ultron isn’t the problem. You are. The world doesn’t need another man-made god to ‘fix’ it. The world needs you to stop repeating the same damn mistakes."

Tony opened his mouth to argue, but Nouri cut him off again, her voice now a mixture of sorrow and fury. "You all want to be heroes, but you’re blinded by your own hubris. You built this... monster, Tony. This is on you. The same way every empire fell. Every time someone thought they knew better than the universe, than nature, than life itself." Her voice was a thunderclap now, loud, resonant, shaking the very walls. "And now you're sitting here, pointing fingers at each other, but you’re missing the point entirely. You can’t fix this by beating the hell out of each other. You have to stop making the same mistakes that have destroyed everything before you."

There was a long, suffocating silence as her words took root. Even Tony stood still, his bravado gone, replaced with something approaching disbelief.

Steve’s voice broke through the tension, steady and calm, as always. "We face this together. And if we fail, we’ll do that together too." He met Tony’s eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment, before turning to Nouri. But Nouri, her anger still simmering, said nothing more. With one last look at the group, her eyes flashing with fire, she turned and stormed out of the lab, her footsteps heavy with her unspoken frustration.

---

Steve found Nouri standing alone on the rooftop, her silhouette framed against the soft glow of the city lights. The cool breeze ruffled her dark curls, but she remained still, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the city below. It was as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. The city stretched out endlessly, yet she stood unmoving, her thoughts far away, lingering on the quiet chaos of everything she'd witnessed.

“That was quite a speech,” Steve said softly as he approached her, his voice gentle but filled with admiration. His eyes lingered on her, the hint of something deeper in his gaze. She was so much older than him, so much wiser, but in this moment, he saw the weight she carried—a burden far beyond anything he could comprehend.

Nouri didn’t turn to face him immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the city below, but her body stiffened slightly at the sound of his voice. “I’m too tired for a lecture,” she murmured, the sharp edge to her tone softened by the vulnerability hiding just beneath. It wasn’t anger directed at him, but the eternal detachment she sometimes wore so thickly.

Steve smiled, a playful glint in his eyes despite the gravity of their situation. “I wasn’t going to lecture, promise,” he said, his voice a little lighter, the warmth of his smile reaching his eyes.

Nouri’s eyes flickered over to him for a brief moment. Her expression remained unreadable, but the way her features softened just slightly suggested she wasn't entirely immune to his charm. “Every time I see good in humans,” she said softly, her voice heavy with the centuries of wisdom she carried, “I see their dark ambitions. Their scales become unbalanced... Why? Is it because the gods left? Is it because humanity lost hope and belief?” She paused; her words laced with sorrow. The vulnerability she so often hid behind the veil of wisdom and age was beginning to show through.

Steve’s expression softened; his heart heavy with empathy. Without thinking, his hand reached out toward her, though he stopped just short of touching her, respecting the space she kept so guarded. “Not everyone lost hope,” he said gently, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “Don’t let their darkness cloud your heart. You know what is right.” His words hung in the air, like a quiet promise. He gently reached for her hand, his grip warm and steady, as though offering her the one thing that had always kept him grounded—his unwavering belief in what was good and true.

Nouri exhaled a long, shaky breath, the frustration of her question still hanging heavy on her chest. Her eyes met his, searching for something in his gaze—perhaps an answer, perhaps a reassurance that she could find her way through the fog of uncertainty. “I want to believe that, Steve,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it a stark contrast to her usual calm. “But how can I when I see so much suffering, so much pain? It’s as though humanity cannot escape its own flaws.” She looked away, her gaze lost in the night sky, as if searching for an answer written somewhere in the stars.

Steve gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice steady like the anchor in a storm. “One step at a time,” he said, his words full of the quiet confidence she had come to admire. “One person at a time. You’ve done more for this world than you realize.” He stepped closer, his presence a comforting weight next to hers.

As they stood there, the cool night air heavy with unspoken emotions, a gust of wind tousled Nouri’s hair once again. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, her gaze had shifted upward, toward the top of the Avengers Tower. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something different in the way her eyes narrowed slightly.

Steve followed her gaze, his eyes scanning the top of the building, but there was nothing there. "What is it?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity, his brow furrowing slightly.

Nouri’s gaze remained fixed, distant, as though she were seeing something only she could see. Her eyes softened with a deep, almost resigned sadness. “He’s watching me,” she said, her voice a quiet murmur, carrying a mixture of sadness and acceptance. “My father, he’s making sure I make the right choices.”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, concern furrowing his features. “You are,” he said without hesitation, his hand gently cupping her face, guiding her gaze back to his. His thumb brushed across her cheek, a soft and tender gesture, filled with certainty. “You’ve always made the right choices. You don’t need anyone to tell you that.”

Her heart beat a little faster as his words settled in, warmth spreading through her chest. The weight she had carried for so long, the endless burden of her ancient wisdom and divine mission, seemed to lighten in that moment. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this uncertain before,” she confessed quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen so much, and yet... I still feel like I’m just trying to understand it all.” Her vulnerability, normally hidden behind her divine calm, was laid bare between them now.

Steve stepped even closer, his arms wrapping around her with a protective tenderness. He pulled her gently into an embrace, grounding her with his presence. “You’re not alone in this,” he said, his voice full of the unwavering support she had come to trust. “Not anymore. We’re in this together.” His lips brushed against her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss—one that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Nouri closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him, feeling the comfort of his presence as it soothed the deep ache in her heart. The world, for all its chaos, suddenly felt a little more bearable with him by her side. His embrace, his warmth—it was everything she had longed for in the darkest corners of her soul.

“I’m not sure what the future holds,” Nouri murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of his jacket as if grounding herself in his presence. “But I know that I want you to be a part of it.” Her voice was soft, laden with something deeper than just words—an unspoken promise, a desire to move forward.

Steve’s heart swelled at her words, and he gently lifted her chin, his gaze soft but intense. “I’ll always be here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of his feelings spilling over in the sincerity of his words. “For you, Nouri. Always.” His voice, steady and full of love, was a steady promise, echoing in her chest.

As he leaned in to kiss her softly, Nouri felt a deep connection—not just to him, but to the world she had once only observed from afar. Together, they could do anything. For Steve Rogers believed in the goddess Al Nouri, and that belief was more powerful than anything she had ever known.

Above them, Khonshu’s presence loomed—silent, but ever-watchful. Yet, for the first time in a long while, Nouri was no longer alone in the darkness.

---

The next morning, Nouri walked into the lab with quiet steps, her eyes scanning the room. The team was already gathered, the tension palpable in the air. Tony gave her a casual nod, his usual grin appearing, though it was tempered by a hint of understanding. He raised his fist for a bump, and Nouri returned it with a small smile, though the weight of the mission still hung heavily on her shoulders.

"Good to see you're not holding a grudge," Tony remarked dryly, as if trying to lighten the mood.

Nouri gave him a quick look, but there was a softness in her voice as she replied, "It’s hard to hold a grudge when there’s so much darkness in the world."

She walked over and sat down next to Natasha, who was already absorbed in the computer, her fingers flying over the keys with practiced precision. Natasha barely glanced up, giving Nouri a quick nod of acknowledgment.

Steve walked into the room, holding a digital tablet in his hand, his expression grim. He showed the team the lifeless body of Strucker, the bloody word "PEACE" hauntingly visible on the wall behind him.

Tony furrowed his brow, staring at the image. "What’s this?"

"A message," Steve said, his voice heavy with the burden of the moment. "Ultron killed Strucker."

"And he did a Banksy at the crime scene, just for us," Tony remarked, sarcasm lacing his tone, though the gravity of the situation made it less biting than usual.

"This is a smokescreen," Natasha interjected, eyes still focused on the screen in front of her. "Why send a message when you’ve just given a speech?"

Steve met her gaze, unflinching, as he said, "Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss."

Natasha's eyes flicked to the monitor, scanning the data. Her gaze hardened as she processed the information. "Yep. Everything we had on Strucker’s gone."

Tony leaned forward; curiosity piqued. "Not everything," he muttered, before leaning closer to the screen.

The team began sifting through the physical files they had on Strucker. The team had gathered around the table, sifting through the physical files they had on Strucker. The room hummed with the sound of pages turning and the occasional murmur of confusion.

Nouri ran her fingers over the files, glancing over them with a detached, methodical gaze. Then, her eyes caught something—her name. She picked up the file and scanned it quickly:

---

Personal File: Al Nouri (Goddess of the Eternal Path)

 

Full Name: Al Nouri Ra-Khonshu
Title(s): Goddess of the Eternal Path, Member of the Ennead
Age: Estimated, 6,000 years
Appearance: Green eyes, 5'5", dark curly hair, distinctive hieroglyphs covering her entire body, no known scars
Place of Origin: Thebes, in the Temple of Khonshu
Current Location: Earth

Parents: Ra (Sun God), Khonshu (Moon God)

Divine Lineage: A direct descendant of the sun and moon, born from the union of two major deities, Ra and Khonshu. Al Nouri is a rare and powerful being, embodying both solar and lunar qualities in her divine heritage.

Unique Abilities:

• Fire-Wielding: Mastery over fire, with the ability to summon and control flames tied to both the sun and her divine origins.
• Sight Beyond Sight: Ability to see through mortal souls, experiencing their emotions, struggles, and intentions, granting unparalleled wisdom.
• Master of the Medjai: A sacred order of warriors sworn to protect her, capable of defending her in battle, though they have since been relegated to a more symbolic role.

Other abilities remain unknown

Historical Records:

• Ancient Egypt: Al Nouri was once worshipped as a goddess guiding the souls of the departed to the afterlife, revered for her wisdom and spiritual purity.
• Imprisonment: Rebelled against the gods' laws forbidding meddling in human affairs and was imprisoned by the Ennead in an ushabti (sarcophagus) for centuries. For 200 years, she was displayed as an artifact in the British Museum.
• Current Status: Recently freed, though suffering from emotional trauma due to her long isolation.

Psychological Profile:

• Guilt and Trauma: Due to her prolonged imprisonment, Al Nouri often grapples with feelings of abandonment and guilt, particularly over her failure to intervene in key historical moments.
• Disillusionment with Humanity: Having witnessed humanity’s darkest sides, Al Nouri often questions whether mankind is truly worthy of her care and protection.

Known Interactions:

First encountered during the battle against Loki in 2012, where her role was initially unclear. She assisted the Avengers, but her true motivations and level of involvement were not fully revealed.

File Notes from SHIELD:

• Evaluation: Al Nouri is classified as an “High-Level Threat, Do not approach”. While she initially presents herself as a guide for souls, her potential for destruction is immense. Her power is nearly limitless, and her emotional instability, born from centuries of isolation, makes her unpredictable and dangerous. Her abilities are capable of toppling entire civilizations if she so chooses, and her divine lineage gives her an unyielding sense of authority.
• Current Objective: No clear objectives.

---

She blinked, then reread the label: “High-Level Threat. Do Not Approach.”

“Wait, why am I being labelled as ‘High-Level Threat, Do Not Approach’?” Nouri said in confusion, her voice laced with disbelief. She glanced up at Natasha and Clint, who both burst into laughter at her reaction.

Clint leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Guess someone’s a little too dangerous for their own good, huh?”

Nouri’s lips twitched into a slight smile. “Dangerous? Please. I’m just here for the coffee and occasional heroic duty,” she replied, her tone dry. Her eyes shifted back to the file, her expression a mix of amusement and slight irritation. “They really did put me on this list? Unbelievable.”

Steve quickly scanned the files. “Known associates. Well, Strucker had a lot of friends,” he muttered, clearly unimpressed by the breadth of Strucker’s network.

Bruce let out a low, almost regretful chuckle from his seat. “Well, these people are all horrible,” he said, looking at the names on the page.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he came across a familiar name. “Wait. I know that guy.” He passed the photo to Banner, his expression suddenly serious. “From back in the day. He operates off the African coast—black market arms.”

Steve gave Tony an accusing look. “There are conventions, alright? You meet people, I didn’t sell him anything.”

Tony’s face hardened. “He was talking about finding something new, a game-changer. It was all very ‘Ahab’.”

Thor, standing off to the side, pointed to a scar on the back of the man’s neck. “What’s this?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice uncertain. “Uh, it’s a tattoo. I don’t think he had it…”

Thor’s gaze intensified as he studied the scar. His finger traced the mark. “No, those are tattoos. This is a brand.”

Bruce leaned in; his brow furrowed as he scrolled through the data on the computer. “Oh, yeah. It’s a word in an African dialect meaning ‘thief,’ but, uh, in a much less friendly way.”

Steve shifted his focus to Bruce, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. “What dialect?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, still processing the information. “Wakanada…? Wa… Wa-”

“Wakandan,” Nouri interjected smoothly, her voice cutting through the room like a gentle breeze. She didn’t even look up from her file, as though the answer had been common knowledge for ages. Her tone was almost teasing, but laced with the wisdom of centuries.

Tony, who had been half-listening, shifted his gaze back to the file in his hands, intrigued. “So, if this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…”

“I thought your father said he got the last of it?,” Steve finished for him, his tone tightening.

“I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?” Bruce asked curiously.

Tony’s eyes glinted darkly, turning his attention to the shield. He offered a small smirk, the kind that hinted at an old, well-known joke. “The strongest metal on Earth.”

Steve’s gaze snapped to Tony, his suspicion growing. “Where is this guy now?”

Nouri, who had been flipping through a different set of files, paused and looked up just as the room grew silent. Everyone’s eyes turned toward her. She was still casually reading, as if she hadn’t noticed the sudden attention.

“What?” she asked innocently, not even bothering to meet their eyes as she continued scanning her document.

Bruce coughed awkwardly, his eyes darting around the room, a subtle attempt to bring the focus back to the task at hand.

Nouri rolled her eyes, her gaze flicking from the page to the group, her eyes changing colour. “He’s in a salvage yard, on the coast of South Africa,” she said flatly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. She returned her attention to her file, her fingers flipping through the pages with a quiet precision.

Everyone paused, taking in the information, and then Tony raised an eyebrow. “A salvage yard?” he echoed, a bit of scepticism in his voice.

Nouri’s expression remained unchanged as she absently flicked through the next few pages of her file. But then something caught her eye—a file marked Marc Spector. Her expression shifted ever so slightly, her fingers hovering over the document as her mind raced.

“Hmm,” Nouri murmured under her breath, her lips curling into a small smile as she traced the edge of the file with her finger. “Spector…” She glanced up at the room, noticing that no one was paying her any attention. With a quiet, knowing smirk, she slid the file into her hands and tucked it under the table, out of view.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice cut through the moment, his curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

Nouri shot him a smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nothing,” she said softly, the playful undertone in her voice betraying her otherwise calm demeanour. Before anyone could press her further, she stood up, her movements graceful as she made her way toward the stairs.

“What are you—”

Steve didn’t finish his sentence before Nouri stepped over to him with surprising speed, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. She pulled back, eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement as she gave him a knowing look.

“Be right back,” she said, before slipping upstairs to change, leaving the rest of the room in a momentary stunned silence.

Tony looked over at Steve, who was still processing what had just happened. “Well, looks like someone’s got you wrapped around their finger,” Tony said with a raised eyebrow, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Steve, still a little caught off guard, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, don’t start.” His gaze drifted back to the stairs, a small, unreadable smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Chapter 24: Lies and Visions

Nouri entered her room, the file pressed against her chest like it was the key to some great mystery. Khonshu’s interest in this man… Why him? Who was he to draw her father’s gaze? The curiosity was eating away at her as she set the file down on her desk, staring at it like it might offer answers.

US Marine, she read aloud, her brow furrowing. That’s who has Khonshu’s attention?

Before she could ponder it further, she heard footsteps and a familiar voice. "You know… stealing is a crime," Tony quipped from the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

Nouri didn’t even look up at him, her fingers delicately closing the file, playing the part of the innocent. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said, her voice sweet and airy.

Tony wasn’t buying it. He sauntered over, eyeing the file on her desk like it was the last cookie at a party. “Oh really? ‘Cause last time I checked, I don’t see you on the ‘Good Samaritan of the Year’ list.” He leaned in closer, his grin widening. "What’s with the file, huh? Who’s got you so worked up?"

Nouri turned to face him, perfectly composed. "Nothing," she lied, her lips curling into a subtle smile that said I know something you don’t.

Tony raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "C’mon, you don’t just keep files like that around for fun. Spill it, Sunshine."

A flicker of amusement danced in Nouri’s eyes, but she didn’t crack. "He’s been spotted at a few grave sites in Thebes," she confessed, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity. “But that’s all.”

Tony leaned in closer, his smirk never wavering. "A grave-robber, huh? What do you think he’s digging up? Some lost treasure? Or maybe a few ancient curses?” He gave her a playful nudge.

Nouri’s expression remained calm, though there was a glimmer of humour in her eyes. “I’m just keeping an eye out,” she said, her voice almost teasing.

Tony didn’t seem satisfied, but he shrugged, clearly willing to drop it for now. “Alright, well suit up. We’ve got a mission.” He turned to leave, but then threw one last line over his shoulder. “And don’t forget, Nouri—stealing is still a crime.”

---

May 3rd, 2015

 

The Quinjet hummed steadily through the sky, its engines purring as it sliced through the clouds. Inside, Nouri sat calmly in her seat, focused as she assembled her weapons. With a flick of her wrist, two long, elegant swords appeared, their steel gleaming with a faint orange glow, as if they were born of fire itself. She glanced down at them, testing their balance, before summoning two shorter blades, a little less imposing, but just as lethal if the situation called for it.

Her thoughts wandered to Marc Spector's file again, the lingering memory of Khonshu's cryptic words echoing in her mind, "A fractured mind." Nouri furrowed her brow, wondering just what Khonshu meant. Was Marc really as unstable as he seemed, or was there more to the story? Before she could get lost in her thoughts, a familiar weight shifted in the seat beside her. Steve sat down next to her, the warmth of his presence drawing her attention.

"Are you going to tell me your secret?" His voice was low, teasing, with a slight smirk that tugged at his lips, the hint of mischief in his eyes. His presence, as always, made her heart flutter, but there was something about the way he said it—like he was just as curious as she was, yet in his own charming way.

Nouri tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a playful smile as she met his gaze. "Khonshu's curious about someone," she said softly, keeping her tone light, "I'm just keeping an eye out." Her fingers brushed against his, then laced together with his. The connection felt like an anchor, grounding her even in the midst of everything going on.

Steve's eyes softened with interest, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the seat as he leaned in slightly, his lips just brushing her ear when he spoke. "Why?" His voice was so quiet, so close, the heat of his breath on her skin sending a shiver through her, before he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Nouri's expression softened, her heart catching in her chest. Her gaze lingered on him a second longer than necessary, feeling a warmth bloom inside her at the simple gesture. "I don’t know," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—something between love and uncertainty, the complex emotions that seemed to define them.

Before Steve could reply, Natasha’s voice cut through the air, her words a teasing interruption. "So, you don't know everything?" she asked, an eyebrow raised, her lips curving into a smirk.

Nouri jumped a little, looking at Natasha with mock indignation. "Huh? Natasha!" she exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hands up in playful exasperation.

Steve chuckled, squeezing Nouri's hand tighter. "She’s got you there," he said, glancing at Natasha before turning back to Nouri with a grin that made her heart skip.

As the Quinjet picked up speed, barrelling through the atmosphere, Nouri couldn't help but let herself relax. Her mind and body still humming from the mission ahead, but the presence of Steve, right next to her, was a comfort she hadn’t expected to need so much. Without thinking, she leaned her head onto his shoulder, her movements fluid and natural. It felt like home, the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

Steve didn't pull away. Instead, his arm came around her, pulling her closer as if they were two halves that had always belonged together. His fingers brushed the hair at the nape of her neck, the simple touch sending warmth flooding through her veins.

The world outside seemed to fade away in that moment. With Steve’s warmth beside her, Nouri found herself not just physically grounded but emotionally anchored, something she hadn’t realized she needed until now. Their fingers intertwined even tighter, as if they were unwilling to let go, unwilling to lose the simple, beautiful connection they had found amidst the chaos of their lives.

---

The Quinjet’s descent toward South Africa was swift, and the tension on the team’s faces mirrored the urgency in the air. But as they approached the landing zone, Steve stole another glance at Nouri, his thoughts still on her. Was she really as calm as she appeared, or was she just as conflicted as he felt?

Just as he was about to ask her something, Tony’s voice interrupted from the cockpit. “Alright, lovebirds. You two cuddle long enough?”

Nouri’s eyes snapped open, and she lifted her head off Steve’s shoulder with a grin. “He’s got a lot of nerve for someone who’s always just in the background,” she replied with an exaggerated eye roll, her tone playful, yet there was a subtle sharpness in it.

The Quinjet’s wheels touched down, and the team prepared to disembark. But for a brief second, Nouri’s gaze lingered on Steve, her mind racing. Something was happening. Something was shifting. And no matter what came next, she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t walking this path alone anymore.

Nouri moved silently through the shadows of the ship, her footsteps light as a breath. She was flanked by Clint on her left and Natasha on her right, all of them careful not to alert their enemies. The tension in the air was thick, each moment pregnant with the potential for chaos. Her eyes flickered with an almost serene focus, watching the events unfold in front of her.

Ultron seethed; his frustration palpable as he grabbed Klaue by the collar. “What?! I'm not...! You think I'm one of Stark's puppets, his hollow men? I mean, look at me. Do I look like Iron Man? Stark is...” He abruptly chopped off Klaue’s arm.

"I'm sorry. I am sorry... Ooh, I'm sure that's going to be okay. I just... I don't understand. Don’t compare me with Stark! It's a thing with me. Stark is—he's a sickness!" Ultron’s voice was a mix of fury and frustration, a volatile energy ready to burst.

Just then, Tony appeared in his Iron Man suit, landing with a thud, his presence undeniably commanding. Thor and Steve followed closely behind, their muscles tense, battle-ready. Nouri's gaze locked onto Tony, a slight narrowing of her eyes as she stood behind Clint and Natasha.

“Ah, Junior,” Tony said with mock disapproval, crossing his arms. “You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.”

“If I have to,” Ultron muttered, not missing a beat.

Thor stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “We don’t have to break anything.”

Ultron sneered, his mechanical face twisting in a moment of disgust. “Clearly, you’ve never made an omelette.”

Tony smirked. “He beat me by one second.”

Pietro, ever the cocky one, chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark. It’s... comfortable? Like old times?”

“This was never my life,” Tony responded, his voice growing serious, almost distant.

Steve, ever the voice of reason, turned to the twins. "You two can still walk away from this."

"We will," Wanda answered, her gaze unwavering, her expression cold as steel.

“I know you’ve suffered,” Steve continued, his voice soft but firm, attempting to reach them.

Ultron’s voice rasped with disdain. "Uuugh! Captain America. God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but—"

Before he could finish, Thor interrupted, his voice filled with both compassion and authority. "If you believe in peace, then let us keep it."

“I think you’re confusing peace with quiet,” Ultron shot back, before Tony, ever the provocateur, interrupted with a pointed question. “What’s the Vibranium for?”

Ultron’s tone shifted to something more sinister, a smile creeping across his mechanical face. "I’m glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan—"

Before Ultron could finish, chaos erupted. Ultron’s brutal assault on Stark sent ripples of shock through the team. Drones swarmed down from the sky, dropping like heavy rain, aimed straight for Steve and Thor. The twins—Pietro and Wanda—flashed onto the scene, their superhuman speed and powers amplifying the pandemonium.

Nouri, standing at the edge of the fight, felt the fire within her surge, fed by the rage and noise of it all. The scene unfolding before her was something beyond anything she’d witnessed in her centuries of existence, but there was no hesitation. This was no time for contemplation; it was time for action.

"Stay sharp, both of you," Nouri grunted, her voice low but unwavering, as Clint and Natasha prepared for another attack. With a flick of her wrist, fire burst to life in her palms, not as a show of grandeur but a weapon. The flames curled around her hands like serpents, glowing with molten heat.

The chaos was all around her, but Nouri was focused. She stepped forward, drawing the flames into a barrier, a roaring wall of fire that flickered with deadly precision. The first wave of drones that targeted Clint and Natasha came to an abrupt stop, slamming into the fiery shield. Explosions rippled from the impact, but the fire didn’t budge.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ulysses Klaue barking orders, his voice cutting through the fray. "Shoot them!"

"Which ones?" one of his mercenaries shouted.

"All of them!" Klaue snapped, his impatience evident.

Nouri snarled, her lips curling in a mix of amusement and aggression. "simple minded," she muttered, a growl in her voice as she released her fire in sharp arcs, redirecting it toward the mercenaries. The flames moved with brutal efficiency, scorching their weapons before they even had a chance to aim. One mercenary tried to pull his gun up, but Nouri’s flames hit him with the force of a stampede, sending him flying across the battlefield.

She moved without a second thought, swatting drones from the sky with bursts of flame, her body in sync with the chaos. This was fun.

She caught a glimpse of Wanda through the chaos, the scarlet witch using her powers to manipulate Thor’s mind. "Mind games, huh?" Nouri muttered, her eyes narrowing as she felt the subtle pull of another presence.

In the Quinjet, Bruce’s voice crackled over the comms, his concern palpable. "Is this a Code Green?"

Nouri didn’t respond, her mind locked onto the fight. Her thoughts cut through the firestorm, processing every threat, every movement. A shadow to her left caught her attention—Pietro Maximoff. The speedster zoomed past her, too fast for most to track. But not fast enough.

With a simple flick of her wrist, she sent a knife—created from pure fire—into the air. It whistled as it sliced through the smoke, embedding itself into the wall just inches from Pietro. He faltered, just long enough for her to grab him by the arm, her grip like iron.

"Do not meddle when the adults are talking," Nouri growled, her voice fierce and commanding. She threw him back with a force that left him stumbling.

What she didn’t see coming was Wanda’s retaliation. The witch’s mind-bending power slammed into her, warping her thoughts, pulling her into a spiral of disorientation. Nouri fought it with every ounce of strength, but it was like drowning in quicksand. The flames around her flickered and sputtered as her mind blurred, the heat and intensity of the battle fading into something darker, something ancient.

Knees hitting the ground, Nouri’s vision swirled, and the landscape shifted. The metal of the ship around her morphed into the haunting silhouette of an ancient temple—so familiar, yet foreign.

Not now... not like this, she thought, fighting to clear the fog in her mind. But the more she tried, the more everything slipped away. Her palms burned, the sensation of stone beneath her fingers as she tried to summon her fire again, but only coldness answered. The warmth was gone, as if she were standing in the deepest depths of the afterlife.

Her breath came in shallow gasps. She was home.

No, this isn’t real.

Nouri’s head spun as her surroundings came into focus. She saw the towering pyramids, their golden tips glistening in the sun, people bowing before her. Her body was draped in ancient scarves, covered in gold—an image of a goddess adored by the people. She heard their voices, a chorus of adoration, calling her name, praising her existence. Children ran up to her, their faces full of joy, some even offering her flowers. Their laughter echoed in her ears, warm and welcoming.

But it felt wrong. This wasn’t how it had been. This wasn’t how it should be.

Nouri’s heart clenched as the world around her began to twist, the golden city fading into shadows. Smoke curled up into the sky, the once vibrant pyramids now marred by flames and ruin. Buildings lay in pieces, their walls shattered by some unseen force. The cries of the people shifted from praise to something darker. The air thickened with death, and the silence was broken only by the echoes of misery.

She turned, her gaze locking on the destruction, but it felt wrong—foreign. This wasn’t the world she had left. It was something else, something darker. Her breath caught in her throat as the sight twisted, contorted, and became something utterly unrecognizable.

“What... what is this?” Nouri whispered, her voice shaky, the images before her not making sense. This was not the world she had known, the one she had protected, the one she had loved.

From the wreckage, a woman stumbled forward, her face bruised and battered. Her eyes burned with an accusation that pierced straight to Nouri’s soul. “You left us!” she screamed, her voice trembling with rage and betrayal. “You abandoned us!”

Another voice followed, hoarse and full of contempt, echoing from the shadows. “Traitor!”

“Killer!” “Death!” The words sliced through the air, sharp and venomous, their weight unbearable. “Liar!”

The pain in their voices, the fury, the hurt—it hit Nouri like a physical blow. She could feel her chest tightening, her breath quickening, as though the accusations were choking her. The guilt wrapped around her, tightening like a noose. Her people, the ones she had once loved so deeply, now saw her as their enemy.

No… this isn’t real, she thought, trying to fight the crushing weight of the guilt and despair.

But even as the words echoed, the faces twisted in hatred and fear, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they were right. That maybe, she had failed them. She had abandoned them when they needed her the most.

Her mind echoed with the voices of the Ennead. “You are a disgrace, Al Nouri.” Ra’s cold, unforgiving words rang out in her ears. “You were never a true god. You belong locked away.”

Osiris’ deep voice followed. “You’ve broken the laws of the gods. You should never have interfered with mortals. You defied us, you betrayed the very balance we have sworn to protect.”

And then Isis, her voice full of disappointment. “You are no goddess, Al Nouri. You should have been imprisoned. You are nothing but a failed child of Ra and Khonshu.”

Horus’s voice rose above the others, a sharp condemnation that pierced through the air. “Your actions have disrupted everything. You do not belong here. You should never have walked among them.”

The accusations filled her ears, echoing endlessly, feeding her greatest fear: that she had failed them, that she was not worthy of the power she once held. She wasn’t a god. She was a disappointment, a failure, someone who could never live up to the expectations of the gods who had created her.

Frozen in place by the weight of their words, Nouri felt herself beginning to crumble. The illusion of the ruined city, her people crying out in pain and betrayal, mirrored her own internal torment.

And then, from the darkness, a figure appeared.

Anubis. His jackal form emerged from the smoke, his expression a mixture of concern and command. “Wake up!” he called, his voice booming with urgency. “Wake up, Al Nouri! This isn’t real!”

His words reverberated through her, the power in them breaking through the illusion. But the image of the broken city and her people continued to taunt her.

I failed them, her mind whispered. I left them. I could have done more...

“Wake up!” Anubis shouted again, his voice pulling her back, forcing her to confront the truth of her own mind.

---

With a gasp, Nouri woke, her body burning hot with the residual heat of the vision. She could still feel the weight of her guilt, the pain of abandonment, hanging on her heart.

“Calm down!” Clint’s voice was sharp and filled with authority, his hands gripping her shoulders, shaking her gently to snap her back to reality.

Nouri blinked rapidly, still disoriented, as she realized they were no longer in the midst of the battle. The salvage yard was around her, the familiar smells of metal and oil filling her senses. The sound of the wind against broken machinery was all that remained of the chaotic energy.

“Mind games,” Clint muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration as he helped Nouri up, steadying her. “the girl is not messing around.”

Nouri, her heart still racing, nodded shakily. She didn’t say anything. The fear had felt so real. The guilt, the regret—it all came flooding back. She had done this to herself, the burden of immortality weighing too heavily. She had failed her people, and now that failure had come back to haunt her.

“Get the others back to the Quinjet,” Clint ordered, his gaze flickering over to Natasha, who was still struggling to regain composure. She looked rough.

Nouri turned to Natasha, her hand on her arm as she helped her up. The shock was still evident on her face, but there was no time for it now.

“Cap, wake up,” Nouri said softly, her voice strained as she shook Steve gently. His head lolled to the side as he moaned, his eyes still glazed from the effects of Wanda’s illusion. But as Nouri’s touch reached him, his trance broke, his eyes snapping open with confusion.

“What happened?” Steve asked, his voice hoarse, still disoriented from the mind-bending attack.

Nouri shook her head, her lips tight, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as they moved toward the Quinjet.

“Get back to the Quinjet,” Tony’s voice crackled through the comms, his voice urgent and steady.

“Move, everyone,” Clint barked as he helped Natasha. “We don’t have much time.”

Steve looked around at the wreckage of the yard, his expression full of questions. “What happened?” he asked again, but Nouri only glanced at him briefly before nodding, ushering him forward.

She couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t put into words what had just happened to her. The fear, the guilt, the overwhelming darkness—it was all too much. But they had a mission. They had to focus on that.

“Get back to the Quinjet,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier now as she helped Steve and Thor into the jet.

---

As the Quinjet doors slid shut behind them, Nouri leaned against the cool, metal wall, her gaze distant.

She had to remind herself that the vision wasn’t real. She took a slow breath, pushing herself off the wall, and walked over to Steve, who was staring out the window, his expression tight, the turmoil of his own vision still apparent in his eyes. She could feel it in the air—his struggles, his doubts about the path he had chosen. Nouri had her own demons, but his seemed heavier, burdened with centuries of conflict and pain.

Without a word, she reached out, touching his arm, and gently pulled him toward her. "Steve..." her voice was soft but firm, a quiet reassurance in the face of the chaos that surrounded them. She slid into his arms, curling herself into the comforting warmth of his embrace. She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, a kiss meant to soothe and remind them both that, despite everything, they still had each other.

The Quinjet hummed through the sky, but for a moment, everything seemed still. In his arms, she felt safe—a fleeting sense of peace amidst the growing storm of their world.

The team, however, wasn’t as peaceful. The calm didn’t last long. The screen flickered to life, revealing Maria’s stern face. Her voice was grave, and the news she carried weighed heavily.

"The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is," Maria said. "There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air. People are talking."

Tony exhaled sharply, his face darkening. "Stark Relief Foundation?"

"Already on the scene," Maria replied curtly. "How’s the team?"

Tony glanced over at his teammates, assessing their condition. "Everyone’s... we took a hit," he said quietly. "We’ll shake it off. We’ve been through worse."

Nouri’s eyes lingered on Steve for a moment, sensing the weight of his internal battle. The team was in trouble, but in her heart, she knew they were strong enough to get through this—together.

Maria’s face hardened on the screen. "Well, for now, I’d stay in stealth mode, and stay away from here. It's a lot more dangerous than it looks."

"So, run and hide?" Tony quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Until we can find Ultron, I don’t have a lot else to offer," Maria replied, her voice tinged with frustration but resolute.

Tony rubbed his face, the exhaustion catching up with him. "Neither do we," he muttered, flicking off the monitor.

He turned to Clint, who was in the pilot’s seat, still focused on the controls. "Hey, you wanna switch out?" Tony asked, offering a tired grin.

Clint glanced at him from the cockpit, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, I’m good," Clint replied with a shrug. "If you wanna get some kip, now’s a good time, 'cause we’re still a few hours out."

"A few hours from where?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Clint’s gaze shifted toward him. "A safe house," he said briefly, eyes on the horizon.

The Quinjet hummed along in the vast sky, and the hours passed slowly, each minute heavy with the anticipation of what would come next. The silence between them was filled with unspoken tension, but also a sense of shared understanding. They were all in this together, for better or worse.

---

May 4th 2015

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Quinjet descended slowly, its engines humming with a calming certainty. The familiar, comforting sight of a farmhouse came into view, bathed in the warm golden glow of the setting sun. The landing was smooth, and the team stepped out one by one, their expressions a mixture of wariness and relief as they stepped onto the soft earth.

Nouri’s senses were still sharp, scanning the area with a subtle grace. She had walked through many realms, seen civilizations rise and fall, but this, this quiet farm in the middle of nowhere, felt almost like a sanctuary. Still, she didn’t let her guard down—after all, safety could be an illusion.

She looked up at Steve, their hands intertwined, feeling a sense of quiet strength beside her. It had been a long journey, but being with him, with the team, brought a strange sense of peace.

“What is this place?” Thor asked, his voice booming slightly as he took in the surroundings.

“A safe house, I believe,” Tony replied, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Nouri stepped forward, walking beside Steve as she scanned the area again. There was something peaceful here, yes, but it felt as though the calm was just a prelude to something yet to come. She had lived through millennia of shifting tides; nothing stayed still for long.

“Let’s hope so,” Clint muttered under his breath as they reached the door. He knocked with a smirk. “Honey, I’m home.”

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Clint’s heavily pregnant wife, Laura. She stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and raising an eyebrow at the unexpected visitors.

“Hi. Company,” Clint added with a grin. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”

“Hey,” Laura greeted warmly, her smile lighting up her face.

Tony raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward Clint. “This is... an agent of some kind?”

Clint chuckled and turned to introduce his wife. “Gentlemen, Nouri, this is Laura.”

Nouri offered a kind smile, but her eyes flickered with curiosity as she took in Laura’s presence. The woman was calm, centered—like someone who had been through the storm and come out the other side with grace.

Laura nodded knowingly, her gaze shifting between the group. “I know all your names,” she said, offering a small, warm smile.

The group exchanged awkward glances, feeling a little out of place, before Clint’s kids, Cooper and Lila, came rushing into the room.

“Dad!” Lila cried with joy, running to her father, and Clint scooped her up effortlessly.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Clint beamed, kissing the top of his son’s head. “Hey, buddy! How you guys doing? Ooh...” He gave Lila a quick spin, making her laugh.

Tony, unable to resist, looked at the others and raised an eyebrow. “These are... smaller agents?”

Clint chuckled at their expressions. “Look at your faces! Oh my goodness!”

Lila looked up at him with wide eyes. “Did you bring Auntie Nat?”

“Why don’t you hug her and find out?” Natasha said, her trademark smirk lighting up her face as she bent down to scoop Lila up into her arms.

As the room filled with laughter and chatter, Nouri stood a little apart, her eyes scanning the room as the conversation flowed around her. Her mind, however, was elsewhere. She’d watched over humanity for eons, yet these fleeting moments of joy still caught her off guard.

“Sorry for barging in on you,” Steve said, his voice apologetic as he glanced at Laura and Clint. “We would’ve called ahead, but we were... busy having no idea that you existed.”

Clint shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files, I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low.” He paused, looking around.

Nouri watched the interaction, her gaze lingering on Clint and his family. There was something beautiful about the simplicity of it all—the way they leaned into each other, sharing warmth and love. In a way, they seemed so far removed from the world she knew, and yet... she felt a twinge of something familiar, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Laura stepped forward, beaming at Clint. “Honey, I missed you,” she said with affection, reaching out to wrap her arms around him.

Natasha, her hand gently resting on Laura's stomach, grinned. “How’s little Natasha, huh?”

Laura laughed softly, clearly not offended. “She’s... Nathaniel,” she said, her smile wide as she met Natasha’s playful gaze.

Natasha leaned down to whisper, “Traitor,” her voice filled with teasing affection.

All the lights in the house flickered, casting fleeting shadows across the walls. The wind outside howled, sending the trees swaying with an eerie creak. Nouri’s gaze shifted toward the window, her senses on high alert, the strange pull in the air undeniable.

Khonshu.

Her heart skipped a beat as his presence washed over her like a tidal wave. She could feel it deep in her bones, the echoes of the stars, like whispers in her soul. Her grip around Steve’s hand tightened instinctively, though she didn’t speak.

“Nouri?” Steve’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, the concern clear. “Are you okay?”

Nouri didn't answer right away. She couldn’t find the words. Instead, she slowly stepped away from the group, excusing herself with a barely noticeable shake of her head. Her feet moved on their own as she walked toward the door, her body drawn outside like a magnet.

Her footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one pulling her closer to the edge of the property. She reached the edge of the lawn and paused, staring into the distance, where the trees seemed to dance with the whispers of an unseen force.

---

The forest was still, save for the occasional rustling of the leaves in the breeze. Nouri stood in the clearing, her eyes narrowed against the blinding daylight that filtered through the canopy above. The sunlight felt like an assault on her senses, a reminder of how far she'd fallen from the light she was once born from. She whispered softly, her voice barely audible over the howl of the wind, "Khonshu... What is it you want from me now?"

The wind seemed to answer her, curling around her like an unseen embrace, coaxing her to listen, to feel. She closed her eyes, allowing the whispers to wrap around her like the familiar. "I know you’re out there. If there’s something you need from me, show me. Don’t leave me in the dark again."

A soft, cool breeze swept past her, and when her eyes opened, Khonshu stood before her, his figure illuminated by the sun’s glow. His hollow eyes met hers, but his voice was grave, laced with concern. “What happened?” he demanded, his gaze narrowing as he scanned her form. His eyes flicked to her arm, as if it were a mere afterthought, but his scrutiny was evident.

“I don’t know,” Nouri muttered, her voice quiet, almost reluctant to speak the truth aloud.

“Of course you don’t.” Khonshu’s tone was laced with disdain, as though it were beneath him to even acknowledge her uncertainty. “A witch warped your mind and left you vulnerable? Pathetic.”

“Yes,” she whispered, still walking beside him as they entered the forest, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. She couldn’t hear Steve calling out to her anymore, but she didn't care.

Khonshu’s eyes softened, but his voice remained firm. “Tell me about the vision.”

Her heart raced as the memory of the vision rushed back to her—visions of flames licking the edges of her mind, of destruction consuming everything. "Everything was burning… everything was destroyed." She blinked, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of the vision. "The Council spoke… how disappointed you were… how I don’t deserve to be a god and should be frozen in the Du’at."

“This is your fear playing mind games,” Khonshu said dismissively, as if her pain was beneath his notice. Khonshu’s gaze sharpened, his eyes flaring with a cold intensity. "Fear. Your fear." He scoffed, his wings ruffling as if irritated by her very hesitation. "The Council’s petty words are nothing but echoes, Nouri. Nothing but distractions. You know better than to let their judgments sway you. What are you? A goddess born of the union of Ra and myself, one who commands the Medjai, who guides the souls—you are not some mortal to be swayed by doubts and whispered fears."

She met his gaze, but her heart still felt like it was faltering under the weight of the fear. "Then why do I feel so... lost? I saw myself, broken, discarded. As if I was nothing."

Khonshu’s expression twisted into one of barely concealed contempt. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “You were always a fool to listen to their words. You are a force of immense power. Your heart is pure, yes, but it is also far too soft. This weakness is beneath you.” He stepped closer, the intensity of his presence nearly suffocating. “You do not belong in their shadow. You are above them. You are the goddess they cannot understand, the one who walks the balance.”

He stopped, turning to face her, his presence suffocating in its intensity. “Are you afraid, little one?” he taunted, his voice dripping with superiority.

“Yes,” Nouri admitted, sitting down in the grass. “I fear for my heart. My scales are in chaos.”

“Then fix them,” Khonshu snapped, as if her emotions were nothing more than a nuisance to him. “Your scales are nothing compared to your strength. Remember who you are.”

Nouri’s eyes flicked up to the sky, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. “Am I worthy?” she asked, the question more to herself than to him, but it left her lips nonetheless.

Khonshu sneered, walking closer until he towered above her. “Worthy? You are the child of Ra and me, a goddess who sits on the Ennead Council. Do not forget that you are a force beyond what these mortals can comprehend. They tremble at the thought of you.”

Nouri looked away, but Khonshu wasn’t finished.

“You are worthy, Nouri. But you lack direction. You’ve lost sight of your power.” His eyes gleamed, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You are weak without purpose. You’re nothing more than a mortal without a cause.”

Nouri’s breath caught, but she refused to back down. “I am not some puppet, Khonshu. And I’m not your avatar, nor will I be. I am not here to carry out your vengeful justice. I stand above your petty desires for control.”

Khonshu’s eyes flashed with something dangerously close to amusement. "You think I would ask such a thing of you? To be my avatar? No, Nouri... I’m offering you something much greater." He paused, his voice dark and edged with a hint of scorn. "Your place is with me. To be my hand on Earth, to carry out my justice directly. To walk among the mortals as I did—unseen, untouchable. But if you cannot rise to that, I will not force you."

Nouri stood tall, refusing to cower beneath his shadow. “I’ve walked my own path for millennia, Khonshu. I was born to guide, not to carry out your vengeful justice. I am not your weapon to be wielded. I am a goddess in my own right, and I will not bow to your demands.”

Khonshu’s face hardened, though there was a flicker of approval in his gaze—recognition of her strength, perhaps. "Very well, Nouri." He let out a sharp breath, almost as if he was trying to hide the sting of her refusal. “But don’t forget, you are a force that even I can’t control. And one day, you may find that you need me more than I need you.”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, the weight of it making her skin crawl. “Remember who you are," he said, a sneer creeping into his words. "You are born from fire and night, from the sun and the moon. Do not forget the power that runs through your veins.”

As his figure began to dissolve into the air, Nouri turned away, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Spector keeps popping up." Her voice was firm, a reminder that her awareness stretched beyond his presence.

Khonshu's figure wavered for a moment, a brief flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. "Spector..." His voice was low, almost a growl. "Keep your distance, Nouri. If he becomes a problem—"

“He won’t be,” she interrupted, her voice sharp and unwavering. “I don’t expect him to be. But I will keep an eye out. He's raided too many sites in Egypt. Something is stirring, and I will not ignore it.”

Khonshu didn’t respond, but for the briefest moment, there was something in his expression that almost seemed like… respect? Then he was gone, leaving Nouri alone in the clearing, her heart heavy but resolute.

She stood there for a while, breathing in the air of the forest, trying to center herself once more. She wasn’t lost, and she wasn’t weak. She was a goddess, and she would rise—not for Khonshu, not for anyone but herself.

Notes:

I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Chapter 25: The Cradle

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the yard. Nouri had just returned from her walk and could hear the rhythmic sound of an axe splitting wood before she even rounded the corner of the house. She stepped forward, curiosity piqued, and saw Steve and Tony working together outside. The two men were chopping wood, their axes coming down in perfect sync, the sound of wood splitting punctuating their conversation.

Nouri felt a sudden stir in her chest. She leaned against the doorframe, watching as Steve swung his axe, his muscles flexing with every movement. There was something incredibly captivating about the way he worked—his arms rippling with strength, the grace in his movements, and the sheer power behind each strike. She couldn't help but notice the way his shirt clung to his body, the way the sweat beaded on his brow.

Her pulse quickened. He looks mighty fine, she thought, biting her lip without realizing it. She shook her head, trying to push away the sudden heat pooling in her chest, but it wasn’t easy.

Unable to resist, she pulled a chair out from the porch and set it down just a couple of meters away from them, close enough to hear every word they said, but far enough to still maintain some space. She sat down, curled up as she tried to keep her composure, but the sight of Steve working was making it difficult.

Tony's voice broke through her thoughts, his words loud and clear as he looked over at Steve. "Thor didn’t say where he was going for answers?"

Steve let out a sigh, looking over at Tony, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things," he said. "I was kind of hoping Thor and Nouri would be the exception."

Tony gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, give him time. We don't know what the Maximoff kid showed him."

Steve shook his head. "‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.’ Pulled us apart like cotton candy."

Nouri leaned back in her chair slightly, the heat in her body rising as she watched Steve. She couldn’t help it—there was something so damn attractive about him right now. She bit her lip, her breath hitching as she tried not to stare too openly. But her eyes betrayed her, lingering on the way he gripped the axe, his biceps tightening as he swung again.

Tony’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. "Seems like you two walked away all right."

"Is that a problem?" Steve shot back, his voice calm but with an edge that made Nouri's stomach flutter. He wasn’t just strong—he had that quiet confidence that was impossible to ignore.

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to stir the pot. "I don’t trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old-fashioned."

Steve’s lips curled into a half-smile. "Well, let’s just say you haven’t seen it yet," he said, his tone barely a warning, but there was something in his eyes that made Nouri’s heart race.

Tony exhaled sharply, leaning on his axe as he studied Steve. "You know Ultron’s trying to tear us apart, right?"

"Yeah, well, you would know," Steve replied, his voice low, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Whether you tell us is another question."

Tony nodded, looking slightly more serious. "Banner and I were doing some research," he admitted, though his voice lacked the usual cockiness.

"That would affect the team," Steve pointed out, his eyes never leaving Tony’s, sharp as a blade.

Tony, never one to mince words, was quick to respond. "That would end the team," he said bluntly. "Isn’t that the mission? Isn’t that the ‘why’ we fight? So, we can end the fight, so we get to go home?"

Steve’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as if the very idea of Tony’s words were a challenge. His gaze flickered to a nearby log, and without a second thought, he moved toward it. With a controlled motion, his powerful hands tore the log apart as if it were nothing. The snap of the wood echoed in the air, but it wasn’t the sound of the log breaking that captured Nouri’s attention.

Her breath hitched in her chest, her body instantly reacting to the raw display of strength. She watched, entranced, as his muscles flexed with every move, his sheer power, so effortless and commanding, sending a wave of heat coursing through her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Her heart raced, and her lips parted in a soft gasp. Every fibre of her being seemed to pulse in tune with his movements, the magnetism of his presence completely disarming her.

She unconsciously leaned in closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. She didn’t even realize she was staring, her mind consumed by the way his body worked, the way he exuded strength with each motion, until her voice broke through the haze of desire.

"Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time." Nouri’s voice was quiet but edged with something deeper, something raw.

Before the moment could linger any longer, Laura appeared, walking over with a hesitant expression. "I’m sorry. Mr. Stark, uh, Clint said you wouldn’t mind, but our tractor... it doesn’t seem to want to start at all. I thought maybe you might..."

Tony, already turning toward the house, waved her off nonchalantly. "Yeah, I’ll give her a kick." He paused, glancing back at Steve with a smirk. "Don’t take from my pile," he teased as he walked off into the barn.

“I’m sorry,” Nouri murmured, her gaze on the grass as Steve continued to chop wood with a force that seemed to echo his frustration.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he paused to catch his breath, glaring at the piece of wood in front of him. “Why all the secrecy, Nouri?” His voice was sharp, frustrated, though he was still trying to keep it under control. "You’ve been distant."

“There are no secrets,” Nouri muttered, her voice soft but firm, though her eyes refused to meet his. She felt a tightness in her chest, not from the words themselves, but from the growing gap between them—an invisible chasm she couldn’t quite close.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “Really? Because it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve been here fighting with you, but it feels like you’re handling this... yourself.” He swung the axe again, harder this time, as if trying to work through his frustration. Steve paused, his eyes narrowing as he wiped his forehead, still staring at her. “Then tell me about the file, about your vision, and why you went out into the forest. Why the hell did you leave without telling anyone?”

Her breath caught in her throat; the memories of the vision still fresh in her mind. “The file,” she started, collecting her thoughts, “belongs to a US marine. He’s been spotted at various sites—tombs, places he shouldn’t be. I don’t know the full picture yet, but something is at play here, something bigger than we understand.”

Steve’s annoyance softened into concern, but his jaw remained set. He wanted more. “And the vision?” he pressed, stepping closer, his face now inches from hers. “What did you see?”

 “The Maximoff girl, she showed me my greatest fear.” Nouri looked up at the sky, the sun beginning to set, its warm colours casting long shadows. “Death, destruction... failure. I keep thinking that because I rebelled, I caused this. I caused humanity’s suffering.”

There was a long pause as Steve studied her face. He could see the weight in her eyes, the depth of the worry she tried to hide. But there was no hiding from him, not anymore. Not when they were together like this.

“And the forest?” Steve’s voice was gentler now, softer as he took a step closer. “Why leave? Why go out there alone?”

Nouri’s heart swelled at his words, but something else lingered there, something she hadn’t shared with him yet. “Khonshu wanted to speak with me. He’s... always around. Watching. Guiding me.” Her eyes flickered with uncertainty. “I need his advice, honey. He’s part of me. Always has been.”

Steve looked at her with an expression that mixed understanding and concern. He gently cupped her face in his hands, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You’ve got me. We’re partners in this, sweetheart. You don’t need to keep shutting me out.”

Nouri shook her head slightly, her fingers tracing his hand as if grounding herself. “We are partners, my love. But sometimes I need to handle things my own way. I don’t want to drag you into all of it.”

Steve’s expression hardened just a little. “Nouri, no one’s asking you to carry it alone. We’re in this together—all of us. If you push me away every time things get tough, how are we supposed to be a team?”

A heavy silence fell between them as the sunset painted the sky with vibrant oranges and pinks. Nouri let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with a mix of regret and determination in her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Steve softened at her words, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll be right here, every step of the way.”

Nouri smiled up at him, the tension slowly easing from her shoulders. “Come with me to Egypt, once this is all over. Let me show you the world I come from. Let me show you the place where it all started for me.”

Steve’s face lit up, his eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. “No more secrets?” he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“No more,” Nouri laughed, feeling the weight of everything lift just a little. She kissed him then, softly but with all the affection she felt for him. She could feel the love between them, a love that had grown in spite of everything.

The sound of footsteps approaching broke their embrace, and they turned to find the others walking into the house: Natasha, Clint, and Bruce, followed by Tony and Fury. Fury’s eyes immediately went to Nouri, a rare smile on his face as he approached.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the goddess herself,” Fury said with a grin, his eyes warm with approval. “Good to see you, Nouri.”

Nouri smiled back, feeling a sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she missed so much. “Likewise,” she said, stepping into the house with Steve.

---

The sun had long set, casting the kitchen in a soft, cozy glow as everyone gathered. The warmth from the fire Nouri had started in the fireplace filled the space, making the room feel like a temporary refuge from the chaos outside. Her fingers idly traced the edge of her mug, her presence a quiet contrast to the tension building in the room.

Fury stood near the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with a practiced precision, his eyes scanning the room as he spoke. "Ultron took you folks out of play to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing."

Nouri, seated beside Natasha at the table, glanced at Clint's daughter who was quietly holding up a drawing. "Look, Nouri!" Lila beamed, her face lighting up with pride.

Nouri smiled warmly and, with a flick of her fingers, a fiery butterfly flew from her palm, watching it flutter around. The child gasped, eyes wide in awe as the tiny flames danced through the air before dissipating. "It’s just a little trick," Nouri chuckled softly, but the child looked at her as if she’d just seen magic, which, in many ways, she had.

Steve, who had been listening to Fury's report, turned his attention to the group, his brow furrowing slightly. "What about Ultron himself?"

Fury’s lips twisted into a grim smile. "Ah. He's easy to track. He's everywhere. Guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though."

Tony leaned forward, his trademark swagger making a comeback. "He still going after launch codes?"

"Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway," Fury replied, chopping faster, more aggressively.

Tony scoffed; irritation clear in his tone. "I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

Fury's gaze sharpened, not impressed. "Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "NEXUS?"

Bruce spoke up, his tone matter of fact. "It's the world internet hub in Oslo. Every byte of data flows through there, fastest access on Earth."

"So, what'd they say?" Nouri interjected, her voice smooth, though her sharp eyes never left Fury. She had been wondering just how much Fury had dug into Ultron's operations.

Fury paused, giving her a long look, before replying, "He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed."

Tony’s curiosity piqued. "By whom?"

"Parties unknown," Fury said, eyes narrowing, as if trying to piece something together.

Natasha didn’t miss a beat. "Do we have an ally?"

Fury shot her a hard look. "Ultron's got an enemy. That's not the same thing. Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is."

Tony was already lost in thought, his mind racing. "I might need to visit Oslo, find our 'unknown.'"

Natasha let out a short laugh, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Well, this is good times, boss, but I was kind of hoping when I saw you, you'd have more than that."

Fury’s face softened for a moment, his resolve flickering before snapping back into its usual sternness. "I do, I have you. Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. Here we all are, back on Earth, with nothing but our wit and will to save the world. So, stand. Outwit the platinum bastard."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Steve doesn't like that kind of talk."

Steve shot her a look, brow furrowing. "You know what, Romanoff?"

Nouri, feeling the tension between them, couldn’t help but lean toward Steve with a mischievous grin. "Relax, darling. I think Romanoff's just trying to make you blush."

Steve shot her a look, slightly flustered, before leaning in closer to Nouri. "You know what, Nouri?" he said in a low voice that only she could hear. "I might just let her get away with it... but only because you're here."

Nouri’s smile widened. "I knew you liked it when I played with fire."

Fury turned back to the group, still focused but with the tiniest flicker of amusement at the exchange. "So, what does he want?" he asked, voice turning serious again.

Steve let out a slow breath, his tone reflective. "To become better. Better than us. He keeps building bodies."

Tony leaned forward; his voice analytic. "Person bodies. The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."

Natasha’s gaze narrowed; her tone sharp. "When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed."

Bruce’s voice was quiet but intense. "They don't need to be protected; they need to evolve. Ultron's going to evolve."

Fury's eyes narrowed, looking around the room, as if trying to see past the chaos. "How?"

Bruce paused before asking, his voice steady, "Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"

Nouri raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Helen Cho? What does she have to do with this?"

---

May 5th, 2015

 

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the room. Nouri had spent the entire night curled up against Steve, her body perfectly at ease in the warmth he provided. She lay there, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, which was like music to her ears. A sound that had come to mean safety and love in this strange, new world.

She had felt the weight of the day ahead pressing on them both, but for a few precious moments, she allowed herself to stay lost in the quiet intimacy of it all. She hadn’t felt this way in centuries, this close to someone. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, and she could feel the smile tugging at her lips.

When the soft light of the morning crept in further, Nouri reluctantly shifted, planting a soft kiss on Steve’s chest.

"Time to get up," she whispered with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Steve stirred, his arm wrapping around her waist instinctively as he pulled her closer. "Do we really have to?" His voice was thick with sleep, but there was a soft chuckle beneath it.

"Yes," Nouri replied with a smile, gently moving his arm. "But first..." She kissed him deeply, the kind of kiss that made everything else fade away.

When she pulled back, she looked up at him with that playful smirk of hers. "I’ll go with Stark," she said, watching his expression shift.

Steve’s brow furrowed, his concern momentarily clouding his features. "Why? I thought you were coming with me?"

Nouri ran a hand through his hair, her eyes softening. "I know, honey. But I think Tony might need me a bit more today."

Steve nodded, but the worry didn’t quite leave his face. They walked downstairs together, hand in hand, their footsteps light but determined.

"I'll take Natasha and Clint," Steve said to tony, strapping his shield onto his back, a silent promise of protection that made Nouri’s heart swell just a little bit more.

Tony glanced up for a second, not missing a beat. "Alright, strictly recon. I’ll hit the NEXUS with your lady, and I’ll join you as soon as I can."

Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "If Ultron is really building a body..."

Tony’s expression grew serious as he locked eyes with Steve. "He’ll be more powerful than any of us. Maybe all of us. An android designed by a robot."

Steve sighed, a wry smile forming despite the tension. "You know, I really miss the days when the weirdest thing science ever created was me."

"You don’t say," Nouri teased, her voice light as she helped Fury with his jacket.

Fury glanced at his watch, clearly ready to get the day started. "I’ll drop Banner off at the tower. Do you mind if I borrow Ms. Hill?"

Tony shot a quick glance towards Fury, his tone flat as he joked, "She's all yours, apparently."

Steve looked between them both, clearly confused by the exchange. "What are you gonna do?" he asked, frowning a little.

Fury shrugged, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I don't know. Something dramatic, I hope."

"Like always," Nouri added, smiling up at him as she playfully rolled her eyes.

With the team ready, they all made their way to the jet. Nouri slipped into her seat beside Tony, giving Steve a final smile that said everything she couldn’t voice at the moment. She knew how much this mission meant to him, and she hated to leave his side—but she also knew Tony would need her.

As the jet engines roared to life, the team settled into their seats, preparing for the mission ahead. The skies outside darkened as they climbed higher, heading toward their first stop.

When they arrived, Fury and Banner quickly disembarked, heading for the tower with a few quick words of farewell. As the jet began to move again, Nouri leaned back in her seat, looking over at Tony, who was already back to tapping away at his console.

"We’re almost there," Tony said with a grin, his fingers flying over the keys. "Next stop, Oslo."

Nouri gave him a knowing smile. "Well, don’t get too excited, Stark. You can’t keep me as your only source of entertainment forever."

Tony flashed a grin in her direction, clearly unfazed. "We’ll see about that."

As the jet continued toward Oslo, Nouri caught one last glimpse of Steve from the window, her heart tugging just a little. She’d miss him, but she knew they all had their roles to play. The mission came first.

When they finally touched down in Oslo, Norway, Tony and Nouri made their way off the jet. Nouri adjusted her jacket, stepping out into the brisk air with a calm resolve.

With that, the jet took off, leaving the team to face the challenges that lay ahead. But for Nouri, there was something comforting in knowing she’d be with Stark, even if it wasn’t her first choice. As long as Steve was out there fighting, she’d do whatever it took to keep him safe, even from his own kind of mischief.

The cold air of the Norwegian spring biting at their skin as they stepped out of the jet. Tony, ever the chatterbox, gave her a look up and down, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I like the outfit," he teased, eyes scanning her ensemble. "Very... corporate goddess chic."

Nouri smirked but kept her tone light. "I wanted to be presentable," she replied, adjusting the blouse that hugged her frame, the dark fabric a contrast to the pale Scandinavian light.

"Alright, Miss 'I guide the souls in the afterlife,'" Tony said, bowing dramatically. "After you, Queen of the Underworld."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, half-amused. "You know, Tony, for someone who's seen more advanced technology than most, you're surprisingly old-fashioned."

"Hey, I like to keep it classic," Tony shrugged with a wink, then swung the door open into NEXUS.

The two were immediately greeted by the technicians at the door, who guided them into a high-tech room brimming with computers, holographic displays, and a hum of electricity that felt alive. Tony made a beeline for the main console, immediately sinking into his element, while Nouri lingered for a moment, her eyes roaming across the room.

The technicians were busy at work, but Nouri's attention shifted to the complex systems in front of her. She instinctively tapped into her sight—her power to see beyond the surface—and watched the flow of information running through the systems, but she didn’t comment. She was more focused on the chaos of it all, trying to make sense of their hurried pace.

Tony, however, was already deep into his own world, leaning over the console, his fingers flying over the keys. "A hacker faster than Ultron? He could be anywhere," Tony muttered to himself as his eyes scanned the streams of data. "And as this is the centre of everything, I'm just a guy looking for a needle in the world's biggest haystack."

One of the World Hub technicians looked over at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. "How do you find it?"

Tony didn’t look up, his focus absolute as he tapped in a few more commands. "Pretty simple," he said with a glint in his eye. "You bring a magnet."

Nouri, who had been silently observing, chuckled at the absurdity of his response. "A magnet? Really? That’s your solution?"

Tony shrugged, a playful grin on his face. "Hey, don’t knock it 'til you try it." He clicked away, adding, "Also, I can make it look good."

With a flourish, Tony straightened up, looking almost proud of himself. Then, in a mischievous tone, he started humming as he typed, "Oh, I'm decrypting nuclear codes, and you don’t want me to. Come and get me." The sound of his voice mingled with the rhythmic clattering of the keys, lightening the room's otherwise tense atmosphere.

Nouri raised an eyebrow and turned to one of the technicians, clearly amused. "I’m starting to think he’s actually an old-school bard trapped in a billionaire’s body."

The technician shot her a confused look. "Bard?"

"Never mind," Nouri said with a smirk, shaking her head as she turned back to Tony.

Finally, Tony looked up from the screen, flashing a triumphant grin. "Got it!" he said, his fingers pausing dramatically over the console. "And that, my dear Nouri, is how we find a needle in a haystack. Also, a magnet."

Before Nouri could comment, Clint’s voice came over the comms, smooth and calm, "Tony, you’re going to want to grab your stuff. We’re coming in hot."

At the perfect moment, the Quinjet landed, the hatch opening, and Clint greeted them from the cockpit. "Let's go," he called out.

Tony, looking as smug as ever, grabbed Nouri's arm and pulled her along. "Hold onto your seat," he said with a wink, leading her into the jet. The door slammed shut just as they lifted off, the jet roaring to life.

Nouri took a seat beside Clint, her curiosity piqued. "What’s this?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the strange-looking object in the corner of the Quinjet.

"The Cradle," Clint replied, his hands steady on the controls. "It's what Ultron was building."

Nouri frowned, her mind working as she pieced the information together. "So, this is the thing that could end the world, right? How do you plan to stop it?"

"One step at a time," Tony said, grinning at her over his shoulder.

The ride was quiet for the most part, save for the occasional chatter between Tony and Clint about the mission ahead. Nouri leaned back in her seat, allowing herself a moment of peace. Her mind was still spinning from everything she’d witnessed in this strange new world, but one thing was clear: she was needed. And if this mission had anything to do with her, she wasn’t going to back down.

The Quinjet landed smoothly at the Tower, and as the engines powered down, Nouri stood up. Tony slapped Clint on the back and said, "Bring the Cradle to the lab, will ya?."

---

Nouri helped Clint push the Cradle into the lab, the air buzzed with tension as Bruce and Tony quickly went to work in the lab.

Bruce glanced at Tony, a look of concern on his face. “Anything on Nat?”

Tony shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. “Haven’t heard. But she’s alive, or Ultron’d be rubbing our faces in it.” He looked back at the screen, typing in a sequence of commands. The sound of the lab’s machinery clicking and whirring filled the silence between them.

Nouri’s voice cut through the tension; her tone soft but heavy with concern. “What happened with Nat?” Her words were like a quiet plea for answers, the weight of them hanging in the room.

Clint, his jaw clenched in irritation, sighed as he looked up from the Cradle. “Ultron’s got her.” The edge of annoyance in his voice was palpable, but there was something deeper there—fear. Fear for the person he cared about, trapped in the hands of a monster.

He stood by eyes fixed on the Cradle. “This is sealed tight.”

Bruce didn’t waste time, voice steady but urgent. "We're going to need to access the program," he said, glancing at Tony. "Break it down from within."

Tony nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing. "Hm. Any chance Natasha might leave you a message, outside the internet—old-school spy stuff?"

Clint, his eyes narrowing as if pulling a memory from the depths of his mind, gave a slow nod. "There's some nets I can cast. Yeah, alright. I'll find her." His resolve firmed, and without another word, he turned to leave.

“I’ll help him,” Nouri said, determination clear in her voice. Her steps were swift as she walked downstairs, her mind focused.

---

Downstairs, Clint sat motionless, eyes glued to the screen, the atmosphere heavy as he decoded the message flickering across the display. His breath caught when the message revealed itself—a flash of recognition as he made sense of it. His heart skipped a beat.

“It’s her,” Clint muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling slightly as he let out a sigh of relief.

Nouri stepped closer, her gaze distant as she focused, her eyes glowing faintly. She reached out connecting with Natasha’s essence.

"Sokovia," Nouri whispered, her gaze locking with Clint’s. “She’s in Sokovia.”

Before Clint could respond, the heavy sound of footsteps from upstairs echoed through the lab. The sound was unmistakable, and it rattled through the building like an incoming storm. Clint’s gaze shot to the almost translucent glass floor beneath them, his eyes narrowing. His hand instinctively reached for his gun, but before he could move, he turned to Nouri.

A single finger to his lips signalled silence. Nouri nodded, her posture shifting as she moved quietly toward the stairs, her eyes following the tension in the room. She ascended silently, standing just behind Bruce, her gaze unwavering. The soft glow of her hands flickered, a subtle reminder of the power she wielded, though she knew better than to use it in such an unpredictable moment.

Steve's gaze was hard as he stood firm, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I'm gonna say this once."

Tony, ever the defiant one, smirked with his signature irreverence. "How about 'nonce'?"

Steve shot him a look, but his attention didn’t waver. “Shut it down!” His command was sharp, echoing through the lab.

Tony crossed his arms, unyielding. "Nope, not gonna happen." His tone carried a quiet defiance, a challenge Steve wasn’t about to back down from.

"You don't know what you're doing," Steve pressed, his frustration mounting.

Bruce’s eyes flickered between Steve and Tony, and his voice cut through the tension, colder than before. "And you do? She's not in your head?"

The mention of her caused Nouri to step forward, her voice calm but firm, carrying an air of undeniable authority. "Steve," she warned, her hands starting to burn with a faint, controlled glow. The soft orange light danced around her fingers, a reminder of her power—something she'd prefer not to unleash in this chaotic room, but she wasn’t going to stay silent.

Wanda’s voice was soft, almost pleading, her eyes flickering between Steve and Tony. “I know you’re angry,” she said gently, attempting to de-escalate, but the air was too thick with tension to cut through.

Bruce’s expression hardened, his voice an edge of rage beneath control. "Oh, we’re way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade." His words were clipped, barely restrained.

Steve didn’t give up, his tone lowering with more gravity. "Banner, after everything that’s happened—"

Tony, not one to be left out, interrupted loudly, his voice rising. "That’s nothing compared to what’s coming!" His hands were a blur as he worked at rerouting the upload, his face set in determination.

Wanda’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her anxiety bubbling to the surface. “You don’t know what’s in there!” Her words were a warning, but the weight behind them seemed to hit too late.

Steve’s voice snapped, frustration lacing every syllable. "This isn’t a game—"

But Wanda’s interruption was fierce, and her voice wavered with fear. "The creature—"

Before anyone could react, Pietro, always quick to push boundaries, dashed across the room in a blur of speed. His feet hit the lab equipment with a crash as he knocked it over, the sounds of destruction reverberating throughout the space.

“No, no. Go on. You were saying?” Pietro taunted, his grin wide, looking for a response. He relished in the chaos.

Clint, without hesitation, acted. His aim was sharp, and he fired a shot with precision, shattering the glass floor beneath Pietro’s feet. The glass cracked with a deafening sound, sending Pietro plummeting through it in a flurry of broken shards.

"Wanda!" Pietro’s voice rang out as he fell, his form disappearing from view, but the echo of his cry lingered in the air.

Clint, eyes darting over the wreckage, glanced over at Wanda. "What? You didn’t see that coming?" he quipped, his tone laced with dry humour despite the urgency of the moment.

Tony didn’t stop for a second, the click of his hands a testament to his focus. "I’m rerouting the upload. Just—" he cut off his words, his eyes narrowing in frustration.

Bruce, his patience fraying at the edges, turned to Wanda, his tone growing more threatening. "Go ahead, piss me off." The words were directed more at himself than anyone else, but the malice was there, simmering beneath.

The tension in the room was thick, almost unbearable. Nouri’s eyes burned with anger as she watched the twins, her thoughts racing, her patience fraying. But before anything else could happen, a loud crash echoed through the lab. The doors burst open, and Thor stormed in like a tempest, his hammer raised high. Without hesitation, he swung it at the Cradle, sending a bolt of lightning surging through the machine.

For a split second, the air crackled with power, and then—motion. The synthetic body in the Cradle jerked, life surging into it. Nouri’s breath caught, but she said nothing, her gaze unwavering as the newly awakened entity stretched and straightened.

"Wait!" Bruce called out, his voice a mix of disbelief and caution.

Everyone froze, staring in shock at the figure that stood before them, now fully alive. It was the Mind Stone glowing in the centre of his head that made everything feel so real, so dangerous.

The entity’s gaze flickered to Thor, and without warning, he launched himself forward, attacking with a ferocity that took them all by surprise. But Thor, ever the warrior, hurled him toward a window. The entity caught himself mid-air, his feet landing with a soft thud before he steadied himself, his form calm and controlled.

"I'm sorry," the entity, now known as Vision, said, his voice carrying the familiar echoes of JARVIS. "That was... odd." He turned to Thor with an odd look of gratitude. "Thank you."

As the room fell silent, Nouri stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Vision. She walked slowly across the room, her presence undeniable. She stopped just short of Steve, her gaze flicking toward him for a brief moment before returning to Vision. "Oh, this should be interesting," she murmured under her breath, her voice carrying just enough for those closest to her to hear. Her eyes were full of a complex mix of curiosity and disbelief.

Steve furrowed his brow as he watched Thor, disbelief lining his features. "Thor, you helped create this?"

Thor nodded gravely; his expression sombre. "I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its centre is that." He pointed to the glowing gem in Vision's head. "The Mind Stone."

Bruce blinked, wide-eyed, taking in the gravity of Thor's words. "What, the gem?"

Thor turned to him, his voice heavy with caution. "It’s the Mind Stone. One of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe—unparalleled in its destructive capabilities."

Steve’s voice was sharp, his mind racing with the implications. "Then why would you bring it to—"

"Because Stark is right," Thor interrupted, cutting him off.

Nouri couldn’t contain herself. She let out a soft laugh, but it was full of disbelief, tinged with frustration. She crossed her arms, giving the room a look of utter disbelief. "Oh, it’s definitely the end times," she said, her voice thick with irony.

Thor’s eyes locked with hers, a mix of regret and sorrow behind them. "The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron."

Vision spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "Not alone."

Steve glanced at Vision; the confusion still etched across his face. "Why does your 'vision' sound like JARVIS?"

Tony looked pained as he met Steve’s gaze. "We... reconfigured JARVIS’s matrix to create something new."

Steve exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I think I've had my fill of new."

Vision’s eyes shifted to Steve’s, a quiet challenge in them. "You think I’m a child of Ultron?"

Nouri raised an eyebrow, studying the newly created entity. Her voice was sharp with a mixture of scepticism and curiosity. "You're not?"

Vision’s face softened, and he answered slowly, his voice carrying an air of uncertainty. "I'm not Ultron. I'm not JARVIS. I am... I am," he trailed off, as if he himself wasn’t quite sure of who he was.

Wanda’s gaze pierced through him; her eyes full of intensity. "I looked in your head and saw annihilation."

Vision met her eyes without hesitation. "Look again."

Clint, always the cynic, folded his arms and stepped forward, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. Her seal of approval means jack to me."

Thor moved forward; his expression heavy with the weight of the situation. "Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself—they all came from the Mind Stone, and they’re nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side..."

Steve narrowed his eyes, his voice cutting through the tension. "Is it? Are you? On our side?"

Vision hesitated; his expression thoughtful. "I don't think it’s that simple."

Clint rolled his eyes, the scepticism dripping from his words. "Well, it better get real simple real soon."

Vision nodded; his demeanour solemn. "I am on the side of life. Ultron isn’t. He will end it all."

Tony’s voice was strained. "What’s he waiting for?"

Vision’s gaze turned cold as he answered, his voice unwavering. "You."

Bruce’s eyes widened, the weight of Vision's words settling in. "Where?"

Nouri didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer to Steve, her voice strong. "Sokovia. He’s got Nat there too."

Bruce turned toward Vision, his tone becoming alarmed. "If we’re wrong about you, if you’re the monster Ultron made you to be..."

Vision met their eyes, unfazed, as if this moment was inevitable. "What will you do?" His gaze swept the room, challenging them all. "I don’t want to kill Ultron. He’s unique, and he’s in pain. But that pain will roll over the earth, and so he must be destroyed. Every form he’s built, every trace of his presence on the net, we have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others. Maybe I am a monster. I don’t think I’d know if I were one. I’m not what you are, and not what you intended. So, there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go."

With a calm nod, Vision raised Thor’s hammer, the weight of the action sinking in. Everyone stared in stunned silence. Nouri couldn’t help herself—she fake-coughed, the sound breaking the momentary stillness. Thor, as if on cue, walked over and took the hammer from Vision, nodding at him as if this moment was just another odd occurrence in their chaotic lives. Vision gave a soft, almost apologetic smile, and then walked off toward the door.

Thor turned toward Tony with a pat on the shoulder. "Right. Well, done."

Steve’s voice cut through the atmosphere, sharper than before. "Three minutes. Get what you need."

Nouri shot Steve a look, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You heard the man. Time’s ticking." She gave Vision one last glance, wondering just how deep this new alliance would go.

Chapter 26: Sokovia

Notes:

Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

Nouri stood before the mirror, hesitating for just a moment. She had originally planned to wear her usual attire—black cargo pants, a long-sleeve black top, and combat boots, perfect for blending into the modern world. But today, something felt different. She closed her eyes, reaching inward, searching for the ancient power that still pulsed within her, the traditions of her people calling to her. She listened to the hum of the ancient forces, the whispers of the gods, and without a second thought, she chose to return to her roots.

She wrapped herself in cloth, each layer carefully placed, as if reconnecting with her essence. Her bandeau top, wrapped securely around her chest, left her arms exposed, wrapped in bandages—reminders of the warrior she once was. The bandages not only served as protection but as symbols of her resilience, each wrap a mark of strength and grace. Her skirt, made of flowing cloth, was cut on both sides from the thighs down, creating slits that allowed for swift movement but maintained the air of mystery and power that always surrounded her. It draped elegantly from her navel to the ground, flowing with every step as though the fabric itself was alive with energy. The two swords she carried rested comfortably on her back, a part of her, as natural as breathing.

She gazed upward toward the sky, the wind tugging at her hair, her thoughts turning toward the divine.

“Sekhmet,” she prayed softly, her voice reverent but strong. “netjeret weret en khepesh, Djed-i nek! Mesut-i kheperu en Medjay! Sa’a ta, meryt netjeru!”*

A cool breeze seemed to answer her, the air growing heavier, as if the goddess herself was listening.

“You ready?” Steve’s voice cut through the silence, and Nouri turned to him, her eyes meeting his. There was no fear in her heart, just the quiet certainty of a battle well-fought.

Nouri nodded, her lips curving into a small but determined smile. Then, without hesitation, she ran up to Steve, her heart stirring with an emotion she hadn’t quite sorted out yet. She kissed him—a brief but passionate kiss, a promise of more to come. The connection between them, though still young, was undeniable, and in that moment, she felt both powerful and vulnerable. It was a feeling she didn’t quite understand, but one she welcomed.

As they pulled away, Nouri’s eyes flickered with affection and resolve. “Let’s go.”

Together, they joined Tony and Bruce inside the Quinjet, their mission clear ahead of them.

"No way we all get through this," Tony muttered under his breath, his usual bravado a little absent. "If even one tin soldier is left standing, we've lost. It's gonna be blood on the floor."

Steve, as steady as ever, gave a reassuring nod. “I got no plans tomorrow night.”

“Yes you do!” Nouri said with a grin, slapping his arm playfully. She could feel the tension in the air, but it didn’t hurt to lighten the mood a little.

Tony glanced at Steve, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I get first crack at the big guy. Iron Man's the one he's waiting for."

Before Steve could respond, Vision walked past, his expression unreadable. “That’s true. He hates you the most.”

Nouri and Bruce both burst into laughter at that comment, the humour lightening the atmosphere, even if just for a moment.

Soon, Wanda, Pietro, Clint, and Thor joined them inside the jet, each person lost in their own thoughts. The seriousness of their task was not lost on any of them, but in the presence of friends—of allies—there was always a sliver of hope.

Steve turned to face them, his voice calm but full of command. "Ultron knows we’re coming. Odds are we’ll be riding into heavy fire, and that’s what we signed up for. But the people of Sokovia—they didn’t. So, our priority is getting them out.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze unwavering, taking in the faces of those who would fight alongside him. “All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that’s not going to happen today. But we can do our best to protect them. We get the job done, find out what Ultron’s been building. We find Romanoff, clear the field, and keep the fight between us. Ultron thinks we’re monsters, that we’re what’s wrong with the world. This isn’t just about beating him. It’s about proving that he’s wrong.”

“Great speech,” Nouri joked, her voice warm with affection for the man who could always inspire with just a few words. The tension among them had been growing, and even her small remark seemed to bring a moment of ease.

The Quinjet landed outside of Sokovia, its engines humming softly as they prepared to move out.

“Stick with me,” Steve ordered Nouri as they prepared to disembark, his voice firm but caring.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Nouri smiled, her heart quickening as the mission began. There was no turning back now.

Thor and Bruce went off to find Natasha, while the twins, Clint, Steve, and Nouri moved quickly to begin evacuating the city. The scene was chaotic, but they moved with purpose, the weight of their responsibility settling over them. Tony, meanwhile, took off to confront Ultron, the true enemy they all knew awaited them.

As they worked their way through the city, Nouri kept close to Steve, her gaze scanning the surroundings, every sense alert. There were moments of hesitation—moments where the fight could have been lost in an instant—but there was something about Steve’s presence that steadied her. Perhaps it was his unwavering resolve, or the kindness in his eyes, but she found herself believing in his mission more with each passing moment.

The evacuation continued, civilians being moved to safety as the threat of Ultron loomed larger with every second. The battle was coming—no one could deny that.

---

Nouri stood at the edge of the bridge; her eyes sharp as the sound of mechanical movement filled the air. The Ultron Sentries emerged from the ground and the water with terrifying speed, their metal bodies gleaming under the dimmed sky. In an instant, the calm of the bridge was shattered as the machines began to attack civilians, their cold, emotionless eyes scanning for targets.

Without hesitation, Nouri’s hands ignited with fiery energy. Her body hummed with the strength of the sun as she raised her arms. The first wave of Sentries that lunged at the innocent bystanders were met with a surge of flames, their metal bodies melting and crumbling before her. The heat from her fire radiated, scorching the very air around her, but she kept her focus, ensuring that no one was caught in the crossfire.

Nouri’s voice rang out, steady but full of authority, "Stay down!" She gestured with a flick of her hand, sending more flames spiralling toward the incoming Sentries. They screamed as their outer shells buckled under the intense heat.

"Go!" Steve’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent. He motioned for the civilians to move quickly, his tone commanding.

Wanda, ever the empath, followed Steve’s lead, pushing people out of the way with her powers. "Get off the bridge! Run!" she shouted, creating forceful barriers to shield them from harm. She did her best to guide the panicked civilians away from the fight, but the Sentries were relentless.

Wanda tried to form a shield to protect the people, but the energy was barely enough to keep the Sentries at bay. Her shield cracked under the pressure of one robot's sheer strength, and Nouri saw it, her heart pounding with determination. She wasn’t about to let anyone suffer because of a fragile shield.

Nouri’s eyes flicked over to Wanda, a firelight flickering in her gaze. She sprinted toward the breach in Wanda's defence, her fiery fist already raised. "I’ve got it!" she called out.

Without waiting for a response, Nouri released an explosive wave of flames at the robot, the fire curling and spiralling like a burning serpent. The Sentry's metal body melted under the inferno, leaving nothing but a molten mess.

Wanda looked up in admiration, her eyes wide as she watched Nouri move with complete control. The goddess’s power was awe-inspiring, her control of fire so precise that not a single civilian was caught in the flames.

"Get them out of here!" Nouri commanded, her voice cutting through the air as she melted another Sentry in a flash of flame.

The ground shook violently beneath Nouri’s feet. The bridge trembled with the weight of the battle, and she ran to Steve’s side as the town around them began to lift into the sky.

"Steve!" Nouri shouted, reaching him just as a Sentry launched him across the bridge, sending him crashing into the ground. She moved swiftly, pushing the machine off him and throwing it into the water with a burst of fire.

Tony’s voice crackled over the comms, urgent. "Cap, you got incoming."

Steve groaned; his voice strained as he tried to get back on his feet. "Incoming already came in. Stark, you worry about bringing the city back down safely."

"You just focus on tearing these things apart!" Tony’s voice was as sharp as ever. "You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off."

A fierce grin spread across Steve’s face as he picked himself up, brushing off the dirt. “Let’s go to work,” he said with a chuckle, his tone unwavering.

Nouri let out a low laugh, the sound of it full of fire and excitement. "Well, then, lets do it old school."

She raised both hands, flames dancing from her fingertips, her fiery eyes scanning the battlefield. With a roar, she released a torrent of fire that swept across multiple Sentries, turning them into smouldering piles of scrap metal. She wasn’t just fighting; she was protecting, ensuring that nothing could touch the civilians under her watch.

As more Sentries came in from every direction, Nouri’s powers seemed to intensify. She spun, moving with grace and deadly precision. A fiery sword appeared in one hand, a blade of pure molten energy, cutting through the Sentries with ease. She fought not just with her fire but with the wisdom of centuries of battles, her movements effortless.

"Stay safe, Steve," she called out, her voice a blend of strength and care. She was unstoppable in her element, but she never forgot the ones she was protecting.

A Sentry lunged toward her from behind, but she was already a step ahead, spinning with a swift kick that sent the machine flying through the air, its parts breaking off in a cascade of sparks.

"I’ve got this," she whispered to herself, smiling grimly as she turned to face the next wave of machines.

---

The battle raged on around them, the sounds of metal crashing, explosions, and the hum of electricity filling the air. Nouri’s eyes scanned the chaos with sharp focus, every move precise as she used her fire-wielding abilities to melt through the hordes of robots.

From the corner of her eye, Nouri noticed a car teetering dangerously close to the edge of the bridge. Inside was a woman—helpless as the vehicle lost its grip on the collapsing structure.

“Cap!” Nouri shouted, her voice cutting through the clamour of the fight as she pointed towards the car. “Look out!”

Steve’s gaze immediately snapped to the car, and without hesitation, he sprinted forward, his eyes locked on the woman in the vehicle. The car was barely clinging to the bridge. In a flash, Steve reached it, trying to halt its fall, his hands bracing against the vehicle’s side. But the weight of the car was too much, and with a screech of metal, it began to slip over the edge.

Nouri’s heart raced as she watched Steve struggle, her mind already calculating the best way to help. But before she could move, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and Nouri spotted Thor, soaring through the air. With a mighty swing of his hammer, he sent the woman flying towards Steve, who, without missing a beat, jumped into action.

Steve caught the woman mid-air, his hands strong and steady as he held onto her. As he landed, he reached out to Nouri, his grip firm on her arm, and they both descended into the chaos below, swiftly manoeuvring to get the woman to safety.

“You’re alright,” Steve said, his voice calm and reassuring as he helped the woman to her feet. “Just stay with me, okay?”

The sound of Ultron’s voice echoed ominously through the surrounding chaos, dripping with a malevolent calm. "You can't save them all. You'll never—"

Before Ultron could finish his taunt, Nouri shot a look at the robot with fiery intensity. Her palm raised, she called on the flames inside her, and with a swift gesture, she melted the robot’s face clean off, the sizzling sound of metal evaporating filling the air.

Steve, smirking, tossed the now-dismembered robot aside like a rag doll, cutting off Ultron’s arrogant monologue. “You'll never what? You didn’t finish!” he called out, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he turned back to Nouri.

Thor leaped effortlessly onto the hood of a car that had been teetering on the edge, landing with a heavy thud. “What, were you napping, Thor?” Steve chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Thor landed beside him, shaking his head with a grin.

Nouri’s expression sharpened as she surveyed the battlefield. There were more robots pouring in, more than they could handle, and they were getting closer.

“Nat!” Nouri shouted, spotting Natasha nearby, skilfully taking out a few robots of her own. She reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

“We’ll catch up later,” Natasha responded with a smirk, already diving into the next wave. Nouri tossed her one of her swords, the blade glowing with fiery energy as it sailed through the air, landing perfectly in Natasha’s grip.

"Alright, we're all clear here," Clint's voice crackled through the comms, a hint of relief in his tone.

“We are not clear! We are very not clear!” Steve’s voice cut through; his tone sharp as he looked at the approaching swarm of robots. He threw his shield, slicing through a robot with precision.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed as she continued to slice through robots with expert precision, her flames cutting through metal and circuitry like a hot knife through butter. “We’re getting swarmed!” she yelled over comms, her voice sharp with urgency.

"Alright, coming to you," Clint responded, his voice tinged with determination.

Steve looked over at Natasha, who had joined the fray beside him, moving like lightning as she dispatched robot after robot. He called out to her, “Romanoff!” He tossed his shield, slicing a robot clean in half before nodding at Natasha.

“Thanks,” Natasha said, flashing him a quick smile before seamlessly rejoining the fight. Her movements were a perfect blend of grace and lethal efficiency.

Nouri, ever the watchful protector, shifted her stance as the battle grew more intense. Her fire abilities were at full force now, flames swirling around her as she took down robots left and right. She felt a deep connection to the struggle, like the fire within her was a reflection of the world’s own desperate need for guidance.

“I’ve got your back!” Nouri called out to Steve as he leaped onto another car, her flames adding extra intensity to his efforts. "Let's make this count!"

Together, they fought side by side, a blazing force unstoppable in the face of Ultron's army.

---

Steve glanced at the horizon; eyes sharp. “The next wave’s gonna hit any minute. What have you got, Stark?” He and Nouri continued to guide civilians inside the buildings, her calming presence a stark contrast to the chaos around them.

Tony gave him a half-hearted shrug. “Well, nothing great. Maybe a way to blow up the city. That’ll keep it from impacting the surface if you guys can get clear.”

“I asked for a solution, not an escape plan,” Steve shot back, his voice tense.

Stark sighed, glancing at the monitor. “Impact radius is getting bigger every second. We’re going to have to make a choice.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gaze scanning the chaos. “Cap, these people are going nowhere. If Stark finds a way to blow this rock...” Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes, understanding the weight of the decision.

The three stood on the edge, looking out over the battlefield. The sky seemed to bleed red with the fire of the ongoing fight.

Steve’s expression hardened. “Not ‘til everyone’s safe.”

Natasha’s gaze flickered briefly toward the ground below. She spoke with brutal honesty. “Everyone up here versus everyone down there? There’s no math there.”

“She’s right,” Nouri said, her voice unwavering. She placed a hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder, offering silent support, but she knew he wasn’t going to back down.

“I’m not leaving this rock with one civilian on it,” Steve insisted, voice firm, the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders.

Natasha didn’t flinch, her steely eyes meeting his. “I didn’t say we should leave.” She met his gaze before adding with a half-smile, “There’s worse ways to go. Where else am I gonna get a view like this?” Her smile was a mask for the seriousness of the situation, but it lightened the mood, just enough.

Before Steve could respond, a voice crackled through their comms. “Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It’s about to get better.” Fury’s voice was unmistakable, accompanied by the sound of engines roaring in the distance. The Helicarrier appeared on the horizon, cutting through the sky, its massive form a welcome sight.

Inside, Fury’s voice continued, smug with pride. “Nice, right? I pulled her out of mothballs with a couple of old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do.”

Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fury, you son of a bitch.”

 “Oooh! You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury shot back.

Nouri couldn’t help herself. She laughed, the sound of it rich and full, cutting through the tension. She winked at Steve before turning her attention back to the horizon, where the battle was far from over.

Pietro joined them, his silver hair catching the light as he assessed the incoming reinforcements. His gaze shifted as he saw the lifeboats heading their way. “This is S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Steve’s expression softened, a rare moment of admiration in his eyes. “This is what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s supposed to be.”

Pietro smirked, looking at the boats approaching with lightning speed. “This is not so bad.”

“Get everyone to the boats!” Nouri yelled, her voice commanding and clear, cutting through the din of chaos. She grabbed Steve’s arm, steadying him for the next move. “We can’t wait any longer. Every second counts.”

A familiar sight appeared in the distance, the unmistakable form of War Machine. Rhodes entered the scene, his suit blasting through the air like a living weapon. He fired a blast from his suit that took down one of the attacking robots. The force of the hit sent sparks flying, the robot’s mechanical limbs collapsing in a heap.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Rhodey’s voice came through their comms, a wry smile in his tone. “Where do you need me, Cap?”

Nouri nodded toward the encroaching enemy, her eyes narrowing in focus. “We need every bit of firepower we can get. Just keep those things off us.”

The battle raged around them, but with Fury’s timely arrival and War Machine’s support, they now had a fighting chance. The civilians were moving toward the boats, but the robots were relentless, determined to destroy anyone in their path. Nouri summoned a burst of flame from her hands, her fire not destructive but precise, turning the attacking forces into scattered pieces of scrap metal.

"Hold the line!" Steve shouted as he led the charge, his shield raised high. Nouri was beside him, her eyes glowing with the intensity of the flames she controlled, lighting up the battlefield. She was a beacon of fire, guiding them forward.

“Steve, the boats are almost full!” Natasha called over her comms, her voice tinged with urgency.

“Let’s finish this!” Steve called, rallying the troops.

With Nouri’s fire and Fury’s Helicarrier closing in, they had one shot at making sure no one was left behind. The last wave of civilians reached the boats, and as the robots descended upon them, Nouri unleashed a final wave of flames, pushing them back just long enough for the escape to begin. Her heart raced, but there was no time for doubt now. It was fight or die.

---

"Avengers, time to work for a living," Tony called out over comms, his voice full of command.

Nouri and Steve raced toward the church, her dark curls trailing behind her like a whirlwind, feet pounding the ground with fierce determination. Her enhanced agility rivalled even Steve’s, but of course, his super soldier serum had him arriving first. With a grin, he hurled his shield, sending it ricocheting off a few of Ultron’s robotic minions, knocking them back with precision.

Nouri arrived seconds later, her fiery eyes glowing in the chaos. "Not everything's a competition," she teased, her voice light but full of warmth. She shot him a sly grin as she skidded to a halt beside him.

"Of course it is," Steve shot back, tossing her a mischievous wink. With one fluid motion, he launched his shield again, cutting through another robot in midair. "You’ve got some catching up to do."

Nouri laughed softly, the sound ringing with amusement as she surveyed the battle ahead. Her fingers ignited with the sun's power, flames dancing around her hands. “Catching up? I’ve been here the whole time, just waiting for you to warm up,” she quipped, her gaze sharp.

"Romanoff? You and Banner better not be playing 'hide the zucchini,'" Tony’s voice crackled over comms, dripping with shark.

"Relax, Shell-head," Natasha quipped back, her voice cool, dripping with sarcasm. "Not all of us can fly. What's the drill?"

Tony’s tone shifted to serious business. "This is the drill. If Ultron gets his hands on the Vibranium core, we lose."

Just as Tony finished speaking, Hulk appeared, his massive form smashing through debris as he roared, ready for the battle ahead. The ground trembled under his steps, the force of his arrival shaking the earth.

Thor’s booming voice broke the tension. "Is that the best you can do?"

Ultron summoned his robot army, several hundred of them marching forward in unison, metal feet pounding on the ground.

Steve met Ultron’s gaze with calm determination, his jaw set. "You had to ask."

Ultron repeated his taunt, his voice laced with cruel satisfaction. "This is exactly what I wanted. All of you, against all of me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?"

Tony, flashing a confident grin, replied, "Well, like the old man said. Together."

And just like that, the battle erupted into chaos.

Nouri’s eyes gleamed with fierce determination as she felt the weight of the moment settle into her bones. Her instincts surged to the forefront. She moved with deadly grace, using her agility to dart between robots, her body an elegant blur, every movement fluid and precise. As her hands flicked out, the power of the sun's fire erupted from her palms in a torrent of bright, scorching flames, incinerating anything that got too close. Her voice rang out as she focused on the battle ahead. "Burn in the light of the sun," she muttered, her words barely audible over the roar of the chaos around them.

With a shout of defiance, Nouri spun, her flame-wielding fists striking with brutal efficiency. The fire arced through the air, catching the robots in quick bursts that left nothing but smouldering wreckage in their wake.

Her attention shifted to one of Ultron's drones, which lunged toward her. She swiftly ducked under its swipe, her body flowing with the fluidity of a serpent. In one quick, decisive motion, she drew her sword, forged in the sands of Thebes, its surface etched with hieroglyphs of power—and with a swift strike, she severed the robot’s arm. In a move so fast it was a blur, she spun, flipping backward and narrowly avoiding another strike before she brought her sword down, cleaving the robot's core in two.

The sound of clashing metal filled the air as she kicked another robot into a nearby wall with enough force to send cracks through the stone. Nouri wasn’t just fighting with her flames; she was fighting with the precision of a seasoned warrior. Every strike was deliberate. Every movement calculated. She wasn’t just using her powers to destroy; she was using her speed, her ancient knowledge of combat, and the sacred skills of the Medjai to tear through Ultron’s forces.

A cry of rage echoed across the battlefield, and Nouri’s head snapped up as Ultron himself attacked, targeting Vision first. The android’s cold, mechanical eyes glowed as he hurled himself at the synthetic hero. Vision fired a focused beam of energy from the Mind Stone embedded in his forehead, sending Ultron stumbling backward.

Thor, with his hammer raised high, summoned a powerful surge of lightning, sending arcs of pure energy crackling through the air. At the same time, Tony aimed his repulsor beams, the bright blue light scorching the battlefield as they collided with Ultron’s metallic form. The combined assault pushed Ultron back, his Vibranium shell beginning to crack under the pressure.

Nouri stood among them; her body poised like a coiled spring. She raised her hands high, palms facing the sky, and summoned the full force of the sun’s fire. Her fingers crackled with intense solar energy as she harnessed the power of her divine heritage, summoning a beam of pure light that rained down upon Ultron, washing over him in a blaze that seemed to scorch the very air around them.

Tony looked over at Nouri, watching her unleash her power. "That’s what I’m talking about!" he called out, his voice filled with admiration.

The combined force of Thor’s lightning, Tony’s repulsors, and Nouri’s solar fire rained down upon Ultron, battering his metallic form. Ultron’s body hissed and steamed as the intense heat warped his shell. His movements grew erratic, his once-imposing figure faltering as he struggled to regain his balance.

Ultron, temporarily knocked off balance, sneered, but his voice faltered as he staggered. "You know, with the benefit of hindsight—" But before he could finish, Hulk interrupted by launching him across the battlefield with a thunderous crash. The robots began to retreat, scattering in all directions.

Thor’s voice was steady, but there was urgency in it. "They’ll try to leave the city."

Tony didn’t hesitate. "We can’t let ’em, not even one. Rhodey!"

Steve, taking command, looked over at the others. "We gotta move out. Even I can tell the air is getting thin. You guys get to the boats. We’ll sweep for stragglers, be right behind you." He turned to Nouri, his eyes flicking over her hands, which had been badly damaged from the fire. Her fingers were cracked and blackened, the skin charred and peeling, blood dripping from the raw knuckles where the flames had burned too deep.

Nouri glanced down at her hands, her breath catching as the pain coursed through her. Despite the visible damage, she quickly ripped one of the strips from her battle outfit, unravelling the bandage around her arm. With a swift motion, she wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles, tightening it with practiced ease. She didn’t even flinch as the fabric pressed against the open wounds.

She straightened up, her eyes meeting Steve’s with a steady, defiant gaze. "If you play with fire, you're bound to get burnt," she muttered, her voice low but firm, the smirk on her lips betraying the pain she refused to acknowledge.

Clint, always the cautious one, asked, "What about the core?"

Wanda, her face set with determination, spoke without hesitation. "I’ll protect it. It’s my job."

Wanda turned to Pietro, her voice firm. "Get the people on the boats."

Nouri shared a glance with Steve, her expression resolute despite the visible toll the battle had taken on her body. "We’ll handle the rest," she said with quiet confidence. "Let’s move. No one gets left behind."

As they sprinted to find the last few survivors trapped by debris, Nouri’s flame-wielding fists struck with brutal efficiency. She swept through the streets like a living storm, each swing of her arm sending jets of fire toward any robot that dared to approach.

As they approached a group of civilians trapped behind a barricade, Nouri raised her hand. A wall of fire erupted, pushing the robots back long enough for the survivors to escape. "Get moving!" she called out to them, her voice filled with urgency. "You’re not safe yet!"

Steve, his shield in hand, was right behind her, his actions just as decisive. He slammed his shield into a robot's head, sending it crashing to the ground. "We’ve got you," he said, his calm demeanour a contrast to the chaos around them.

Nouri’s fire flared again as she stood guard, her Medjai training ensuring that no robot would get past them. "We’ll hold them off," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Go now."

The air was thick with tension, the battle far from over. But with the Avengers united, there was no force that could stop them. The sun’s fire, the lightning of Thor, the precision of Steve’s shield, and the power of their unity were all they needed to make sure victory was within their grasp

---

Nouri moved swiftly through the wreckage, her eyes scanning for the last of the survivors. She spotted a small group huddled behind a pillar, fear and panic evident on their faces. With a soft, reassuring smile, she gestured for them to follow, leading them toward the lifeboats.

"Come on, quickly," she urged, her voice steady and calming. She could feel their hesitation, but she also felt the weight of their fear. It wasn't easy for mortals to place their trust in a stranger, even one who had been born of both the sun and moon. But Nouri had always had a way of making people feel seen, making them feel safe. She guided them through the chaos, her fire lighting the way, until they reached the boats.

Once they were safe, she turned, her eyes locking with Steve’s across the battlefield. The fight raged on, but there was something about this moment that felt different. She joined Steve and Thor, her movements graceful yet purposeful.

"Thor, I'm gonna need you back in the church," Tony’s voice crackled over the comms, his tone edged with tension.

Thor shot a quick glance at the last group of survivors getting onto the lifeboats, then turned to Steve. "Is this the last of them?" he asked, his voice heavy with the burden of responsibility.

Steve nodded, a determined but sombre expression on his face. "Yeah. Everyone else is on the carrier."

Tony’s voice was sharper now, the urgency clear. "You know, if this works, we maybe don’t walk away."

Thor looked up at the sky, his eyes darkened by the gravity of their situation. "Maybe not."

Nouri, standing beside them, let out a soft chuckle, her grin radiant even in the face of such chaos. "We will. Our time has yet to come."

Before they could speak further, a jet roared into the sky, and Nouri’s eyes flashed in warning. "Get down!" she shouted as Ultron appeared, descending from above in a jet, its guns blazing.

Steve instinctively grabbed her, pulling her to safety behind a nearby structure. The sound of gunfire tore through the air, and Nouri could feel the heat of the blasts even from where they hid. But she didn't flinch. Her flames were already beginning to swirl around her fingertips, ready to protect them.

"Clint!" Steve called, spotting the archer weaving his way toward them, carrying a young boy. Nouri watched as Clint reached the edge of the lifeboat platform and handed the child over to his sister with an urgent, but gentle push.

Clint spared a quick glance at them, his face a mix of determination and relief. "Safe," he called out, before turning back to the chaos.

But as he did, the entire city seemed to groan under the weight of the damage. A tremor shook the ground beneath them. The skyline buckled. Pieces of the city began to crumble, falling from the sky like giant stones cast down by the gods themselves.

Nouri’s heart raced. Her instincts kicked in as she saw Steve stumble, caught in the upheaval. Without a second thought, she reached out and grabbed him midair, her fiery aura surrounding them as she pulled him to safety. The air around them shimmered from the force of the fall, but her grip was firm, and she steadied him effortlessly.

They ran toward Clint, but as they neared, Nouri’s eyes caught something that made her heart stop for a brief moment. She looked down, her breath catching in her throat as she saw Pietro’s lifeless body on the ground.

The battlefield had claimed him.

Steve’s jaw tightened, his sorrow evident in his eyes, but he said nothing. There was no need for words when the weight of loss was so heavy. Nouri knelt down beside Pietro, her eyes softening as she gazed at his still form.

"He will walk an honourable path, his scales are balanced" she whispered, her voice barely above the wind’s roar. Her hand gently brushed over his forehead, offering the smallest of blessings as she looked up at Steve and Clint. The words were not just for them, but for herself, too—her way of processing the magnitude of the moment. The battle had ended, but the cost was immense.

Clint knelt beside them; his eyes hard but filled with a deep sadness. "He was one of us," he murmured, his voice rough. "We didn’t get to say goodbye."

Nouri placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of the pain they all shared. "He knew what he was fighting for," she said, her gaze still on Pietro. "And his sacrifice will not be forgotten."

The silence that followed was filled only with the distant sounds of the final explosions echoing through the city, a sombre end to a brutal fight.

As the last of the chaos began to settle, Nouri stood, her eyes scanning the horizon. "This is not the end," she said, her voice unwavering. "It’s just the beginning of something greater. Together, we rebuild."

Steve and Clint nodded in agreement, and as they stood side by side, Nouri felt the faintest sense of peace amidst the destruction. The battle was over, but the war for the soul of humanity had only just begun.

Notes:

* Translation:
"Sekhmet, great goddess of war, I call upon you! Let the strength of the Medjai be reborn! Shield the land, beloved of the gods!"

Chapter 27: A New Leader

June 21st, 2015

It had been over a month since the battle in Sokovia, and Nouri and Steve had settled into their new life at the Avengers' upstate New York facility. The peaceful retreat, tucked away in the sprawling countryside, had its perks—especially with their private wing, which, to Nouri, felt more like a sanctuary.

Clint had returned home to his family, and Bruce? Well, Bruce was still MIA. Nouri didn't mind the quiet, though, especially with Steve by her side.

Nouri stood before the mirror, her regal caftan shimmering in the soft light, the fabric a deep black interwoven with golden threads that sparkled like the night sky. Her face was framed by intricate, golden jewellery, draped delicately across her forehead and chin, the beads catching the light as they hung from her face veil. The design was ancient, a symbol of her divine heritage, and it made her look every bit the goddess she was, glowing with both elegance and strength. The soft clink of the beads as she moved was a reminder of her power, and yet, the way the jewels accentuated her beauty made her appear ethereal, like a vision from a forgotten era.

“You’re leaving tonight?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, barely audible against the quiet hum of the room.

Nouri let out a dramatic pout, turning to face him. “Sadly,” she replied, her tone teasing as she took a step toward him. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the caftan, reluctant to leave the warmth of their shared space.

Steve raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “The Council?”

Nouri’s eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and wariness. "Anubis says this is the last trial, and if all goes well, I’ll lead the Ennead," her voice had that hint of pride, but there was also an undercurrent of vulnerability that only Steve ever got to see. “Can you believe it?”

"You look beautiful, and it will go well," Steve said, his voice full of conviction. He took a step closer, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her in gently. “You look absolutely stunning.” His words were warm, genuine, and as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, Nouri's breath caught. He lingered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand—where the scars from her battles had finally begun to fade, though the marks of her strength remained.

Nouri’s heart fluttered in a way she hadn’t felt in centuries. She looked up at him, her voice quiet but full of longing. “You could come with me, you know.”

Steve chuckled softly, his hands still resting gently on her waist. “I wish I could, but someone’s gotta beat them into shape.” His eyes glinted with humour as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was slow, tender, and full of the unspoken connection between them.

As they pulled away, Nouri couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his affection lingering. “Alright, lovebirds, you ready?” came Tony’s obnoxious voice, breaking the moment with his usual flair.

Nouri rolled her eyes, a playful grin spreading across her face. “Thanks for letting me borrow the jet, Tony. I’ll try to bring it back in one piece,” she said, giving him a teasing wink.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s yours. Just don’t crash it, alright? The last thing I need is a new set of repairs for my favourite hero.” Tony waved them off, gesturing for them to hurry up.

Nouri looped her arm around Steve’s, her smile softening. “I’ll be back soon,” she murmured to him. “And when I do, I expect a hero’s welcome. Maybe even a banner this time.”

Steve chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. "It’s a deal." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before the three of them walked toward Thor, who was already waiting, looking very much the part of an Asgardian prince despite the chaos of the day.

Thor, ever the godly presence, raised an eyebrow and looked at Nouri. "Traveling home, Lady Light?" he asked with a playful grin.

Nouri smiled warmly, though her heart tugged a little at the thought of returning to the Ennead. "Yes, Odinson. Do give my regards to your father," she said with a wink.

Tony smirked from the side, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, we’re dealing with something new, huh?”

"New, artificial intelligence," Steve chimed in, his brows furrowing as he glanced at Tony.

"A machine," Tony quickly interjected, cutting Steve off.

"So, it doesn't count," Steve countered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Tony crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. "No. It’s not like a person lifting the hammer," he explained, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Right, different rules for us," Steve acknowledged, looking at Nouri. "But hey, if it were a person, would they be worthy?"

Nouri gave them both a knowing look. "Nice guy, but artificial. No soul."

"Exactly," Steve said, his voice dry, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he turned to Nouri. "You’re on the same page as me, huh?"

"Always, Captain," she said, her tone soft but teasing.

Thor, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, his voice thoughtful. "If he can wield the hammer, he can keep the Mind Stone. It's safe with the Vision, and these days, safe is in short supply."

Steve raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to Thor. "But if you put the hammer in an elevator..."

Tony cut in with a grin. "It would still go up."

"The elevator’s not worthy," Steve finished with a grin, locking eyes with the hammer for a moment.

Thor chuckled. "I’m going to miss these little talks of ours. You mortals never fail to amuse me."

Tony raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Well, not if you don’t leave."

"I have no choice," Thor replied, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "The Mind Stone is the fourth of the Infinity Stones to show up in the last few years. Someone has been playing an intricate game, using us as pawns. But once all these pieces are in position..." His voice trailed off, a warning in his tone.

"Triple Yahtzee?" Tony interrupted with a cheeky grin, clearly not taking things too seriously.

Steve shot him a look. "You think you can find out what's coming?"

"I do," Thor answered, his voice firm, before adding with a glance at Stark, "Besides this one, there's nothing that can't be explained."

With that, Thor turned, stepping back as the Bifrost activated. A glowing sigil burned into the grass where he had stood moments before.

Tony watched him go, shaking his head. "That man has no regard for lawn maintenance. I'm gonna miss him though. And you’re gonna miss me. There’s gonna be a lot of manful tears."

Nouri walked over to the burned grass, placing her hand out with a wink at Steve. "I’ll make sure you don’t have to cry about it," she teased. Her hand swept over the patch, transforming the charred grass into fresh green blades. "There. Lawn fixed, no tears required."

Steve watched her in awe, a smile tugging at his lips. "I think I might just fall in love with you all over again," he said with a teasing grin.

Nouri gave him a playful shove, laughing. "Careful, Captain, or I might start expecting more than just a kiss on the cheek."

As they walked toward Tony's car, Steve let out a chuckle. "I will miss you, Tony."

"Yeah?" Tony said, glancing at him before opening the car door. "Well, it’s time for me to tap out. Maybe I should take a page out of Barton's book and build Pepper a farm, hope nobody blows it up."

"The simple life," Steve mused, his tone thoughtful, as he glanced at Nouri, who was walking a little ahead.

"That’s the dream," Tony said with a shrug as he slipped into the car. "You two will get there one day."

Steve hesitated for a moment; his expression thoughtful. "I don't know... family, stability... The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Nouri smirked, glancing back at him with a playful look. "We’ll probably end up somewhere we least expect it," she said, her voice teasing as she turned her eyes to Steve.

He smiled, brushing her hair back gently. "I think you're right." He leaned down, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.

Tony, watching from the car, paused for a moment, his usual smirk faltering into something more sincere. He cleared his throat. "You alright, Cap?"

Steve nodded, his smile softening. "I’m home."

“Well, have a safe flight, Goddess of Steve Rogers,” Tony teased before pulling out of the driveway, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh.

Nouri chuckled softly, rolling her eyes. "He’s funny," she remarked with a mocking tone, turning to Steve with a smirk as she gave him a playful shove.

"I’m sure," Steve said, his smile wide as he took her hand. "But I think we both know who’s the better comedian."

They approached the plane, and as Nouri turned to look at him, their eyes met with a spark of something deeper. Steve cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb over her cheek before kissing her softly, the moment stretching out.

"Take care of yourself," Steve murmured, his voice filled with both love and concern.

"I always do," Nouri replied with a soft smile, her hand resting on his chest. "You just make sure to come back in one piece."

As she entered the plane, she glanced back at Steve, watching as he stood there, a smile still lingering on his face. The plane took off into the sky, and Nouri couldn’t help but feel that, despite the uncertainty ahead, things were falling into place.

---

Nouri stepped off the plane, her heart steady with determination as she set foot on the soil of Cairo, the weight of her long absence finally lifting. The desert sunbathed the land in golden light, but her attention was focused elsewhere—the chamber beneath the Giza Pyramid, where the gods awaited her. This was where her journey had always been leading, the culmination of everything she had fought for.

“You have done well,” Anubis said, stepping forward from the shadows. His dark eyes held warmth, an unusual gesture from the god of the afterlife, but it was a welcome one. He embraced her firmly, a symbol of his long-standing support. Nouri could feel the sincerity in his grip, a reminder of the bond they had shared for centuries.

“The odds are in your favour,” Isis added, her voice soft yet filled with certainty. Her magic, ancient and powerful, had always been a guiding force for Nouri. The goddess of wisdom and magic looked at her with pride, as though she, too, had always believed in Nouri's potential to rise.

“Everyone is gathered just for you,” Taweret said with a broad, proud smile. The goddess of fertility and protection stood tall, her massive frame taking up space in the room. She reached out to place a reassuring hand on Nouri’s shoulder. “Don’t let them intimidate you. You are among family.”

Nouri nodded, the weight of her lineage pressing down on her as she stepped forward. “Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said, her voice steady. With each step, she felt the earth beneath her, the ancient power of Egypt pulling her in, as though calling her home.

The hidden chamber beneath the Great Pyramid was grand and filled with an aura of timeless authority. The gods of the Ennead, the Council of ancient Egypt, were gathered around a large, circular stone table, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and expectation. The absence of Khonshu, her father, was keenly felt. She knew he was no longer welcome in their ranks, banished for his defiance—just as she had been. But she had made her choice to stand by humanity, and now, it was her time.

“Al Nouri, welcome home,” Ra’s voice rang out, his tone commanding yet oddly warm. The sun god’s gaze lingered on her as she took her place at the centre of the room, her seat now a symbol of the responsibility she would bear.

“Thank you,” Nouri said, bowing her head in respect. She was a goddess, but this moment felt both like a return and a beginning. She sat, the weight of every eye upon her, feeling the years of exile behind her. The Council was watching, waiting for her to prove herself worthy.

Ra cleared his throat and raised his hand, signaling the beginning of their proceedings. “First, you will answer our questions, Al Nouri. Then, we will discuss whether or not you will lead us,” he said, his voice like the roaring of the sun.

Nouri nodded, her resolve unwavering. She had anticipated this.

Sekhmet spoke first. “What happened in Sokovia?” Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer, though Nouri could see the flicker of concern behind her fiery gaze. The gods had to know how the mortal world was faring, and Sokovia had been one of the pivotal moments where their attention had turned to Earth.

“A mistake,” Nouri said, her voice steady. “One of the Avengers created a machine, thinking it would help. His creation turned on him and caused destruction. We destroyed the machine, but the consequences were devastating.” Her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the weight of the loss heavy on her heart. “The Avengers did their best, but even they are not immune to mistakes.”

“Casualties?” Isis asked, her tone softer but filled with an underlying concern.

“About two hundred,” Anubis answered before Nouri could speak. His voice was sombre, and Nouri could feel the shared grief in his words. He had always been the one to bear witness to death, to carry the weight of the mortal realm’s suffering.

Ra’s gaze did not soften as he turned his attention to Nouri. “And what was your role in this?”

“I helped the civilians to safety and destroyed the mechanical army,” Nouri replied, her voice calm but resolute. She had done what she could to protect those who were vulnerable, a protector in a time of chaos. It had been the right thing to do, even if the loss of life was unavoidable.

The questions continued, each god probing deeper into her actions. They asked about her involvement in the battle, her relationship with the Avengers, and her thoughts on the direction humanity was heading. Nouri answered honestly, her calm demeanour never wavering. She explained her role as a guide and protector, her reluctance to directly interfere but her need to aid where possible.

Ra’s eyes softened after a while, and he spoke again, his voice carrying a quiet approval. “It seems as though you acted honourably and as expected. You have grown over the years, Al Nouri.” He gave her a brief, approving smile. “It is clear that your heart remains with the mortals, despite all that has happened.”

“Thank you,” Nouri said, her voice filled with gratitude. She had always respected Ra, even if his decisions had not always aligned with her own beliefs.

Ra looked to the others, his expression growing more serious. “And now we will vote on whether you will lead us. All those in favour?”

One by one, the gods raised their hands in support: Anubis, Atum, Bast, Bes, Geb, Horus, Isis, Neith, Nun, Nut, Osiris, Ptah, Sekhmet, Seth, Sobek, Taweret, and Thoth. Every single one of them was in favour of Nouri.

“Well, that settles it,” Ra said with a finality that rang through the chamber. “Al Nouri, you are now the leader of the Ennead. You will make the laws and all the decisions.”

As Nouri sat at the centre of the Council chamber, the weight of the gods’ gazes upon her, she felt the gravity of her new role. The Ennead had accepted her, but the questioning wasn’t quite over. The room was still heavy with expectation, and Ra, who had remained silent after the voting, raised his hand once more to address the gathering.

“There is one more matter we must discuss,” Ra said, his voice rich with the authority that only a god of the sun could possess. His eyes turned to Nouri, a flicker of curiosity in their depths. “You have returned to us, Al Nouri, but in your time among the mortals, you’ve grown close to someone. A human. Tell us about him.”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat. She had known this moment would come. The gods had long kept their distance from humanity, and now they were asking her to explain her connection to one of them. The thought of Steve was never far from her mind.

“I assume you are speaking of Steve Rogers,” Nouri said, her voice steady but carrying a hint of warmth. She had not expected to speak of him in this setting, but she would not hide her feelings for him.

The gods exchanged glances; their expressions unreadable. Horus, the god of the sky, leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Nouri. “This human… What is it about him that has caused you to become so attached?”

Nouri took a moment before responding, her thoughts swirling. “He is not like others,” she said slowly. “I’ve seen countless mortals in my time, and I’ve watched them suffer, fight, and die. But Steve…” She paused; her gaze distant as memories of their interactions flashed through her mind. “Steve Rogers is different. He carries an unwavering sense of justice, a moral compass that never falters, no matter how dark the world gets. Even though he is but one man, he has the courage to stand against impossible odds.”

The gods were silent, listening intently. Nouri could feel their scrutiny, but she was unbothered. Her love for Steve was not something she was ashamed of, not something she would hide. It was pure, untainted by the complexity of her divine nature.

“Do you believe he is worthy of your affection?” Isis asked, her tone sharp, but not unkind. The goddess of wisdom had always sought to understand things at their deepest level.

“I believe he is worthy of more than I could ever offer,” Nouri replied, her voice soft but filled with emotion. “He is selfless, always putting others before himself. It is rare, even among gods. But it is not his worthiness that draws me to him—it is his heart. He has a light within him that calls to mine.”

Sekhmet raised an eyebrow, her voice low and dangerous. “You speak as though you are bound to him. Is this love, Al Nouri? Are you letting a mortal cloud your judgment?”

Nouri met Sekhmet’s gaze, her expression calm. “Love is not a weakness, Sekhmet,” she said firmly. “It is a bond that strengthens me, makes me more committed to my role. Steve’s presence in my life has reminded me of the goodness that still exists in the world. And that goodness is worth protecting, even if he is mortal.”

The room fell silent as the gods processed her words. Anubis, ever the thoughtful one, finally spoke. “You speak with clarity and conviction, Al Nouri. But understand this: love for mortals can be a distraction. They are fleeting, while we—” He gestured to the gathered gods, “—are eternal.”

Nouri nodded slowly, acknowledging his point. “I am aware of the difference,” she said softly, but firmly. “But that does not mean I must turn my back on what I feel. Steve has shown me that even in a world filled with chaos, humanity has the power to choose light over darkness. That’s something I want to protect. Not as a duty, but because I believe in it.”

Taweret stepped forward with a soft smile. “Then it seems you have found something that will anchor you in this world, Al Nouri. This Steve Rogers may be more important than you realize. And perhaps, that will make you even stronger. But remember, you must guide both us and them, without letting either path cloud your judgment.”

Nouri nodded, the weight of Taweret’s words sinking in. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But love is not a weakness. It is a force, one that can drive me to do what is right. I will lead this Council, and I will protect the world, but I will not abandon the connection I have made with him.”

Horus leaned back in his seat, the air around him still heavy with thought. “Then, you have our support. But you must remember this: as you move forward, you must never forget the balance. Guide us with wisdom, and guide humanity with love, but never let either come at the cost of the other.”

Nouri met Horus’ gaze; the weight of his words clear. “I understand,” she said, her voice calm but resolute. “I will lead them both, and I will not let anything—not even love—interfere with what is right.”

The gods nodded in approval, and as the meeting continued, Ra raised his hand, signaling the final approval.

“Well, that settles it,” he said, the finality of his voice echoing in the chamber. “Al Nouri, you are now the leader of the Ennead. You will make the laws and all the decisions.”

As the gods began to rise, leaving the chamber one by one, Isis, Anubis, and Taweret remained, their smiles full of pride and support.

“Congratulations, Al Nouri,” Taweret said, her large form almost enveloping Nouri in a protective embrace. “You’ve proven yourself worthy. You will lead us well.”

“Thank you,” Nouri said softly, feeling a rush of warmth at Taweret’s words. She had never imagined a time when she would return to the gods in this way—this powerful and complete. But now that she was here, she felt the certainty in her heart. She could do this.

Anubis stepped closer; his eyes filled with quiet understanding. “We have always believed in you, Nouri,” he said. “You’ve been through more than any of us can comprehend. Now, you have the chance to truly shape the future.”

Nouri nodded, her mind racing with the possibilities. “I never asked for this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “But I will do my best. I will guide humanity as I always have. But the gods must not interfere as they once did. We cannot control them.”

Isis smiled warmly at Nouri. “We will not interfere,” she said. “You will lead them, but you will not do it alone. You have us behind you.”

The three gods looked at Nouri, their presence solid and unwavering. Taweret placed a hand on Nouri’s shoulder, offering the kind of support that could only come from centuries of friendship and understanding.

“Take your time, Nouri,” Taweret added, her voice soft but strong. “The world has changed, and you must guide it with wisdom.”

Nouri stood, feeling the weight of her new role settle on her shoulders. She had returned to the gods, but now, she was different—stronger, wiser, and more capable of shaping the world around her.

“I will,” Nouri said, her voice firm and resolute. “I will guide them, and I will restore balance.”

As they left the chamber, the air felt charged with possibility. Nouri had faced the Council, had earned their approval, and now, her journey as their leader would begin.

---

Nouri stepped off the plane back in upstate New York, the soft hum of the engines fading as she walked down the narrow corridor of the Compound. The sun had long dipped behind the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight, but the soft glow from within the Compound illuminated the halls. Nouri’s senses, still attuned to the otherworldly, registered a strange quiet. No voices echoed in the hallways, and no footsteps sounded in the distance. It was too quiet.

The training ground? Empty. The lab? No one. The conference room? Still as a tomb.

This was strange. She paused for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle. Where was everyone?

Then, the thought crossed her mind—could it be a surprise? Her lips curled into a knowing smile. Of course, they were planning something for her. It had to be.

She turned down the hallway that led to her and Steve’s wing, her pulse quickening with the anticipation of whatever awaited her. Reaching the door, she turned the handle and flicked on the lights.

“SURPRISE!”

The room erupted with voices, startling her into a quick step back. Confetti shot through the air, the banner hanging above them reading "Congratulations!" Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Steve were all gathered in front of her, grinning like a bunch of mischief-makers.

Nouri froze, her breath catching in her throat. For a split second, her heart skipped a beat. This... was for her? She was too overwhelmed to speak, too taken aback by the sight of her friends celebrating her.

Steve stepped forward, his usual warm grin on full display. “Told you so,” he teased, pulling her into a tight hug that left no room for doubt. She melted into his embrace, her emotions swirling.

Nouri, still in shock, glanced at the others. Sam raised a brow, a smile dancing on his lips. “So, what did the Council decide?”

“It was a unanimous decision,” Nouri answered, the words still strange on her tongue. She hadn’t yet fully processed the magnitude of it all. The group cheered, and the sound of their joy filled the room, settling warmly in her chest. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the sense of acceptance and love that surrounded her.

Before she could speak again, Wanda cleared her throat, her face filled with slight hesitation. “Nouri, I wanted to apologize—”

But Nouri cut her off with a soft, knowing smile, “Wanda, it takes more strength to forgive than to hold a grudge.”

Sam leaned back with a wide grin. “Spoken like a true leader.”

Natasha winked at Steve. “Watch out, Cap! Looks like she’s going for your job.”

Laughter filled the room, and Nouri felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in so long. Being surrounded by these people, these friends, made everything feel worthwhile.

Vision leaned in; his voice laced with curiosity. “So... do we bow to you now, Nouri?”

Nouri shot him a playful look, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Only in certain circumstances,” she replied teasingly, and the room burst into laughter once again.

The banter continued as everyone settled into the living space, and Nouri relaxed into the warmth of the moment. The people she cared about most were here. The sense of belonging she had longed for felt almost too good to be true.

“So, Egypt more often?” Wanda asked, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Nouri shook her head, the playful gleam in her eyes never wavering. “No, actually. The Council will meet where I demand. I’ll be the one calling the shots from now on,” she said with a confident grin. Her gaze flicked over to Steve, catching his eyes. She saw the relief in his expression as she spoke. The idea of finally being in control, calling the shots, it was a burden she was eager to shoulder.

“You mean... you’re in charge now?” Sam said, grinning at Steve. “Uh-oh, looks like Cap’s got competition.”

Steve’s grin was amused as he nudged Nouri gently. “I guess I’ll have to start taking notes.”

Turning the conversation back to the training, Nouri asked, “How’s the progress on the training, everyone?”

Sam gave a nonchalant shrug. “We’re getting there.”

Natasha, ever the strategist, glanced at Wanda with a knowing look. “Wanda’s a bit tricky with the training. Maybe you could teach her a thing or two, Nouri?”

Wanda’s eyes lit up at the suggestion. “I’d love that!”

Nouri’s smile grew wider as she considered the idea. “I could help,” she said, her voice warm. “But... I’m a bit tired,” she continued, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes. “And there’s something I’d like to do... something I’m not entirely comfortable saying out loud.”

With that, she reached for Steve’s hand, her fingers curling around his, and she pulled him toward her with a sultry smile. The room erupted with laughter, and the team quickly made their way out, leaving the couple alone.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Nouri turned to Steve, her smile softening. Her fingers traced the outline of his jaw as she whispered, “I missed you.”

Steve’s breath hitched at the words, his chest tightening with emotion. “I missed you too,” he murmured, pulling her toward him, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, filled with a yearning that had been building for far too long. The kiss deepened, and Nouri let herself melt into him, her hands running through his hair.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Steve groaned softly, his lips trailing kisses down her neck.

Nouri’s pulse quickened, her body reacting instinctively. “Maybe,” she breathed out, her voice a low, sultry whisper, “but I think it’s time you show me.”

Her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a shockwave of desire through her. Steve’s hands travelled to her back, his fingers brushing along the line of her spine, pulling her closer. His lips found hers again, the kiss growing more desperate, more urgent.

They tumbled into the bed, their bodies colliding with the sheets in a tangle of limbs. Nouri’s breath came in short bursts, and Steve’s hands were everywhere, exploring, learning, understanding the depths of her desire. She responded with equal fervour, her own hands tracing the muscles of his chest, feeling the heat of his body beneath her fingers.

Nouri’s lips found Steve’s neck, kissing and nibbling, her breath hot against his skin. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her words thick with lust.

Steve groaned, pulling her closer, his body pressed against hers. “Always,” he replied, his voice rough, filled with a need that mirrored hers.

The room was filled with the sound of soft moans, the rhythmic pace of their bodies coming together, and the crackling of passion that danced between them. Every touch, every kiss, was a promise, a declaration that they were in this moment together, fully and completely.

Their movements slowed, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm as they lost themselves in the heat of their desire. Nouri’s name slipped from Steve’s lips, and the sound of it sent a thrill through her, her body tightening with anticipation.

As they finally reached the peak of their passion, their bodies shuddered together, and Nouri’s breathless laugh filled the air. “That was...” she trailed off, still unable to find the right words.

Steve kissed her forehead, his hands gently caressing her back. “Perfect,” he whispered, his voice still shaky from the intensity of what they had just shared.

They lay there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the afterglow of their love filling the room. Nouri rested her head on Steve’s chest, her hand still entwined with his.

“I missed this,” she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“I missed you,” Steve replied, his voice tender and full of sincerity. He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. “You’re everything to me, Nouri.”

And for the first time in a long while, Nouri felt truly at peace, knowing that she was exactly where she was meant to be—wrapped in Steve’s arms, ready to face whatever the world had in store for them, together.

Chapter 28: Little children who play with fire, get their fingers burnt

August 1st, 2015

 

The morning light spilled softly across the room, a warm embrace that seemed to linger over Nouri and Steve. The world outside might have been waking up, but here, in their little bubble, time didn’t seem to matter. The cool sheets were tangled around them, and Steve’s body—bare, relaxed, and strong—was draped over hers in the most comfortable way possible. His warmth was like a security blanket, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slept soundly beside her.

Nouri sighed contentedly, her head resting against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. It was a sound that had become her anchor, the soft melody of his life lulling her into a calm peace she hadn't known she needed. It was like the gentle waves of the sea crashing softly against the shore, each beat grounding her in a love so pure it still took her by surprise sometimes.

Her fingers gently traced the lines of his chest, enjoying the smooth, strong muscles beneath her fingertips. He never slept with a shirt—much to her pleasure—his bare skin pressed against hers, giving her the warmth she craved. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. She loved this. Loved him. Loved the feeling of him so close, his body entwined with hers as though they’d melted into one another during the night.

The cool morning air filtered through the open window, but it wasn’t enough to pull Nouri from her thoughts—or from Steve. His arm draped lazily over her, pulling her closer in his sleep. She nestled into his side, letting herself drift between the waking and sleeping world, her hand resting over his heart. There was something so comforting about it, a steadiness that made her feel safe in a world that could often feel out of control.

But as much as she wanted to stay cocooned in their warmth, Nouri knew the day awaited her. She had promised Wanda that she would help her. The younger woman had been struggling to control her powers, and Nouri, with her grace and mastery over her own abilities, knew she could guide her in a way that felt natural and unhurried.

Reluctantly, Nouri tried to pull herself from Steve's embrace, sliding away from him with as little movement as possible. She didn’t want to disturb the comfortable cocoon they had made of each other. But Steve, as always, wasn’t about to let her go so easily.

His arm tightened around her, pulling her back against his chest, and she felt the warmth of his skin flood over hers once more. He let out a soft murmur, his voice thick with sleep. "Where do you think you’re going?" His words were playful, but there was a longing in his tone that made her heart flutter.

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his bare chest. He had always been so comfortable like this—shirtless, relaxed, and so utterly content. "I have to go, Steve," she whispered, nuzzling into his warmth. "Wanda’s waiting for me."

Steve grumbled, pulling her closer as he nuzzled the back of her neck. "You’re so warm," he murmured, his voice muffled by her hair. "I don’t want you to leave. Stay a little longer."

Nouri chuckled, feeling the smile tug at her lips as she rested her cheek against his chest. "As tempting as that sounds, I can’t. Wanda’s trying to control her powers, and I promised to help her."

Steve’s hand slid up to her back, holding her even tighter, like he was unwilling to let go of the moment. "But I’m not ready for you to go," he complained with a half-hearted whine.

She grinned, placing a soft kiss on his chest. "You’re impossible."

He smirked, a sleepy glint in his eyes. "I’ll take that as a compliment, considering it’s coming from you." His fingers lightly traced circles on her back, making it hard for Nouri to focus on leaving. "You’re always so warm," he said, almost in awe, his hand drifting down her spine.

Nouri's laugh was low and affectionate. "I could stay like this all day," she murmured, her hand gliding up to his face, caressing his jaw. "But there’s work to be done."

Steve let out an exaggerated sigh, squeezing her tighter as he pulled her back into bed. "Five more minutes," he demanded, his voice playful but tinged with a hint of frustration that she might slip away.

Nouri shook her head, unable to contain the smile tugging at her lips. "Five minutes, huh? You know, that’s what you said an hour ago."

Steve lifted his head slightly to meet her gaze, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. "I’m a man of few words," he teased. "Five minutes is all I need."

Her fingers brushed through his hair, her heart warm at the sight of him—so relaxed, so utterly unbothered by the world. It was moments like this that made everything else seem so insignificant. She loved how Steve could make her feel like everything was right in the world, like no matter what came next, they’d face it together.

"You’re trouble," she murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. She pulled away just enough to whisper, "But you’re my trouble."

Steve chuckled, his eyes flickering with affection as he gazed at her. "I’ll take that, too," he said softly. His thumb brushed along her jawline; his touch gentle but persistent. "You promise we can pick up where we left off tonight?"

Nouri’s heart fluttered in her chest at the question. She had no idea why the thought of tonight made her pulse race like it did, but something about the way Steve said it—so hopeful, so certain—made her want to smile all over again.

"Of course," she whispered, pressing another lingering kiss to his lips.

She reluctantly tried to untangle herself again, but Steve wasn’t having it. He pulled her back with surprising strength, his hands cupping her waist as he buried his face into her hair, taking in the scent of her like he couldn’t quite let go of her just yet.

"Come on," Nouri laughed softly, glancing at the clock. "I really do have to go. Wanda is probably driving herself crazy waiting for me."

Steve gave a long, dramatic groan, his hands still firmly around her. "You’re killing me, you know that?"

Nouri smiled down at him, her fingers running through his hair once more. "I know. But you’ll survive. You always do."

"I don’t know about that," Steve teased, still not letting go. "You’re a distraction, Al Nouri Ra-Khonshu. I don’t know how I’ll ever get anything done with you around."

Her smile grew as she kissed the tip of his nose, her fingers still brushing through his hair. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage, Captain," she teased, enjoying the playful banter. "But for now, I need to help Wanda. You know, the world’s not going to save itself."

Steve reluctantly let her go, his arms giving way as she moved to the edge of the bed. "You sure you don’t want to cancel and stay with me?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes still holding that playful spark.

Nouri smiled over her shoulder at him as she stood up. "As tempting as that sounds... Wanda’s been begging me for help for days."

Steve gave her a lazy smile, propping himself up on his elbows. "Fine, fine... go save the day." His voice lowered a bit, a teasing grin on his lips. "But don’t take too long, Nouri. You know what I want tonight."

Nouri winked as she reached for her training gear, the playful heat in her chest lingering as she spoke, "I’ll be back before you even miss me, Captain. I promise."

Just as she reached for the door, she heard Steve’s quiet voice mumble. "I love you."

She froze. The world seemed to stop around her, his words hanging in the air, making her heart skip a beat. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and for a long moment, she didn’t move.

I love you.

She had said those words to Khonshu, to herself, but never aloud to Steve. Not like this. Not so simple, so sure. A million thoughts raced through her mind, but the only thing she could feel was the weight of his words, so sincere, so raw.

She stood still, her breath catching in her throat, her chest tightening. Her hand was still on the doorknob, and she could feel her heart race at the words. But after a beat, she took a deep breath, her expression softening for a moment before she turned the knob and stepped out, leaving the room without saying a word.

---

Nouri made her way into the training grounds, the cool air of the Compound hitting her skin as she stepped inside. The room was empty except for Natasha, who was casually leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching the space with quiet attention.

When she noticed Nouri, she grinned, pushing herself off the wall and approaching. "You’re glowing today," Natasha said, her voice light with that signature sharpness.

Nouri smirked, meeting her gaze. "I’m good," she said, a small chuckle escaping her lips. But Natasha, ever the perceptive one, immediately noticed the subtle change in Nouri’s expression—a brief flicker of something deeper, more uncertain.

"Yeah?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. "Something on your mind?"

Nouri sighed softly, her mind flickering back to the conversation she'd had with Steve earlier that morning. The words still echoed in her mind: I love you. "He said he loved me," Nouri admitted, her voice carrying a trace of confusion, vulnerability she didn’t always allow herself to show.

Natasha’s face softened, though there was still a hint of her usual smirk. "And? Is that a bad thing?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head.

Nouri’s lips twitched into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "No... no, not bad," she replied, her voice quiet. "I just didn’t expect it, that’s all." Her thoughts were a little jumbled, still processing the moment. She looked away, trying to push the unease to the back of her mind.

Before Natasha could probe further, Wanda entered the training grounds, a look of determination on her face. "Ready?" she asked, her voice light but eager.

Nouri nodded, her focus immediately shifting. "Show me what you’ve got," she said, crossing her arms with a grin. There was always something kind of fun about helping others unlock their potential.

Wanda stood tall, raising her hands in front of her, and immediately conjured a small red shield. The shield shimmered for a moment before it began to flicker, and a burst of magic shot out, creating a tiny, harmless explosion. Wanda's face scrunched up in frustration as the shield flickered and crumbled away.

"Okay," Nouri said, tilting her head and walking closer, "We’ve got some work to do, but it’s a good start."

Wanda looked up, biting her lip, clearly frustrated. "I know it’s in there somewhere. It just doesn’t last."

Nouri chuckled softly, the sound light. "Well, that’s why we’re here." She moved around Wanda, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed her form.

Wanda looked at her with a mix of curiosity and doubt, but Nouri could tell she was determined to improve. "Close your eyes," Nouri instructed gently. "I want you to focus on your magic. Picture it in your mind. What does it look like? What colour is it? How does it feel? Imagine it right in front of you."

Wanda closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, her posture softening. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the hum of their surroundings. "It’s red," Wanda said softly, as though the colour had become clear in her mind.

"Good," Nouri encouraged, a smile tugging at her lips. "Now, what does it look like? More specifically. How does it move?"

Wanda’s lips parted, and she let out a breath. "Powerful," she said with a small smile, her voice filled with that first spark of confidence.

Nouri grinned widely. "That’s the first step. The stronger your emotions, the stronger your magic becomes. Now, open your eyes."

Wanda blinked them open, looking at Nouri. "Okay, but how do I make it stronger?" she asked, her tone laced with frustration and curiosity.

"Let me show you," Nouri said, her voice confident. She raised her hand casually, a small flicker of fire forming in her palm. A fiery butterfly appeared in the air, its delicate wings fluttering around her hand in the light.

Wanda’s jaw dropped; her eyes wide with awe. "Whoa," she murmured, mesmerized.

"Beautiful, right?" Nouri said, grinning. "Now, it’s not just about the emotion—you also need to tap into your imagination. See it, feel it, and let it become what you need. Watch."

Nouri snapped her fingers, and a fireball appeared in her palm, crackling with intensity before it fizzled out harmlessly into the air. "Just a little ball of fire," she said nonchalantly, though Wanda could tell it was much more than that.

Nouri’s eyes sparkled as she shifted her stance, she raised her hand with purpose, and from the air itself, a sword began to form—its shape materializing in a burst of fire. The blade shimmered, flames licking along its edges, growing brighter and fiercer with each passing second. It ignited completely, a brilliant sword of fire, blazing with intensity. Nouri gripped the hilt firmly, feeling the warmth of the blade radiate through her fingers.

She held it out to the side, letting the fire dance and flicker, casting playful shadows on her face. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Letting your magic flow through objects like this can help you focus. Imagine it, and let it become part of you," she said, her voice confident yet light, the power of the sword in her hand almost an afterthought compared to the control she wielded over it.

The fire on the blade swirled, responding to her slightest movement, as if it were an extension of her own will. It crackled and hissed with a life of its own, but Nouri’s focus never wavered. "Magic isn't just about raw power," she continued, her gaze softening as she looked at Wanda. "It's about control, about letting yourself become one with the energy you're wielding. You control it. It doesn’t control you."

Wanda blinked, still processing the display of raw power. "Okay... I think I get it."

"You’re going to need to work on that," Nouri continued, her voice warm but serious. "You don’t just have power, Wanda, you have potential. You need to focus on making it yours."

Wanda squared her shoulders, clearly determined now. "I’ll try."

Nouri’s smile softened, and she tilted her head. "Let’s see you move something, then. Move an object with your magic."

Wanda hesitated, glancing at the training equipment scattered around the room. "Like what?"

Nouri gestured to a nearby box. "Try that one. You’ve been practicing, right?"

Wanda extended her hands, and a faint shimmer of magic erupted from her fingers. But nothing happened. Her face fell slightly, her frustration creeping in. "It’s not working."

"Try again. Imagine it. See it happening in your mind’s eye first. Picture that box moving. Visualize it lifting into the air."

Nouri moved around Wanda; her voice gentle but persistent. "This is about control. Focus on the energy inside you, not just the power outside."

Wanda took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and for a few moments, she was still. The air around them seemed to hold its breath as she focused. Slowly, the box wobbled, then lifted a few inches. Wanda’s eyes snapped open, her face lighting up with triumph. "I did it!" she exclaimed.

Nouri laughed, a soft, amused sound. "That’s what I like to see! Keep at it."

"Okay, but how do I—" Wanda started, but Nouri interrupted her, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Try it on me," Nouri said, standing in front of Wanda with a challenging grin. "Move me."

Wanda’s eyes widened in fear. "Last time, I hurt you."

"I’ll hurt you back." She winked, and Wanda giggled nervously, but after a moment of hesitation, she raised her hands.

Wanda’s magic surged, but this time, it was different. There was a quiet, steady force behind it, and Nouri felt herself being lifted off the ground, hovering slightly. She smiled, impressed. "There you go, Wanda. Now that’s control."

Wanda carefully lowered Nouri back to the ground, her excitement bubbling over. "I did it! I really did it!"

"You did great," Nouri praised, clapping her on the shoulder. "And the day’s not over yet."

By the time the training session wrapped up, Wanda was standing taller, her control over her powers noticeably improved. Nouri felt a swell of pride in her chest. "See?" she said, stepping back. "All it takes is practice and belief in yourself."

Steve, who had been quietly watching from the side, nodded appreciatively but said nothing. He hadn’t joined in the conversation, but his presence was undeniable. He’d been silently observing, perhaps reflecting on Nouri’s guidance—or maybe something else.

Nouri caught his eye for a brief moment, but quickly turned her attention back to Wanda. "You’re stronger than you think, Wanda. You just needed the right guidance."

Wanda beamed at her. "Thanks, Nouri. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," Nouri said with a wink, walking toward Natasha and Steve.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall, his gaze following Nouri as she moved around the room.

“She’s got potential,” Nouri said, her voice light but her eyes glinting with pride. “One day, she’ll be great.” She paused, looking over her shoulder at Steve with a slight smirk. “She just needs time, you know? Time to figure things out. Just like anyone else.”

Natasha couldn’t help but ask, “How long did it take you to get control of your powers?”

Nouri leaned back, folding her arms as she pondered the question. “Control?” she repeated. “Well, my fire… that came pretty naturally. I learned how to control it quickly. I mean, it’s fire, right? You can’t exactly play with it too long before things go up in flames.” She chuckled softly, then her face grew a bit more serious. “But Horus’ Eye—that took me a little longer. And seeing into people’s souls…” she trailed off, grinning. “The simpler the mind, the easier it is. Trust me, some minds make it a lot more complicated than others. Raising the dead is a whole other game.” Nouri laughed as she began walking toward the door, clearly heading somewhere.

“Wait—what?” Natasha asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Steve stepped forward, looking genuinely confused. “Wait, hold up—you can raise the dead?”

Nouri didn’t miss a beat, her eyes narrowing slightly as she turned to face them both. “Yes,” she said, her tone casual, as though it were a mundane fact, like ordering coffee. She crossed her arms, watching their expressions closely.

Natasha blinked in disbelief. “You’re kidding. Raising the dead?”

Nouri’s lips curled into a smile. “If the time calls for it,” she added with a shrug, as if she were talking about a hobby she’d picked up over the centuries. “It’s not something I’d do on a whim, but if it’s necessary…”

Steve’s eyes were wide as saucers, his voice soft but incredulous. “How? How do you even—?”

“I’ve spent nearly all my life in the afterlife,” Nouri said, her voice growing lighter, almost teasing. “You pick up a few things along the way.”

Steve’s mouth opened slightly, trying to process what she’d said, but Natasha jumped in. “Wait, how?” she asked again, this time a little louder. “What else can you do?”

Nouri paused, her gaze flicking between Steve and Natasha. She walked slowly over to Natasha, her steps purposeful but relaxed. “Well,” she started, “let me show you one more thing…”

Without warning, Nouri reached out and placed her palm lightly on Natasha’s forehead. Natasha stiffened for a split second, unsure of what to expect. Then, without warning, the world seemed to shift.

In an instant, Natasha found herself overwhelmed by a vision. She saw the afterlife—not as a distant concept, but as a living, breathing space where souls wandered, judged, and moved between worlds. She could feel the pull of the beyond, the weight of every decision, every life that had passed. Then, just as quickly, the scene shifted. The vision flashed to ancient Egypt, where grand pharaohs sat upon golden thrones, surrounded by riches and their loyal subjects. The grandeur of their civilization seemed to hum in her bones, their stories alive in every stone and temple.

“Wha—” Natasha gasped, stumbling back, her heart racing. She blinked rapidly, trying to bring herself back to the present. Her breathing was heavy as she looked up at Nouri, struggling to comprehend what she had just seen.

“How did—what was that?” Natasha’s voice came out in a strangled whisper, still shaky from the intensity of what she had experienced.

Nouri stood there, an amused smile on her face as she casually wiped her hand. “You may know more about this world, Natasha,” she said softly, almost as though explaining something obvious. “But I know all the secrets of the past.”

The room was silent for a moment, Steve still staring at Nouri with wide eyes. Natasha, however, didn’t say anything. She was too stunned to find the words. She just stood there, trying to catch her breath, still processing what she had just seen.

Then, Steve laughed, his voice light. “She did that once on me—scared the life out of me. I didn’t even know where I was for like five minutes.”

Nouri’s grin widened as she tilted her head back. “I did? I mean, it’s a lot to handle, I get it.” She gave Natasha a playful wink, as if this was all just a casual exchange.

Natasha, shaking her head in disbelief, muttered to herself, “I’m going to need a vacation after this.” Her voice was filled with awe and confusion, but there was also a hint of frustration in her tone.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, turning toward Nouri. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, huh?”

Nouri chuckled, but her eyes softened for a moment. “It’s just part of me, Steve. I can’t really switch it off, you know? But trust me, there are some things you don’t mess with unless you absolutely have to.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Raising the dead? That’s a big deal.”

Steve’s face grew serious for a moment. “And... you’ve done it? You’ve actually raised people?”

Nouri met his gaze directly, and for a moment, there was no playful edge in her voice. “No.” She paused. “The afterlife isn’t just a place for souls to be brought back from. They belong there. But I have wanted to. When we were in Sokovia, I thought about it. Raising my Medjai brothers. They could’ve helped us.”

There was a quiet, almost sombre weight to her words, and it made both Steve and Natasha pause. The room had shifted, and the playful banter seemed distant now.

Natasha finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual, more contemplative. “But you didn’t, right? You didn’t raise anyone.”

Nouri shook her head, her expression unreadable. “No. The afterlife isn’t just some waiting room. People aren’t meant to leave it unless it’s their time. They belong there. But the Medjai... they’re different. They were bound to me by divine decree. If I raised them, they would come back... They’d be fully human; they wouldn't have their immortality.”

She paused, a flash of something pained crossing her face. “They were my brothers for centuries. But bringing them back like that... having them fight and die in battle, with no protection... I couldn’t do it.”

Steve nodded slowly, as if understanding something deeper about Nouri’s burden. “It must have been hard,” he said quietly. “Seeing your brothers fall... and not being able to do anything about it.”

Nouri gave him a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hard? Yeah. But sometimes, the hardest things are the right ones. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to losing those who were closest to me... but I don’t regret my choice.”

The room felt heavier now, the joking atmosphere replaced with a more sombre mood. Steve glanced over at Natasha, who still seemed lost in thought, and then back at Nouri.

“And raising the dead—would it even work?” Natasha’s voice was more subdued now, the disbelief replaced with genuine curiosity.

Nouri’s gaze softened. “It works. But it’s not as simple as just bringing someone back. When they come back, they’re never the same. Sometimes, they’re not themselves at all. And if you bring them back, the balance of life and death can be disrupted. Things can go wrong... badly wrong.”

A long silence settled between them as they all processed the weight of her words. Finally, Natasha broke the quiet, her voice laced with sarcasm to lighten the mood. “So... we’re all just one misstep away from a zombie apocalypse?”

Nouri chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Yeah, that’s about the gist of it. You don’t want to mess with death too much. It has a way of biting back.”

Steve gave a small laugh, but it didn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes. “Good to know. I think I’ll leave the necromancy to you, Nouri.”

She grinned at him, her playful side creeping back. “Smart choice, Cap. Smart choice.”

The light-heartedness didn’t last long, though. As quickly as the moment passed, Nouri’s expression became more thoughtful. “Still, I can’t help but wonder... if the need ever arises, and I do it—will it be worth it?”

Steve met her eyes, his voice soft. “You’ll know when it’s time. Trust your judgment.”

Natasha, still processing everything, stood up abruptly. “I need to step outside for a minute. I think my brain might’ve just short-circuited.” She shook her head, muttering to herself as she walked out of the room, leaving the others in a heavy silence.

Steve watched Natasha leave, his brow furrowing slightly before turning his attention to Nouri. His gaze softened as his eyes found hers. She was always a calming presence, but tonight, there was something different in the air—a tension that neither could ignore.

Nouri noticed the shift immediately. The weight of unspoken words hung between them. With a deep breath, she met his gaze, her heart suddenly racing. “Do you want to talk about what happened this morning?” Steve’s voice was gentle, but there was a subtle undercurrent of anticipation there, as though he were waiting for something more from her.

Nouri smiled faintly, a soft flush colouring her cheeks as she nodded. “I think we both need to talk about it,” she admitted. She shifted closer, letting her legs brush against his as she sat down beside him, her fingers grazing the back of his hand.

Steve’s smile grew, though his eyes remained filled with something deeper—a longing, perhaps, for the connection they had been building. “You heard me, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the words hanging between them like a fragile thread.

Nouri’s chest tightened, but there was a warmth there, a pull that she couldn’t deny. “I did,” she answered, her voice low, almost hushed. “And of course, I love you too, Steve. I just haven’t said it out loud. But I’ve felt it. All along.”

Her words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the quiet intensity between them growing with every passing second. Steve’s eyes softened, his breath catching in his chest as he reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew. I just... needed to hear it.”

A smile tugged at Nouri’s lips as she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’ve always been here for you, Steve. I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice was a soft promise, a vow that lingered between them like a quiet, unspoken bond.

Steve exhaled, and for a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the space between them filled with an unspoken understanding. His hand slid down to rest on her knee, and Nouri’s heart fluttered at the simple gesture.

“Have you heard anything about Bucky?” Nouri asked, her voice thick with worry. Steve’s hand tightened around hers as if holding onto something tangible in the midst of his frustration.

"No," he answered quietly, his jaw tightening. "Can't you see him?"

Nouri’s expression darkened slightly, her heart aching at the concern in his voice. She shook her head gently, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand. "His heart... it’s clouded, Steve. I can’t see through it," she confessed, the words laced with sadness.

Steve’s shoulders tensed, his frustration and helplessness radiating in the room. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to hold it all together. “I just need to know where he is. I can’t—” He stopped himself, the words faltering, the weight of the uncertainty too much for him to carry alone.

Nouri’s fingers gently traced his jaw, the softest of touches that was both soothing and grounding. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, letting her warmth flow into him. "You will," she whispered against his skin, her voice unwavering. "I believe that. You’ll find him. I know you will."

Steve’s eyes met hers, filled with something raw—vulnerability, hope, and longing all at once. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment their lips met; it was as if the entire room shifted—everything else fell away. He pulled her closer, one hand slipping around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Nouri’s heart skipped a beat, and she melted into him, her hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under her fingertips.

“I need you,” Steve whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse, his hands gently tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Nouri’s breath hitched as she pulled back slightly to look at him. Her eyes were wide, filled with love and longing, but also a deep understanding of what he needed. She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I need all of you.”

Her words seemed to push him to the edge, his hands suddenly more urgent, his lips trailing down her neck as he kissed her gently but with increasing passion. Nouri’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body responding to the heat of his touch. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a promise—one that neither of them could break. His lips traced the delicate line of her jaw, and Nouri’s breath quickened, her skin tingling with every movement.

“Steve...” she gasped, her hands slipping under his shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath her fingers. The steady rhythm of his pulse only fuelled the fire inside her, a fire that had been smouldering for so long.

Steve’s eyes darkened with desire as he looked up at Nouri, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His hands slowly trailed up her sides, the fabric of her shirt slipping from her shoulders to reveal the soft skin beneath. He moved with purpose, each touch sending a surge of warmth through both of them.

Nouri’s lips parted slightly, a soft, anticipating smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she leaned into him. Her body pressed closer, the warmth of him surrounding her, the moment feeling electric as they moved in sync.

With a fluid motion, Steve lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her to the bed. The change in position made her pulse quicken, her body responding to the urgency of the moment. He set her down gently, his hands hovering over her, waiting for a silent permission.

Nouri’s smile deepened as she reached for him, pulling him down into a kiss that started slow but deepened with each passing second. The moment their bodies met, the world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them, moving in perfect sync. Their lips locked, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate. His hands explored her body, memorizing every curve and line as he pressed closer, the intensity between them palpable.

Nouri responded in kind, her hands tracing over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath her fingertips. Her body arched beneath his, urging him to come even closer, to feel every inch of him. Their connection deepened with every kiss, every touch, every movement. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts—only an overwhelming need that couldn’t be denied.

Her head tipped back as his lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her body instinctively arching into him as the sensations overwhelmed her. The touch of his lips and the heat of his hands on her skin sent shivers through her body, intensifying the electric pull between them.

They moved together, finding a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. Every movement, every touch, was a promise—a promise of desire, of love, of the raw, unfiltered connection they shared. Time seemed to slow, the world outside them fading away. It was no longer about words, only the intensity of their bodies and hearts entwined in the most intimate way possible.

The passion between them grew stronger as the night wore on, each moment more consuming than the last. There were no more barriers, no more distance between them—just their hearts, their bodies, moving together in perfect harmony. Each touch, each kiss, was a flame, burning brighter and hotter.

By the time the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, their bodies were tangled beneath the sheets, their breathing soft and steady, hearts still beating in sync. The room was quiet, save for the sound of their breaths, a peaceful stillness settling between them, the aftermath of a night spent entirely in each other's arms.

---

The months had passed in a blissful blur, with a newfound sense of normalcy between the chaos of being an Avenger. Nouri had come to find comfort in the rhythms of this strange new world, the kind of peace she hadn't felt in centuries. Each morning, she would wake in Steve's arms, the warmth of his embrace grounding her. She'd take a moment to appreciate the quiet before the world outside demanded their attention.

She had fallen into a pattern of training with the team, sometimes it was with Sam, pushing herself to get faster, learning his hand-to-hand combat style. Other times, it was with Wanda, honing her own abilities and understanding Wanda’s magical nature, though Nouri’s focus was on nurturing and protection, not destruction. Then there was Vision—his precise mind made for intense discussions on strategy, philosophy, and the ethics of the work they did. It was always productive, and Nouri enjoyed these quiet moments where she wasn’t just a goddess, but a member of something bigger.

At the end of each day, no matter how much training had worn her down, she always found herself back in Steve's arms. His simple presence, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, was all she needed to feel at home. The peace they shared together was sacred, a rare gift in this world that moved so fast.

There were times when someone fell ill or was injured, and that's when Nouri would step in. She was more than capable of healing, since Isis had taught her all her tips and tricks. She would cook meals laced with healing herbs; her powers subtly woven into the food. The soups, broths, and teas she made weren't just nourishing to the body—they carried a healing warmth that would make anyone feel lighter, as if the very air around them had shifted. It wasn't long before everyone came to rely on her care, and Nouri grew to enjoy the role of protector, whether on the battlefield or in the kitchen.

Christmas came, though the holiday was a bit quieter than the team had anticipated. It was a small celebration, the kind where there were no grand ceremonies, just small gestures of kindness. Nouri watched as the others exchanged gifts, a soft smile playing on her lips. Steve had surprised her with a simple gift—a delicate necklace, a small pendant in the shape of a crescent moon encrusted with diamonds. It was understated, but it meant so much. It was something she could wear, a connection to him, and a reminder of how far they'd come.

In return, Nouri gave him a small, handcrafted journal. She had chosen it carefully—nothing extravagant, but something personal. It was bound in soft leather, the pages thick, perfect for writing, sketching, or reflecting. She had written a small note inside, one that spoke of how much she cherished him, though the words were never as eloquent as her feelings and added a photo of her and Steve. Steve had looked at it, a bit surprised, but the smile he gave her when he opened it spoke volumes. He treasured it in a way that made her heart swell.

The simple moments, like this one, reminded Nouri that perhaps peace wasn’t as fleeting as she once believed. There was beauty in small, quiet connections, the kind that didn’t require grand gestures or battles to prove their worth.

As the team gathered around to share their evening, laughing, eating, and celebrating their small victories, Nouri found herself grateful for the life she was living. Even the weight of her past couldn’t overshadow the joy she felt in this moment. They weren’t just a team—they were a family. Life was peaceful, for now, and Nouri could only hope it would remain so—for them, and for everyone else.

---

April 26th, 2016

 

Nouri was almost done packing when Steve appeared in the doorway, his warm gaze falling on her with quiet affection. The gentle sound of the breeze through the open window was the only sound between them.

“All packed?” Steve asked, his voice soft, a playful undertone in his words.

“Yes, my love,” Nouri replied with a smile, tossing the last of her things into the bag. She walked toward him, the moment hanging between them, and kissed him tenderly. Her lips lingered on his, savoring the feeling of being close to him before she had to leave. "I’ll be back in a week," she said, her voice low, a promise in the words.

Steve stepped back slightly, his expression mischievous as a smile tugged at his lips. "You sure you don’t need me?”

Nouri chuckled, shaking her head softly. "Yes, darling. It’s a quick trip,” she reassured him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

They made their way to the jet outside the Compound, Steve holding her hand as they approached the plane. His gaze followed the jet as it ascended into the sky, the distance between them growing, but the bond unshaken.

Upon landing, Nouri wasted no time, heading straight to the temple where Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly awaited. She stepped onto the familiar grounds, the cool air carrying the weight of ancient secrets.

"Dr. Abdallah, you mentioned grave robbers?" Nouri asked, her tone shifting to seriousness, the stakes now clear.

“Yes, your highness,” Dr. Abdallah replied, his voice grim. He handed her a grainy photograph. "My assistant managed to capture this image. These men have been coming at night, but strangely, they haven’t taken anything."

Nouri's brow furrowed as she studied the photograph. The faces were obscured, but she could feel the tension. "Hmm, there's nothing left to take," Nouri muttered. "So why are they here?"

“Exactly, your highness! There’s nothing left. We moved all the relics before starting construction,” Dr. Abdallah answered, his frustration evident in his tone.

Nouri crossed her arms, considering the situation carefully. "They’re not after treasure, then,” she murmured to herself. “But they are here for a reason. Tell your crew that someone will be guarding them, day and night. Do not fear them—they are here to protect you and the temple." She turned to Dr. Abdallah, her voice firm as she spoke again, "I will deal with these thieves when the time comes. But for now, guard the temple, and trust that the Medjai are here to protect it."

Dr. Abdallah nodded, though still visibly uneasy, and Nouri made her way into the temple. She entered the underground chamber with the practiced grace of someone who had walked these paths countless times before.

With a deep breath, Nouri pushed open a heavy stone door, revealing the hidden chamber. It was as magnificent as she remembered—filled with the gold of ages, canopic jars, and intricate hieroglyphs that danced along the walls, carrying the weight of millennia. But this was no time for awe. The air was heavy with the power that flowed through the ancient walls.

Nouri stepped into the heart of the room, where the priests had once prepared the bodies of those most honored by Egypt. She closed her eyes for a moment, centering herself, then began to chant in Ancient Egyptian. Her voice, steady and powerful, resonated through the room, each word a command that reached into the very fabric of the earth. Her hands moved through the air, tracing symbols that shimmered with divine energy, the ancient language of her people coming alive with every syllable.

The temperature in the room dropped as a pulse of energy rippled through the chamber. The ground trembled beneath her feet, small cracks appearing in the stone. She could feel it—the earth itself awakening.

Then, it began.

From the center of the stone bed where Nouri had placed her hands, the ground cracked open. Slowly, the earth split, revealing what lay beneath—the mummified bodies of the ancient warriors, their spirits bound to this sacred ground, waiting for their goddess to call upon them.

The Medjai warriors emerged, rising from the earth, their bodies wrapped in ancient linen. Their movements were deliberate, reverent—each step carrying the weight of centuries. The air crackled with energy, charged with a power that made the very chamber feel alive.

As the bandages fell away, the warriors stood tall, their muscular forms imposing and regal. Their bodies were etched with sacred tattoos, each one a mark of their role as protectors of Egypt. Scars from ancient battles adorned their bodies, their faces strong and unwavering. Their armour gleamed with a golden lustre, reflecting the faint light of the chamber, while their eyes burned with the same fire that had once coursed through Nouri's soul—devotion, loyalty, and purpose.

One of the warriors stepped forward, his face marked with a scar across his cheek. His voice, deep and thunderous, filled the chamber as he spoke. "Al Nouri?" His eyes, filled with shock, never left hers.

Nouri’s expression softened, a small smile tugging at her lips as she stepped forward to meet him. "Ardeth," she said, her voice warm, "Guard this temple, against those who would dare desecrate its sanctity. Protect Dr. Abdallah and his crew. Do not harm the thieves, but ensure they are kept away from the sacred grounds. I will deal with them when the time comes. Justice will be laid down by my hands alone."

Ardeth bowed his head, his voice low but filled with admiration. "We will guard your sands, Al Nouri." Without another word, he pulled her into a tight embrace. It had been centuries since they'd last seen each other, and in that moment, the bond between them was undeniable.

The other warriors, their expressions firm, nodded in unison, their movements synchronized as they turned to head toward the temple’s exit. Their purpose was clear—they were ready to defend.

But Ardeth stayed, his expression concerned as he asked, “What is happening, Nouri?”

Nouri met his gaze, the fire in her eyes burning with fury. "I keep hearing this one name, Khonshu mentioned it... It’s testing my patience. He’s everywhere, and children who play with fire get their fingers burnt." Her voice hardened, full of unrelenting steel. “The relics in this temple were moved to safety long ago. He cannot steal anything, but his presence here... his disruption...”

Ardeth’s brow furrowed, concern still evident in his voice. “Who is he?”

Nouri’s gaze burned with a quiet fury, her hands clenched at her sides. “A US marine, but Khonshu says his mind is fractured.”

She turned toward the exit of the temple, the weight of her words hanging in the air. As she stepped out into the sunlight, she found Dr. Abdallah, who was waiting with a look of quiet worry. Nouri addressed him with an air of authority. "Dr. Abdallah, these are the Medjai. They will protect you and your crew. Should you require counsel, Ardeth will provide it."

Dr. Abdallah nodded in gratitude, still processing the weight of the situation.

Ardeth, his voice full of curiosity and concern, turned to Nouri as they moved toward the jet. “What is the name that has plagued you, sister?”

Nouri’s voice dropped to a low growl, her eyes filled with quiet rage. "Marc Spector," she said, each syllable thick with venom. “He’s a pestilence and I won’t stand for it. He will answer for his interference, but today is not the day."

As Nouri prepared to return to New York, her thoughts lingered on Marc Spector. Was her pursuit of justice righteous, or was she letting her rage cloud her judgment? She shook her head. She didn’t have time for doubts. The Medjai were back, and the temple was safe for now. But the wheels of fate had already begun to turn, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that the man named Marc Spector was at the heart of something that threatened everything she’d ever known. But she was sure of one thing, she was angry.

Notes:

I decided to change the ending of the chapter, didn't like the fact that Stevie was there <3

Chapter 29: The Jackal

April 27th , 2016

 

To say that Nouri was mad was an understatement. Fury burned through her veins, each step she took as she stormed through the Compound crackling with unspoken energy. Her entire body seemed to radiate the heat of the sun as she walked, shoulders stiff with barely contained rage. She had been gone for a while, but this—this was something she couldn’t just let slide.

As she passed Steve and Natasha, they exchanged confused glances. Nouri wasn’t supposed to return so soon. The tension in the air was palpable.

Nouri didn't spare them a glance as she continued her march straight to Tony’s office. Steve moved as if to call after her, but Natasha stopped him with a hand on his arm. She knew better than anyone that when Nouri was like this, no one could talk her down—except maybe Natasha herself.

Nouri didn’t knock. She opened Tony's office door with a force that made it rattle in its frame.

“Do you have access to military personnel files?” she demanded, her voice as sharp as a whip, burning with barely suppressed fury.

Tony, who had been tinkering with some gadget on his desk, looked up with a teasing grin. “Well, hello to you too. Did you have a nice trip?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely interested despite the playful edge in his voice.

Nouri’s glare could have melted steel. “Stark.”

Tony’s grin only widened. “You’re in one of those moods, aren’t you?” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as if completely unbothered. “Sorry, but no, I don’t have access to that stuff. I may be a genius, but I’m not an entire military database, sweetheart.” He chuckled, clearly amused by her anger, but Nouri wasn’t having it.

She didn't waste another second. With a quick pivot, she left his office, the door swinging back sharply behind her as she stormed down the hallway.

As she passed Steve and Natasha again, Natasha looked up, her brow furrowing slightly as she noticed Nouri’s seething expression.

“You’re back early,” Natasha commented, her voice neutral, but there was a knowing look in her eyes. She could sense the storm brewing inside the goddess.

“Complications,” Nouri muttered, her voice clipped, her anger still rolling off of her in waves.

Natasha's eyes softened. “Tell me.”

Nouri’s steps slowed, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she paused, her body still trembling with rage. Natasha had always known how to find a way to calm her, even when the fire inside her burned brightest.

Sighing deeply, Nouri let the anger in her chest simmer for a moment before she spoke again, her voice quieter now but still thick with frustration. “I saw grave robbers in Egypt, Natasha. They were trying to loot every temple. But that’s not the worst part. I may have disrupted something. The gods may see it as interference. As a threat to the 'sacred' balance.”

Natasha’s expression softened with understanding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She stepped closer, lowering her voice as she placed a hand on Nouri’s arm. “You did what you had to do.” She looked around, glancing briefly at Steve before focusing back on Nouri.

Nouri felt something shift within her, something less like rage and more like acceptance, as if Natasha’s words were a balm to the fiery frustration she’d been carrying since the incident. For a moment, the heat inside her seemed to die down, replaced by the steady, reassuring warmth of camaraderie.

Steve watched them in silence from a distance, his heart aching as he observed Nouri, his darling—strong, wise, and powerful—so utterly distraught. Her pain was palpable, the weight of her frustration and guilt seeming to press down on her like an invisible force. He could feel it too, the frustration that was so foreign to her nature, the anger that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

It wasn’t something Nouri was supposed to feel. She was the calm, the light, the one who guided others with a wisdom beyond time itself. Seeing her like this, filled with such turmoil, shook him more than he was willing to admit.

But he understood. He understood more than he’d like to. It was hard to always be the one to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders—especially when you had no one to help you with it. Nouri had done it for so long, always alone in her life, always keeping a part of herself hidden from the world.

He knew that. But now… she wasn’t alone anymore.

He stepped forward slowly, his eyes locked on hers, and Nouri finally met his gaze. The fire in her eyes was still there, but something else had softened behind it—something raw and vulnerable. Her lips parted slightly, like she was going to speak, but she didn’t. She didn’t need to.

Steve didn’t speak either, but his presence was enough. He didn’t need to fix anything. He didn’t need to have all the answers. He just needed to be there for her, even if it was in silence.

He reached out slowly, taking her hand in his. The touch was gentle, steady, grounding. Nouri’s fingers curled around his in response, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips.

“I just... I just wanted to help.” Nouri murmured, her voice thick with sorrow and frustration.

“You’ve been trying to help for centuries,” Steve said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “And you have. More than you’ll ever know.” He squeezed her hand, his gaze never leaving hers.

Then, without thinking, Steve leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles. The warmth of his lips lingered, and for a moment, all of Nouri’s burdens seemed to lighten, as if that simple gesture could somehow ease the weight of everything.

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat, and her chest tightened with a feeling she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge. That small act, so tender, so pure, reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

The words weren’t perfect, but they were all Nouri needed in that moment. The anger inside her, the guilt that had been suffocating her, seemed to melt away just enough for her to breathe again.

She didn’t need to be alone with her burden anymore. Not with Steve. Not with Natasha. Not with all of them at her side.

---

May 3rd, 2016

 

Nouri sat in the living space, her mind heavy and restless. The pale light from the window barely touched her face, making her look even more tired than she felt. Her eyes were sunken, her thoughts a tangled mess. The consequence of raising the dead still haunted her; her scales had been tipped, and she didn’t know how to find the balance again. The weight of her decision was suffocating, and it made every breath feel like a struggle.

Steve’s voice broke through the thick silence, his words unfamiliar to her ears. "Darling."

She blinked, her attention snapping back to him, but the fog still clouded her mind. "Huh?" she muttered, confused.

"Darling, I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes. What’s going on?" Steve’s voice had a soft edge of amusement, but it was clear he was concerned.

Her gaze shifted, her face drawn and distant. "I’m sorry, what did you say?" Nouri’s words were thick, as if she was trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to her.

Sam, standing nearby, didn’t waste a beat. “We got a lead. An ex-HYDRA agent’s been spotted in Lagos.”

“And you think it’s Bucky?” Nouri asked, her tone sharp and cutting through the fog of her mind. Both Steve and Sam nodded, exchanging a glance. The name hit her harder than she expected—Bucky, Steve’s best friend, now a weapon of HYDRA.

Steve stepped closer; his face filled with an intensity that matched hers. “Yeah, we think so. We need to track him down.”

Nouri took a deep breath, her mind racing. "Have a safe trip," she said, her voice softer, but her eyes were still clouded. She stood and kissed him on the cheek, a tender gesture, but it felt hollow—like a last-ditch effort to hold onto something she wasn’t sure she understood anymore.

“You won’t join us?” Sam asked, confused, his eyes searching hers.

Nouri let out a sigh and shrugged her shoulders, the weight of it all pressing down on her. "Sorry, Sam, not this time." She walked toward their shared room without another word.

Steve glanced between Sam and Nouri, confusion and concern clouding his thoughts. He watched as Nouri silently walked toward their room, her movements heavy, her back tense.

He didn’t hesitate; he followed her.

The door clicked softly as he entered, his voice quiet but urgent. “Nouri, what’s going on?” His eyes were sharp with worry, his stomach twisting as he sensed the shift in the air. The tension between them was like a thick fog, and Steve could feel it tightening around his chest.

Nouri didn’t respond, her back turned toward him as she let herself fall onto the bed, her body slumping under the weight of everything she couldn’t bring herself to say. Her voice was strained, thick with something unsaid. “I’m tired, Rogers,” she muttered, her words almost lost in the space between them. “Just... leave it.”

Steve stood at the foot of the bed, his heart aching at the sight of her, but the frustration rising in him couldn’t be ignored. “Talk to me,” he pleaded, stepping forward. “You’ve been distant for weeks now. What’s going on? Why are you shutting me out?”

Her hands gripped the bed sheets, the frustration inside her growing by the second. She wanted to shout, to make him understand, but the words tangled in her throat. She turned her head slowly, her face still turned away from him. “Stop pushing it, Steve,” she warned, her voice cold, like a blade drawing through air.

Steve’s patience wore thin. He moved closer, standing just a few feet from her now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m not pushing you!” he snapped, his voice rising. “I just want to know what’s going on! What happened to the woman I loved! What happened to us?” His words cracked, filled with the hurt of not knowing what had changed.

Nouri whipped her head around, her eyes flashing with fury and pain. Her emotions erupted before she could stop herself. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice jagged. “Stop acting like you know me! You don’t get it, Steve! You don’t understand what I’m dealing with!” She shot to her feet, the bed creaking beneath her as she stood up, the anger pouring out of her. “I raised the dead, I broke the laws of the gods, and I fell in love with a mortal! I broke Ma'at’s balance! Do you understand that?”

Steve froze, his expression stricken, his chest tight with the impact of her words. He wasn’t prepared for the storm in her eyes, the raw emotion that bubbled over. “sweetheart, I’m trying to help you,” he said quietly, his voice cracking with frustration. “But you keep pushing me away! You’re shutting me out, and I can’t just... stand here and let you suffer.”

“You want to help me?” she yelled, stepping closer to him, every word charged with a fierce energy. “You think this is easy for me? You think I’m not dying inside? The gods are judging me! They’re going to imprison me, Steve! I raised the dead! I loved you—a mortal! I’ve done the unthinkable, and I can’t fix it! I’m falling apart and you’re asking me to just... talk about it like it’s some simple damn thing!” Her voice cracked, but the anger wasn’t gone, only replaced by the hollow fear of her fate.

Steve’s eyes softened with understanding, his heart aching for her, but the weight of the situation was too much for him. “Nouri, I know you’re hurting. But shutting me out is not the way to fix this. I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself, not like this.” His voice was pleading now, desperate. “Talk to me, please.”

Her eyes burned with a mix of pain and frustration. “You don’t get it, Steve! You don’t know what it’s like to carry this weight, this guilt, this fear! I’ve seen it, felt it in my soul—the gods’ judgment, their wrath! I’m not just afraid for me, I’m afraid for you!” Her voice broke with a sharp cry, her body trembling from the intensity of the emotions that had built up inside her for weeks. “And I can’t shake the feeling of... Marc Spector—his name haunts me. It’s like a whisper in the back of my mind. His name, everywhere. And I can’t make it stop.”

Steve’s brows furrowed, taken aback by her words. “Marc Spector? What does he have to do with any of this...”

“I don’t know!” she snapped, turning away. “But he’s everywhere—everywhere I go. His name won’t leave me. I can’t sleep without hearing the gods whispering. Their faces... I’ve seen things I shouldn’t, I’ve disrupted the balance, and I’m going to pay for it!”

Before Steve could respond, Nouri’s frustration boiled over. She reached out and grabbed the nearest object—an ornate vase on the dresser—and hurled it across the room. The sound of it smashing against the wall made Steve flinch, but Nouri didn’t stop. The fury inside her wasn’t done yet.

“I don’t need you to fix this!” she screamed, her voice shaking with the force of her emotions. “I don’t need you to save me, Steve!”

Steve stood there, stunned. His expression faltered, a mixture of hurt and confusion spreading across his face. He didn’t move at first, but then he stepped forward, slowly, his hand reaching out, but Nouri jerked away from him, her body rigid with tension.

“I’m not trying to save you, Nouri,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m just trying to be here for you. I love you, damn it. I can’t stand seeing you this way, seeing you drown in your own fear. You don’t have to go through this alone!”

“Just leave it, Steve!” Nouri screamed again, her chest rising and falling rapidly with the rawness of her emotions. Her hands trembled; her voice strained from the sheer force of the argument. “You can’t fix this! I’ve ruined everything!”

Steve’s expression darkened, his frustration spilling over into anger. “What the hell are you talking about, Nouri? You’re not ruined!” His voice cracked slightly as he stepped closer, his hands clenching by his sides. “You’ve been pushing me away for weeks now! I can’t keep standing here, helpless, while you self-destruct!”

“I don’t need saving!” Nouri shouted, tears welling up in her eyes despite her rage. “You don’t understand. The gods are going to imprison me! I’ll lose everything—my power, my place in this world, and the gods will kill me...” She wiped her face angrily, her hands shaking.

Steve’s eyes softened for a brief moment, his anger giving way to deep concern. “You’re not alone. I’m here. I love you,” he said, his voice softer now.

But Nouri couldn’t hear it. The weight of her guilt, her fear, the crushing reality of her decisions... It was too much. She turned away from him, her shoulders shaking, her breath ragged from the emotional outburst. “Just leave me alone… please” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His heart was breaking, but he knew pushing her further would only hurt more. He gave a small shake of his head, his chest heavy with the weight of their unspoken words.

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence that followed. The door clicked softly behind him.

Nouri stood there, trembling, her back pressed against the wall. Her heart was shattered, her fears now consuming her entirely. She didn’t want to face him; didn’t want to face the world she had broken. She wanted silence, space, anything to calm the storm raging inside her.

Her heart felt heavier than Ma'at’s feather, the weight of her actions too much to bear.

---

Steve didn’t know what to think. They had fought before, once, but this was something else. Was he hurt? Yes. Could he help her? No. The thought weighed heavily on his mind as he boarded the Quinjet to Lagos.

Meanwhile, Nouri lay in her bed, her tears falling silently into the pillow, staining the fabric with the grief she couldn't contain. She was hurting, drowning, suffocating in the weight of it all. The darkness of her emotions, amplified by the chaotic events, felt like it was slowly consuming her, piece by piece. Her heart ached, but it was a pain she couldn't escape.

The moon stood high in the night sky, casting its pale light through the window. The room flickered with the dim glow of the lights that struggled to stay steady. And then, a familiar presence entered her room, one she could never forget.

A jackal.

“My dear sister,” came the voice, low and rich, a gentle rumble that reverberated through her room. The sound of it made Nouri stiffen, but she didn’t turn her head. She already knew who it was.

Nouri, barely lifting her gaze, responded with a tired whisper, “Anubis? To what do I owe the pleasure?” She didn’t have the strength to pretend she wasn’t broken.

Anubis’s tall form materialized in front of her, his features soft with concern but sharp with the weight of his presence. His eyes, gleaming like polished stone, searched her face. “Taweret says your scales aren’t balanced,” he said with a faint, almost amused smile, though his gaze darkened when he noticed the emptiness in her eyes.

“As grateful as I am for your presence,” Nouri began, her voice cracking, “I’m not in the mood for a lecture.” She tried to wave him off, her hands trembling with the effort to mask her pain.

But Anubis stood firm. His tone shifted, becoming more serious. “Your precious mortal caused an accident,” he said, his voice cold and unyielding. “26 innocents are dead because of him.”

That stopped Nouri in her tracks. She turned her head slowly, her eyes widening in disbelief. “What—” she began, but couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. The screen flickered to life, and she saw the news unfolding before her eyes.

“-A blast has killed twenty-six people, 11 of whom were relief aid workers from the African nation of Wakanda,” the news reporter said. Nouri sat in shock, her body freezing in place.

Anubis was still standing there, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He watched her silently, waiting for her reaction.

“Honour them,” Nouri finally commanded, her voice low and hollow. She couldn’t bring herself to cry, though the tears were close. Instead, she turned her attention back to the screen, watching the devastation unfold in the city.

Anubis, watching her carefully, nodded. “As you wish, my sister.”

He took a step toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder as a gesture of comfort. “My dear sister,” he began again, his voice gentle, “lighten your heart. The Council will have questions, but there are no rumours of imprisonment. They only wish to understand why you raised the Medjai. You haven’t broken any laws. Do not let your grief cloud your judgment, not when your precious mortals still need you. He loves you dearly.”

Nouri’s hands clenched into fists. “How can they understand?” she whispered, the weight of her choices crashing down on her. “I raised them, Anubis. I brought them back to life—just so they could protect me.” Her voice faltered. “I wasn’t supposed to do that. I wasn’t supposed to do any of this.”

Anubis knelt in front of her, bringing his gaze to meet hers. “You acted out of love, Nouri,” he said softly. “The Medjai were your brothers, and you have every right to bring them back to protect what you cherish. You have not broken the laws of the gods. You are not alone in this.”

Nouri blinked, her thoughts drifting. She thought of Steve—his devotion, his love, the way he always tried to protect her, even when he was just as vulnerable. But the pain of losing those innocent lives, the overwhelming guilt, made it hard for her to see clearly. She wanted to protect them all, but sometimes, even she couldn’t save them.

The weight of Anubis’s words settled over her. She closed her eyes, letting his presence wash over her like a calm wave in the storm.

Nouri closed her eyes, absorbing his words as they tried to settle her. “The world is so full of pain,” she whispered. “I wanted to help them. I wanted to save them, but all I’ve done is cause more destruction.”

Anubis placed both hands on her shoulders, his voice steady and calm. “My sister,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of finality, “the Council may call upon you soon, but for now, remember that you’ve acted with compassion. You’ve done no wrong. The gods will not abandon you. Do not let your heart turn against the very mortals you have always loved.”

Nouri stared at him, her heart racing as the gravity of his words settled in. She felt the tension ease in her chest, but the pain still remained. She had so many questions, but only one thing mattered now.

“Honour them,” Nouri said firmly, standing up from the bed.

Anubis’s smile returned, though it was bittersweet. “As you command, but remember, even the gods cannot save every soul”

Anubis gave her a final, reassuring glance. “You are not alone,” he repeated, his voice a gentle reminder. And then, as if fading into the shadows, he was gone.

Nouri nodded, but before she could speak again, the faint hum of the Quinjet echoed outside the window. Vision’s voice cut through the quiet. “The Quinjet is landing.”

Nouri walked slowly toward the door, her mind whirling with everything she had just learned. As she stepped outside, Vision was already waiting for her, his presence calm and steady.

“Are you ready?” Vision asked.

“Yes,” Nouri replied, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “Let’s go.”

Together, they walked toward the Quinjet, the hum of the engines in the background as the team awaited their arrival. Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha were already there, standing near the ramp. Steve gave Nouri a warm smile as she approached, but Wanda caught her attention immediately.

Nouri’s heart softened at the sight of Wanda. She had grown so much, but the young woman still carried such immense weight on her shoulders. She walked up to Steve first, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her voice was soft as she whispered against his ear, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Steve kissed the top of her head, pulling her in even closer, his hand on the small of her back. “You never need to apologize to me my love,” he whispered back, his words steady and reassuring.

Nouri smiled faintly, her heart warming at his constant understanding, but her gaze shifted to Wanda next. The younger woman looked pale; her face drawn tight, haunted by something unseen. Nouri’s instincts immediately sharpened—there was pain in Wanda’s eyes, something more than the exhaustion of battle.

Wanda’s breath was shallow, her shoulders shaking as she turned to Nouri, her voice barely a whisper, “I… I killed them…”

The words hung in the air like a weight too heavy for her to bear. Nouri’s heart clenched, but her expression remained calm and full of compassion. She stepped forward, gently cupping Wanda's face in her hands, her voice soft but firm. “Do not be saddened, my dear. Accidents happen. This burden is not yours to carry alone.”

Wanda’s eyes searched Nouri’s face, the pain so raw that it made Nouri ache with understanding. Without another word, Nouri gestured for the rest of the team to leave them, giving Wanda and her space.

“Let us sit,” Nouri said gently, leading Wanda to a quiet spot on the outskirts of the Quinjet landing area. The evening sky had a heavy, bruised quality to it, a reflection of the storm in Wanda’s heart. They sat, the wind lightly ruffling their hair. Nouri’s presence was comforting, solid, a calm force in the midst of the chaos that raged inside Wanda.

“My dear child,” Nouri began, her voice soothing, “this isn’t your fault. I know that it weighs heavily on your heart, but death... death is not the end.”

Wanda’s lips trembled as she looked at Nouri, her eyes filled with an unspoken question. “But... I couldn’t save them. I could have… I should have…”

Nouri’s hands rested gently on Wanda’s, grounding her. She took a deep breath, her eyes softening with ancient wisdom. “I have seen much in my time, my dear. In my existence, I have walked the paths of the dead and the living. I have watched over souls as they pass, as they move from one realm to the next. Death is but a part of the journey.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, her tears now flowing freely as she clung to Nouri’s words. “But they… they’re gone. Because of me…”

“No,” Nouri said firmly, her voice low but filled with the strength of countless centuries, “you did not take them. Their path was already laid out. You tried to buy them time in this life. And it will never be forgotten.”

Wanda's face crumpled as she turned into Nouri’s arms, seeking comfort as she had so many times before. Nouri held her tightly, her embrace strong but tender. “The afterlife, the Du’at and the Field of Reeds… are not a place of punishment. It is a place of peace. The souls who left in the accident... they are not lost. They are merely on a different path now.”

Nouri gently ran her fingers through Wanda's hair, comforting her as she spoke. “In Egypt, we honour those who have passed, those who have sailed through the Du’at. Souls who leave this world are not forgotten. They are given the respect they deserve. And those who passed in that accident—they are not lost. They will be honoured. They will be seen.”

Wanda looked up at her, still shaken, but there was a flicker of understanding in her gaze. “What happens to them, then?”

“They walk the path of the afterlife,” Nouri replied softly, “and they find peace. The Field of Reeds is not a place of suffering, but of transition, of finding your true path. They have been spared, Wanda. They will live on in a way, their spirits will find their place, honoured by those who came before them. And when their time comes, they will be at peace.”

Wanda closed her eyes, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. “But... why couldn’t I stop it? Why didn’t I see the signs?”

Nouri stroked her hair soothingly, her voice like the softest of whispers. “None of us see everything, Wanda. You are not a god. You do not have the sight I was given. But what you do have is love, and that is enough. It is enough to guide you.”

Wanda’s shoulders eased, the weight on her chest slowly lifting as Nouri’s words sunk in, each one a salve for her wounded heart. She pulled back slightly, her eyes red but softer than before.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice small but filled with gratitude. "I don’t know what I would have done without you."

Nouri smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from Wanda’s face. “You would have found your way, as you always do. But I am here, my dear, as I always will be.”

The two of them sat together in silence, the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky above them. Nouri’s presence was a steadying force for Wanda, and for the first time since the incident, the young witch felt a flicker of peace.

Nouri leaned back, her eyes lingering on the night sky. "Death does not define us, Wanda. How we live, how we love, how we guide others—that is what matters in the end." She glanced over at Wanda, her eyes filled with gentle strength. “Now, we move forward. Together.”

Wanda nodded, her heart still heavy but beginning to heal, as the quiet night enveloped them both.

Chapter 30: The Accords

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

June 19th, 2016

 

A month had passed since the accident in Lagos. Nouri lay in bed beside Steve, but sleep hadn’t come easily to her. She’d tried, really tried, to open up to him about what had been haunting her—about everything. But it was hard. She knew Steve understood, but her problems weren’t something that could just be fixed with a conversation. Not yet.

Nouri’s heart ached, but not for Steve. No, her heart hurt because someone close to him had passed into the afterlife. She had felt the sting of loss in a way that was more familiar than she’d ever wanted it to be. It wasn’t like the sharp, cutting pain she had known in her own life, but more of an echo—a distant ripple across time and space. It was a feeling that gripped her chest, that left her breathless, though she couldn’t place it. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint who it was, but she knew it was someone important to Steve. She could feel it in the way her heart seemed to pull, like it knew a truth her mind had yet to catch up with.

It had been a restless night, so when she finally sat up, she didn’t hesitate. The house was still dark, the world outside silent as the first light of dawn lingered just beyond the horizon. She grabbed her phone, and it buzzed immediately with a new message from Ardeth.

No one has been spotted.

She smiled softly at the message. Ardeth was always thorough, always watching. The Medjai were her brothers, resurrected to guard her temple with fierce loyalty. They would protect her—and Steve—if necessary.

Sighing, she set the phone down and padded into the kitchen, trying to push away the gnawing unease that had settled in her chest. Her thoughts were tangled, a mess of grief, guilt, and worry. She didn’t know what was coming, but she felt like something was about to change.

When she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to find Vision already there, sitting at the table, still as a statue. His red eyes flickered as he noticed her, though he didn’t turn his head.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Nouri teased; her voice soft in the stillness.

“No, I do not need it,” Vision answered, his tone almost too perfect. As if he were merely observing the concept of sleep, not experiencing it.

“Ah,” Nouri remarked, sliding into the chair beside him, feeling the cold edge of the marble sink into her bones as she settled.

Vision studied her for a moment, sensing the subtle shift in her mood. “And you?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied quietly, a hint of a sigh escaping her lips. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, and trying to calm them was proving difficult. Vision, though he was an android, had a way of making things feel less… heavy. “Sometimes, it’s just too much.”

Vision tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. “May I ask what’s on your mind?”

Nouri’s shoulders sagged a bit as she let her emotions settle around her. “Someone died in their sleep last night. Someone close to Steve. It’s... It's hard to explain. I feel the weight of it, like I’m connected to everything, but I can’t fix it for him.” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the tenderness she usually kept hidden.

She paused, looking out the window as the faintest hint of light crept across the sky. “And I have a feeling that today my Council will convene. They’ll need answers about some of my actions.”

Vision’s expression remained neutral, though the question in his tone was unmistakable. “What actions?”

Nouri clenched her jaw, annoyance and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “They might be a bit unhappy with me raising the Medjai, using them as bodyguards for mortals. But I have my reasons, and I do believe the Council will back me. I’ve had to make choices, Vision. And sometimes, those choices... They don’t sit well with others. But they’re necessary.”

The air between them thickened with understanding. Vision, though still learning, seemed to sense the weight of her words. “I wish you the best, Nouri,” he said softly, his voice unusually warm for someone who had no true experience of emotional depth.

Nouri smiled, though it was bittersweet. “Thank you.” She paused, looking at him for a moment before a sly grin curled up at the corners of her lips. “And I’m happy for you and Wanda,” she added, raising an eyebrow, teasing just a little.

Vision blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “I—what do you mean?” His voice betrayed a bit of confusion.

Nouri cut him off, her tone light but knowing. “I see with more than the eyes, darling.” She leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze steady. “And I think what the two of you have is sweet. I may not understand it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect it.”

Vision’s expression softened, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s complicated,” he admitted, almost too seriously. “But I value her... More than I thought possible.”

Nouri chuckled softly, the sound filled with warmth and understanding. “I can see that.” She let her gaze linger on him for a second longer. “You’re doing well, Vision. And Wanda... She’s good for you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, offering a genuine smile. “It’s strange, but it feels right.”

The two sat in silence, the soft hum of the morning creeping through the room as the sky outside lightened with the first rays of dawn. Nouri’s fingers lightly traced the rim of her cup, and Vision’s deep gaze was fixed on the stack of ancient texts before him. They had covered a wide range of topics—ethics, the trolley problem, the nature of power—before settling into their current subject of discussion: Ancient Greece and Egypt.

"You seem deep in thought, Vision," Nouri remarked, sensing the weight of his contemplation. "What’s got you so absorbed?"

Vision slowly turned his head toward her, his red eyes glowing faintly, filled with the quiet intensity of his focus. "I’ve been studying the ancient civilizations, particularly Ancient Greece and Egypt."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What’s caught your attention?"

Vision folded his hands thoughtfully, his expression turning reflective. "Both cultures, while vastly different, contributed so much to the way we think about the world. Ancient Greece—particularly its philosophers—had such an idealistic view of knowledge and society. They sought perfection, through reason, through logic. Egypt, on the other hand, was grounded in balance and harmony—life, death, and everything in between."

Nouri nodded slowly; her eyes distant as she considered his words. "I see where you're going. The Greeks, with their philosophy of forms, saw the physical world as a mere shadow of an ideal, perfect reality. While Egypt saw perfection not as an attainable goal, but as something rooted in balance between the forces of nature—the gods, life, and death."

"Yes," Vision replied, his voice steady. "But I’ve been trying to understand how both philosophies managed to coexist, how they influenced the world even though their approaches were so different. Greece emphasized the mind, reason, and striving for an unattainable ideal. Egypt emphasized balance, understanding that the divine and the human are intertwined, never perfect but always seeking harmony."

Nouri smiled, a slight warmth in her voice. "That’s the essence of it, Vision. In Egypt, we didn’t see perfection as a goal. We didn’t seek to transcend the flaws of humanity like the Greeks did. Our gods—Ra, Anubis, Khonshu—they weren’t perfect beings in the Greek sense. They were powerful, yes, but they were also deeply connected to the cycles of life and death, to the balance between light and darkness."

Vision nodded, his gaze deep in thought. "And the Egyptians embraced the imperfections of the world, didn’t they? They saw the balance of life and death as necessary, not something to be avoided."

"Exactly," Nouri said, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. "We understood that death was just another part of the cycle. The soul moves through life and death, seeking balance in both. The Greeks, however, often saw death as something to be feared, as something to be escaped. They sought to perfect the mind, to separate themselves from the mortal experience."

Vision leaned in; his curiosity piqued. "And how did the Egyptians view the afterlife? Was it tied to this concept of balance?"

"Yes," Nouri replied, her tone softening. "The afterlife wasn’t just a final destination—it was part of the journey. We believed that the soul’s fate after death depended on how it had lived, how it had maintained balance. The heart was weighed against the feather of Ma'at, goddess of truth and justice. If the heart was found to be heavy with sin, the soul was lost. But if it was light, the soul was granted eternal peace."

Vision reflected on that for a moment. "So, the afterlife was just another extension of the divine order, not a final judgment but a continuation of life’s balance?"

Nouri nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Exactly. The Greeks, with their focus on logic and reason, didn’t fully understand that life and death are not separate. They are two parts of the same whole. The balance of the universe depends on the coexistence of both. That’s something we knew well in Egypt."

Vision’s eyes brightened as he began to grasp the idea. "And the Greek gods… did they share a similar view, or were they different?"

"Greek gods were often more distant, removed from the mortal realm. They were idealized, perfect in their powers, but often aloof, detached from the struggles of the humans they governed. The Egyptian gods, on the other hand, were very much involved in the mortal world. They didn’t separate themselves from human flaws—they were a part of them. Ra, Khonshu, Anubis—they all knew what it was to be both divine and part of the human experience."

Vision nodded, taking in her words carefully. "So, Egypt’s view of the divine was more... Integrated with the human experience? The gods weren’t perfect beings, they were part of the world and its balance?"

Nouri’s smile deepened. "Exactly. The Greeks sought ideals, perfection, and separation from mortality. The Egyptians sought harmony, balance, and the understanding that both the divine and the mortal were inseparable parts of the cosmic cycle."

Vision sat back, absorbing the wisdom in her words. "It seems that both civilizations, in their own way, were trying to answer the same questions, but they approached them from entirely different angles."

"Yes," Nouri agreed softly. "The Greeks focused on the mind, the ideal, the pursuit of knowledge. Egypt focused on understanding the cycles, the balance between light and dark, life and death. Both philosophies have their strengths, but I’ve always believed that the Egyptian view was closer to the truth. Life isn’t about perfection—it’s about balance."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sun now fully risen, casting a golden light over the room. Vision seemed lost in thought, perhaps contemplating the profound differences and similarities between these two ancient worlds. Nouri, on the other hand, felt a deep sense of satisfaction from sharing this ancient wisdom—a wisdom that had shaped her existence for millennia.

The silence was comforting for a while, until the familiar sound of footsteps broke the stillness. Steve entered the room, his eyes immediately finding hers. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Nouri's forehead, his presence as grounding as always.

"Conference room 2 is prepped," Steve said, offering a warm smile. "I hung the curtains, for privacy."

Nouri beamed, the familiar affection in his words making her heart flutter, despite the heavy matters on her mind. "Thank you, my love," she said softly, her voice thick with gratitude. "And thank you for the conversation, Vision." She smiled at the android, who nodded in acknowledgment.

With a quiet nod of her own, Nouri excused herself and made her way to her room.

Natasha entered the room, always a comforting presence as she helped Nouri change into a golden caftan adorned with intricate gold lining and face jewellery. Nouri's heart calmed in the presence of her friend, though the weight of the moment loomed large.

"Convening your Council?" Natasha asked as she adjusted a piece of Nouri's jewellery.

"Better I convene them than they attack me," Nouri responded with a slight, wry smile, though the tension in her body was unmistakable.

Natasha's smile softened. "How are you and Steve?" she asked, her voice holding a rare vulnerability.

Nouri's expression faltered for a moment, a hint of uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "I don’t know… I think we’re good, I think we just need to sit down and talk" she replied, her smile only half-hearted, revealing the emotional complexity she often kept hidden from others.

Natasha, sensing the heaviness of Nouri's thoughts, wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. "You two will figure it out," she said with a knowing tone, before pulling back and winking. "Give 'em hell."

With a deep breath, Nouri smiled, her resolve hardening as she walked towards conference room 2. She had to remain strong, not just for herself, but for the mortals she had pledged to protect.

---

As she entered the room, she was immediately greeted by the presence of her fellow gods. The air shimmered as Anubis, Horus, Isis, Osiris, Ra, and Thoth materialized from the smoke, their divine forms radiating power. There was an undeniable tension in the room, a pressure that Nouri immediately felt in her chest.

"Praise be, Al Nouri," the gods intoned in unison, their voices carrying the weight of eternity.

Nouri's heart swelled with a mixture of pride and apprehension. "Praise be to all of you," she replied, bowing her head in reverence to those who had once guided her.

"Al Nouri, we have questions for you," Horus said, his voice firm, but there was a sharpness to it, as if he were holding something back.

"You rose the Medjai Warriors from the afterlife? To protect mortals?" Osiris asked, his piercing gaze narrowing as he assessed her. There was no warmth in his eyes, only a cool judgment.

Nouri’s eyes flashed; her patience thin with their incessant questioning. "To protect those who are rebuilding my temple in Thebes," she corrected sharply, her voice ringing with authority.

Horus’ brow furrowed in annoyance. "You raised them for your own purposes, not for the good of the world. Do you even understand the risks of tampering with the dead like this?"

"And what would you have me do, Horus?" Nouri retorted, her voice rising with frustration. “I am protecting those who are working to restore what was once sacred. I raised them to protect those who are rebuilding my temple! To protect those who honour us!" She shot a defiant glance toward Ra. "I have not disrupted Ma'at’s balance, despite your constant disapproval."

Ra’s eyes narrowed, a scowl tugging at his lips. "You speak of balance, but what you have done is meddling. The Medjai were dead and at peace! Do you realize the consequences of bringing them into this world?" Horus demanded, his voice thick with frustration. His voice was heavy with reproach.

Nouri clenched her fists, her frustration building. "I did what I believed was right, the Medjai are bound to me, they are mine to command!" She snapped, her eyes blazing. "I acted with purpose. Their souls are not to be used for your petty trials. I’ve done nothing to upset the order. You forget your place, Ra. I’ve seen what the mortals suffer. They need guidance, not your judgment from afar!"

"You've gone too far, Al Nouri," Horus interjected, his voice rising with anger. "You think yourself above the laws of the Ennead, as if you can simply raise armies at will. You are a goddess, yes, but that does not mean you are beyond the rules that govern us all!"

"I am not above the laws of the Ennead, but I am above watching humanity fall into ruin," Nouri snapped. "You chose me to lead, remember that. My actions are not for my benefit, but for the good of the world you left behind!"

Ra’s voice grew sharp with finality. "You were born of us, yet you’ve chosen to defy everything we stand for. You claim to understand mortals, but you act with their fragility in mind. Your heart is clouded by their weakness. We warned you this would happen."

"Enough," Thoth interjected, his voice quiet but commanding. "The time for reproach is over. Al Nouri, you’ve made your choices. You must face the consequences. You may have good intentions, but that does not change the fact that you have disrupted the natural order."

Nouri’s chest tightened as she stood before the gods, her gaze unwavering. "I’ve not disrupted the balance of Ma'at. I’ve only tried to guide them. What you call ‘disruption’ is merely me choosing a path that you all seem too scared to walk," she shot back, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow.

Isis stepped forward, her expression softening. "Al Nouri, we understand your heart. We know your intentions are pure. But you cannot act without thinking of the consequences. You are a goddess, and with that comes responsibility. Your actions affect not just the mortals, but the very fabric of the universe."

"I did not act blindly!" Nouri cried, her frustration spilling over. "I have seen the wars, the suffering, the loss. Mortals may be fragile, but they are also capable of so much more! We should be guiding them, not sitting idly by and watching them destroy themselves!" Her voice cracked, but her resolve remained firm.

Anubis, who had been silently watching the exchange, stepped forward, his deep voice calm but filled with the weight of centuries. "Al Nouri," he said quietly, "Do what you believe is right. We cannot agree with your methods, but we cannot deny that your heart has always been true. You have fought for mortals since the dawn of time. Perhaps, in this, you are not wrong."

The room fell silent as the gods exchanged uneasy glances, some of them clearly unsettled by their harsh judgments. Ra’s face softened, his expression gradually changing from one of disapproval to reluctant consideration. "You are right, Anubis," he muttered under his breath. "Her actions... reflect what we once believed in. Perhaps we have misunderstood."

Ra let out a heavy sigh, and for the first time, his tone carried a note of empathy. "Al Nouri," he said, his voice tinged with regret, "We have spoken of balance, but we did not see the bigger picture. What you are doing does not disrupt Ma'at’s balance—it restores it. Humanity is faltering, and your intervention... is the only way to bring them back to the path we once set for them."

The realization hit the gods like a wave, and there was an almost palpable shift in the room. Ra continued, his voice steady now. "By raising the Medjai, by guiding them, you are not meddling with fate. You are acting as we once did, stepping in when necessary to restore order. In fact, perhaps it is we who have failed to see the truth of your actions."

Horus, who had remained silent during the exchange, looked at Nouri with a new understanding. "You... you may be right Al Nouri," he said, his voice softening. "The Medjai were not raised out of arrogance or for conquest. You have given them purpose once again, and through them, you’re not just protecting the temple, but helping to restore the balance of the world, of Ma'at itself."

Thoth stepped forward; his quiet voice now filled with a new sense of reverence. "Your heart has always been true, Al Nouri. Perhaps... we misjudged you. Perhaps, in your actions, you are indeed serving the greater good, the restoration of order."

The room grew quiet as the gods digested the weight of their words. Ra sighed deeply, a sense of finality settling over him. "You may act as you see fit Al Nouri. Your heart... your actions have shown us something we were blind to before. We will not oppose you. Ma'at’s balance is not disturbed by your choices. It is, in fact, restored."

Horus’s expression softened; his voice gentle now. "You have our understanding Al Nouri. Our faith. Continue to guide the mortals as you see fit. You have proven that your path is not one of destruction, but of restoration."

Nouri stood tall, a quiet pride filling her as she heard their words. The weight of their judgment had been heavy, but now, it seemed, the gods had finally seen her for what she truly was. "I will guide them," she said, her voice firm and full of conviction. "The gods may not understand everything, but I will not stand by while humanity falters. They need us now, more than ever."

As the gods began to dissipate, Nouri’s eyes locked with Anubis. He gave a slight nod, a silent gesture of support.

"Do what you believe is right," he said one final time before disappearing from view.

The room fell silent once more, but this time, it was the silence of understanding. Nouri stood alone, but with a newfound sense of certainty.

---

Nouri stepped out of the meeting with the Ennead, her mind still buzzing from the weight of their judgment. It had been a long, difficult conversation, but the gods had finally relented—at least for now. They had come to see her point, understood her intentions. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief, even if the weight of their expectations still hung over her.

As she walked down the hall, her phone buzzed.

Conference Room 3, Secretary of State – Natasha 

It was rare for Nouri to find herself summoned to such a meeting, but with everything that had been happening, she knew this couldn’t be a simple briefing.

She made her way down the corridor, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet building. When she arrived outside the glass-walled conference room, she paused, just for a moment. The door was slightly ajar, allowing her to hear the heated conversation inside.

"Tell me, Captain," Secretary Ross’s voice cut through the air, smooth but carrying the weight of his usual authority. "Do you know where Al Nouri, Thor, and Banner are right now?" His question hung in the air, almost a challenge.

Steve’s gaze flickered up briefly, but his expression remained calm, unwavering. He knew where this was going. "Al Nouri is right behind you," Natasha said, barely containing the amusement in her voice.

With a smirk tugging at her lips, Nouri stepped forward and pushed the door open, striding into the room with her usual confident grace. Her presence was commanding as always, and as she entered, the team rose from their seats—Steve, Sam, Wanda, Natasha, Rhodey, Tony, and Vision—all offering her a silent but respectful acknowledgment.

"Make yourself comfortable," Steve said quietly, gesturing toward the head of the table with a small nod.

Nouri didn’t hesitate. She slid into the seat at the head of the table, letting the team resume their positions as they settled back into their chairs.

"Do continue," Nouri said, her voice carrying a touch of annoyance, though there was no malice behind it. She had been pulled into so many meetings lately; her patience was thinning.

Secretary Ross, never one to back down, fixed her with a stern look. "If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes," he began again, his tone laced with pointed seriousness, "you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."

Rhodey leaned forward, his tone business-like. "So, there are contingencies?"

Ross nodded; his expression unwavering. "Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords."

The words echoed in the room, and Steve exchanged a quick glance with Tony. The weight of what Ross was saying hung in the air—no one was happy with the direction things were going, but everyone knew how dangerous things could become if they didn’t at least try to maintain some semblance of order.

"Talk it over," Ross said, his voice final. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the team as if waiting for them to make their move.

Natasha, who had been leaning back in her seat, never one to let tension go unaddressed, straightened and tilted her head, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "And if we come to a decision you don’t like?" she asked, her voice almost sweet, though everyone knew better than to underestimate her.

Ross raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly. "Then you retire."

A brief moment of silence passed as Natasha stifled a smile, her eyes never leaving Ross’s. The tension simmered beneath the surface, but it was clear that Natasha wasn’t backing down. The rest of the room seemed to brace for the next volley of words, the unspoken battle between power and resistance ongoing in every glance shared among the team.

---

The team had gathered in the living room, the tension palpable. Natasha had just finished explaining the accords to Nouri, the shift that would mean the Avengers would no longer be a private organization but would be under the supervision of a United Nations panel—only when and if that panel deemed it necessary.

Nouri sat next to Steve on the couch, her eyes scanning the printed document, reading the Accords, trying to block out the increasingly heated arguments around them. She could hear the sharp words being exchanged, but she wasn’t ready to join in just yet.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have,” Rhodey’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it as he stood his ground.

Sam, never one to back down, shot back. “So, let’s say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

Rhodey, unflinching, continued. “A 117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you're just like, "No, that's cool. We got it.”

Sam crossed his arms in defiance. “How long are you going to play both sides?”

Vision, standing quietly off to the side, finally spoke up, his calm voice cutting through the tension in the room. “I have an equation.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh, this should clear everything up.”

Vision continued, ignoring Sam’s sarcasm, his tone even and measured. “In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

Steve looked up from the Accords, a frown tugging at his features. “Are you saying it’s our fault?”

Vision’s voice remained calm as he explained, “I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict... breeds catastrophe. Oversight... oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

Rhodey nodded, agreeing. “Boom.”

“Nouri, what do you think?” Rhodey turned to her, his voice laced with curiosity.

Nouri glanced up from the Accords, her gaze steady and calm, but there was a hint of fire behind her eyes. She let out a slow breath before speaking, her voice firm but not confrontational. “I can’t sign this,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “We’re not just soldiers in a war. We’re individuals with the power to change things, to protect, to act when no one else can.” She paused, the weight of her words hanging in the air. “This... this is asking us to hand over that responsibility, to let someone else decide when it’s necessary. I don’t believe we should give up that right.”

“Boom,” Sam teased, mimicking Rhodey’s earlier comment with a grin.

Meanwhile, Tony was sprawled on the couch, his posture as nonchalant as ever. His eyes shifted lazily toward Natasha when she spoke.

“Tony,” Natasha said, raising an eyebrow, “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

Steve chuckled softly under his breath. “It’s because he’s already made up his mind.”

Tony smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Boy, you know me so well.” He winced slightly as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

Tony dragged himself to the kitchen, reaching for a mug, his voice dry as ever. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. And who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

As he turned to make his coffee, his phone buzzed on the counter. He dropped it into a basket and tapped the screen, projecting a picture of a young man with a bright, easy smile. Tony glanced at the picture before pretending to just notice it.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way,” Tony said, his voice softer now, a far cry from his usual bravado. “He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul before he parked it behind a desk. He didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, like I would. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where—Sokovia.”

The room grew quieter as his words settled in.

Tony’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He sighed heavily, taking a pill with his coffee. “There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

Steve’s gaze softened; his voice low but filled with conviction. “Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up.”

Tony’s eyes hardened, a flash of steel crossing his face. “Who said we’re giving up?”

Steve met his gaze firmly, his own eyes filled with sombre resolve. “We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

Rhodey shook his head, cutting in. “I’m sorry, Steve. That—that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

Steve held his ground, unwavering. “No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

Tony was quick to reply, his voice steady with resolve. “That’s good. That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

Steve countered; his voice tinged with frustration. “Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“I completely agree,” Nouri said, placing a hand on Steve’s arm, her voice resolute. “We cannot allow our autonomy to be stripped away. The moment we sign that; we lose control over our actions.”

Tony’s voice grew urgent. “Unbelievable! If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda spoke up hesitantly, her voice shaky with fear. “You’re saying they’ll come for me?”

Vision, ever the voice of calm, reassured her with quiet certainty. “We would protect you.” Nouri nodded in agreement, her expression softening as she caught Wanda’s eye.

Natasha’s voice softened, and for the first time, there was a flicker of uncertainty in her words. “Maybe Tony’s right.”

Tony’s head whipped toward her; his surprise evident. “Focus up. I’m sorry, did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?”

Natasha, clearly flustered, quickly backpedalled. “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

Tony grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed—I win.”

The tension in the room shifted momentarily, but it didn’t last. Just then, Steve’s phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from the ongoing discussion. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, his face paling as the words registered. Nouri leaned in from beside him, her own expression shifting when she saw the change in his demeanour.

A wave of shock and grief hit Steve, and his heart clenched in his chest. Without hesitation, he stood up sharply, the chair scraping across the floor, and dropped the Accords onto the coffee table with a heavy thud. His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with the papers, his mind racing.

“I have to go,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the urgency was unmistakable. He moved swiftly toward the stairs, but his steps were shaky, as though the weight of the news was physically pulling him down.

Nouri didn’t hesitate for a second. She was right behind him, her heart pounding in her chest, the concern in her eyes deepening with each step. She had known Steve long enough to recognize the signs when something devastating was about to happen. And this… this felt like a breaking point.

At the bottom of the staircase, Steve stopped. His hand gripped the banister, the knuckles white, as his head dropped, his body tense with the weight of the world. His eyes closed for just a moment, but in that fleeting second, everything seemed to come crashing down. His breathing was shallow, and for a second, Nouri could feel the tremor in his soul, the pain that tore through him.

She stepped forward without hesitation, her arms wrapping around him gently, pulling him into a soft embrace. Her hands smoothed over his back, trying to ground him, to offer him whatever solace she could in this moment of grief. His muscles were tight, his posture stiff, but he let her pull him closer, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he tried to steady himself.

"Oh, honey," Nouri whispered, her voice full of softness and sorrow. She felt the wetness of his tears stain her clothes as he finally allowed himself to let go, his body shaking with the emotion he had tried to hold back.

She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her fingers stroking through his hair in a comforting rhythm. The pain in his chest mirrored her own, and she could feel the depth of it all. The weight of his heartache was unbearable, but she would carry it with him, as she always had.

“She’s dead,” Steve whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking as he spoke the words that had taken everything from him. "Peggy... she's gone."

Nouri felt the sharp sting of the words, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to fade away. Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was the man in her arms, the man who had given so much of himself to the world, now broken by the loss of the one person who always believed in him.

“I know, baby…” Nouri whispered softly, her voice gentle and filled with compassion. She could feel the grief in her own heart as she spoke. She had known something was off, the heaviness in the air at night, the restless nights she’d woken to find him gone, pacing through their quiet home. The weight of Peggy’s passing had settled over Steve like a fog, and Nouri had felt it too, even when she hadn’t known why.

“I’m here, honey,” she continued, her fingers gently brushing his cheek, lifting his face to meet hers. Her eyes softened, her heart aching for him, but her touch was filled with love and tenderness.

Steve’s eyes met hers, his expression raw with the depth of his pain. The loss of Peggy was something he would carry forever, but for a moment, there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something like hope, or maybe just the barest hint of relief at having her beside him. The weight of his grief hadn’t lifted, but it felt a little lighter knowing that Nouri was there.

Nouri leaned forward, her lips pressing against his in a soft kiss, slow and tender. She could feel the storm within him, the turbulent emotions swirling beneath the surface. Her hands cupped his face, holding him as if she could shield him from the world, from the heartbreak that had shaken him to his core.

“I’ll never leave you,” she murmured against his lips, the promise quiet but unwavering. “Not now, not ever. We’ll get through this together.”

Steve’s arms tightened around her; his grip desperate but gentle. His voice was barely audible when he spoke, his words raw with emotion. “I don’t know how to let go, Nouri... I don’t know how to move past this.”

Nouri smiled softly, her forehead resting against his as she took a deep breath, the scent of him grounding her. “You don’t have to move past it,” she whispered. “Not yet. Let yourself grieve. Let it hurt. But know that you’re not alone, Steve. You never have to be alone again.”

Steve’s body relaxed just a little, the tension easing as he absorbed the comfort of her words, of her presence. He kissed her forehead in return, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. It was a quiet moment, a shared understanding that spoke volumes between them.

And in that moment, amidst the sorrow, amidst the grief, Nouri knew that she had found something real, something worth fighting for. She wasn’t just his goddess; she was his heart, his anchor in the storm. And together, they would face whatever came next—one step at a time.

Notes:

Finally we are in Civil War!! hope you enjoy it <3

Chapter 31: The Black Panther

June 22nd, 2016

 

The flight to London was silent, heavy with the weight of grief and unspoken words. Natasha and Sam sat together, speaking quietly among themselves, while Nouri sat beside Steve, her hand never leaving his. She could feel the tightness in his fingers, the weight of his heart, and she squeezed his hand gently, offering him the comfort only she could provide.

Nouri was dressed in simple black— a straight black dress, white gloves, a black veil covering her face, and a small hat perched delicately atop her head. To everyone else, she appeared a sombre figure, her presence blending in with the others. But to Steve, she was everything. She was the anchor in his storm, his steady presence in the midst of his grief.

The cathedral in London was filled with mourners, the air thick with sorrow. Nouri and Sam sat near the front, while Steve stood among the six pallbearers, his hands shaking slightly as he helped carry the coffin draped with the Union Jack. His face was streaked with tears, his eyes bloodshot, and the heaviness of grief weighed down on his shoulders. Nouri watched him from her seat, her heart aching for him. She knew the pain—she had seen it before. And yet, seeing Steve so lost in it, so vulnerable, made her heart break all over again.

At the altar, a single candle flickered beside a framed photograph of Peggy Carter in her military uniform. The label beneath it read "Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter." The image of the woman who had been a key part of Steve’s life, who had loved him in a way that he could never return, hung before the crowd.

“And now, I would like to invite Sharon Carter to come up and say a few words,” the priest’s voice echoed through the grand hall.

Sharon Carter, Agent 13, Steve and Nouri’s neighbour from DC, stepped up to the podium. She was composed, but Nouri could see the subtle tremble in her shoulders, the sorrow in her eyes. She was about to speak not only for Peggy, but for herself—a woman who had lost her aunt, but also someone who had admired her more than anyone knew.

Sam nudged Steve, pulling him out of his trance, and Steve blinked, his eyes red and unfocused. Nouri leaned in close, her voice a soft whisper. “She’s strong, Steve,” she said gently, her words a quiet comfort.

Steve’s gaze met Sharon’s, and for a moment, Nouri could see the weight of everything they had all lost reflected in his eyes. Sharon’s gaze flickered briefly to Steve before she took a breath, and began to speak.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of S.H.I.E.L.D… but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy.”

The words hit Steve harder than he expected. Nouri felt the subtle change in him, the sudden inhale as if he'd been punched in the gut. He blinked, his expression caught between sadness and something deeper, something unresolved.

“She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related.”

The realization hit Steve, and his breath caught. Nouri could feel the flood of emotions racing through him—the shared history with Peggy, the love that Peggy had carried for him all these years. Love that Steve could never return in the same way.

Sharon’s gaze shifted, locking with Steve’s for just a moment. There was a shared understanding between them, something that only people who had known Peggy in the deepest parts of their hearts could understand.

“I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, ‘Compromise where you can. But where you can’t, don’t. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move… it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, ‘No, you move.’”

Steve’s chest tightened at the memory, and Nouri could see the weight of his thoughts as they crashed down on him. He had loved Peggy deeply, but it had never been the same for him. She had always been his comrade, his mentor, his friend. But in that quiet space of unspoken words, there was a love he could never return, and that was something they both had learned to live with—especially Peggy.

Nouri reached out and placed her hand over his, squeezing it gently. His fingers curled around hers, and without speaking, he leaned his head against hers for a brief moment, taking in the warmth of her touch.

“Sometimes, the hardest thing is knowing we can’t always love the people who love us the most,” Nouri whispered softly, her words for both of them.

Steve’s eyes flickered with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. “She deserved more, Nouri. More than what I could give her.”

“She had everything she needed in the world, Steve. Her love wasn’t in vain,” Nouri replied quietly. “She gave it freely, and that made her stronger than most.”

Sharon’s voice continued, but Steve’s thoughts remained tethered to Peggy. The service went on, and the words became a distant hum in Nouri’s ears as she focused on him. She could feel the heaviness in his heart, and in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel how far he had come from the man he had been when they first met. The pain, the loss—it was all part of the weight he carried. But Nouri was here, and she would continue to be the anchor that held him steady.

As the eulogy continued, Nouri didn’t take her eyes off Steve. She leaned in closer, brushing her lips lightly against his ear. “You gave her the best love you could,” she whispered. “And now, you’re free to love in the way that you deserve. I’m here, Steve. Always.”

Steve turned to her, his eyes softening as he looked at her, and for the first time since the ceremony began, a faint but genuine smile crossed his lips. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Nouri.”

“And you never will,” she replied, her voice steady and warm. "I'm yours, Steve. In every way that matters."

The service continued, but in the quiet moments that followed, Nouri kept her hand firmly in Steve’s, her thumb tracing soothing patterns on his skin. She could feel the weight of his sorrow, but she knew that together, they could face anything. They would heal, together. Just like Peggy had done for Steve all those years ago, Nouri would stand by him, planting herself firmly like the tree, even as the world moved.

---

Later, Steve stood with Nouri in the aisle, her hand resting gently on his arm. He was still dressed in black, the weight of the ceremony settling around him. The dim light flickered off the polished floors, reflecting the unspoken tension in the room. Nouri could feel the gravity of the moment pressing in, but she stood with a quiet strength beside him, her presence a calming force.

Natasha approached quietly, her footsteps almost imperceptible, as she came to stand beside Steve. She gave Nouri a brief but knowing glance before turning her attention to Steve. He shifted his gaze to her, his voice filled with unspoken words.

"When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone," Steve began, his tone softer than usual, his eyes distant for a moment. "Then I found out she was alive. I was just lucky to have her. She always believed in me."

Nouri squeezed his hand, her lips curling into a tender smile. "And I always will," she murmured, her voice filled with unwavering affection. Steve’s eyes flickered toward her, and for a moment, everything else faded away. He didn’t need to say anything; she could feel his gratitude, his heart open and vulnerable. She gave him a reassuring smile before turning her attention back to Natasha.

Natasha gave a soft nod, her voice low. "She had your back, too." Her gaze flickered between them before she continued. "You two make a hell of a team."

Steve’s eyes wandered again; his brow furrowed with concern. "Who else signed?" he asked, shifting his focus to Natasha.

"Tony. Rhodey. Vision." Natasha’s expression softened slightly.

Steve raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement crossing his features. "Clint?"

"Clint says he’s retired," Natasha replied with a faint smile. "But don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a way to drag him out of it if we really need him."

Steve’s expression remained uncertain as he shifted his gaze again, his eyes thoughtful. "Wanda?"

" TBD," Natasha answered with a sigh. "Look, I’m heading to Vienna for the signing of the Accords. There’s plenty of room on the jet if you two want to join."

Steve sighed, lowering his head slightly as the weight of his thoughts settled on his shoulders. Nouri, standing close to him, could feel the conflict bubbling beneath the surface. Natasha, sensing the internal battle, spoke again, her voice gentle but firm.

"Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path, Steve. Staying together is more important than how we stay together," Natasha said, her words uncertain but filled with a quiet conviction.

Nouri squeezed Steve’s hand again, her gaze meeting his with an understanding that spoke volumes. She knew the choice wasn’t easy for him. But she was there for him, no matter what decision he made.

Steve shook his head, unconvinced. "What are we giving up to do it?"

A silence lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of the question. Natasha sighed in response, her gaze softening as she looked at Steve. Nouri could see the inner struggle playing out between them, but she wasn’t sure if anyone could fully understand what Steve was going through. Natasha took a small step forward, her voice quieter now.

"Sometimes, what we give up doesn’t weigh as much as what we stand to gain," Natasha said, her voice almost a whisper. "You know, the people around you—people who love you—they won’t let you fall. We’ve got your back."

Steve’s eyes softened, but his resolve remained firm. His gaze met Natasha’s, then lingered on Nouri. "I’m sorry, Nat. I can’t sign it."

Nouri nodded in understanding; her eyes calm but filled with an inner fire. She wasn’t ready to sign it either—not when the world she loved still felt so broken. "Egypt isn’t one of the countries behind the Accords," she said softly, her voice resolute. "If I don’t sign, neither will my country."

Natasha studied them both for a moment, then quietly replied, "I know." Her voice held no judgment, only a sense of deep understanding. "But just so you know, I’m still in your corner. Always."

A heavy silence passed between them before Steve asked, his voice now softer, the weight of everything pressing in on him. "Then what are you doing here?"

Natasha smiled faintly, her arms opening as she pulled Steve into a hug, the embrace a quiet comfort in the midst of uncertainty. "I didn’t want you to be alone," she replied, her voice carrying the sincerity of years of friendship. "Come here."

Nouri stood beside them, her hand resting on Steve’s back as she watched the tender moment between him and Natasha. She could feel the gratitude in Steve’s posture, the quiet acceptance of the friendship that had carried him through so much. She leaned in slightly, her voice soft.

"Nat, do greet the Wakandan king from me," Nouri said, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. She looked at Steve then, her smile turning more intimate as she whispered, "And you, Captain, I have something more to say to you."

Steve turned to her, his eyes softening as he watched her with a mixture of warmth and affection. "What’s that?" he asked, his voice low.

Nouri reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch tender as her gaze met his. "I’m grateful for you—for all the battles you’ve fought, for how you’ve stood by me through everything." Her voice wavered slightly, emotion threading through her words. "I love you, Steve, more than the love I have for the stars and moon."

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "I love you too," he murmured, his words filled with quiet sincerity. The moment between them felt suspended in time, the world outside melting away as they shared in the peace they had found in each other.

Together, hand in hand, they turned away from Natasha, heading toward the hotel. The future ahead felt uncertain, but with each other by their side, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next.

---

On the way to the hotel, Nouri, Steve, and Sharon found themselves walking side by side through the dimly lit hallway. Sharon’s voice broke the silence first. “My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting, but, um, not Aunt Peggy. She bought me my first thigh holster.”

Nouri chuckled softly, her voice laced with affection and a hint of playfulness. “Very practical.”

Sharon gave a small smile, her eyes briefly flickering to Steve. “And stylish.”

The three stood there for a moment, an unspoken tension filling the space between them. Nouri’s gaze lingered on Sharon a little too long. Her intuition picked up on something Sharon wasn’t even trying to hide — the way her eyes softened when she looked at Steve. Nouri could practically feel the undercurrent of affection, and while she wasn’t the jealous type, a twinge of something warm and possessive stirred in her chest.

“So, CIA has you stationed over here now?” Steve asked, his voice breaking the silence as he subtly shifted closer to Nouri, placing his hand on the small of her back. His simple gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Nouri, and it comforted her, grounding her in the present.

“In Berlin, Joint Terrorism Task Force,” Sharon replied, a hint of pride in her voice, though Nouri noticed how her eyes never fully left Steve. “It’s been... a lot, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Right. Right. Sounds fun.” Nouri’s voice had an edge of playfulness, but there was something beneath it—something protective. She smiled, but it wasn’t as easy as usual. There was a soft, unspoken understanding between her and Steve. Her fingers brushed his, and she squeezed gently. “But I’m sure you’ve got it all under control.”

Sharon’s grin widened, her gaze flicking to Nouri’s hand on Steve’s. "I know, right?"

Nouri’s heart sank a little, and she couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth and irritation. Sharon’s flirtations were subtle, but there, and it stung more than she’d like to admit. She shot Sharon a look that lingered a moment too long, her gaze piercing and sharp. She could sense it—Sharon’s feelings for Steve. And Nouri, despite herself, felt an undeniable urge to stake her claim.

Sharon’s expression faltered slightly, the smile fading as she turned her head toward the elevator doors, the moment passing quickly. Nouri stepped forward, as if subconsciously pulling Steve closer to her, a move she knew Sharon had noticed.

They walked together into the elevator, the doors closing behind them. As the elevator ascended, the familiar sound of Sam’s voice interrupted the tension that had settled between Nouri and Sharon.

Just then, Sam approached, his tone serious. "There's something both of you gotta see."

Nouri, Steve, and Sharon stopped as Sam led them to the lobby where a screen was showing breaking news. The sound of a news report filled the air, followed by the chilling image of a bomb being detonated. “A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”

Sharon immediately pulled out her phone, busy with some calls. Nouri and Steve stood frozen; their attention glued to the screen as the devastation unfolded before their eyes.

“Was it him?” Steve’s voice was laced with concern, and Nouri could hear the sharp edge of anger simmering beneath the surface.

“No, his scales have recently balanced.” Nouri’s voice was calm, yet it carried an underlying tension. She could feel Bucky’s presence, the energy swirling around her like a shadow. “It wasn’t him.”

“Find him.” Steve’s words were firm, full of authority, his jaw set in a grim line. Nouri’s gaze softened as she met his eyes, her own flickering briefly to match the colour of Bucky’s.

She nodded, the heaviness of the situation pressing on her chest.

The report continued, the gravity of the situation making her heart race. “More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Nouri felt her pulse quicken. She had to find him.

"I have to go to work," Sharon said, breaking the heavy silence, her tone shifting back to business as she walked briskly past the trio.

Nouri’s eyes turned back to their original colour, a sharp, resolute determination filling her. "Got him."

As the tension between the group heightened, Nouri stepped closer to Steve, her hand resting on his arm. The soft pressure of her touch felt grounding in the midst of everything. She leaned in slightly, her voice low and quiet. “We’ll get him. But remember... you’re mine, Steve.”

Steve glanced down at her, his lips curving into a soft smile as he squeezed her hand in return. “I know. Always.”

---

The air in the coffee shop was heavy with tension as Nouri and Sam sat in their corner, keeping an eye on Steve. Her dark sunglasses concealed her eyes, but beneath the facade, her mind raced with concern for him. It had been two years, and yet, even with their love growing, Nouri couldn't help but worry every time Steve was caught in the middle of these impossible situations.

She tapped her fingers on the table lightly, as if trying to distract herself, but her gaze stayed locked on Steve through the window. He was on the phone again, his voice quiet but urgent.

“Yeah?” Natasha’s voice crackled through the earpiece, smooth but laced with a quiet urgency.

“You alright?” Steve asked, his concern clear in his voice. Nouri could hear the way it softened when he spoke to her, even through the earpiece.

“Ah, yeah, thanks. I got lucky.” Natasha’s words were careful, as if she was trying to downplay her own danger. “I know how much Barnes means to you. I really do. Stay home. You’ll only make this worse. For all of us. Please.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, a visible flicker of frustration passing across his face. Nouri could feel his tension, even from across the street. Her heart clenched, not for the first time, at the weight he always carried on his shoulders.

"Are you saying you'll arrest us?" Steve’s voice hardened, an edge of defiance slipping through.

“No,” Natasha replied firmly, but the calmness in her tone didn’t mask the worry. “Someone will. If you interfere. That’s how it works now.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and Nouri couldn’t help but feel the fight building within him. "If he's this far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in."

There was a beat of silence before Natasha’s voice came through again, this time with a sharp question. "Why?"

"Because I'm the one least likely to die trying," Steve said, his words heavy with the grim reality of their mission. Nouri could hear it in his tone—the way he always felt like the responsibility rested solely on him.

Natasha sighed deeply on the other end, a mix of frustration and helplessness in her voice. "Shit."

The conversation ended, and Nouri watched as Steve entered the coffee shop, his face hidden behind a cap and dark glasses. As soon as he entered, Sam’s gaze met his, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" Sam’s voice was light, but there was a sharp edge to it as he studied Steve’s face.

"Might have a point," Nouri chimed in, her voice soft but unmistakably concerned. She watched Steve, her hand unconsciously reaching across the table toward him. Despite the layers of tension around them, she couldn’t help the way her heart ached for him.

Steve didn’t respond right away, his jaw tight. "He'd do it for me," he said, his voice low, filled with the weight of years of friendship and loyalty to Bucky.

Sam shook his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “1945, maybe,” he said, his voice holding a bit of humour, but the underlying seriousness still there. "I just want to make sure we considered all our options. The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at us."

Nouri gave a small sigh, her eyes meeting Steve’s. "You can’t carry the weight of the world alone, Steve," she said softly, her voice warm but tinged with concern. "You have people around you who care, who are willing to help."

Steve met her gaze, his expression softening slightly, but the stress was still visible in his features. "I can’t lose him, Nouri." His words held a quiet, painful truth, and for a moment, she could see the vulnerability that he rarely showed to anyone.

Before Nouri could respond, Sharon entered the shop, sliding a file across the counter to Steve. "Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public," she said, her voice calm but serious. "Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it's noise. Except for this."

Steve opened the file as Sharon spoke again, but Nouri caught the subtle way he leaned toward her, their hands brushing briefly. Her heart fluttered at the touch; at the way they found these small moments of connection even in the midst of all the chaos.

"My boss expects a briefing, pretty much now... so that's all the head start you're gonna get." Sharon paused, glancing at Nouri with a nod of respect before continuing, “And you're gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight.”

"Thank you," Steve said quietly, his voice sincere as he glanced up at Sharon. She nodded and walked away.

"Where is he?" Steve asked, his voice tight with anger as his fists clenched at his sides. His usual calm demeanour had been replaced with a rare fury, and it made Nouri's heart tighten in worry.

"Bucharest," Nouri sighed, stepping closer to him. Her eyes softened as she reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his arm, a comforting gesture. He reached for her hand across the counter, his fingers gently wrapping around hers. "I need to do this."

Nouri’s heart clenched at the words. She squeezed his hand as if anchoring herself to him in that fleeting moment. "I know you do," she said softly, her voice steady but filled with the care she had for him. “But please... come back to me.”

Steve looked at her with an intensity that made her heart race. His expression softened, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. “I will,” he promised, his voice firm with resolve. He leaned in just a little, brushing his lips over her hand in a quiet gesture of gratitude. "I always do."

There was no hesitation in his voice, but Nouri couldn’t help but worry. Still, she nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Then let’s go," she said with quiet determination, stepping closer to him.

Steve gave a faint, appreciative smile. "Suit up," he said with a firm nod, turning toward the door.

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat at the command, the familiar thrill of the battle always coming with him. Sam stood, already a step ahead, moving toward the door, his usual grin back in place.

"We’re in this together," Sam said, looking between Nouri and Steve, his tone light but carrying the unspoken solidarity they all shared.

Nouri met Steve’s eyes, her own full of unwavering trust and concern. "Always," she whispered, her voice steady even as a hint of worry lingered in her chest. But with him, she knew they would face whatever came their way.

Steve nodded, his gratitude for her presence clear in the way he looked at her—his silent thank you echoing louder than words ever could. With a final glance at Nouri, he led the way out, Sam and Nouri close behind.

As they moved out of the coffee shop and onto the streets, there was no turning back now. The mission was set. But in that moment, despite the urgency, Nouri couldn’t help but feel a deep, powerful connection to Steve—knowing she would stand by him, no matter what the world threw their way.

“Let’s go bring him home,” Steve said with quiet resolve, his voice cutting through the chaos ahead.

And with that, Nouri, Sam, and Steve moved into the unknown—together.

---

June 23rd 2016

 

The ride to Bucharest was quiet, tension thick in the air. Steve’s plan was simple enough: Sam on the roof, Nouri on the ground, and Steve would confront Bucky in the apartment. But despite the simplicity, Nouri couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at her, the ominous unease that something wasn’t quite right. But Steve needed her. Sam needed her. So, she pushed the feeling down and focused on the mission.

When they landed, the team dispersed into their designated spots, each of them bracing for what was to come. Nouri, clad in her all-black cargo pants and fitted shirt, kept low, eyes scanning the surroundings. The quiet was deceiving, and her senses were on high alert as she watched special forces converge on the area.

She felt the pulse of the ground beneath her feet, the weight of every approaching step. Too many, she thought, trying to pinpoint their movements as Sam’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Heads up, Cap. German Special Forces, approaching from the south.”

“They have the building surrounded,” Nouri added, her voice calm but laced with a growing tension. She stayed out of sight, hidden in the shadows, her gaze sharp as a hawk’s.

Steve acknowledged, his tone steady. “Understood.” But Nouri could hear the slight edge in his voice. He was just as ready for this as she was, but this situation... it was starting to smell like trouble.

And then, Bucky appeared.

Nouri tensed as the sound of Bucky’s footsteps echoed through the comms. She could feel Steve’s surprise, even from the distance, and her gut tightened. Something was off, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Steve slowly turned to face him, tension radiating between them. His voice was soft but resolute. “Do you know me?”

Bucky’s response was almost casual, but there was a trace of confusion there. “You're Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

Nouri’s heart dropped. A museum? She could hear the uncertainty in Bucky’s voice. She wasn’t sure what was more unsettling—the fact that he didn’t seem to recognize Steve, or that he somehow knew him through a museum.

Before Steve could respond, Sam’s voice cut through the static. “They’ve set the perimeter.”

“They have the building surrounded,” Nouri added again, her mind racing as she kept an eye on the incoming forces.

Steve nodded; his focus unwavering. “Understood.”

But Nouri could sense it—the building was about to erupt. Everything was in place, but it was all slipping away faster than they could react. The tension in the air was palpable.

Bucky stood there, distant, his eyes cold, but Nouri could see the flicker of something—doubt, confusion, maybe even regret—as Steve continued speaking.

“I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying.”

Bucky's expression didn’t change. “I wasn’t in Vienna,” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to deny something. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Sam’s voice again—sharp, urgent. “They're entering the building.”

Steve’s gaze sharpened; his jaw tight. “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

Bucky gave a smirk, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

Before anyone could say more, Sam’s voice cracked through the comms. “They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.”

Nouri’s grip tightened on the strap of her gear. The static buzzed in her ears, her pulse pounding in her chest. She felt the weight of the seconds slipping by. She couldn't get to Sam in time—not without revealing herself. But Steve... he was still talking to Bucky. They were running out of time.

“Steve, you don’t have time for this,” Nouri hissed through the comms, her voice urgent and sharp.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” Steve’s voice was firm but calm, trying to hold onto reason. He was giving Bucky a chance to come back, to find some peace.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky shot back, eyes narrowing as the tension escalated. He wasn’t going to back down.

“Five seconds,” Sam’s voice crackled over the comms.

Steve looked at Bucky, his voice quiet but pressing. “You pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky’s gaze was uncertain, a flicker of hesitation passing through his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Three seconds!” Sam’s warning came through, the urgency unmistakable.

Steve's voice softened; his eyes still locked with Bucky’s. “Yes, you do.”

The second that passed between them felt like a lifetime.

And then, it happened. The flash of light from the grenade.

Nouri’s instincts kicked in. She could barely see the inside of the apartment from where she stood, but she knew something was coming. She sprinted, making herself visible just for a moment to get a better vantage point, her eyes flicking to the apartment's window. A man on the street had thrown the grenade, and Nouri’s heart pounded in her chest as she saw it come through the window.

The explosion came next—she could hear the sounds of grunting, the sharp chaos that erupted inside. The comms erupted with static, Sam's voice muffled by the roar of conflict.

Nouri moved swiftly, her gaze never leaving the building. She could feel the tension escalating, her fingers itching to act. Sam's voice broke through once more, strained and desperate.

“We need to move, now!”

“Go,” Nouri muttered under her breath, her hand slipping to the small blade she carried. She could feel the weight of the battle ahead of her, the inevitable confrontation closing in. There was no turning back now. The fight had only just begun.

“Sam, southwest rooftop,” Steve said, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“Who the hell’s the other guy?” Sam asked, zooming by in the sky.

“Other guy?” Nouri asked, her brow furrowing as she watched from a distance, her hand instinctively igniting with a flicker of flame.

Steve's voice came through again, his tone steady but cautious. “About to find out.”

Nouri narrowed her eyes, already recognizing the sleek, powerful figure in the distance—Black Panther. She could feel his presence, even from this far away.

"Stay back, Steve," Nouri warned sharply, her voice laced with authority. "Do not engage him!"

Steve didn’t have time to respond as he jumped, leaping from the balcony to the neighbouring rooftop. Behind him, the helicopter descended, releasing the Black Panther—claws outstretched, and faster than anyone expected. Bucky didn’t flinch. He grabbed Black Panther’s wrists mid-air, the two colliding with brutal force. But Black Panther wasn’t just fast—he was a force of nature.

“No time to discuss,” Steve muttered, already running forward.

Nouri didn’t hesitate. Igniting her flame-covered hands, she took off in pursuit, her speed rivalling the chase ahead. Her heart raced as she propelled herself forward, weaving through traffic and darting down the side streets, closing in on the group ahead.

Bucky broke free from Black Panther’s grip, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he made a dash for the streets below. Steve followed right behind him, rolling as he landed and pushing through the chaos. The sounds of gunfire from the chopper rang in the air, but the Black Panther was too quick, barely taking a scratch as the bullets bounced off his suit.

Nouri pushed herself harder, her fire trailing behind her like a comet as she picked up the pace. She was a blur in the background, weaving between cars and dodging debris with ease. “Steve!” she shouted, voice laced with warning, but her tone firm, as she closed the gap. “Move faster—he’s coming for you.”

Steve glanced back, seeing Nouri race after them. There was no mistaking her now. Her fiery aura blazed through the city streets like a beacon. It was almost as if she had become part of the chase itself.

The special forces vehicle came up fast on their tail, the driver shouting, “Stand down! Stand down!” But it didn’t slow them down. The vehicle’s sirens screamed as it pushed forward, and Steve wasted no time leaping onto the car, smashing through the windshield and kicking the driver out.

“I can’t shake him!” Steve called over his comm, as Black Panther leapt onto the back of the 4x4, his claws digging into the vehicle.

“Right behind you,” Sam responded, swooping in to help.

Nouri wasn’t far behind. With a surge of power, she flared her flames higher, sending a wave of heat that forced nearby cars to swerve out of her path. She caught sight of Black Panther clinging to Steve’s car, and she pushed harder, determination flaring within her.

Bucky reached a fork in the road, leaping over the barrier in his path, and Steve followed with a swift jump. Nouri, now just steps behind them, propelled herself over the barrier with ease, the wind whipping around her as she soared.

Ahead, Bucky reached a motorbike, tossing the rider off before speeding down the street. He rode like a man possessed, navigating through traffic as though it were nothing. But Black Panther wasn’t far behind. He launched himself off Steve’s car, and without hesitation, latched onto the back of Bucky’s bike.

Nouri was on them in an instant, leaping between cars, her flames swirling around her as she aimed to intercept Black Panther. She was closing in—too close. Her fiery hands reached out, but Black Panther was ready. He sent a powerful kick toward her, narrowly missing. He didn’t want to engage with Nouri, but he couldn’t shake her either.

“Let me through!” Nouri yelled as she dove forward, using her speed to break through the path Black Panther had made. She was almost there. She just needed to stop him before things got worse.

Bucky flung Black Panther off his bike, sending him tumbling to the ground. But Black Panther, unfazed, was already recovering, using his claws to anchor himself to the ground. He wasn’t going to let Bucky get away that easily.

But Nouri wasn’t done. As Black Panther charged back toward Bucky, she released a burst of flames that sent a shockwave through the street. "Stay down!" she warned, her eyes flickering with fire as she blocked his path. Her presence was undeniable now—she was in the heart of the action, and no one could ignore her.

Just as Black Panther turned to meet her, the sticky bomb from Bucky’s bag detonated, sending rubble crashing onto the street. Nouri shielded herself with a wall of flame, keeping the debris from hitting anyone. The explosion created the perfect moment to move.

"Get clear!" Nouri shouted again as she swooped in, lifting Black Panther off the ground with her fire. She threw him back, clearing the way for Steve to follow.

Steve rolled out of the 4x4 and leapt at Black Panther, pulling him away from Bucky. The two were now face to face, the tension thick in the air. Steve had his shield, and Black Panther had his claws. Both were warriors, but only one would be standing.

As the police closed in, the air crackled with tension. Nouri stayed by Steve’s side, her flames flickering at the tips of her fingers, the embers still alive with the heat of her power, though she kept them under control. Her gaze never wavered from the officers closing in on them, while Steve's shield sat firmly on his back, ready for whatever came next. Bucky stood beside him, but the weight of the situation had already settled in.

Rhodey couldn't help but grin as he looked at Steve. "Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal now."

Steve gave a brief smirk, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes. The police moved swiftly toward Bucky, forcing him to his knees as Black Panther—his claws retracting—stepped forward. The mask came off, revealing the face of T’Challa, the prince of Wakanda.

Steve and Rhodey exchanged a glance, their brows furrowing in curiosity, but before they could speak, Nouri inclined her head in acknowledgment of the Black Panther.

“Praise be Bast,” Nouri said softly, her voice calm but carrying a deep reverence for the prince before her.

T’Challa met her eyes, a knowing smile playing at his lips. He stepped forward, bowing deeply in respect, the weight of the moment unmistakable. “Praise be Al Nouri, daughter of Ra and Khonshu, whose light and wisdom have guided many.”

Rhodey, ever the soldier, nodded with a respectful tilt of his head. “Your Highness,” he addressed T’Challa, his voice laced with honour, understanding the weight of the king’s presence.

Nouri watched the exchange, her sharp eyes scanning the scene, though her thoughts were elsewhere. Her mind drifted momentarily to the history they shared, the stories of gods and kings—she had watched Wakanda’s rise with the same awe as she had witnessed Egypt’s.

Her focus snapped back as Bucky was forced to the ground, subdued by the police. The weight of the moment was heavy, but she knew what had to come next. T’Challa’s presence wasn’t just ceremonial; there was strength in it, and perhaps a bridge between them, the heroes, and the greater destiny unfolding.

“We will speak later, Nouri,” T’Challa said, his voice low and steady, the honour in his words palpable. “When this is done, there is much I wish to ask of you.”

Nouri nodded; her gaze unwavering. “I look forward to it, your highness. The stars have guided us all here.”

With a brief exchange of glances, Steve, Sam, Nouri, and T’Challa were escorted into separate vans, the police making their move but unable to take full control of the situation. As the doors closed, Nouri exchanged one last look with Steve, a silent promise passing between them. The journey ahead would not be simple, but with each of them—together—they had a chance to make the world a better place.

The van rattled along as the silence stretched, but within it, a connection lingered. They were all far from the end of their paths, but the beginning of something greater, something more intertwined than fate had ever intended, had just been set in motion.

Chapter 32: The Power of Restraints

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3

June 23rd 2016

 

Traffic flowed around Berlin, the rhythm of the city continuing undisturbed. A police convoy moved steadily beside the River Spree, its presence undeniable. Among the convoy was a gray, armed truck, carrying its precious cargo. Inside, Bucky sat restrained in a prison pod, his face expressionless as he stared ahead. Three armed guards sat across from him, silent behind the thick glass of the pod.

The convoy slowed as a police motorbike darted through the streets, halting traffic. A van driver frowned, clearly annoyed by the disruption. The convoy continued on, rounding a corner onto a bridge crossing the river.

Inside an SUV, T'Challa sat, his gaze focused and intense. In the seats behind him, Steve sat in front of Sam and Nouri. Only her hands were cuffed, the officers fearing her, the tension palpable between them. The four were driven to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre in Berlin.

Sam, sensing the heaviness of the silence, broke it with a light-hearted jab. "So, you like cats?"

The comment caught Nouri off guard, and a laugh escaped her. Sam’s wit was always a strange sort of comfort in moments like this. She shot him a quick glance and chuckled.

Steve turned his head at that, frowning slightly. "Sam."

"What?" Sam said with mock innocence. "Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?"

Steve’s lips tightened, unimpressed, but Nouri nudged him, offering a playful smirk.

With the tension shifting slightly, Steve leaned forward, attempting to shift the mood. "Your suit... it’s Vibranium?"

T'Challa's eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, he glanced sideways at Steve, his expression unreadable. "The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. A mantle passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king."

His voice dropped, becoming colder, more deliberate. "So, I ask you... as both warrior and king... how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

Steve didn’t flinch, his face set in stone, before turning his face to the window.

Nouri’s eyes softened, and she spoke calmly, trying to bridge the gap. "T’Challa, your father wouldn’t want you to avenge him. He is at peace in the ancestral plane. His spirit has moved on. Revenge... it will not bring him peace."

T'Challa’s fists clenched. His jaw tightened, and he snapped, voice sharp as a whip. "Do not speak to me of peace, Al Nouri. You may be a goddess, but you do not understand what it is to lose someone you loved, someone who meant everything to you!"

His words were biting, and his gaze was filled with a fury that made the air around them feel charged.

Nouri’s expression hardened, but she did not back down. "I understand more than you think," she said quietly. Her voice held a weight, a deep and painful truth. "I have loved humanity with all my being, T’Challa. And it was because of that love—because of my unwillingness to turn away from their suffering—that I was imprisoned for two centuries."

T'Challa’s eyes flickered in surprise, his anger momentarily subdued by the unexpected vulnerability in her words.

"I, too, have faced darkness," Nouri continued, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of sorrow. "My heart was filled with chaos, and my scales tipped—my spirit out of balance. I felt the weight of all the suffering I had witnessed, and I let it consume me. It was my love for humanity, T’Challa, that led me to rebel against the gods, and it was that very love that imprisoned me."

T'Challa’s face softened, but his bitterness was still evident. "So what? You were imprisoned because of your feelings for them? Is that your answer to my pain? A punishment for your actions?"

"No," Nouri answered, her voice resolute. "The answer is not punishment. The answer is understanding. I let my anger and grief take control, and in the end, it was my own soul that suffered. Just as you are suffering now. Revenge won’t heal you. It will only break you further, as it broke me."

T'Challa’s jaw tightened, his fists still clenched in his lap. "You think you can just tell me how to grieve? How to rule my people? You are a god, Al Nouri, but you know nothing of my world. You have no place in this, no right to tell me how to live my life!"

Nouri’s gaze never wavered. "I knew your father, T’Challa." The words hung in the air, and the tension in the car shifted. "T’Chaka was a wise and noble king, a ruler who sought balance and peace. I knew him long before he wore the mantle of Black Panther. I’ve seen the burden of leadership weigh on those who carry it, and I’ve watched the darkness take root in their hearts. I’m asking you to avoid that path. I do not want you to carry the same burden he did."

T'Challa's eyes flared with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You knew my father?" The words came out in a low growl, laced with a hint of confusion and suspicion.

"Yes," Nouri continued, her voice gentle, but with the weight of a thousand years behind it. "I watched him lead, and I saw the struggles he faced. He was a king who balanced duty with compassion. His decisions were never easy, but he chose to lead with his heart, not with vengeance."

T'Challa’s breath quickened, and his voice cracked as the rawness of his emotions leaked through. "Then why did he have to die? Why did your friend take him from me?"

Nouri’s face softened with the painful weight of the question. "It was not your father’s time to die. But sometimes, T’Challa, things happen that we cannot control. We cannot change the past, but we can choose how we move forward."

T'Challa’s voice was thick with emotion, the words choking out of him. "And you expect me to just... let go? You expect me to forgive?"

"No," Nouri said, her voice steady but compassionate. "I don’t ask for forgiveness. But I ask for wisdom. Your father’s legacy, his wisdom, is now yours to carry. And you cannot carry it if you’re weighed down by anger and hatred."

T'Challa’s gaze hardened again, but this time, there was something else behind it—a flicker of doubt. "I don’t know if I can follow that path. I don’t know if I’m strong enough."

"You are," Nouri said softly. "You are more than capable, T’Challa. But strength is not about defeating your enemies. It’s about knowing when to put down your sword."

The silence in the SUV deepened, thick with the weight of their words. T'Challa’s eyes flickered to Nouri, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but there was a trace of something else in his gaze—something uncertain. He wasn’t ready to let go of his anger—not yet—but Nouri’s words had planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

---

The SUV came to a screeching halt at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. The doors slammed open, and a forklift began to carry Bucky’s pod away, its hum almost deafening in the chilly morning air. Steve got out first and walked around to the other side, extending his hand to Nouri. She hesitated only briefly before taking it, her eyes scanning the area with an unsettled intensity.

As they approached the building, Steve noticed Bucky nearby. His eyes met Steve's for a split second, but Bucky, still disoriented from the pod, didn’t seem to recognize him yet. Steve took a deep breath and turned his attention to the task at hand.

With Sam and T'Challa close behind, Steve walked over to Sharon, who was standing next to a diminutive gray-haired man.

"What's gonna happen to him?" Steve asked, voice tight.

"Same thing that ought to happen to you," the man said, his tone dismissive. "Psychological evaluation and extradition."

"This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander," Sharon introduced him, but Nouri was already getting impatient.

“Can someone release me?” she asked loudly, her voice sharp with annoyance. The cuffs around her wrists clinked as she tugged at them, her fiery gaze now directed at Ross.

Ross glanced at her, his lips curling slightly in amusement. "No."

Steve sighed, glancing at Nouri with sympathy, then back at Ross. “What about our lawyer?”

“Lawyer. That’s funny,” Ross said with a slight smirk. “See, their weapons are in lockup. We’ll write you a receipt. And the cuffs stay on.”

Sam, looking over his shoulder as if to make sure no one was watching, added sarcastically, “I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.”

Nouri’s lips curled into a sharp smile, her frustration growing. "You think these cuffs are going to stop me?" she said with a raised brow. "I don’t answer to your laws. You have no idea what you’re dealing with."

The group started moving again, heading toward a covered skywalk. Steve glanced back one last time, catching Bucky's eye. They exchanged a brief look—an unspoken understanding.

As they crossed onto the skywalk, Ross continued with a smug tone, "You’ll be provided with an office instead of a cell. Now, do me a favor—stay in it."

"I don't intend on going anywhere," T'Challa responded calmly, voice steady.

Natasha, who had been eerily quiet until now, spoke up with a sharp edge to her words, "For the record, this is what making things worse looks like."

"He's alive," Steve said softly, but with a forceful conviction that caught everyone’s attention.

“Romania was not Accords-sanctioned,” Tony’s voice crackled through the phone. “And Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.”

Natasha gave Steve and Nouri a pointed look, “Try not to break anything while we fix this.”

"Consequences?" Tony’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You bet there’ll be consequences. Obviously, you can quote me on that ‘cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.”

Steve, still frowning, looked at Tony with a mixture of frustration and confusion. "‘Consequences’?"

Tony looked at Steve then, meeting his eyes. "Secretary Ross wants you all three prosecuted. Had to give him something."

Nouri, who had been walking in silence beside them, suddenly snapped, her patience wearing thin. "You can't prosecute me,” she said with an edge to her voice, fury barely contained beneath the surface. "I am a goddess. Your mortal laws don’t apply to me."

Steve’s jaw tightened as he crossed his arms, looking down at her with a mixture of admiration and concern. "I'm not getting that shield back, am I?"

"Technically, it’s the government's property. Wings, too," Natasha added, shrugging nonchalantly.

Sam, always the one to crack a joke in tense moments, chuckled dryly. "That’s cold."

Nouri’s gaze shifted from the cuffs to the people around her, her arms crossed, the tension in her shoulders betraying her inner frustration. “I understand you’re just doing your job, but these cuffs...” She sighed, trying to keep her voice calm. “I’m not a criminal. I wasn’t meant to be treated this way.”

T'Challa, walking beside her, gave her a measured look. "Patience, Al Nouri. We’ll figure this out."

Nouri nodded softly, her tone still holding a hint of resignation. “I didn’t expect things to go like this. Back in Egypt, I wasn’t bound like this... I was respected for what I am.”

She paused, her gaze flickering toward Ross, not with anger but with an air of quiet dignity. "If you could... remove these, I would appreciate it."

Steve’s hand gently rested on her arm, grounding her. He spoke, his voice soft but firm, "We’ll figure it out, darling."

Nouri let out a small breath, glancing back at him with a faint nod, but her frustration was still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

As they made their way through the facility, her mind raced, torn between the injustice of her situation and a quiet determination to not let the circumstances define her—cuffs or not.

---

Eventually, Nouri and Steve were escorted into a glass-walled office, the world outside hazy through the transparent walls. Steve stepped in first, holding the door for Nouri, and she walked in behind him, her mind swirling. The weight of T’Challa’s father’s death, Steve and Sam’s arrest, and the general state of the world made her feel out of balance. Her heart felt fractured, unsure of how to process the emotions that surged within her.

Tony, stepping into the office after them, wasted no time. "Hey, you wanna see something cool?" he said with a half-grin, pulling something from his bag. "I pulled something from Dad's archives. Felt timely." He opened a black presentation box to reveal two pens.

Steve glanced at the pens, then back at Tony. "FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941. Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most," Tony said, his voice laced with nostalgia.

Steve furrowed his brow, eyeing the pens. "Some would say it brought our country closer to war."

Tony grinned, his eyes lighting up. "See? If not for these, you wouldn’t be here. I’m trying to... what do you call it? That’s an olive branch. Is that what you call it?"

Nouri raised an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest, a quiet weight settling in her heart. "Is Pepper here? I didn’t see her," she asked, her voice soft but with a sharp edge of curiosity.

Tony shifted uneasily, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting Nouri's gaze. "We're kinda... well, not kinda..." His words trailed off as he seemed to struggle with them.

"Pregnant?" Steve asked incredulously, his eyes widening.

Tony’s face flushed red. "No! Definitely not. We’re taking a break. It’s nobody’s fault," he added quickly, holding his hands up defensively.

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn’t know," Steve said, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Tony sighed, his gaze turning distant, and for a moment, the ever-present mask of confidence slipped. "A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits. Then, we had to mop up HYDRA... and then Ultron. My fault. And then, and then, I never stopped. Because the truth is I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference." His voice cracked as he stood up, pacing back and forth. "In her defense, I’m a handful. Yet, Dad was a pain in the ass, but he and Mom always made it work."

Steve nodded, trying to digest everything. "You know, I’m glad Howard got married. I only knew him when he was young and single."

Tony laughed bitterly, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Oh, really? You two knew each other? He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times. God, I hated you."

Steve gave a slight chuckle, the tension breaking, but there was still an undercurrent of pain between them. "I don’t mean to make things difficult."

"I know, because you’re a very polite person," Tony shot back sarcastically, a smirk tugging at his lips. Nouri chuckled at the comment, her presence giving a small lightness to the room.

Steve smiled thinly, his voice quiet. "If I see a situation pointed south... I can’t ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "No, you don’t."

Steve paused, letting the silence hang between them. "No, I don’t. Sometimes..."

Tony grinned, teasing. "Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth. But I don’t wanna see you gone. We need both of you. So far, nothing’s happened that can’t be undone, if you sign. We can make the last 24 hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center... instead of a Wakandan prison."

Steve frowned thoughtfully and picked up one of the fountain pens. He stood up, pacing again before turning to Tony, his voice rising. Behind him, the control room screens lit up with flashing information. "I’m not saying it’s impossible, but there would have to be safeguards."

Tony nodded, trying to sound more reasonable. "Sure. Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I’d file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated..."

"Wanda?" Nouri interrupted, her tone sharp, her concern growing. She stepped closer to Steve, her hands tightening into fists. "What do you mean by that, Tony?"

Tony waved it off, trying to brush it aside. "She’s fine. She’s confined to the Compound, currently. Vision’s keeping her company."

“Oh, God!” Nouri exclaimed, disgust clear in her voice, her eyes burning with a mix of disbelief and anger. She could feel the heat in her chest as she stood there, her voice unwavering. "Is that how you’re treating her? You’re locking her away like some kind of prisoner?"

Tony met Steve’s gaze, unperturbed, almost cold. "What? It’s a 100 acres with a lap pool. It’s got a screening room. There’s worse ways to protect people."

"Protection?" Steve’s voice was edged with disbelief. "Is that how you see this? This is protection? It’s internment, Tony."

Nouri, now fully invested in the conversation, stood by Steve’s side, her voice cutting through the room. "No, Tony. It’s imprisonment. You can’t disguise it as protection. You’re locking her away because you're afraid of her, not because you want to help her."

Tony’s tone turned defensive. "She’s not a US citizen."

“Neither am I!” Nouri yelled, her frustration finally breaking through the calm facade she’d been holding up. "You think just because we don’t wear the same nationality, it gives you the right to treat us like this?"

Tony’s expression shifted, defensive. "And they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction," he retorted sharply.

Steve shook his head, stepping in front of Nouri slightly. "She’s a kid, Tony! Not a weapon. You’re losing sight of what’s important here."

Tony’s voice grew louder, desperate to make his point. "GIVE ME A BREAK! I’m doing what has to be done... to stave off something worse!"

Steve’s shoulders slumped as he nodded faintly, his expression weary. "You keep telling yourself that," he said softly, placing the pen back on the desk. "Hate to break up the set." He helped Nouri up, his hand gentle on her arm.

Nouri glanced at Tony one last time, her heart heavy. "I don’t think I can stand here and pretend that I understand what you’re doing, Tony. I can’t. This isn’t the way to protect anyone."

Together, they walked out of the office, leaving a rueful Tony behind. He watched the screen where Bucky’s image flickered, an unsettling reminder of all that had been lost.

---

Nouri and Steve turned a corner, Steve kissed her and Nouri quickly melting her cuff’s off with a flick of her wrist as they approached the glass office where Sam was sitting, his attention focused on the screen displaying Bucky.

Nouri stepped in, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, but the weight of the situation still hung heavily in the air. Her bare wrists caught Sam’s eye, but Sharon had entered just then, handing Sam a slip of paper.

"The receipt for your gear," Sharon said, nonchalantly tossing the slip onto the desk.

"‘Bird costume’? Come on," Sam replied with a groan, looking at the receipt like it was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Nouri chuckled, the sound light and warm in the otherwise tense room. "I didn’t write it," Sharon responded with a shrug. She pushed a button on the console, and the audio restriction on Bucky’s evaluation lifted, allowing them to hear the conversation.

Sharon’s eyes briefly flicked to Nouri’s wrists, noticing the lack of cuffs but deciding not to bring it up.

On the screen, Bucky’s voice was calm yet firm. "My name is Bucky."

The therapist’s voice echoed through the speakers, his tone laced with authority. "I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James."

Steve studied a blurry photograph of the man who had bombed the congress in Vienna. "Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?" he asked, his voice steady but filled with suspicion.

"Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can," Sharon answered, her gaze still fixed on the screen.

Steve nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier."

Nouri frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. "Something’s wrong," she muttered, her voice low and urgent.

Sharon glanced at her, a slight edge to her voice. "What do you mean?"

Nouri’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the screen, her mind racing. "He’s being manipulated. They’re controlling him. And… his heart," she paused, her voice catching with fear, "his heart is darkening."

Sam glanced between Nouri and Steve. "You’re telling me someone framed him, just to flush him out?" he asked, his disbelief evident.

"That’s what I think," Sharon said, her frown deepening. "But it doesn’t guarantee they’ll catch him. It guarantees wewould be the ones looking for him."

Steve shifted, the tension clear in his posture. "Yeah."

Nouri looked at the screen again, her voice rising with a mix of concern and warning. "This is bigger than we thought. They're making him do things. Bucky’s not the one in control. I can feel it."

Bucky’s voice continued to echo from the speaker. "I don’t want to talk about it."

The therapist’s tone softened, almost too gently. "You fear that… if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry," he paused, his eyes flicking to his screen, before turning back to Bucky with a renewed sense of urgency. "We only have to talk about one."

The tension in the room seemed to build as the lights in the bunker suddenly flickered and then went out, the glass office plunging into darkness. Nouri’s senses flared, her hand instinctively reaching for her power.

Sharon spoke into her comms from the office, her voice urgent. "Sub-level 5, east wing."

At the same time, T'Challa spotted Nouri, Steve, and Sam bolting from the room as the sense of danger escalated. Nouri’s heart pounded as she glanced at Steve, her worry deepening.

---

Nouri, Steve, and Sam arrived outside the chamber, red emergency lights flashing around them, casting ominous shadows. The scene was chaotic—agents slumped on the floor, all unconscious, a sea of motionless bodies. Nouri’s senses were heightened, her eyes scanning the room as her hand instinctively moved to summon the flames within, ready to react.

The weak voice of the therapist echoed through the chaos. “Help me. Help.”

Steve moved swiftly, grabbing the therapist by the collar and shoving him against the wall with an intensity that left the man gasping for air. “Get up,” Steve growled. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The therapist’s voice trembled, his words strained. “To see an empire fall…”

Before Steve could press further, the sound of metal tearing through the air rang out. Sam’s eyes widened as Bucky swung his fist, smashing it through the wall, his cold, piercing gaze locked on Sam. Sam ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the punch that could’ve sent him flying across the room.

Bucky grabbed him by the jaw, his grip like steel, and tossed him toward the open pod with a sickening crunch.

“Sam!” Nouri shouted, her voice filled with urgency as she darted forward, her body glowing faintly with ethereal light.

Steve lunged into the fight, throwing a punch that landed square on Bucky’s jaw—but it barely fazed the former soldier. Bucky retaliated with a brutal kick that sent Steve crashing into the far wall, tumbling out of the chamber.

The sound of Bucky’s next punch was deafening as it smashed through the elevator door, leaving a gaping hole. Steve blocked the next blow with a forceful grunt, but the sheer power of it sent him flying backward, tumbling down into the darkened elevator shaft.

“Steve!” Nouri screamed, her heart aching, flames flaring around her as her powers surged, but she couldn’t act yet. She had to stay focused on the fight.

Inside the chamber, Sam regained his footing just in time to spot the therapist—his gaze cold and calculating as he looked down at the elevator shaft.

Before Sam could react, the voice over the PA system crackled to life, cold and clear: “The east wing is compromised. I repeat: the east wing is compromised.”

Sam’s focus snapped back to the therapist, who was already bolting for the exit.

“Hey!” Sam called, pushing himself off the ground, his legs a blur as he sprinted after him, but the therapist was quick—too quick. The man had something up his sleeve, but what?

Nouri moved to Sam’s side, her face a mask of determination as she kept pace with him. Her eyes burned with a mix of anger and concern. “We have to stop him. We can’t let him get away.”

Sam grunted in agreement as they raced through the chaos. “Agreed.”

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, the therapist’s hurried steps growing quieter as he neared a corner. Sam was close now. Too close.

“You ready?” Sam shot a quick glance at Nouri.

She nodded, her flames flickering brightly in her eyes. “Always.”

---

Together, they rounded the corner, Sam chasing the therapist up a stairwell. Meanwhile, Nouri sprinted after Bucky. She was close, but not close enough to stop him from causing more chaos. As she turned the corner, she found Sharon running with Tony and Natasha.

“What, you’re planning on arresting me again?” Nouri joked at Tony.

“Not right now,” Natasha laughed, her voice carrying a hint of tension.

They found Bucky stalking through the building's ground floor, taking down two guards effortlessly. He was quick, efficient. They couldn’t let him get away.

“We’re in position,” Natasha radioed in a low, urgent tone.

Tony tapped his wrist-control, which turned into his Iron Man glove. He zapped Bucky with a stun-burst just before Bucky could shoot a guard. Tony rushed forward, firing again. Bucky ducked the blast, rolling to the side and counterattacking, trading blows with Tony. Tony blocked the punches with his glove and the gunshots with his suit, but Bucky was relentless. The two clashed in a fury of metal and fists.

Sharon rushed at Bucky, followed by Natasha. Both women landed kicks and punches, but Bucky retaliated, flipping Sharon head over heels. She crashed onto a table, leaving a loud thud in the air. Natasha didn’t back down, leaping onto his back, wrapping her legs around his neck, trying to choke him out.

But Bucky slammed her onto another table, the force rattling the room, and grabbed her throat.

“You could at least recognize me,” Natasha growled, her voice strained as she tried to loosen his grip.

Nouri, watching from a distance, cursed under her breath. She couldn't let Bucky continue this. With a fierce shout, she conjured her swords and charged forward, her fiery blades slicing through the air. She sliced down his back, sending sparks flying from his armour. But Bucky, unfazed, just turned to face her, his eyes locking on hers with cold intent.

He raised a fist, and without a word, lunged at her, aiming a brutal punch. Nouri barely had time to block with her sword, the impact sending a shockwave of force through her. She grunted, using the sword’s edge to push against his attack, but Bucky was strong, and he grabbed her sword mid-air, twisting it from her grasp.

“Impressive,” Bucky muttered, sneering as he reached for his gun.

But Nouri wasn’t done yet. She conjured another blade in her free hand, spinning with a fiery precision that caught Bucky off-guard. He barely had time to react before she slashed again, catching him across the chest.

He staggered back, surprised by the intensity of her attack. “You’re faster than I thought,” he snarled.

Before Nouri could press the attack, suddenly, T’Challa appeared out of nowhere, kicking Bucky off her with a burst of power. His movements were fluid, fierce, and precise. He fought with unmatched speed, landing quick kicks and punches, his claws slashing through the air like blades. Bucky managed to land a counterpunch, sending T’Challa to the floor, but the Black Panther quickly recovered, crouching low before launching back into the fight. Bucky bolted away, realizing he couldn’t take on both of them.

Nouri, sensing the shift in the air, quickly moved to Natasha, grabbing her by the arm. “Let’s go,”

But as they neared the door, Nouri spotted Bucky on the roof. Her eyes narrowed. He was heading to the helipad, and Steve was right behind him.

Bucky yanked the lock off a blue helicopter’s door and climbed into the pilot seat. Steve rushed outside, a blur of motion as he sprinted toward the rising helicopter. He leapt, grabbing onto the landing gear with a force that made Nouri’s heart race. His muscles strained as he fought to keep the chopper from gaining height.

His feet kicked for traction, and he pressed his back against the helipad, fighting with everything he had. The helicopter struggled to take off, groaning under the pressure as Steve pulled harder, dragging it toward the weak mesh framing of the helipad. His grip tightened on the landing gear, his neck straining with the effort.

Inside the helicopter, Bucky glared at Steve with pure disdain, then yanked the joystick to the left. The helicopter’s nose slammed into the edge of the helipad, the rotor blades shattering in an explosion of sparks and noise. Steve ducked, narrowly avoiding the tail swinging around, but the damage was already done. The helicopter was compromised.

Bucky didn’t stop. He pushed harder, slamming his fist through the glass and grabbing Steve by the throat, dragging him closer.

The chopper started to list over the edge, its tail breaking off and plummeting into the river below. Steve struggled to keep himself above water, but Bucky held on. The wreckage sank quickly, dragging everything with it into the cold depths.

Nouri rushed forward, her heart pounding as she saw Steve and Bucky locked in a deadly struggle. She pushed through the wreckage, her eyes scanning the water, looking for any sign of life.

“Steve!” she shouted, her voice breaking through the fog of chaos.

The impact of the crash had knocked Bucky out cold, and he released his grip on Steve. Steve gasped for air, his body shaking with the effort as he swam toward the surface, dragging Bucky’s unconscious body with him.

Nouri reached them just as Steve surfaced, pulling Bucky’s limp form to the shore. She knelt beside them, her hands glowing with fire as she gently touched Bucky’s chest.

“Is he alive?” Steve asked, kneeling next to Nouri.

“He’s alive,” Nouri replied, her voice filled with determination.

Steve looked at Nouri, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks love.”

She smiled, her flames dimming as she helped pull Bucky from the water.

Together, they carried Bucky away from the wreckage. The battle wasn’t over.

---

Nouri and Steve stood silently together, the warehouse’s cold air brushing against them as they watched over Bucky. The sound of the helicopter overhead seemed distant, barely reaching their ears. The tension between them was palpable, but in the stillness of the moment, she felt the steady rhythm of his heart next to hers. She reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her voice a calm against the storm. Her lips brushed against his shoulder in a quiet kiss, the simple gesture a reminder that she was there with him, even in the darkest moments.

Steve turned his head toward her, his blue eyes clouded with doubt. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the exhaustion he’d been holding inside. “How is he?”

Nouri glanced at Bucky, still trapped in the industrial vice, before turning her gaze back to Steve. “He’s confused, but his heart is clearer now,” she said, her voice steady, the wisdom of the ages in her words. “His scales are calm.”

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, the concern never leaving his face. But there was a small, quiet peace that washed over him at her words. “Did Clint answer?” he asked, trying to refocus his mind on the immediate problem.

Nouri smiled, a soft glint of reassurance in her eyes. “He’s on his way to get Wanda,” she said, giving him a reassuring squeeze. But then, she stepped closer, her tone softening. “You’re about to walk a difficult path Cap. I know it’s hard to see, but it’s the right one. No path is ever straight. There are mountains to climb. But you... you’ll find your way to the summit.”

Steve’s gaze softened at her words, but there was a lingering doubt in his eyes. He placed his hand over hers, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. “I’ve always tried to do what’s right, but lately... I don’t know if I’m still on the right path.”

Nouri took a step closer, her hand gently lifting his chin, urging him to meet her gaze. “The right path doesn’t always feel like the right one,” she whispered, her eyes searching his, filled with both tenderness and strength. “But that’s what makes you who you are. You’re willing to face what others would turn away from. And in that, you’ve already proven yourself.”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the truth of her words settle within him. Her love, her unwavering belief in him—it was a steady force he could always rely on, even when his own resolve faltered.

Without a word, Nouri reached up and kissed him. It was slow and deep, a kiss that spoke of everything they had been through, and everything that lay ahead. When she pulled away, she stayed close, her forehead resting against his.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words simple but filled with an understanding that went beyond the surface.

“I love you too,” Steve replied, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight for a moment, as if trying to anchor himself to her, to their love.

Just as quickly as the moment came, it was broken by Sam’s voice, pulling them back to reality.

"Hey, Cap!" Sam called out, his voice sharp enough to pierce through the heavy silence.

Steve and Nouri shared a look between them before they joined Sam by Bucky, who sat with his arm ensnared. The three of them stared down at him, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

Bucky’s voice broke the silence, thick with the weight of guilt and confusion. "Steve."

Steve’s gaze narrowed, his face hardening as he leaned forward, his voice calm but cutting. "Which Bucky am I talking to?"

Bucky met his eyes, the flicker of recognition in his expression both painful and comforting, like the last ember of a fire that’s nearly been extinguished. "Your mom’s name was Sarah... You used to wear newspapers in your shoes."

Steve’s eyes softened for the briefest moment, a brief glimpse of the man who had once been, but he quickly masked it. His voice dropped slightly, tinged with frustration. "Can’t read that in a museum."

Sam’s head whipped back and forth between them, incredulity flashing across his face. "Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?"

Bucky looked at him, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration, his hands still gripping the edges of his seat. "What did I do?"

Nouri’s tone hardened, her eyes darkening with a pain that was too familiar. She stepped closer, her hand brushing Steve’s shoulder, offering him a silent reminder that they were in this together. "Enough."

The air seemed to thicken, and Bucky’s expression shifted as the weight of everything finally began to settle in. "Oh, God, I knew this would happen. Everything HYDRA put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words."

Steve’s voice dropped, full of anger and desperation. "Who was he?"

Bucky looked away, his jaw tightening, but his voice was low. "I don’t know."

Nouri placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. She looked at Bucky with a piercing gaze, not letting him off the hook. "You can’t just say ‘I don’t know,’ not after everything that’s happened. We need answers."

"People are dead. The bombing, the setup. The doctor did all that just to get ten minutes with you." Steve’s voice cracked slightly, his frustration breaking through the calm he was trying to maintain. "I need you to do better than ‘I don’t know.’"

Bucky winced at the accusation, but his voice came again, quieter this time. "He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where."

Steve’s brow furrowed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to click into place. "Why would he need to know that?"

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a painful realization, his face falling into a grimace. "Because I’m not the only Winter Soldier."

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest, her gaze flicking to Steve, her voice a whisper of horror. "Oh God."

Steve’s voice cut through the tension, his curiosity piqued, but his worry never fully masked. "Who were they?"

Bucky’s eyes darkened, the shadow of his past creeping into his tone. "Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history. And that was before the serum."

Sam stepped forward, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but also a hint of disbelief. "They all turn out like you?"

Bucky’s gaze hardened, the weight of his past settling on his shoulders like an unshakable burden. "Worse."

Steve’s mind raced, the anger and concern both evident in his voice. "The doctor, could he control them?"

Bucky’s expression turned hard again, his walls rising. "Enough."

Nouri stepped forward, her voice strong but filled with a raw honesty that was laced with urgency. "He mentioned he wanted to see an empire fall."

Bucky’s eyes narrowed further, the memory of that conversation like a ghost that would never leave him. "With these guys, he could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take a whole country down in one night. You’d never see them coming."

Nouri took a step back, her face initially etched with concern, but then a playful glint sparkled in her eyes. She flashed a smirk, her tone shifting as she shrugged casually. "I could do that too, you know. Speak a few languages, blend in, cause a little chaos—just without all the killing."

Her attempt at lightening the mood was met with a heavy silence for a moment, before she added, her voice softening, "But seriously, we can’t let them get the chance. If they’re as dangerous as you say, the world will never know what hit it."

Sam stepped up to Steve, his frustration clear, but also a hint of weariness. "This would have been a lot easier a week ago."

Steve looked at him, weary but resolute. "If we call Tony..."

Sam shook his head, cutting him off with an edge to his voice. "No, he won’t believe us."

Steve nodded, understanding the complication all too well. "Even if he did..."

Sam sighed, frustration and uncertainty mingling in his expression. "Who knows if the Accords would let him help."

Steve’s expression hardened, the weight of their situation now fully clear. "We’re on our own."

Nouri’s smile faltered, her brow furrowing slightly. As she looked at Steve, she could see the spark in his eyes—the way he was processing the situation, formulating a plan. Her heart ached at how quickly his mind raced, but she was bracing for his next words.

Steve's eyes lit up, a sudden "brilliant idea" forming in his mind. "Could the Medjai help?"

Nouri’s expression darkened for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. She looked at Steve, her voice calm but firm. "My love, they’re my army, yes. But they’re tied to sacred duties. They're guarding the temples in Luxor—there’s no way they can just leave their posts."

Sam shot her a questioning glance, not sure if he’d heard her right. "The Medjai?"

Nouri’s voice softened, but the firm conviction behind her words was clear. "Ancient Egyptian army," she clarified, her tone final.

Sam’s head tilted in disbelief, his eyebrows shooting up. "Guarding temples in Luxor? Are you serious?"

Nouri met his gaze, her voice tinged with regret, but unyielding. "Yes, I’m serious. The Medjai don’t just fight wars, Sam. They protect sacred ground. They can’t abandon their posts, no matter how much we need them."

Steve seemed to consider this for a moment, but Nouri could feel his resolve shift, the tension in his body settling. Before he could say anything else, Sam’s expression suddenly changed. His eyes flickered with a spark of hope, something new and unexpected. "I may know a guy."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, glancing at Steve, her fingers brushing his gently in a quiet moment of reassurance. "Who’s this guy?"

Sam grinned, a sly, knowing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "I’ll tell you when we get there."

The four of them piled into the car, the mood tense but purposeful. As the city blurred past them, Steve’s phone rang, cutting through the silence. He answered with a sharpness that was at odds with his usual demeanor.

"Steve," Sharon’s voice crackled over the line. "We need to meet. Overpass. Now."

Steve’s jaw tightened, a sigh escaping him as he glanced at Nouri. She squeezed his hand, her eyes searching his face with concern, but also that unspoken trust between them. She knew that whatever they were about to face, they would do it together.

"On our way," Steve responded, ending the call with a decisive snap.

Nouri, feeling the weight of everything, leaned closer to him, her voice softer, filled with that steady love they shared. "We’ll get through this. We always do." Her words were a comfort, the kind that steadied his resolve. In the chaos, they had each other.

Steve gave her a quick, small smile, the kind that only she could draw out of him. "Yeah. We will." Nouri couldn't help but smile back, her heart fluttering at how much she adored this man. It was moments like these that made everything they’d been through worth it.

Chapter 33: Jealousy is an Unknown Emotion

June 24th, 2016

 

The car pulled up to the meeting point, and Sharon stood, arms crossed, her stance almost too casual. She eyed the getaway car, a little amused. "Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car," Sharon remarked, her tone light but pointed.

"Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car," Sharon remarked, her voice tinged with amusement.

Steve gave a half-smile, trying to play it cool. "It's low profile."

Sharon raised an eyebrow, glancing at the car. "Good, because this stuff tends to draw a crowd." With that, she popped open the trunk, revealing Steve's and Sam's gear packed neatly inside.

From the backseat, Bucky groaned, shifting around uncomfortably. "Can you move your seat up?"

Sam, already settled in the front, didn’t budge. "No."

Nouri rolled her eyes from the back. "Classic Bucky," she muttered under her breath, already growing annoyed at the situation.

Steve, still trying to keep things light, turned to Sharon with a wry smile. "I owe you again."

Sharon glanced at him, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "Keeping a list. You know, he kinda tried to kill me," she said, glancing at Bucky.

Steve sighed, turning to Sharon. "Sorry. I'll put it on the list, too."

Sharon nodded, her expression softening for a moment, though her eyes held something Nouri couldn’t quite place. "They're going to come looking for you."

Before Nouri could even react, Sharon took a step closer to Steve, her gaze locking onto his. Without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a kiss.

Nouri’s heart stuttered. Her world spun, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Her jaw dropped, her breath caught in her throat, and an immediate, raw fire ignited inside her chest. How dare she?

The sensation in Nouri’s chest was all-consuming, like a deep well of jealousy and anger that began to rise, filling every corner of her body. Her skin tingled with the sudden urge to burn everything within a hundred-meter radius. She could feel her flames creeping up her arms, desperate to be unleashed.

She barely heard Steve pulling away, his voice filled with surprise and regret. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, but the words didn’t reach Nouri. Her mind was whirling with thoughts she couldn't contain. The image of Sharon’s lips on Steve’s skin was seared into her mind.

Sharon blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden withdrawal. "That was…"

“I’m in a relationship,” Steve interrupted, his voice firm but kind, his gaze shifting quickly to Nouri, who was sitting in the car, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Her knuckles were white, and the muscles in her arms trembled with the sheer force of holding herself back. A wave of fire rippled over her skin, ready to burst forth.

Before she could stop herself, Nouri opened the car door with a force that made it shake. Her boots hit the pavement with a sharp, angry echo, and her steps were heavy with fury. "What the actual hell?" she spat; her voice low but thick with venom. Each word seemed to burn through the air, and she was sure Sharon could feel the heat radiating off her in waves.

Her fists clenched tighter, and the temperature around them began to rise. She was this close to unleashing hell. Every fibre of her being screamed for her to burn the woman who dared to touch her man.

Steve, seeing the storm brewing, moved quickly to her side, his hand gripping her arm firmly. "Nouri, calm down," he said urgently, his voice low but filled with concern.

But Nouri was beyond reasoning. She jerked her arm back, her body stiff with frustration, and her eyes were locked on Sharon with a look that could melt steel. "You want me to calm down after that?" she hissed, her voice rising in anger. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, the rush of adrenaline heightening the fire that simmered just beneath her skin.

She took a step closer to Sharon, every muscle in her body coiled, every inch of her screaming to do something—anything—to make Sharon pay for daring to kiss Steve. She could feel her flames licking at her fingertips, threatening to explode. Her eyes burned like molten gold, and she could taste the heat in the air.

Steve quickly stepped in between them, his hands raised in a calming gesture, though his tone was firm. “Thank you for your help Sharon, but I suggest you leave before she burns you to a crisp,” Steve said, his voice carrying a playful edge, though the tension in his eyes was clear. Sharon’s eyes widened, her face filled with confusion and guilt, and without hesitation, she stepped back, throwing one last glance at Steve before hurrying away.

Nouri stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, her fists still clenched at her sides, the heat slowly ebbing away but still simmering beneath the surface. The tension didn’t entirely leave her, but it was enough for now. The fire inside her was fierce, but for the moment, Steve had kept her from unleashing it on Sharon.

The moment Sharon was out of sight, Steve quickly grabbed his shield and Sam’s wings, slamming the boot shut with a force that matched the intensity of Nouri’s emotions.

Nouri was practically vibrating with anger, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took. Her body was still radiating heat, but she barely noticed. “Do you care to explain yourself?” she demanded, her voice cold and sharp.

Steve hesitated; his face still flushed from the interaction. His hands tightened around the handle of his shield, but he finally spoke, trying to calm her down. “She got the wrong idea, honey,” he said, his voice softening, though he could sense the storm in her eyes wasn’t letting up anytime soon. He reached out to her, as if to calm her, but Nouri stepped back, her glare never faltering.

“I don’t care! Who does she think she is, kissing a married man?” Nouri snapped, the words flying out before she could stop them. The moment they left her lips, she froze, her eyes widening in sudden shock.

Steve, still processing the kiss, didn’t immediately respond. He blinked at her, confusion written all over his face. “Married?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, and Nouri could see the shock on his face.

She groaned inwardly, suddenly aware of what she had said. She felt the heat of embarrassment flood her cheeks, but the anger inside her was still bubbling over, refusing to be quenched. “You know what I mean!” she snapped, though she didn’t quite know how to backpedal from the slip-up. She clenched her fists, still shaking with a mix of emotions. Her eyes softened slightly, but the fire was still there.

She stopped, swallowing hard, feeling the weight of her own words. The vulnerability hit her harder than she’d expected, and she didn’t know how to pull back from it.

Steve, seeing the way she was struggling, took a step closer to her. His voice was soft now, almost tender. “Nouri,” he said quietly, reaching out to gently take her hands in his. “You don’t have to worry about her. There’s only you.”

Nouri met his eyes, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to let her walls down, but Steve’s words were like a balm to her searing frustration. “You’re mine Rogers,” she murmured, her voice soft but thick with emotion. “And I don’t share well.”

Steve’s face lit up with a grin, his eyes softening, the weight of the tension slowly easing. He took a step closer, his fingers brushing her cheek with affection. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice gentle, almost teasing. “So... you want to get married?”

Nouri’s head snapped back, the sound of her voice breaking as she let out an exasperated scream. “Are you serious right now?!” she yelled, her voice cracking with frustration and embarrassment. She threw herself back into the car with a huff, slamming the door shut so forcefully that it rattled the vehicle.

Steve stood there for a moment, blinking in disbelief, before a soft chuckle escaped his lips. The tension slowly faded from his shoulders as he climbed into the car next to her. “Okay, okay, no proposals right now,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Before they could settle into a more peaceful silence, Nouri’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and quickly scanned the message. “He’s waiting at Leipzig airport,” she said, her voice steady, and the shift in her mood was almost instant. The anger began to melt away as the mission took priority once more.

Steve nodded, his expression softening. “Let’s go,” he said, starting the car. As they drove off into the night, he couldn’t help but glance at her.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, his voice quiet, genuine.

Nouri didn’t respond immediately, staring out at the road. Finally, after a few moments, she turned to him and, in a voice laced with affection but still carrying some remnants of her frustration, muttered, “Shut it.”

With that, they sped off into the night, heading for Leipzig—and whatever awaited them there.

---

The car was silent, the hum of the engine and the soft rustle of the wind outside filling the space. Sam and Bucky were both asleep in the back, their occasional snoring a peaceful background noise. Steve’s focus was entirely on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, his mind preoccupied with the mission ahead. But suddenly, the quiet was shattered.

SMACK!

Steve flinched, his body jerking at the unexpected hit to his shoulder. "Ow! What the—?" he started, eyes flicking toward Nouri, who was glaring at him with exaggerated frustration.

"I’m so angry!" she exclaimed, her voice half mock, half real, as she crossed her arms dramatically over her chest.

Steve raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. He’d learned this tone all too well—Nouri was feigning anger, but he also knew she wasn’t one to back down from a playful argument.

"What did I do now?" Steve asked, pretending to be clueless as he shot her a quick glance. His lips curled into a smirk as her eyes sparked with mischief.

"You know exactly what you did!" she huffed, slapping his shoulder again, a little harder this time, her gaze narrowing with faux rage.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm driving, darling! You can’t just attack me like this while I’m in control of the wheel!"

Nouri leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing playfully. "I don’t care! I'm angry!" She gave him another smack, this time with a little more force.

Steve, still smirking, threw a glance at the backseat to check on Sam and Bucky, who were blissfully asleep despite the commotion. "I don’t think they’ll appreciate the drama," he teased, trying to defuse the situation with his trademark humour.

"I don’t care!" Nouri repeated, her voice now in full dramatic flair. "I am SO mad!"

"I’m gonna end up in a crash at this rate!" Steve laughed, eyes flicking back to the road, but his grin was widening, enjoying the back-and-forth.

Sam, who had been half asleep in the back, groggily lifted his head. His eyes squinted open at the sound of Nouri's voice. "Looks like mom and dad are fighting," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, before promptly dropping his head back onto the seat.

Bucky snickered at the comment, clearly half awake but still finding the humour in it. "Yup, totally," he said with a chuckle, rubbing his eyes.

Nouri snapped her head toward the backseat, narrowing her eyes at Sam. "Shut it!" she barked, though a grin was tugging at her lips. "You’re not helping, Sam!"

Steve, trying to hold back a laugh, turned slightly in his seat to catch Nouri’s gaze. His eyes softened, though his teasing tone remained. "I already apologized for the kiss, Nouri," he said, his lips twitching with amusement.

Nouri leaned back in her seat, giving him a dramatic sigh. "You think that’s enough to make up for it? Sharon kissed you! In front of me!” She was working herself up again, but she couldn’t fully mask the hint of a smile on her lips.

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender. "Nouri, you’re the only woman I want to kiss," he said, looking at her with that irresistible charm. He gently took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. "My goddess."

But Nouri wasn’t won over that easily. She wiggled her fingers out of his grip, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Nice try," she said, giving him a mock glare. "But that kiss didn’t fix everything, Captain."

Steve kept his hand on hers, his thumb brushing over her skin in a gentle, teasing manner. "So, what would fix it then? A kiss from me?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that," Nouri replied, her tone light but full of petty indignation. She crossed her arms again, pretending to look away, though it was clear she was fighting a smile.

Steve chuckled, his gaze softening. "I’ll take that as a challenge, then," he said, turning back to the road with a smile, feeling the comfortable tension between them.

Nouri huffed dramatically, but she couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her chest at his teasing. "You better. I’ve got high standards, Rogers."

Bucky, still half asleep, mumbled from the backseat, "Hey, you guys need to keep it down... I’m trying to sleep over here."

Sam snorted, barely awake enough to add, "This is better than TV."

Nouri shot them both an exasperated look, though her playful smile gave her away. "You’re all impossible," she said, turning back to Steve with a look of mock annoyance. "But I guess I’ll keep you around for a little while longer."

Steve reached over and squeezed her hand, his smile softening. "I’ll take what I can get," he said, his voice gentle, the teasing behind it now replaced with genuine affection.

She glanced at him, and for a moment, all the mock anger melted away. She wasn’t really mad anymore—how could she be? Especially when he looked at her like that. "Fine," she sighed, settling back into her seat. "But only because I can't stay mad at you."

"Yeah, you’re kind of cute when you’re pretending to be angry," Steve teased, his grin widening.

"You’re lucky I don’t punch you again," Nouri muttered, but there was a playful gleam in her eyes as she watched him.

The car continued its steady roll down the road, the banter between them now settling into a comfortable silence. But even with the quiet, it was clear that there was no shortage of affection between the two. Just a little teasing, a lot of love, and the promise of a thousand more playful arguments to come.

Sam stirred again in the backseat, groaning. "Are we there yet?" he grumbled, but his voice held a light-hearted tone. "I need more sleep, man."

Bucky shot up a little, rubbing his eyes. "I was having the best dream," he grumbled, clearly still not fully with it. "You guys really need to stop. I almost got some quality rest in."

Nouri chuckled, her head leaning back against the seat, eyes twinkling with amusement. "You two are unbelievable," she said, shaking her head.

By Ra’s light, she loved Steve Rogers. The thought lingered in her mind, warm and unexpected, like the gentle heat of the sun on a cool morning. The idea of marriage—of truly binding herself to him—wasn't as daunting as it once might have seemed. It was a strange thought to have, but it stayed with her, floating around in the back of her mind as the car neared Leipzig airport.

She couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t such a bad idea. What would it be like to have someone like him beside her, always? The thought of a shared life, of growing old together in this strange new world, felt... right. She glanced over at Steve, his steady focus on the road, and for a moment, the tension and chaos of the world outside felt distant.

But of course, she was a goddess. Immortal. Could she even have a human life with someone like Steve? The weight of eternity always pressed at the back of her mind, but when she looked at him, all those doubts seemed to slip away.

"I’m just overthinking things," she muttered under her breath, watching the airport approach.

Steve glanced at her briefly, catching her gaze. "What’s on your mind?" he asked, his voice warm, as if he could tell something was different about her.

"Nothing," Nouri said, smiling softly as she pushed the thoughts aside, at least for now. But in her heart, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder what a future with him might look like.

---

On the sixth level of a parking garage at the Leipzig/Halle airport, Steve drove the car into the lot and parked beside a grey van. Nouri and Steve stepped out, their eyes scanning the area. The air was thick with the usual airport hum, but today felt different—like a quiet storm was on the horizon. As they moved towards the group, Clint appeared from the shadows, his familiar grin spreading across his face.

"Cap, Nouri," Clint greeted, his tone casual, but his eyes lingered on both Steve and Nouri, a silent understanding passing between them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Nouri said warmly, stepping forward to wrap Clint in a hug. She’d missed him more than she cared to admit, their last encounter feeling like it was ages ago.

Clint gave her a friendly squeeze before pulling back and letting his gaze shift to Steve. “You're looking well. And you two—still keeping it low profile?” Clint’s grin turned mischievous.

Steve met Clint’s gaze, replying, "You know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice."

"Hey, man, you're doing me a favour," Clint shot back with a shrug. "Besides, I owe a debt. Think of this as a little payback."

"Thanks for having my back," Steve nodded in appreciation, his tone genuine.

From behind them, Wanda’s voice cut through the conversation. "It was time to get off my ass," she remarked, a touch of her usual sarcasm in her voice.

Nouri smiled as Wanda approached, arms wide. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her until she felt the warmth of Wanda’s embrace. “I’ve missed you,” Nouri said softly, pulling back just enough to look Wanda in the eyes. "How've you been holding up?"

"I’ll live," Wanda replied with a wink, her voice laced with a hint of playful exhaustion.

Steve’s attention shifted back to the group, and he asked, “How about our other recruit?”

Clint gave a short chuckle. “He’s rarin’ to go. Had to put a little coffee in him, but… he should be good to go now.” With that, Clint moved to the van and opened the side door.

Inside, a man, clearly still a little disoriented, blinked as he rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings. "What time zone is this?" he mumbled, confused but trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Clint waved him over with a grin. “Come on. Come on, Lang. It’s gone time.”

When Scott Lang stepped out, his eyes went wide as he looked around and saw Steve standing in front of him. His face lit up, and without thinking, he shook Steve’s hand with an almost stunned expression. "Captain America," Scott said in awe, his voice slightly tremulous with excitement.

"Mr. Lang," Steve replied politely, though he could sense Scott’s overwhelming amazement and awkwardness.

“Scott Lang,” Clint whispered to Nouri, who gave a small nod of recognition. She could see why Clint had chosen him—he had a certain energy, even if he was still a little rough around the edges.

Scott laughed nervously. "It's an honour. I'm shaking your hand too long. Wow! This is awesome! Captain America." His eyes flicked over to Wanda, his voice still full of awe. "I know you, too. You’re great!" Then, as if compelled by an irresistible curiosity, he reached out and felt Steve’s shoulders. "Jeez."

Nouri’s presence, however, caught Scott off guard as well. His eyes widened as he turned to her, a bit starstruck. "And wait—are you... are you really Al Nouri?" he asked, disbelief colouring his voice as he glanced at Clint for confirmation.

Nouri smiled softly; her aura undeniably regal even in the modern world. "I am," she replied, her voice calm yet full of the centuries of wisdom she carried.

Scott stepped forward, hesitating for a moment before reaching out—tentatively—toward Nouri, almost like he was afraid to touch a legend. "This is... unbelievable. You’re like, an actual goddess. Like... a real one! I’m sorry, I’m fanboying hard right now," he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Nouri chuckled warmly, giving him a reassuring nod. "It's alright, Scott. I get that a lot."

His eyes went even wider, a grin stretching across his face. “I’m shaking hands with a goddess. This is insane!" He paused, looking her up and down with awe. "You’re, uh... even more impressive in person."

Wanda smirked; her tone playful. "Just wait until you see her in action."

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting this behaviour. "Uh, okay there, Lang?"

Scott quickly cleared his throat. "Ah, look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so… thanks for thinking of me." He then turned to Sam, giving him a small wave. "Hey, man!"

"What's up, Tic Tac?" Sam shot back, his voice dripping with affection and humour.

Scott looked a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

Sam cut him off with a wry grin. "It was a great audition, but it'll… it'll never happen again."

Steve turned back to Scott; his expression serious now. “They tell you what we’re up against?”

Scott shrugged, still a little lost in the excitement. "Something about some… psycho-assassins?"

Steve gave a short nod, his face hardening. “We’re outside the law on this one. So, if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.”

Scott’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah, well, what else is new?"

Before Steve could respond, Bucky Barnes stepped forward, his voice low and commanding. "We should get moving."

Clint nodded and added, "We’ve got a chopper lined up." He looked at Steve, giving a slight nod to the urgency of the situation.

Just then, a voice boomed over the PA system, cutting through the chatter: "Dies ist eine Notsituation. Alle Passagiere müssen den Flughafen sofort evakuieren." (This is an emergency. All passengers must evacuate the airport immediately.)

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, scanning the crowd. “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Sam’s tone turned serious as he muttered, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Scott asked, clearly confused by the reference.

Steve nodded. “Suit up.” He turned to Nouri, who had been quietly observing. “We’ll need you in this. Are you ready?”

Nouri met Steve’s gaze, her eyes flashing with determination. “Always,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s end this.”

Clint grinned and turned to Scott. "Ready for the ride of your life?"

Scott gulped but couldn’t suppress a grin. “I think so.”

As they made their way towards the chopper, Nouri exchanged a brief but meaningful glance with Wanda and Sam, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what was coming next. She knew she couldn’t stay in the shadows anymore—not with this fight looming over them.

As Steve and Nouri walked side by side, she squeezed his hand. "We'll get through this," she said softly, more for her own reassurance than anything else.

Steve nodded; his jaw set with the same quiet determination he always carried. “We have to.”

The group moved swiftly through the chaos of the airport, a team on the verge of something big.

---

Nouri suited up in her traditional battle outfit, her fire-wielding abilities flaring faintly as she adjusted her gear. She joined Steve, who was already in his uniform, as they made their way through the underpass. Their boots echoed off the pavement, matching the rhythm of their determined steps. As they jogged onto the private runway, the hum of a grounded helicopter reached their ears.

Before they could reach it, a loud clank cut through the air. A powerful electro-disabler slammed into the side of the chopper, and the unmistakable sound of thrusters roaring to life filled the space.

Iron Man and War Machine descended with a dramatic flair, Tony Stark floating effortlessly above them.

"Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport," Tony mused, hovering, arms crossed, his voice oozing sarcasm. "Don't you think that’s weird?"

“Definitely weird,” Rhodey chimed in, his tone deadpan.

Steve furrowed his brow, his stance growing more serious. “Hear me out, Tony. That doctor, the psychiatrist… he’s behind all of this.”

Before Tony could respond, T’Challa leaped over a truck with a fluid grace, landing beside them with precision.

“Captain,” T’Challa greeted, his voice calm but firm.

“Your highness,” Steve nodded in acknowledgment.

T’Challa bowed his head deeply to Nouri. “Al Nouri.”

“Praise be to Bast,” Nouri responded, her gaze sharp, her voice like a quiet storm in the wind.

Tony cut in, unwilling to let the moment linger. “Anyway," he said, tone cutting through the tension. "Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in. That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?”

Nouri shook her head, her lips curling into a slight frown. “You’re after the wrong guy,” she said, eyes narrowing as she locked gazes with Tony.

Tony’s voice hardened, his impatience beginning to show. “Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday.”

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him,” Steve countered, his voice firm. “I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can’t.”

Natasha stepped forward; her tone lower, more measured. “Steve... you know what’s about to happen. Do you really want to punch your way out of this one?”

Tony sighs impatiently, tapping his foot. “Alright, I’ve run out of patience. Underoos!” he calls out, loud enough for everyone to hear.

In an instant, a kid in a suit—wait, a kid in a suit—shoots a web, stealing Steve’s shield and binding his hands. “Nice job, kid,” Tony says, clearly impressed.

The kid, a little embarrassed but obviously thrilled, replies, “Thanks. Well, I could’ve stuck the landing a little better. It’s just the new suit... It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Nouri raises an eyebrow at the display, her lips curling into a small smirk. Before she can react, the kid shoots a web at her wrists, binding them too. “Not again,” Nouri mutters under her breath, flicking her wrists as if it’ll help her out of the sticky situation.

Tony shrugs, crossing his arms. “Yeah, we don’t really need to start a conversation right now, alright?”

Peter, eager and undeterred, tries to introduce himself. “Okay, Cap... Captain. Big fan, I’m Spider-Man.”

Tony cuts him off with a wave. “Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just… stay focused.”

Peter waves a little too enthusiastically, catching everyone’s attention. “Hey, everyone.”

Tony’s patience wears thin as he shakes his head. “Good job.”

Steve looks at Tony, his expression serious. “You’ve been busy.”

Tony scoffs. “And you’ve been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn’t even want to leave—a safe place. I’m trying to keep... I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Nouri’s gaze hardens at Tony’s words. She steps forward, the heat from her body radiating in the air as the bonds around her wrists sizzle. “You did that when you signed,” she says coolly, her voice carrying a weight of finality.

Tony took a step forward, his tone turning darker. “Alright, we’re done. You’re gonna turn Barnes over, you’re gonna come with us. NOW! Because it’s us, or a squad of J-SOC guys… with no compunction about being impolite.” He stared at Steve, willing him to budge. “Come on.”

Suddenly, Sam’s voice crackled over the comms. “We found it. Their Quinjet’s in hanger five, north runway.”

Steve held his hands up in surrender, and Clint, always quick on his feet, shot the web off of him, freeing Steve’s hands.

“Alright, Lang,” Steve muttered.

Nouri pulled her wrists apart again, flames engulfing them as she willed her swords into existence. The fire blazed brightly, creating an almost ethereal glow that cast shadows across her sharp features. Her gaze was laser-focused, the intensity in her eyes almost tangible as she took a deliberate step forward, her smirk never fading.

"Enough games," she said softly, the heat from her swords crackling in the air as the flames danced along the edges. Her voice, cool and commanding, contrasted with the rising tension around them.

Peter’s voice, still laced with uncertainty, cut through the chaos. “Hey, guys, something—”

Rhodey interrupts, his eyes wide as he stares at Nouri. “Whoa. What—what the hell was that?”

Scott with a grin, snatches Steve’s shield from the air, holding it up for Steve. “I believe this is yours, Captain America.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, great. Alright, there’s two on the parking deck. One of them is Maximoff. I’m gonna grab her. Rhodey, you want to take Cap?”

Rhodey nods quickly, confirming, “Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes.”

T'Challa suddenly steps forward, declaring, “Barnes is mine!” before sprinting off toward Bucky and Sam, Steve running after him.

Notes:

I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Chapter 34: Frozen and Betrayed

Notes:

a few very long chapters <3 its getting harder and harder to make them shorter hihi hope you enjoy it <3 feel free to comment

The airport was in full chaos. Explosions rattled the ground as the Avengers clashed, the sounds of battle and shouting filling the air. Amid the confusion, Nouri locked eyes with Natasha. A smirk curled on Natasha’s lips, her muscles already tensing in preparation.

“This should be fun,” Natasha said, her posture relaxed but her eyes full of focus.

“Oh, Natalia,” Nouri laughed, her voice smooth with confidence. “Ready to test your skills again?”

“Is this really necessary?” Natasha asked with a grin, tossing a knife into the air and catching it with casual ease.

Nouri smirked, tilting her head as she assessed Natasha. “Afraid to get hurt?”

“We both know who’s the better warrior,” Natasha said with a cocky tone, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Nouri’s lips curled into a playful smile. “Natasha, darling, I’ve been a warrior for 6,000 years. I’d like to see you try.”

With a burst of speed, Natasha closed the distance between them, throwing a quick jab toward Nouri’s ribs. Nouri’s body shifted effortlessly to the side; her movement so fluid it was almost like watching a slow-motion film. The punch missed by inches.

“Nice try,” Nouri grinned, her voice light. “But you’ll have to be quicker than that.”

Natasha’s grin deepened, unfazed by Nouri’s dodging. Without warning, she spun on her heel and unleashed a back kick aimed at Nouri’s head. But Nouri was ready. She ducked low, letting the kick sail just above her, and in the same motion, she shot forward and caught Natasha by the leg, twisting it expertly and sending Natasha crashing to the floor with a gentle yet firm nudge.

“Still too slow, Natalia,” Nouri teased, watching Natasha roll quickly to her feet.

But Natasha’s eyes flashed with irritation. She rolled to her feet quickly, a low growl escaping her throat. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, her grin never faltering.

Without hesitation, Natasha surged forward again, her strikes quicker, harder, aiming to land a blow. She moved like a viper—jab, cross, hook—all aimed at Nouri’s head and torso. Nouri parried every punch with casual ease, effortlessly guiding them away from their target.

Natasha’s frustration grew. She increased the speed of her attacks, but each blow was deflected, her strikes just missing by mere inches. Nouri moved with the grace of someone who had seen centuries of combat, her body shifting and dodging like water flowing around rocks.

With a growl, Natasha dropped low, throwing a sweeping kick toward Nouri’s legs, trying to knock her off balance. Nouri leapt effortlessly, clearing Natasha’s attack, landing with a soft thud as her eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Not bad,” Nouri grinned. “But you need to mix it up a bit.”

Natasha, already on the move, didn’t miss a beat. She leapt into the air again, aiming a spinning roundhouse kick for Nouri’s head, but this time, Nouri wasn’t waiting to dodge. She shifted just slightly to the left, grabbed Natasha’s leg in mid-air, and swung her effortlessly to the ground once more, sending Natasha crashing hard onto the tarmac.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Nouri teased, “but you’re still predictable.”

Natasha gritted her teeth, clearly getting frustrated. She pushed herself to her feet again, but this time, her gaze hardened. Her hand moved to her belt, and in a blur, she produced the Black Widow's Bite. The bracelets clicked into place, the blue electrical lights flashing to life as she activated them, charging the air with an electric hum.

“Alright, you wanna make it interesting?” Natasha growled, her eyes narrowing. Without warning, she lunged forward, aiming to make contact with Nouri using her Bite.

Nouri didn’t even flinch. She twisted just out of the way, the Bite barely missing her skin. With a deft movement, she grabbed Natasha’s wrist, twisting her arm and sending Natasha off balance.

“That all you’ve got?” Nouri teased, a hint of amusement in her voice as Natasha tried to scramble back up. “You’re going to have to try harder.”

Annoyed but undeterred, Natasha pulled out her Black Widow Batons next. The electrified sticks crackled with energy, the familiar blue lights blinking on as they charged. She swung them both at Nouri, aiming to zap her with a powerful electric shock. But Nouri was too fast. Each baton came within a hairsbreadth of her, but Nouri’s movements were so fluid, it was like she was dancing around them.

With a quick sidestep and a well-timed block, Nouri knocked the batons from Natasha’s hands, sending them skittering across the floor. The crackling electricity sparked harmlessly in the air.

“You’re not very good at keeping track of your toys, are you?” Nouri teased with a grin.

Natasha’s expression darkened, her patience wearing thin. She sprinted toward Nouri again, throwing a series of rapid punches and kicks, hoping to overwhelm her. But Nouri was calm and collected, dodging, deflecting, guiding each attack away with a simple twist of her body or a gentle shift of her hand. Natasha was fast, but Nouri was better.

Finally, Natasha tried a desperate move—a flurry of jabs aimed at Nouri’s face, hoping to land at least one hit. But Nouri stepped back, avoiding the first two, then caught the third punch mid-air with a light grip, twisting Natasha’s wrist so she couldn’t break free. With a quick move, Nouri grabbed Natasha by the waist, flipping her effortlessly onto the ground once more.

Breathing heavily, Natasha looked up at Nouri, her chest rising and falling with exertion. Nouri, standing above her, grinned. “And that,” she said with a wink, “was without my powers.”

Natasha, winded and slightly annoyed but clearly impressed, slowly pushed herself up. “Alright, alright. You win this round, Nouri,” she muttered, rubbing her arm. “But don’t get too comfortable.”

Nouri offered Natasha a hand, helping her up with ease. “You’re a worthy opponent, Natalia,” Nouri said with a chuckle. “But it’ll take more than tricks to beat me.”

Before Natasha could retort, Nouri caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Scott had tossed something toward Steve.

“Heads up!” Scott called out; his voice light-hearted.

Nouri’s reflexes kicked in as she grabbed Natasha’s arm, pulling her out of the way just as the miniature truck flew through the air, expanding mid-flight. It crashed into War Machine with a massive impact, creating a cloud of debris and sparks.

“Move!” Nouri shouted, tugging Natasha along as the chaos continued to unfold. The airport battle raged on, but the two women couldn’t help but share a moment of mutual respect as Nouri ran off to join Steve and Scott.

Nouri, running alongside Steve, Scott, and the rest of the team, kept her pace steady. The tension in the air was palpable, the urgency of the situation pressing down on them like an impending storm. They were headed for the Quinjet, their only escape, when suddenly Clint’s voice crackled over the comms.

“There’s our ride.”

Steve’s eyes gleamed with determination as he turned to face his team, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. “Come on!” he urged, picking up his pace. Bucky and Sam had already joined, their presence solidifying the unity of the group.

But before they could reach the Quinjet, a sizzling stream of energy cut through the air, slashing the runway with deadly precision. The team stopped in their tracks, the sudden force of the attack sending a chill down their spines.

Vision hovered overhead, his body shimmering with the light of the Mind Stone embedded in his forehead. His voice rang out, calm but filled with purpose. “Captain Rogers, I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now.”

The ground beneath them crackled with energy as Tony’s team arrived. The tension was thick, ready to snap.

Sam glanced over at Steve; his brow furrowed with concern. “What do we do, Cap?”

Steve’s response was immediate, his voice carrying the weight of a leader. “We fight.”

With that, the two teams moved toward each other, the air humming with anticipation.

Steve blocked a punch from Iron Man, his shield deflecting the blow with a loud clang. Clint loosed an arrow, but Vision dodged it effortlessly, his body flickering through the air like a ghost. War Machine took to the sky after Falcon, and Bucky was already locked in a brutal exchange with T’Challa. Explosions rang out as Clint’s arrow struck Iron Man square in the chest.

Meanwhile, Natasha darted forward, her movements swift and fluid. She launched herself at Scott, but before she could make contact, a burst of fire erupted from Nouri’s hand, forcing Natasha to retreat. The fire circled her fist like a dancing serpent, flames illuminating her determined expression.

“Stay back, Natasha,” Nouri warned, her voice steady yet filled with an underlying heat. She wasn’t here to hurt them, but she wouldn’t hesitate to defend herself. The fire wrapped around her as she moved, her body a blur of strength and grace.

The intensity of the battle raged around them. Nouri’s fire flickered in the background as she squared off with Natasha, her flame-wreathed hands glowing brighter with each step. Natasha launched herself at Nouri again, but Nouri simply raised her hand, and a stream of fire shot from her palm, forcing Natasha to dodge.

“By Ra’s blinding light!” Nouri muttered, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she fended off Natasha’s moves. “I can’t believe you’re still trying this,” she said with a wry smile. “You’re quick, but you’re not quick enough.”

Natasha rolled away, her eyes narrowing, but Nouri could tell the respect was there. She wasn’t trying to hurt Natasha—just keep her at bay long enough for her team to make it to the Quinjet.

T’Challa appeared at her side, his eyes intense. He launched forward, aiming for Nouri’s exposed flank. With the agility of a panther, he struck, but Nouri was ready. She summoned a shield of fire just in time, blocking his strike. The force of the impact pushed her back, but she remained grounded.

“T’Challa, you don’t want to do this,” Nouri said, her voice firm yet calm. “I’m not your enemy.”

He circled her, his gaze unyielding. “We all have our duties,” he replied, his voice low and steady. “And you have been called to account for your actions.”

Nouri’s eyes softened, though her flame never wavered. “I understand your duty, but I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just want to help.”

T’Challa lunged toward Nouri, his claws glinting in the light as he aimed for her with speed and precision. But Nouri, with a sharp motion, twisted aside, her body like liquid flame, and used her power to redirect his strike. She let the heat of her flames wash over him—not enough to hurt, but enough to force him back.

“This isn't your fight,” she said, her voice calm yet fierce as she maintained control of the heat around her.

T'Challa growled but didn’t move. He was focused, and Nouri could see the conflict in his eyes. Just then, Natasha came from the side, her movements graceful and sharp. Nouri didn’t have time to speak, so she leapt to meet Natasha, their gazes locking in a split second before Natasha’s leg swept toward Nouri’s, aiming to take her down.

With a fluid twist, Nouri caught Natasha’s leg with a precise strike of her own. The force of it sent Natasha spinning, but Nouri was quick, adjusting to absorb the momentum and redirecting it. She wasn’t trying to harm Natasha, only to disarm her and take control of the fight.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Natasha,” Nouri said, her voice barely above a whisper as she used a blast of fire to push Natasha back just enough to create space.

Her hands flickered with flame, but she kept the heat under control. “You need to get out of here,” Nouri said to Steve and Bucky over comms. “Don’t let this go on any longer than it has to!”

Clint’s voice cut through, serious and measured. “As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.”

Sam’s voice was frantic as War Machine pursued him, cutting through the chaos. “This isn’t the real fight, Steve.”

“Alright, Sam, what’s the play?” Steve asked, looking for direction in the middle of the fight.

Nouri’s voice came again, a tinge of sadness creeping into her words. “We need a diversion. Something big. The rest of us aren’t getting out of here.” She kept her eyes on Natasha and T’Challa, making sure they didn’t move forward.

"No, Nouri..." Steve’s voice was quiet but filled with concern.

“Go! Both of you!” she shouted again, determination in her voice. “I’ll hold them off. You need to get to the jet!”

As the ground beneath them rumbled, Clint’s voice broke through, cutting through the frantic energy of the moment. “We need that diversion now!”

Scott’s voice came in, light but serious. “I got something kind of big, but I can’t hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half… don’t come back for me.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “He’s gonna tear himself in half?”

Steve turned to him, his face a mix of disbelief and urgency. “You sure about this?”

Suddenly, Scott grew into a towering behemoth, his massive form looming over War Machine. With one hand, he grabbed War Machine's leg, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

Nouri’s voice rang out across the comms, a strange mix of awe and frustration. “By Ra’s blinding light,” she muttered, still standing beside Natasha. The sheer force of Scott’s transformation had stunned her for a moment.

Meanwhile, explosions rang out, and Peter swung through the air, dodging vehicles flung by Wanda and fireballs hurled by Nouri. She wasn’t aiming to hurt anyone—only to push them back, creating a buffer for Steve’s team.

Scott, still in giant form, blocked T’Challa’s path with a massive foot. “You wanna get to them… you gotta go through me!” he shouted, swiping at the crates that T’Challa was standing on.

Nouri’s fire continued to swirl around her, a shield of energy and heat. “Don’t make me do this, T’Challa,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not here to fight you.”

But T’Challa, ever the warrior, charged anyway, only for Scott to stamp his gigantic foot down and block his path once more.

Explosions continued to rock the battlefield as Nouri moved toward Natasha, her flames swirling in front of her like a protective barrier. “We don’t have to do this,” Nouri said, her voice a mix of sorrow and determination. “You and I, we both want the same thing—to protect what we care about. But this fight is not the way.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her expression conflicted, but Nouri wasn’t here to finish the fight. Instead, she swirled the fire around her hands, signaling Natasha to stand down. With one last flicker of fire, she broke off, watching the chaos unfold around her as Steve and Bucky made their way toward the hangar.

The fight was far from over, but Nouri’s resolve was clear—she would stand her ground to protect her team, even if it meant doing so without causing harm.

Scott, now back to his normal size, looked around, panting. “Does anyone have any orange slices?” he asked, his tone breathless and amused despite the chaos.

---

Nouri, still processing everything happening around her, rushed to Scott's side. She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, making sure he was okay. The concern on her face was evident, but her thoughts quickly shifted as she lost track of both T’Challa and Natasha. Her eyes caught the scene unfolding before her.

She looked toward Vision, kneeling beside Wanda. The weight of the sight hit her like a wave, her heart aching for them. They love each other, she thought. They had been through so much, and yet, the world around them seemed to be falling apart. Nouri shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to focus.

Turning toward the hangar, she noticed the Quinjet beginning to take off with Steve and Bucky aboard. War Machine and Iron Man followed closely behind; their movements synchronized. Falcon was close on their tail, always vigilant.

But then, Vision's eyes snapped toward the three following the Quinjet. His head tilted slightly, and a dark energy began to build in his gaze. A faint hum reverberated through the air as Vision charged a laser.

“Vision, no!” Nouri shouted, but it was too late.

Falcon spotted the incoming threat and quickly performed a flawless tumble to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast. But the laser veered off course and instead struck War Machine square in the chest plate. The impact was devastating. Black smoke poured from the suit, and War Machine’s systems sparked violently, sending him spinning into a free fall.

"Rhodey!" Tony shouted; his voice laced with terror as he watched his best friend plummet. The urgency in his tone was enough to freeze Nouri’s blood.

Nouri ran toward where she saw Rhodey’s suit coming down, her heart pounding. No, no, no... she thought, her footsteps barely loud enough to be heard over the chaos of the battlefield. She reached him just before he hit the ground, but he was already unconscious. She felt her heart lurch in her chest as she saw the blood smeared across his face and his unresponsive form.

As War Machine slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, Iron Man was already descending, his suit thrumming as it hovered close by. Tony landed in an instant; his movements desperate. He wasted no time removing his helmet, his hands trembling as he gently peeled away War Machine’s faceplate.

Blood—too much blood—smeared across Rhodey’s face, and his eyes were shut tight. It was a vision that broke Nouri in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

"Read vitals!" Tony barked; his voice raw with panic.

"Heartbeat detected," FRIDAY’s voice rang out, coldly calm. "Emergency medical is on its way."

But the seconds felt like hours. Nouri placed her hands over Rhodey’s body, trying to feel for the strength she knew was hidden there. She could sense the tremors in his chest, the shallow rhythm of his breath. He's alive. But how much longer?

Tony’s eyes, wide with fear, didn’t leave Rhodey’s face.

“Tony, I—" Nouri started but couldn't finish. She felt her powers swell within her, her instincts kicking in as she bent over Rhodey, her hands hovering above his body.

“Will he live?” Tony asked, his voice strained, barely above a whisper.

Nouri hesitated for only a moment, her emotions flaring before she forced herself to stay composed. She looked at Tony, her expression filled with quiet sorrow.

“He’s hurt badly, but he’s alive,” Nouri reassured him, her voice low, but firm. She couldn't tell him how badly injured Rhodey was—she couldn’t tell him that the fight against time was happening right in front of them. Not yet.

A soft thud echoed in the distance as Sam landed gracefully beside them, his wings retracting with a quiet click. He kneeled next to Tony, the weight of the situation pressing down on him as he spoke quietly.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Sam said, his voice filled with regret.

Tony’s response was immediate—he spun around, a burst of energy erupting from his palm, knocking Falcon backwards. The force of the blast sent Sam tumbling, but he rolled and swiftly regained his balance.

Vision had landed nearby and stepped forward, his face stony as he approached Falcon, gliding to his side. The tension in the air was thick, but none of them cared about who was on which side. For one fleeting moment, the war between them all seemed to dissolve, and what mattered most was the life hanging by a thread in front of them.

Tony’s eyes didn’t leave Rhodey’s face. “Will he make it?” Tony repeated, his voice shaking as he gently wiped away the blood with trembling hands.

Nouri’s gaze softened, and she couldn’t stop the sorrow that curled in her chest. "He’s a fighter," she said quietly, but it was clear she wasn’t just talking about Rhodey’s physical strength. She was talking about the man—the person he was. “He’ll fight.”

In that moment, everyone—everyone—forgot which side they were on. In that moment, they were just people. They were friends. They were human. And all they wanted was for Rhodey to survive.

---

June 25th, 2016

 

Nouri, Clint, Wanda, Scott, and Sam were quickly arrested for breaking the Sokovia Accords and transferred to the Raft Prison Control.

Each of them was placed in a separate cell, separated by thick glass walls and reinforced metal bars. Clint’s, Sam’s, and Scott’s faces were bruised, their bodies bearing the marks of a hard fight. Wanda was placed in restraints, her power neutralized, but it was Nouri's imprisonment that stood out the most.

Her cell wasn’t just a simple confinement. It was a containment unit designed to nullify her powers completely. The air inside was uncomfortably frigid. A sense of suffocating cold pervaded the room, so thick it felt as if the temperature had dropped several degrees below freezing. Nouri was positioned motionless, frozen in place, her body almost ghostly.

IV tubes ran from the ceiling, their outlets connected to her veins. These tubes pumped liquid nitrogen directly into her bloodstream. The cold liquid coursed through her veins, freezing every cell in her body. The temperature in her body plummeted dangerously low as the liquid nitrogen swept through her, locking her into a state of induced cryostasis.

It wasn’t just her powers that were blocked Nouri was locked inside herself, unable to move, unable to summon even the faintest flicker of flame. Her once bright and fiery eyes were now frozen wide open, and though she could hear everything, feel everything, she could do nothing. Her body refused to cooperate, paralyzed in ice. The liquid nitrogen made her blood too cold to function, her body and mind entombed in a frozen prison.

And yet... despite the terrifying stillness of her body, she remained conscious. Nouri was aware of every sound, every movement outside her cell. She could hear the low hum of the systems, the distant echoes of voices, but it was all muffled. Every sense was amplified by the fact that her body couldn't react—couldn’t do anything to protect herself, couldn’t fight back against the cold that was freezing her to her core.

She accepted this. She knew she had broken the law. She had defied human authority, defied the Sokovia Accords, and in doing so, she had sealed her fate. This was her punishment, and though the reality of her powerlessness burned deeper than any physical pain, she didn't fight it. For once in centuries, she chose not to struggle. The fire inside her was extinguished—not by her choice, but by the cold that surrounded her.

A security door slid open, breaking the chilling silence. Tony entered the room, his footsteps echoing lightly against the metallic floor. His eyes scanned the chamber—large, with barred windows—and he took a moment to adjust to the cold, almost as if it had seeped into the air itself. The place felt... wrong. The Raft was an oceanic prison, a floating fortress that housed some of the world’s most dangerous individuals. But the stark contrast between the rest of the prisoners and Nouri made his stomach churn.

Clint, lounging in his cell, clapped his hands sarcastically. "The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not."

Tony rolled his eyes, responding dryly, "Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on."

Clint spat, clearly bitter. "Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony."

"Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey," Tony replied, his voice strained, his focus already beginning to shift as he continued walking down the corridor. "This place is for maniacs. This is a place for..."

"Criminals?" Clint interrupted, standing now, anger flashing in his eyes. "Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for?" He glared at Tony through the bars, the hurt in his voice palpable. "Right? That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. Or Nouri. But here we are."

Tony’s jaw tightened. "Because you broke the law."

Clint looked away, his frustration boiling over. "Yeah."

"I didn’t make you," Tony replied, shrugging, his tone still indifferent.

Clint waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "La, la, la, la, la..."

Tony’s eyes narrowed, frustration creeping in. "You read it; you broke it."

Clint didn’t even look up. "La, la, la, la la..."

Tony stared at him for a moment, shaking his head. Then he walked past Clint’s cell, his face hardening with every step. The weight of what had brought them here settled over him. "Alright, you're all grown up. You got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?"

Clint didn’t answer, and Tony kept moving. "You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it."

Scott, standing in his own cell, nodded in agreement. "Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark."

Tony turned toward Scott, eyebrows furrowing. "Who are you?"

"Come on, man," Scott waved him off, clearly unimpressed.

Tony moved on and reached Nouri’s cell. The sight of her sent a shockwave through his system. His eyes widened as he took in the unimaginable sight: Nouri, the goddess who had faced down her fellow gods, who could control fire, who had once been a fierce warrior… now a shell of herself, rendered powerless. The goddess who had once set the world alight was frozen, unable to move a muscle, as her body was slowly and deliberately locked in a state of cryostasis.

The liquid nitrogen was a cruel choice. It wasn’t just a means of imprisonment; it was a way to ensure that Nouri couldn’t fight back, couldn’t burn her way out. It kept her still; it kept her weak. And Tony couldn’t reconcile the sight before him with the powerful, fiery woman he had known.

His voice cracked slightly, a whisper in the sterile, frozen room. “What have they done to you?” His hand hovered above the glass, but he didn’t touch it. Nouri’s eyes were wide, locked on him, but she couldn’t even lift a finger to acknowledge him.

Tony stood there for what felt like an eternity, his heart weighed down by the stark reality of what had happened. This wasn’t just a goddess. This was Nouri. And she was trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

With a deep sigh, he turned away from her cell, a pang of helplessness in his chest. The technology, the cold, the restraints—they had stripped her of everything she was. He couldn’t believe it.

He moved over to Sam’s cell, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Sam, who had been listening quietly, turned around at the sound of Tony’s voice. “How’s Rhodes?”

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers crossed,” Tony replied, his voice filled with worry and frustration.

Sam let out a bitter chuckle. “You’re the good cop now?”

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went,” Tony said, his tone suddenly serious.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop,” Sam warned, his voice low but determined. “Because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Tony’s lips quirked into a rare grin. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about 30 seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.”

Tony casually gestured toward the screen, projecting a hologram of a man. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes,” he said, projecting a holographic image of Doctor Broussard. “Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Sam shot him a sceptical glance. “That’s a first.”

Tony’s face softened for a moment; the usual edge gone. “Cap is definitely off the reservation, but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

Sam’s expression softened slightly. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Tony leaned closer to the window, but Sam, with a sigh, looked uneasy. “Look, I’ll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

Tony’s face hardened with resolve. “Easy.”

Before Tony could walk out, he stole one last glance at Nouri’s frozen form, her fiery spirit trapped inside the ice. The weight of it all pressed down on him. He had no idea how he was going to get Steve back, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t leaving the Raft without answers. And that meant getting to the root of it, however hard it would be.

---

July 10th, 2016

 

Two weeks had passed since the battle at the airport, and Nouri still hadn’t been able to move. It felt as if the sun and moon had turned their backs on her, leaving her suspended in an endless void. The gods had abandoned her. She’d pleaded to Khonshu and Ra, crying out for any kind of sign, but all she received was stillness. The coldness of the metal walls surrounding her cell seemed to seep into her very soul.

Sam spoke to her every day, his voice a steady stream of warmth amidst the cold. "I had pancakes today," he'd told her on one occasion, "The syrup was too sweet, but I liked it. I think you'd like it too, Nouri. I hope you hear me." His words were an anchor, but the silence weighed heavy. They all spoke to her in their own way—Clint, Wanda, Scott—they all felt the weight of the silence, the shame that had settled over them as they watched their friend, their ally, frozen and unresponsive. Ashamed and powerless to help her, the goddess they knew so well now frozen and silent.

Days passed, or was it weeks? Nouri lost track of time, the constant hum of the cell’s environment and the guards telling them the date serving as little more than faint reminders of the world outside. Yet today… it was different. It was eerily quiet. No conversations from Sam, no footsteps echoing in the hallways. Only silence.

The heavy door to her cell swung open, and in the doorway stood Steve. His figure, strong and determined, felt like a beacon of warmth, though the fire she once knew now felt distant, as if her very core had been drained.

“I gotta warn you…” Sam’s voice came from behind Steve, a touch of hesitation in his words. He turned Steve around to see Nouri, her body still and lifeless, frozen in time. The sight struck Steve like a punch to the gut—his love, his light, his fire, now nothing more than a shell of herself.

Steve’s heart dropped as his gaze locked on her. She was pale, her skin a sickly hue, and she looked so fragile, so broken. His fury surged, boiling up from deep within him. Without a word, he moved to the glass of her cell. With a strength that could have shattered the world around him, he broke the glass to her cell, his hands shaking with fury and desperation. The sound of the shattering glass echoed through the space, and in the same breath, he ripped the IVs from her body, the tubes dangling uselessly as Nouri remained frozen, her body pale and lifeless. But Steve didn't stop. He couldn’t. Not now.

He stepped back, watching her, waiting for a sign, anything. His pulse quickened as he saw a faint redness slowly start to creep back into her skin. It wasn’t much—just the slightest hint of life returning—but it was enough to fill him with hope.

Then, suddenly, Nouri's body started to convulse. Steve stepped back, watching as the transformation began. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the pale, blue hue of her skin began to change, a faint red flush starting to spread. Her body twitched. A small, gasping breath escaped her lips. Then, her hands slowly moved, reaching outward like she was pulling herself back from the void. The goddess they once knew, filled with rage, was waking up.

"Come on, Nouri. Come on," Steve muttered, his hands gently but firmly guiding her out of the cell. Sam was beside him, both of them helping her to her feet.

Steve didn’t hesitate. He picked her up, feeling the warmth slowly return to her, but there was an undercurrent of something darker—something fierce and raw in her presence. She was hurt. She was angry, furious at the gods for abandoning her, at the situation that had led her to this moment. But beneath the rage was hurt—deep, unrelenting pain. She was more than just the woman Steve loved—she was something else, something ancient and unstoppable. But he would be there for her. He had to be.

“I’m here, Nouri,” Steve whispered, his voice low, trying to comfort her even as her anger crackled in the air. He could feel the heat of her fury; the godly fire that made the very atmosphere around them feel charged.

With Sam’s help, they carried Nouri through the prison facility and onto the Quinjet. Bucky was already waiting, a silent figure in the back of the jet. The familiar hum of the engines offered a semblance of comfort, but Nouri remained silent, her eyes distant, lost in thought—or perhaps lost in the rage that boiled beneath her skin.

Clint was the first to be dropped off, sent safely back to his family, followed by Scott in San Francisco. Wanda, too, was dropped off with Vision, her form disappearing into the horizon with a soft promise of safety.

The Quinjet soared through the air, and Steve kept his eyes on the controls. His heart ached as he stole glances at Nouri. She hadn’t spoken a word since she’d awoken, her silence still as deafening as the absence she’d felt before.

Finally, her voice broke the stillness, quiet but tinged with curiosity and a raw edge. "Where are we going?" Nouri asked, her voice strained but steady.

Steve placed a hand on her thigh, the simple gesture grounding him in this uncertain moment. His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, a silent promise. "Wakanda," he answered, his voice thick with emotion.

Nouri nodded, but there was no warmth in the gesture. Her mind was still swirling with everything she had endured. Her body still burned with the rage and anguish of being trapped in that frozen state, and the gods' silence stung deeper than anything.

When they landed, T'Challa was there to greet them, his usual regal composure evident in his bow to Nouri. She nodded in return, acknowledging his respect, but her eyes were still burning, the remnants of the goddess within her refusing to be calmed. She was angry, yes, but there was also a deep sense of betrayal that hadn't been soothed.

"Welcome to Wakanda," T'Challa said, his voice calm but filled with a quiet resolve.

Nouri, still distant, acknowledged the greeting with a slight nod, but the fire inside her burned hot enough that even her best efforts couldn’t hide it. The anger was consuming her, but there was something else, too—grief. A deep, gnawing sense of betrayal.

They walked through the corridors of a medical facility, Steve’s hand still resting on her back, his touch providing a flicker of comfort. As they approached a cryo-chamber, Steve turned to Bucky.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice full of concern, a protective tone that was always there for Bucky, even after everything.

Bucky's voice was steady but heavy, like the weight of centuries. "I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing... for everybody." He turned to Nouri, his gaze softening as he spoke. "Look out for him," Bucky said, the words directed at her.

She gave him a subtle nod. She knew what he was going through. She’d been imprisoned by the gods, stripped of her powers. She knew what it was like to be trapped in your own mind, unable to escape.

With a final look at Steve, Bucky stepped into the cryo-chamber, the door closing with a soft click behind him. Steve stood there for a long moment, his gaze lingering on the chamber, his expression a mixture of sadness and resignation.

T'Challa stepped up beside Steve, his expression resolute. He met Steve’s gaze with a small, understanding nod. "Thank you for this," Steve said quietly, his voice full of gratitude.

T'Challa’s expression softened, his eyes filled with an understanding of the burdens they carried. "Your friend and my father, they were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace..." He trailed off, his words unspoken but understood.

Steve’s gaze flickered with a hint of hesitation. "You know, if they find out he's here... they'll come for him."

T'Challa stood tall, his voice unwavering. "Let them try."

Steve nodded, his focus returned to Nouri, whose silence continued to weigh heavily on him. "I know you're hurting," he said softly, pulling her closer as they headed back to the Quinjet.

Sam was waiting for them, his face neutral but his eyes sharp with concern. “Where to now?” he asked.

Nouri’s gaze was distant, the anger in her voice sharp but measured. “Egypt,” she said quietly, as if that was the only place that made sense.

Sam and Steve exchanged a glance, uncertainty and concern flashing in their eyes.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, his voice laced with worry.

Nouri met his gaze, her eyes filled with the weight of a goddess’s pain. “It’s not sanctioned by the Accords,” she explained, her tone unwavering. “They would do anything to protect us.”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He knew she was right. Egypt—her home, her temple—was the only place where she could truly find peace. And if they were going to find safety, it would be there.

With a final nod, Steve powered up the Quinjet, flying them toward Egypt, toward the only place where Nouri might finally reclaim what had been stolen from her: her power, and—most importantly—her purpose.

Chapter 35: Hidden in the Desert

Notes:

Also I wanted to include nouri actually speaking arabic so here u go <3
Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback

July 11th, 2016

 

Once the Quinjet touched down, kicking up dust as it landed just a few miles out of Cairo, Nouri’s heart thundered in her chest. The familiar warmth of Egypt greeted her like a lover’s embrace. It had been too long. She stepped out of the jet, inhaling deeply, the scent of the land grounding her. Her fingers flexed as she touched the earth beneath her feet, the weight of centuries, of memories, pressing down on her like the desert sun.

Steve, who had silently followed her, came up behind her. His presence was a quiet comfort. His hand, warm and steady, rested gently on her back, grounding her once again. “We’re here,” he said softly, his voice a low hum of reassurance.

Nouri turned to face him, her eyes flickering with a storm of emotions. There was love, but beneath that love, a pain so deep it felt like it would consume her. The fire in her eyes was nearly out, only smoke remained. She stepped closer to Steve, her fingers grazing against his in a silent plea for connection.

But before she could say anything, a blood-curdling scream erupted from her throat as she fell to her knees. She punched the sand beneath her, the weight of her pain overwhelming her. The sand around her shifted with her fury as she collapsed, her fists sinking into the earth, her body shaking with the force of her grief. Tears blurred her vision, her hands trembling. "Why have they left me?!" she screamed, her voice raw with agony, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

Steve and Sam stood there, helpless, watching with hearts heavy and eyes wide. They had never seen Nouri like this—this raw, this broken. The mighty goddess, the one who had stood tall for centuries, reduced to a broken soul, crushed by the weight of betrayal. Their hearts ached for her, but there was nothing they could do.

“I did everything!” Nouri cried again, her voice trembling, each word ripping from her throat like a jagged blade. The fury and heartbreak coursed through her, overwhelming her every thought. “I loved them! I gave them my life!” She sobbed into her hands, the pain too much to bear. For a moment, it felt like her soul was being torn apart. With a sharp, guttural sound, she threw her hands up to the sky, as if reaching for the gods who had abandoned her. “Why?! Why have you forsaken me?! Why did you leave me in the darkness?!” Tears streamed down her face, but her eyes were now aflame with rage, her hands still clenched into fists.

She clawed at her chest, as though trying to tear out the heart that felt so empty. “Was I not enough? Was I not worthy?!” The words burned her throat, but she couldn’t stop. “I protected them, I fought for them, I gave them everything—everything!” Her scream was deafening, a mixture of rage and sorrow that echoed across the desolate land.

Her body shook with the force of it all, the sand shifting beneath her, as though even the earth itself could feel her pain. “I loved them with every ounce of my being!” she howled, falling back onto her heels. Her breathing was erratic, like she couldn’t catch it fast enough.

Steve and Sam stood there, torn between reaching out to her or giving her space to unleash everything she had been holding inside. The weight of her pain was suffocating, but they both knew this was something she needed to express. It was more than just the physical toll; it was the rejection of her heart and soul, the abandonment that had shattered the very essence of who she was.

Steve rushed to her side, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms. Nouri collapsed against him, her sobs wracking her body. Steve held her tightly, his hands running through her dark curls, whispering words of comfort that she couldn’t quite hear, but he hoped they would help.

“I know you did,” Steve whispered, his voice low, soothing, as he cradled her in his arms. He didn’t need to say more; he knew the weight she carried. The betrayal was suffocating.

Nouri closed her eyes, trying to compose herself, but the anger wouldn’t dissipate. A strong gust of wind whipped through the air, blowing their hair back as a voice echoed in the air, as cold as the desert night.

“So, the pathetic humans showed their true colours. They are not worthy of you," the voice of Khonshu rumbled through the wind, dripping with disdain. His words cut through Nouri’s heart like shards of ice. His tone was bitter, his resentment for humanity clear, as though he took pleasure in her suffering. “They always disappoint. Weak, frail mortals… Why bother with them, Al Nouri?”

“Do not waste your tears,” Ra’s voice whispered, softer now, almost soothing. But it felt like a distant, empty comfort, something that barely reached the hollow ache inside her. “They are fragile, Al Nouri. You know this. Their love is fleeting, their loyalty shallow.”

The wind seemed to carry Ra’s words through the vast emptiness of the desert, his calm tone trying to settle over her like a blanket—but it was a blanket too thin to shield her from the cold of her own heart. “You have given them everything,” Ra continued, “but they were never meant to stand beside you. They were never meant to understand.”

Nouri’s body shook with the weight of his words. Tears spilled down her cheeks, mixing with the dust of the desert. “I gave everything for them!” she shouted, her voice raw and filled with sorrow. “I gave my soul, my strength, my heart—only for them to turn their backs on me when I needed them the most!”

As the wind howled around her, Khonshu’s voice rose again, colder, more biting than ever. “What did you expect, Al Nouri? You cannot waste your energy on the fragile and weak. They will never understand. They will never be worthy of you. Just as they have forsaken you, they will forsake their own kind.”

Nouri’s heart cracked under the weight of his words, but somewhere deep inside, the embers of her fury burned brighter. For a moment, it felt like the wind might pull her apart, each word of their whispers chipping away at her resolve. With that, the wind stilled. Khonshu’s mocking tone and Ra’s distant comfort faded away, leaving only the heavy silence of the desert and the fierce pulse of Nouri’s heart. She stood tall, wiping her tears away, the fury and the heartbreak still boiling beneath her skin, but now fuelled by something else—something deeper.

Nouri’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again. She had given everything, her essence, her love for both the gods and humanity. And yet, they had abandoned her. The gods had cast her aside, and humanity—humanity had betrayed her.

“Come on, honey,” Steve’s voice cut through the storm in her heart. His words were a balm, a steady force grounding her. “Let’s go inside.”

Nouri allowed him to lead her, her body moving on autopilot as he picked her up, cradling her in his arms with the care that only Steve could give. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—the warmth, the reassurance. Despite everything, Steve was still there, holding her, loving her. It gave her the strength to keep going.

The three of them—Steve, Sam, and Nouri—walked toward Cairo, the city humming in the background. As they made their way through the streets, the noise of the bustling marketplace faded as Nouri tried to steady her breathing. Her chest still ached, but having Steve so close helped her feel a little more like herself.

Then, as they approached a familiar figure, Nouri froze. She looked up, her tear-streaked face softening.

“Ardeth?” she whispered, disbelief lacing her voice. She pulled away from Steve gently, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of her old friend.

“Who?” Sam asked, his brow furrowing as he looked around. He was still processing the entire situation, but Nouri’s reaction made him pause.

She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. The comfort of his embrace was everything she needed in that moment.

“Praise be the Goddess of the Eternal Path, Al Nouri,” Ardeth said, his voice full of reverence as he returned the hug. He pulled back slightly, looking at her with a mix of concern and admiration. “Why are you here? What has happened?”

“We need to stay somewhere safe,” Steve said, his voice steady as he shook Ardeth’s hand, offering him the same respect.

Ardeth nodded and led them through the city. Nouri filled him in on the Accords and the Raft prison, her voice full of disbelief and sorrow as she recounted what humanity had done to her. Ardeth’s face mirrored the pain she felt.

“How could they?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he led them to a modern house, tucked away in the heart of Cairo. The house was large enough for all three of them, a place to lay low, a sanctuary where Nouri could heal.

Once inside, Nouri collapsed on a plush couch, her body still trembling. Steve sat beside her, his hand gently squeezing hers. He didn’t need to say anything—just his presence, his touch, spoke volumes. He had been there through it all, the good and the bad.

He rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and full of affection. “I’m here, darling. I always will be.”

She leaned into him, closing her eyes for a moment. The world outside still felt foreign, full of chaos, but in Steve’s arms, she felt something familiar—a sense of safety she hadn’t known in centuries.

---

September 2016

 

Two months had passed since they had arrived in Cairo. Steve and Sam had spent the time exploring the city, learning about its culture, and trying to unwind. But Nouri? She felt as if she were dying, she might as well be.

Every day she sat in the living room, motionless, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. The once radiant light in her eyes had dimmed, and her skin had lost its warmth. She was pale—ghostly pale, almost translucent. Her once bright hieroglyphs had not shown for months, and her hair, once full of colour and life, had faded into a dull, lifeless shade. She had stopped eating, stopped speaking, and, most terrifyingly of all, she had stopped feeling.

Steve was worried. Sam was worried. Ardeth was worried. But the worst part? Nouri didn't care. She didn’t even have the strength to acknowledge their concern.

The silence was suffocating.

Ardeth's usually composed demeanour cracked as he slammed his fist against the table, the weight of his frustration and guilt evident in every word he spoke. “What did they do to her?” he hissed, his voice trembling with anger. “I failed her. I should’ve been there. She’s my responsibility, my sister, and I failed.”

Steve shook his head slowly, his hands clenched at his sides. He knew the depth of the pain Nouri carried, and it was almost too much for him to bear. “We didn’t know how bad it was. None of us did,” he said quietly.

Sam, usually the optimist, muttered under his breath. “When we were arrested, they made sure Nouri couldn’t use her powers. They froze her, locked her away from herself.”

Ardeth’s eyes blazed with fury. “What does that mean? What did they do to her?”

Steve’s voice was thick with emotion, each word carrying the weight of a truth too painful to acknowledge. “It’s been going on for years. She’s been slowly dying inside. Every day it’s harder for her to remember who she was. It’s more than just physical. It’s… something deep. Something that no one, not even I, could fix.”

The three men entered the living space where Nouri sat. She was slouched on the couch, her once-powerful posture now nothing more than a shadow of what she had been. The air around her felt cold and empty. As if the very essence of who she had been, was slipping through her fingers.

Steve walked over to her and gently took her cold, lifeless hand into his. His voice was soft, but every word was heavy with the grief he could no longer hold back.

“When she was freed in 2011, Nouri and I went to museums—to learn from the past. And what did she see?” Steve paused, squeezing her hand gently as if trying to reach her. “Colonialism had stripped her homeland of its treasures. Museums paraded stolen history while calling it ‘preservation.’ She watched mortals destroy each other, over and over, for nothing. She felt every soul she could’ve saved—but wasn’t allowed to. And yet, she still tried to guide us.

When the Sokovia Accords were signed, the Avengers were torn apart. Nouri had to watch her own team fight, bleed, and turn on each other. And the world? It didn’t care if she was right or wrong—only that she obeyed. And worst of all? She knew this would happen.

At the Raft, they tortured her. They froze her alive. They violated everything she was. And the gods… did nothing. Khonshu ignored her. The Ennead refused to help their own. And when she was finally freed? Khonshu barely acknowledged what had been done to her. They threw her away. Again.”

Steve took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Nouri’s face, searching for any sign of recognition, but there was nothing—only emptiness.

“And now?” His voice cracked, the weight of it unbearable. “Khonshu plagues her with a name—Marc Spector. His name is everywhere, haunting her, closing in on her like a fate she can’t escape. It’s wearing her down, pulling at something deep inside her that she doesn’t even understand.

At this point, she doesn’t even know who she is anymore. The Ennead doesn’t want her. Humanity doesn’t want her. The Avengers turned against her. Khonshu is obsessed with Marc Spector instead of her. Her powers were stolen, stripped, frozen out of her body.

And worst of all? She doesn’t even know if she cares anymore.

She used to be the Light. But now?

Now, she’s nothing.”

Steve’s words hung in the air, thick with despair. Sam lowered his head, his hand pressed against his eyes. His heart ached for Nouri—he had watched her burn bright with purpose and power. To see her like this, a mere shell of her former self, was too much for him to process.

“The gods have forsaken one of their own,” Ardeth muttered bitterly, his fists turning white with rage. “It’s against their laws.”

Ardeth's voice faltered, his gaze shifting toward Nouri, who sat motionless. Her pale form barely seemed alive, but her breath was shallow, the faintest sign that she still existed in the world. She heard the men around her, she saw them, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond.

This? This wasn’t just depression. This wasn’t something simple that could be fixed with words of comfort or time. No—this was divine burnout. This was centuries of betrayal finally crushing her, a weight so heavy that even the gods couldn’t have prepared her for it.

She couldn’t even remember who she was anymore. The fire inside her had dimmed, leaving only ashes. It was as though every part of her—her power, her hope, her very essence—had been drained away. And now, with every passing day, she felt herself slipping further and further away from the woman she had been.

Sam looked up; his voice tight with emotion. “I’m sorry, fireball…” he whispered, his little nickname for her, unable to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. I never wanted you to feel like this.”

Ardeth’s jaw clenched. “This is unforgivable. To cast her aside like an afterthought…” He clenched his fists harder, as though willing the strength to save her with sheer force. “They have broken her.”

Steve leaned closer, his voice shaking with quiet grief as he gently stroked her hand. “She was never meant to be alone. She was meant to be a light for humanity. But now… now, it feels like there’s nothing left of her to save.”

Nouri’s eyes flickered. There was a brief, fleeting moment where her pupils seemed to shift, but it was gone before any of them could catch it. She wanted to speak, to tell them that she was still there. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing left to say. There was no energy left in her to do anything except exist in this state of quiet torment.

Sam placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, his voice trembling. “We can’t lose her like this, Steve. She’s stronger than this. She’s… she’s Al Nouri. She’s the Light.”

But Steve only shook his head slowly, staring at the empty shell of the woman he loved. “The Light is gone, Sam. I don’t know if she can ever come back from this.”

And in that moment, Nouri wondered the same thing. Was she still the Light? Or had she simply become a ghost of her former self—waiting for the end that she had been too scared to face all these millennia?

The silence in the room deepened, heavy and suffocating. There was no coming back from this—not today, not tomorrow, maybe never. All Nouri could do was hold on to the faintest thread of herself and pray that someday, somehow, she would find the strength to rise again.

But for now? She was nothing.

---

December 2016

 

The sun filtered through the curtains, but it did little to warm the room. Nouri sat there, her bones aching beneath her skin, feeling like she was vanishing from the inside out. Her eyes remained fixed on the wall, no longer shining with the warmth they once had. The once fiery goddess had been reduced to a hollow shell of her former self. It had been weeks since she had left the bed, and even now, Steve was the one who carried her every day from their shared space to the couch, as though she were a fragile thing that could break at any moment.

Ardeth stood at the entrance of the room, his deep brown eyes filled with sorrow, his arms folded across his chest as he looked at her. He had always been her protector, yet he could do nothing now but watch in helpless silence.

"Let me help you," Ardeth said, his voice soft but filled with concern. Nouri hadn’t responded, hadn’t moved. She had simply stared at the wall, like a prisoner in her own body.

Sam placed a hand on Ardeth’s shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. Nouri’s pain was too much for even them to ease. The two men had left, leaving Nouri and Steve alone.

Nouri’s sighs were the only sound, each one a little more defeated than the last. The world outside seemed so distant, and inside, it was as if Nouri herself was fading, slipping away, even with Steve right there.

Steve walked in, carrying food and water, but the sight of her didn’t ease his heart. If anything, it only made it heavier. He set the tray down beside her, his eyes searching her face, looking for any sign of the woman he loved—the fierce, strong, passionate goddess who had once filled the room with light.

She didn’t even look at him.

Steve sat beside her, his hand hovering over hers but not daring to touch her. His heart felt as if it was breaking in slow motion. He was terrified, helpless, and all of it was wrapped up in the raw love he had for her. The woman he would fight any battle for, the one who had brought him back to life in ways he couldn’t describe. And now she was killing herself, piece by piece.

The silence between them stretched on, and Nouri felt as though every second was pulling her deeper into the void. The weight of her own suffering was suffocating. She barely had the strength to lift her hand to reach for the water, but when she did, her fingers trembled. A small sip was all she could manage before lowering the cup back to the table.

Steve watched her closely, his gaze intense, filled with love, and agony.

"I love you," he said, his voice shaking as it cracked. "With all my heart. I would do anything for you. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You can’t… give up."

His words tumbled out, desperate, pleading. But when she looked at him, her eyes hollow, distant, he felt a surge of frustration rise up inside him.

"Why?" His voice grew louder, his anger spilling out, the helplessness eating him alive. "Why are you doing this? You say you love life; you love humanity—so why are you slowly killing yourself? Do you know how much it kills me to see you like this? Please let me help you! You’re so much stronger than this, Nouri. You are stronger than this."

Her eyes didn’t soften. She was still so far away. He could see the exhaustion in her face, the deep pain that had consumed her, but it didn’t stop the anger from surging inside him.

"Look at me!" Steve said, his voice fierce now, almost a shout. His hands gripped the edge of the table as he leaned closer. "You are stronger than this! You’ve faced gods, you’ve walked through death itself, and now you’re letting this—this pain—decide your fate? I can’t—"

His words cut off, the rawness of his emotions choking him. He stepped back, his hands clenched at his sides, his chest heaving as his anger and grief collided.

Nouri flinched at the volume, but it didn’t change anything in her. She didn’t have the energy to argue, to fight. Instead, she whispered, the words barely audible, “Give me a reason to live…”

The words pierced through Steve like a blade. His anger faltered, replaced by a surge of love and sorrow. His hands were trembling as he reached for her, cupping her face gently, almost reverently. “I am your reason, Nouri,” he said, his voice soft but laden with emotion. “You are my reason to fight. You are everything I want in this life. And I can’t just sit here and watch you fade away. Not when I love you this much.”

Her gaze shifted toward him, the faintest trace of a tear falling from her eye. His heart broke at the sight, and the anger that had flared up inside him melted into a painful resolve. He reached for her hand, holding it against his chest, and his voice cracked again, quieter now. “Please... don’t do this. I need you. I need you to fight. I need you to live. ”

There was a long pause, one that stretched on for what felt like eternity, before she spoke again, so quietly that it was almost a whisper in the air. “Take me to Luxor…”

Steve blinked, taken aback. "Luxor?" His brow furrowed in confusion. "You want to go there? Why?"

She closed her eyes, as if the very thought of it was a fragile lifeline. "I want to go home..."

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. That was the first time in days she had shown any sign of wanting to live. His hands clenched around hers, holding her tight as if he feared she would slip through his fingers. He nodded, fiercely, determined.

He quickly texted Sam, letting him know they’d be gone for a few days, but Steve barely paid attention to the message. His mind was racing. All he could focus on was Nouri—her brokenness, her pain, and the spark of life she still held within her.

Steve picked her up carefully, cradling her against his chest as he had so many times before. It was as though, in this moment, he was carrying her soul in his arms. He would do anything to take away her pain. Anything to make her smile again.

---

The ride to Luxor seemed endless. The desert stretched on, vast and barren under the oppressive sun that had begun to dip into the horizon, making way for the cold, distant moon. The world outside the car blurred as Steve drove, his grip tight on the wheel, his eyes flicking to Nouri every few moments, desperate to see any sign of her—any glimmer of the woman she used to be.

The silence between them weighed heavily on Steve's chest. He didn’t need words anymore. All he needed was to get her to Luxor, her homeland, the place that held her memories, her power. A part of him hoped that returning here would spark something—would remind her that she was alive, even if the world had tried to take that from her.

As they neared the city, the air seemed to shift. The ancient city of Luxor, or Thebes, as Nouri had once called it, welcomed them with the cool, ancient touch of a forgotten world. The city's landmarks rose in the distance, and for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of something—maybe hope, maybe grief—moved across Nouri’s face.

When the car finally stopped, Steve helped her out, cradling her body in his arms with the gentleness of someone who was scared to break something precious. He lowered her to the sand, and Nouri took a slow, deep breath. Her eyes closed, and she tilted her face to the sky, letting the cold moonlight wash over her skin.

The sand beneath her feet was familiar. She took a step, then another, the weight of centuries pressing down on her as she began to walk forward, her movements deliberate yet heavy with sorrow. The land felt so familiar to Nouri, yet so distant. She had once walked here freely, as a goddess, revered by her people. Now, she was walking the same land with Steve, the man she had come to love beyond reason.

They walked together toward the temple, Nouri’s steps slow, each one filled with a weight that was both literal and emotional. They entered the ruins of Karnak, the great temple that had once been a beacon of her power, her light. It was now a crumbling reminder of what had been lost.

As they ventured deeper into the temple, Nouri’s presence seemed to awaken something—something ancient. Out of the shadows, the Medjai began to emerge, their eyes wide in disbelief, and they dropped to their knees before her. Their cries echoed through the chamber, wailing as if the very earth beneath them was mourning.

“Praise be Al Nouri,” they whispered in unison, their voices reverent, filled with guilt and sorrow. The one person they had sworn to protect, the one they had failed.

Nouri didn’t speak to them. She didn’t need to. Her pain was too deep to share words. But she could feel their regret, their mourning, and it dug into her heart like an old wound.

She continued to walk, Steve following closely behind, until they reached the heart of the temple. Without a word, Nouri approached a wall, placing her hand against the stone. With a soft rumble, the wall shifted, and they entered a hidden chamber, its walls lined with ancient thrones, gold, and relics long forgotten. In the centre of the room was a small, serene pool of water. It glimmered, its surface calm and still, reflecting the sacred light from the ceiling above.

Steve stood there, in awe of the beauty and history surrounding them. But Nouri’s gaze was focused on the water, her body trembling slightly with the weight of everything she had endured. She walked toward the pool, and before Steve could even speak, she began to shed her clothes, each piece falling to the floor like the remnants of her past self. Her skin was pale, thin—broken.

“Nouri...” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper, full of concern, his heart aching at the sight of her, at the vulnerability she had exposed.

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She had to do this alone, even if it felt like she was losing herself in the process.

“I want to live,” she whispered to the moon, to the stars, to the very earth that had once been her domain. And then, she stepped into the pool.

As Nouri’s body submerged in the water, flames leapt up around it, forming a protective barrier like a moat. The fire burned bright, fierce, but Steve knew better than to fear it. This was her strength. This was her rebirth.

A gust of wind swept through the chamber, pulling Steve’s hair back as if the very air around them was charged with energy. The flames flickered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, helpless, as Nouri vanished beneath the surface of the water.

For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence—deep, suffocating silence.

Then, Nouri emerged, her body rising from the water as if she were being reborn from the flames themselves. Her once fragile, broken body had regained its strength. She stood there, water dripping from her skin, her presence radiant.

The change was immediate—her body, once frail, now filled with energy and life. Her ancient hieroglyphs reappeared on her skin, glowing softly, but with strength.

Steve stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her. She was alive—in a way that transcended anything he had ever seen. She was whole again, and his heart soared with relief.

But then, something shifted. A familiar voice filled the air around them, carried on the wind. It was as if the very gods themselves had returned to her.

“Do not sadden your heart,” Isis said, her voice soft yet powerful, swirling through the chamber like a breeze.

“We haven’t left you,” Anubis whispered, his voice deep and comforting, like an anchor in a storm.

Nouri’s eyes closed as she heard their voices, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her heart ached with the weight of the years, the isolation, and yet, here they were. They had not abandoned her. They had never truly left.

“I begged you to help me,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw emotion, the pain of centuries pressing on her chest.

“You are our leader. We follow you,” Taweret said gently. “We seek your guidance.”

Nouri closed her eyes, the tears she hadn’t shed in so long now beginning to fall freely. She stepped toward Steve, her heart pounding in her chest.

“You are beautiful,” Steve whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Before he could say anything else, Nouri wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, the heat of her lips sending shivers through his body.

The kiss deepened, raw and full of longing, until they finally broke apart. Steve pressed his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. His hands gently cupped her face, his eyes searching hers for answers.

“I love you,” she breathed, her forehead resting against his, her eyes soft but full of fire. “And for the first time in a long while, I feel alive.”

Steve’s heart swelled. He kissed her again, more tenderly this time, his hand brushing her cheek as if he were afraid that if he touched her too hard, she would disappear again.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Never.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the ancient memories, with the gods watching over them, Nouri finally allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could keep fighting. For Steve. For herself. For life.

For him. For herself. For life.

---

As Nouri and Steve arrived back in Cairo, the familiar hustle and bustle of the city greeted them, but their arrival didn’t go unnoticed. Sam and Ardeth stood waiting, their eyes scanning the horizon, and when they saw Nouri, Sam broke into a wide grin.

"Well, well, looks like someone’s feeling better!" Sam grinned, walking over and pulling Nouri into a tight, warm hug.

Nouri laughed, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint. "I am, Sam. What, you think I’m made of glass?"

Sam stepped back, shaking his head, but his smile didn’t fade. “It’s just good to see you back on your feet.”

Ardeth crossed his arms, watching the exchange with a quiet intensity. His gaze flickered to Nouri’s glowing hieroglyphs peeking from her skin. "Your hieroglyphs are showing," he said, his voice stern yet familiar.

Nouri tilted her head, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Subḥān ʿAyn Ḥorus wa-Rīshat Maʿāt,"* she laughed, her tone light despite the weight of their meaning. "Been a while since they made an appearance."

"Seems like you’re glowing," Sam teased, winking at Nouri before nudging Steve with a grin.

Nouri rolled her eyes, the playfulness of the moment quickly turning into something more serious as the weight of Ardeth’s silence became evident. Steve took a step forward, launching into the details of Nouri's temple in Luxor, but Ardeth wasn’t listening. His focus remained solely on Nouri.

“Hum malalun huna. Yanbaghi an yakunu fi al'alam, yuqati'luun al-jarima,”* Ardeth said sharply, his voice carrying a hidden frustration. His eyes never left Nouri’s face.

Nouri, who had been caught up in Steve’s story, finally looked up at Ardeth, the tension rising between them like a brewing storm. "Anta ḥaq,"* Nouri said, her voice quieter now but still steady. "Yanbaghi an yakunu fi al-kharij."* Her tone had a hint of resignation.

Ardeth's eyes flashed with a burning intensity. “Wa anta maḥtaja huna,”* he continued, grabbing her by the shoulders with an almost desperate grip. “Yajib an taqūdina, wa taḥmīna. Hadafuki da'iman kana akbar min hatha, Nouri. La yumkinuki takhaliy ʿanah.”*

Nouri’s jaw clenched, the sudden seriousness in the air charging her mood. "You want me to send the love of my life away so I can stay here protecting mortals who wanted to kill me?" she spat, her words slicing through the tension like a knife.

The silence that followed was heavy, but Ardeth didn’t back down. He met her defiance head-on, his voice unwavering. "Yes! Your purpose is to guide humanity, to make sure their scales are balanced. You’ve seen what they are capable of, and now, more than ever, they need you to show them the way."

A fire burned behind Nouri’s eyes, her fists clenching as she fought to keep herself composed. "Guide humanity?" Her laugh was bitter, the words laced with frustration. "Ardeth, don’t make me laugh! Most of them aren’t worthy of me!” she shouted, her voice shaking with anger. “I’ve tried—tried—to help them, and what do I get in return? Betrayal. Silence. They burn everything I offer. I’m supposed to keep doing that? Over and over?”

“They are worthy!” Ardeth yelled back, his own frustration beginning to show. His face twisted with urgency as he stepped closer, speaking through gritted teeth. “They are all worthy of redemption, Nouri! Everyone deserves a chance!”

Nouri's breath hitched in her chest, her vision swimming with a mixture of pain and disbelief. "They wanted me silenced!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "They wanted me erased for trying to save an innocent man. An innocent man! They wanted him dead, and I was supposed to stay silent? Watch him hang?"

She collapsed to her knees in a wave of exhaustion, the weight of the centuries she’d carried crushing her. "I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, Ardeth. I won’t."

Ardeth kneeled beside her, his anger quickly turning to something softer, something more understanding. "My dear sister," he whispered, reaching out gently to her, his voice now full of sorrow. "Let me show you that humanity is worthy of your love. They are worthy of your light."

Nouri's chest heaved with quiet sobs, but she quickly wiped her tears away, not wanting to show weakness. "I can’t..." she murmured, voice trembling. "I can’t keep giving, only to watch them burn me again. They won’t ever change. I tried before... I’ve seen it. The destruction, the hate, the wars—they don’t stop." She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “How many more times am I supposed to throw myself in the fire for them?”

Ardeth’s hands tightened on her shoulders, his voice growing firmer. “It’s not for you to decide who is worthy and who is not. Your role is to show them the path. You are the guide, Nouri. Without you, they have no light. You’ve given them everything. They have to choose to follow it.”

She turned her gaze away from him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “And what if they can’t choose? What if they keep falling into the same trap over and over again?”

Ardeth’s eyes darkened with sorrow, but his words remained steady. “Then they must face their consequences. But you—you can still show them the way.”

Nouri’s heart twisted with an overwhelming feeling of betrayal. She stood suddenly, shaking off Ardeth’s hands with force, her anger boiling over. “You want me to be their saviour? After everything?” she yelled, her voice cracking. “No. I will not be their salvation. Not anymore. I tried, and all I got in return was chains. They threw me away like I was nothing.”

Ardeth’s voice was quiet but filled with a deep sadness. “Because you broke their laws, Nouri,” he whispered, his words almost pleading.

"Because they think I should follow their laws!” Nouri retorted; her eyes wild with fury. “I tried to save a life. I tried to do the right thing, but they wouldn’t let me. They wanted me quiet. They wanted me gone. I am nothing to them but a relic of a time they no longer care for." She fell silent for a moment, her shoulders slumping as exhaustion seeped into her bones.

“Your heart, your soul... you cannot allow the weight of their mistakes to weigh you down,” Ardeth said, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “Let me show you that humanity can be redeemed. Let me show you they are worth your light.”

Nouri’s heart fluttered painfully in her chest, the tension in her limbs finally giving way to a heavy sorrow. She may have looked like herself, no longer hollow, full of colour and adorned with the ancient symbols of her people, but inside, her heart and scales were in complete chaos.

"I can’t keep doing this, Ardeth," Nouri whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. Tears threatened to spill over once again, the dam inside her breaking with the flood of frustration and exhaustion. "I just can’t. I’m so tired of fighting, so tired of being the one who carries it all." She shook her head, unable to find the strength to hold back her sorrow any longer. Her body trembled as she stood there, facing the reality of how much she had given, how much she had sacrificed.

Ardeth placed a gentle hand on her head, his touch grounding her in the storm of her emotions. His voice softened, filled with understanding that only a brother, a true confidant, could convey. "Then let me help you, Nouri. Let us help you. We will carry it with you, just as we always have. You don’t have to bear this alone."

Nouri’s breath hitched in her chest as she pulled away slightly, wiping at the edge of her eyes. She met Ardeth’s gaze, seeing the same determination, the same fierce passion in his eyes that mirrored her own—the passion she had once carried when she stood against the Ennead Council, begging them to allow her the freedom to protect and guide humanity. She had fought so hard, believing that what she was doing was right. But the scars of her rebellion still lingered deep within her soul.

Her voice trembled as she spoke again, this time softer, almost fragile. “I’m scared, Ardeth. I’m so scared of failing them. Of failing myself." She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I’ve always been the one to stand up, to fight for what’s right. But now… now I don’t know if I have it in me anymore. I’ve tried and tried, and all I’ve gotten in return is pain, betrayal. It feels like I’m suffocating under all of it.”

Ardeth’s eyes softened, his expression filled with understanding and empathy. He stepped closer, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You don’t have to be afraid, Nouri. You’ve shown them the way before. They might not always follow, but you’ve never given up on them. And you don’t have to give up now."

Nouri took a shaky breath, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. She knew he was right. She had always been the beacon of light, the one who guided them through the darkness, even when it felt like the world was turning its back on her. But the fear still clawed at her chest, relentless. The fear that perhaps she had done enough, that maybe it was time for her to let go.

She met Ardeth’s gaze once more, the fire within her flickering with uncertainty. "Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Call your brothers. I fear the streets alone."

Ardeth’s eyes widened slightly, but there was no judgment, only a quiet understanding. He knew this wasn’t about her belief in humanity—it was about the fear that had gripped her heart for so long. She was scared, not of them, but of herself.

"You don’t have to face this fear alone," Ardeth reassured her. “You’ve always had us by your side. Always. And no matter what happens, we will walk this path with you."

Nouri’s lips parted in a soft sigh, the realization settling over her like a blanket of warmth. She had been so caught up in her own battles, in the idea that she had to shoulder everything herself. But the truth was, she wasn’t alone. And it was okay to lean on others—to allow herself to be vulnerable.

For a brief moment, Nouri let her guard down, allowing herself to be held by the warmth of her brother’s love. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I don’t know what I would do without you all."

"We’ll never let you go through this alone," Ardeth replied, his voice filled with unwavering devotion. "Your purpose, your light—it’s too powerful to fade away. Together, we will protect humanity."

Nouri nodded, her heart a little lighter than it had been just moments before. There was still fear, still doubt, but the weight of it wasn’t so crushing anymore. She was ready to take the next step, to face the future with the ones who truly understood her.

"Alright," Nouri said, her voice steady but tinged with a renewed sense of purpose.

Ardeth smiled, his eyes full of pride as he nodded. "Let’s begin, sister. The world needs you more than ever."

And so, together, they took the first step forward, ready to lead the lost toward the light once again.

Notes:

Another long ass chapter... HOPE YOU ENJOY IT <3
*Translation, in order:
Subḥān ʿAyn Ḥorus wa-Rīshat Maʿāt → Praise be to the Eye of Horus and the Feather of Ma'at
Hum malalun huna. Yanbaghi an yakunu fi al'alam, yuqati'luun al-jarima → They are bored here. They should be out in the world, fighting crime,
Anta ḥaq → You’re right
Yanbaghi an yakunu fi al-kharij → They should be out there
Wa anta maḥtaja huna → And you are needed here
Yajib an taqūdina, wa taḥmīna. Hadafuki da'iman kana akbar min hatha, Nouri. La yumkinuki takhaliy ʿanah → You need to guide us, protect us. Your purpose has always been greater than this, Nouri. You cannot abandon it.

Chapter 36: A Goodbye and a Trip to Wakanda

Notes:

Hello my darlings <3 I've been sooooo busy with exams and finally have a moment of peace <3 reading comments, even if I have so few, give me so much motivation to write, but I'm also about to hit a writing block T_T, but here's another chapter <3

January 4th, 2018

 

A year passed quickly, and in that time, Nouri had found herself again—filled with love, with no room for hatred. Her scales were balanced, her heart free from the weight of the past, and with each passing day, her love for Steve only grew stronger.

The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of the lights that bathed the room in a warm, golden glow. Nouri had spent the day responding to those who sought her guidance, walking the ancient streets of Cairo as she always did, her heart full of the duty she held to her people. But tonight, all of that seemed distant, as if the world had quietly faded into the background. In its place was the presence of Steve.

Moonlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow over him. The soft light traced the strength of his muscles, illuminating the warmth in his eyes. To Nouri, there was no sight more beautiful than this—the man she loved, bathed in the kind of light that felt almost like a blessing from the heavens.

She watched him, her heart fluttering, as he moved toward her with purpose, his eyes never leaving hers. His lips met hers in a kiss that started slow, tender, as if he wanted to savour every second of it. But Nouri couldn’t help herself. Her body responded instinctively to him, every inch of her drawn to him like a flame to the sun. His lips trailed down the line of her jaw, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine as he kissed her neck, moving over the sacred hieroglyphs etched into her skin.

The sensation was intoxicating, and Nouri moaned softly, her hands gripping his chest as she tried to pull away, just for a moment, her breath ragged. “My love…” she whispered, her voice thick with desire but laced with a hint of sadness. “We need to talk.”

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes clouded with concern. His forehead gently rested against hers, as if he could read the turmoil in her heart without her needing to say a word. "Talk?" His voice was hushed, like a secret shared between them. "Darling… don’t make me stop."

But Nouri’s eyes were full of something deeper than just their desire. She leaned her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his, feeling the warmth of his presence. “Steve…” she murmured, her voice breaking just a little. “We need to talk, please.”

His hands cupped her face, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to disappear. His thumb brushed gently over her cheek, his gaze soft, as if he was waiting for her to say the words that had been weighing on her heart. “What’s going on.”

She closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest. “You need to go, Steve,” she whispered, her voice thick with both love and sorrow.

He pulled back, looking at her with surprise, but also with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “Go? Where?” He asked, his lips curving into a playful grin, trying to lighten the mood. But Nouri’s expression remained serious, her fingers lightly brushing his neck.

“You and Sam… both of you…” she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to put her feelings into words. “You both ache to go on mission and what not. I know it, my love. You can feel it.”

Nouri smiled faintly, though her eyes were filled with a quiet sadness. "Natasha’s been in touch with me," she said with a casual shrug, though the weight of the statement hung heavily in the air.

Steve looked at her, a flicker of hesitation passing across his features. “You’ve been in touch with her?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more serious. 

Nouri nodded slowly; her gaze soft as she met his eyes. “Yes, she regrets signing the Accords. She sees things differently now, Steve. She wants to make things right. She’ll be arriving in a few days, and when she does, you and Sam will join her.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and he shifted slightly, his hand resting gently on her thigh. “You’ve kept in touch with her after everything? After everything that’s happened?”

Nouri smiled faintly, her fingers brushing through his hair as she leaned closer to him. “She regrets it, Steve. The weight of what she signed has come crashing down on her. She sees the truth now. And you... you will see it too. It’s time for you both to move forward, together.”

For a moment, Steve said nothing. His mind raced, processing the unexpected turn of events. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Natasha, the one who had been against him, now regretted her stance? And now Nouri was telling him that it was time to leave her behind?

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice filled with a mix of uncertainty and concern.

Nouri reached up to brush a lock of hair from his face, her touch gentle, soothing. “Yes, honey. You have to go. You have a purpose. Just like Natasha. And I have mine.” She looked at him, her gaze full of love. “You’ll leave for her, and I’ll stay here. I’ll continue to help those who ask for it. But it’s time for you to be who you’re meant to be.”

Steve stayed silent for a moment, taking in her words. “And you… what will you do?”

Nouri gave him a soft smile, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his chest. “I’ll stay here. The Medjai are with me. I’ll continue my work, guiding those who seek my help. I’m not alone, Steve. Not truly.” She looked at him tenderly, then kissed his neck softly. “I have you, and that’s enough for now.”

Steve’s eyes softened, but a hint of worry still lingered. “How are you really doing? I know the weight you carry, Nouri. How’s your scales?”

Her smile faded slightly, and she looked down at her hands, her fingers gently rubbing the skin of her palms. “My scales are still in chaos,” she said softly, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. “But I hope that they will find balance soon. I’m still searching, still trying to heal. It’s not easy…”

Steve’s hand found hers, and he cupped it gently, bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “I know, Nouri. I know,” he murmured. “But you’re stronger than you think. You’ll find your balance. You always do.”

His words, his touch, made her heart swell with love. She leaned in, kissing him deeply, her hands pulling him closer, as if trying to keep him from slipping away. Their kiss deepened, intense and full of passion, their bodies pressed together, the world outside fading into nothing.

When they pulled away, both of them breathless, Nouri smiled softly, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice filled with longing. “I want you here, with me, forever. I want us to stay in this moment, to never let go.”

Steve kissed her forehead gently, his lips warm against her skin. “I wish I could, Nouri. I wish I could stay here, with you. But my duty is calling. And I can’t ignore it.”

Her heart ached at the words, but she understood. She kissed him again, softly, lingering this time. “Then come back to me, Steve. Promise me.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he never wanted to let go. “I will, Nouri. I promise you. I will always come back to you.”

And for that moment, as they held each other, the world seemed still. No wars, no duties, no uncertainty. Just the two of them, their love burning bright.

---

January 7th, 2018

 

A few days had passed, and Nouri and Steve's love blossomed, growing deeper with every shared glance and every quiet moment spent together. Somehow, they just found themselves wanting to be near each other more and more, their souls tethered in a way neither could explain, but both felt completely. They had found comfort in the small things: taking walks through the city, enjoying the vibrant life around them, or simply sitting together in peaceful silence. With each passing day, Nouri felt more and more like herself again. The weight of her past, the isolation, and the silence of centuries had begun to fade in Steve’s presence. But still, there lingered a dread in her heart—the dread of him having to leave.

Even though the fear hovered, they didn’t let it take away from the time they had. She would bless the less fortunate, her heart swelling as she touched lives, and Steve would be by her side, awestruck by how effortlessly she gave so much of herself to the world. Sam, ever the joker, would throw in playful remarks, keeping the mood light whenever the two seemed lost in each other’s gaze.

One afternoon, the four of them sat together in the living room of Nouri’s home. The sun shone brightly outside, its warmth spilling into the room as the light flickered through the windows, casting soft shadows across the floor. The peaceful moment was interrupted when Ardeth walked in, his steady steps echoing softly.

“Nouri,” he called, his voice calm and respectful as always, “your friend is arriving shortly.”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Natasha, and she looked over at Steve and Sam. She shared a knowing glance with both of them. "Have you packed what you need?" she asked, her voice light, but there was a hint of sadness underneath, something unspoken that only Steve could sense.

Steve and Sam both nodded, standing up to gather their things. Nouri’s smile faltered slightly as they got ready, but she kept it steady. The weight of the goodbye loomed, but wasn’t here yet. The four of them walked outside, toward the hidden Quinjet, where Natasha was waiting. They saw her leaning casually against it, wearing her usual confident smirk.

“Well, well, well,” Natasha said, her voice laced with both amusement and a hint of admiration as her eyes scanned Nouri. “Look who’s all happy and content.”

Nouri chuckled, the sound light and genuine as she walked toward her friend. “Welcome to Egypt, Nat,” she said with a smile, her voice warm and welcoming.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of Nouri. “Seems like you’re doing better,” she observed, her tone more curious than critical.

Nouri, still slightly confused, turned to Steve for an explanation. Before she could ask, Steve was already there, his hand resting gently on her waist, his warmth grounding her. “She is,” he answered for her, his voice full of certainty and pride.

Nouri’s gaze softened as she looked up at Steve, and then back at Natasha. "Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a day?" she asked, her tone hopeful, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Ha! She couldn’t take the heat!” Sam teased from behind, and Nouri’s laughter filled the air as they all shared the moment.

Natasha shook her head with a soft laugh. “Another time,” she said with a smile that held both warmth and a touch of regret. “My contact says we’re short on time.”

“But we could always use an extra pair of hands,” Natasha added, her expression serious, but the request was clear, and there was hopefulness in her eyes.

Nouri smiled, but the sadness of having to stay behind was still there. “I would love to,” she replied, her voice sincere, but her gaze turned towards Ardeth and the other Medjai who stood watch in the distance. “But I’m needed here.”

“Alright, we should be back in a few weeks,” Natasha said, before giving Nouri a quick, tight hug, followed by Sam, who added a quick bear hug of his own. With one last wave, they both headed into the Quinjet, ready to depart.

As the jet began to come to life, the knot in Nouri’s chest tightened. Steve turned to her, his eyes soft, but filled with the unspoken words between them. There was so much left unsaid, so much that lingered in the space between them, but neither of them could bring themselves to speak it yet.

“I can stay, you know,” Steve said, his voice full of care, offering her his heart silently. His gaze held hers, the weight of his offer making the moment feel heavier than she’d expected.

Nouri shook her head gently, smiling despite the ache in her chest. “No,” she said, her voice firm but tender. “I’ll be fine.” She kissed him quickly, the softness of his lips comforting her for just a moment. But then she pulled away, reaching for one of her bracelets—a precious, ancient piece of jewelry that had been with her for centuries.

She took it off with ease and walked up to him, placing it gently on his wrist. “Take this,” she said, her voice thick with meaning. “Should you ever need me, just touch it, and help will find you.” The gesture, so small, felt like a bridge between them—something tangible for him to hold onto when she wasn’t around.

Steve’s eyes softened with a mix of emotion and understanding. He kissed her again, this time slower, savoring the last moments before he had to go. The kiss was everything they were—hope, love, and longing all wrapped into one. He pulled away reluctantly, giving her a soft smile as he tucked the bracelet into the cuff of his shirt.

“I’ll keep it close,” he promised.

Nouri looked at him fondly, her heart swelling with warmth at the thought of him—always so unwavering, so full of life, even when joking about something as big as marriage. It was one of the many reasons she loved him. As Steve stepped into the Quinjet, Nouri remained rooted to the spot, standing tall but feeling fragile, watching as the jet took off into the bright sky.

Ardeth stood next to her in quiet solidarity, his presence a constant, his silent strength a reminder that Nouri still had a responsibility to her people, her warriors, and her mission. She glanced at him briefly, grateful for his steady support, and then turned her gaze back to the disappearing Quinjet, her heart conflicted but resolute.

She let out a slow breath, the knot in her chest loosening just a fraction. There was pain in her heart, but also something new—a sense of growth, of something shifting inside her. It wasn’t goodbye, not forever.

“Sometimes the goodbyes are harder than hellos,” Ardeth said, his voice carrying a quiet wisdom that Nouri couldn’t help but agree with.

Nouri looked out over the horizon, a wistful look in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said quietly, feeling the weight of the moment press in on her. But as she stood there, something shifted within her—there was strength in her love for Steve, and she would carry that with her.

“Gather three of your best men,” Nouri ordered, her voice carrying a quiet authority that drew Ardeth’s attention. “And get me a car.”

Ardeth raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?” he asked, ever the curious one.

Nouri didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even look back as she walked toward the house. “Wakanda,” she called over her shoulder, a sense of purpose in her voice.

Ardeth didn’t question her, but nodded and moved quickly to carry out her orders. There was always something wild and unpredictable about Nouri’s plans. But Ardeth had learned long ago to follow her lead. She wasn’t just a goddess bound by rules; she was a force of nature, one that couldn’t be easily predicted.

---

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and purple, as the moon began its slow rise, casting a silvery glow across the land. Nouri stood before a mirror in the small chamber of the car, her fingers brushing over the delicate embroidery on her midnight blue caftan. The fabric, rich and weighty, shimmered like the night sky. Golden jewellery; bracelets and rings, adorned her, each piece crafted with both beauty and purpose, reflecting the elegance of her heritage.

The final touch was a long, flowing cloak that fell from her shoulders like the night itself. With one last glance at her reflection, Nouri stepped outside. There, Ardeth stood, surrounded by three Medjai guards, tall and imposing. The desert air had already cooled slightly, and the faint sounds of the wilderness echoed in the distance.

Ardeth’s gaze softened as he saw Nouri approach. “We should arrive at the border in four days,” he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying concern in his eyes. He opened the door of the sleek black car for her, bowing slightly, a gesture of respect both for her and the journey ahead.

Nouri nodded, the weight of her task settling on her shoulders. “Good. We have a long road ahead of us,” she replied, her voice calm and resolute. Her hands rested gently on her lap as she settled into the car, her mind momentarily drifting to the land she was about to cross—the land she had once walked with the Medjai, now distant memories. “The border of Wakanda,” she whispered to herself, a sense of both anticipation and unease stirring within her.

The journey took them through the Sahara, where the vast, unforgiving expanse of sand stretched endlessly beneath the burning sun. The desert’s harshness seemed to breathe with life, and yet, it felt alive in a way only the gods could understand. Nouri gazed out the window, her eyes scanning the vast, shifting dunes as they seemed to whisper her name. With each passing mile, the landscape began to change. The harshness of the desert slowly gave way to lush, green rainforests, the air thick with moisture and the scent of growing life. The contrast was breathtaking, as though the land itself was alive and shifting in time with her thoughts.

From the edge of the rainforest, they drove through rugged mountains, their peaks rising high into the sky like ancient sentinels guarding the earth. The green trees thickened around them as the car wound its way deeper into the heart of Africa. Nouri looked out at the landscape, feeling an overwhelming sense of awe. She had seen it all before, the circle of life—wild animals living in harmony with one another. It was pure beauty.
The lions, with their proud, silent eyes, captured her attention first. Their regal forms moved gracefully through the grass, their golden manes shining under the sun. One lioness, her face proud and serene, approached the vehicle. Nouri lowered the window, her heart quickening with reverence. The lioness sniffed the air, then allowed Nouri to reach out and stroke her thick, soft fur. For Nouri, it was an honour, a moment of connection with the ancient spirit of the land. There was no fear, only respect.

The elephants soon followed; their slow, deliberate movements majestic in their own way. The rumbling calls they made, a deep, soulful song, resonated through Nouri’s very being. The sound, rich with emotion, felt like a living piece of music. She closed her eyes, letting the melody fill her, taking her back to a time when the animals of Egypt would roam freely beneath the shadow of the great pyramids. The song of the elephants was a reminder of the strength and wisdom of the Earth, a message of patience.

Then there were the zebras, galloping across the open plains in wild, carefree abandon. Nouri smiled to herself as she watched them, their black-and-white stripes flashing like lightning against the golden savannah. It was magnificent. The rhythm of the Earth, the beauty of the wilds, all brought back memories of when she was free—when the land was hers to guide and protect.

As the car continued on, Nouri spotted a group of giraffes in the distance, their long necks reaching up to the treetops as they peacefully browsed on leaves. Their elegant movement was slow and deliberate, a picture of grace. One giraffe, noticing the vehicle, lifted its head, peering curiously with its large, soft eyes. Nouri’s heart fluttered at the sight; there was something so serene about these gentle giants. Their peaceful presence reminded her of the stillness of the stars, a calm and quiet beauty that spoke to her soul.

Further ahead, a cheetah and her cubs dashed across the plains, their slender bodies a blur as they raced in pursuit of nothing but the wind itself. The cheetah's speed was breathtaking, a burst of energy that reminded Nouri of the force of nature that still pulsed through the land. She watched, her breath catching, as they disappeared into the tall grass, leaving only the memory of their swift elegance.

The sound of heavy footsteps soon drew her attention to a pair of rhinos grazing near a waterhole. Their massive forms were imposing, their thick, armoured hides offering them an aura of ancient strength. Nouri felt a deep respect for these creatures, whose quiet resilience embodied the endurance of the Earth itself. The rhinos' steady movements spoke of patience, of a silent strength that weathered time, much like the land they roamed.

As they neared a dense thicket, the movement of shadows caught Nouri’s eye. She turned to see a leopard perched high on a branch, its spotted coat blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage. Its amber eyes met hers for a moment, and Nouri felt the weight of the creature’s quiet power. Leopards, she thought, were like the unseen forces of nature—strong, silent, and elusive. The leopard observed her for a few moments before silently disappearing into the jungle, leaving Nouri with a sense of awe and quiet admiration for its stealth.

Not far from there, a troop of mandrills emerged from the underbrush, their colourful faces striking against the backdrop of green. The males, with their vibrant red and blue markings, strutted proudly, while the females and younger mandrills moved with grace and curiosity. Nouri watched as they communicated with each other, their vocalizations filling the air in a symphony of sounds. It reminded her of the importance of community—of connection between beings that transcended species. The mandrills’ social structure reflected the balance that nature maintained, a lesson in unity that she often found herself contemplating.

The drive continued, the landscape shifting yet again, but Nouri's thoughts remained with the animals she had encountered. The beauty, the diversity of life, was a living reminder of the delicate balance that sustained the world. It was a harmony she had once helped to nurture, and now, it filled her with both wonder and a deep sense of longing.

She wished Steve were here, to see all of this. To share in the quiet joy, she found in the world’s simplest moments, to know the beauty she loved so deeply.

The drive continued, the landscape shifting from green to the rocky crags of the mountains that marked the final stretch toward Wakanda. It was here that they were stopped—two border tribe men, strong and vigilant, stood in their path. Their faces were masked with suspicion, their eyes keen and watchful.

“State your business,” one of them called out, his tone firm.

Nouri’s heart swelled with a calm, undeniable power as she met his gaze. “Praise be Bast,” she said softly, but with the authority of ages in her voice. “We are here to visit King T’Challa and offer him our blessings.”

The border guard paused, his eyes narrowing as if trying to measure the truth of her words. “There is no King T’Challa here,” another man replied, his voice clipped, but there was something in the way his hand rested on the hilt of his weapon that made Nouri’s gaze sharpen.

Nouri knew well the tricks the Wakandan border guards used to keep outsiders at bay. She had encountered them before in her long life, and she had learned how to deal with them. With a small sigh, she raised her hand, and as she did, fire appeared, dancing at her fingertips, flickering with controlled brilliance. It was not a display of wrath, but of power. Her voice was steady as she spoke.

“I am Al Nouri Ra-Khonshu, goddess of the Eternal Path. I am a friend and advisor of your king. Let us pass.”

The fire flickered, swirling in the night air, casting brief shadows on the faces of the guards. The two men exchanged glances, their suspicion quickly turning to recognition. Their posture softened, understanding who she was. They knew of her. Few could command such power without consequences.

“Let them pass,” one of the guards said, stepping aside.

The car continued on, and Nouri felt the air around them shift. The golden city of Wakanda was closer now. Her heartbeat faster as she neared the place where the gods had once walked, a place of great power and wisdom. The drive into the heart of the city was short, but it felt like an eternity. As the car passed through the gates, the streets began to glow with the warm, golden light that the city was known for. The towering spires of the city gleamed, reflecting the setting sun. The city itself seemed alive, vibrant, and filled with an energy Nouri hadn’t felt in centuries.

---

As the car came to a slow stop, the bustling life of Wakanda unfolded before them like a living tapestry. The air was thick with the vibrancy of life—children’s laughter echoed in the distance, the soft murmur of conversations flowed through the streets, and the deep hum of drums resonated in the background. Wakanda was alive in a way that felt both ancient and modern, its pulse steady and proud. The Golden City sparkled in the sunlight, its gleaming towers rising like monuments to the dreams of its people.

Nouri stepped out of the car, feeling the warm embrace of the city around her. The people of Wakanda, from the humble to the regal, stopped in their tracks to acknowledge her. She was met with respectful bows, their faces filled with awe and reverence. It was an honour, truly, to be welcomed so warmly into such a vibrant, thriving city.

Around her, the Medjai stood tall and protective, their eyes scanning every corner, every face. Nouri felt a sense of peace in their presence—she knew that no matter the circumstances, they would guard her without question. In a world of unknowns, her warriors were a constant reminder of the strength of loyalty and duty.

As they walked deeper into the heart of the city, Nouri could sense the admiration of the people, their eyes following her every step. There was something magnetic about Wakanda—its people, its history, its spirit. It was a city that thrived on unity, and the bonds between them were palpable, like the very air was woven with threads of trust and respect.

They made their way towards the grand palace, where the magnificent staircase led up to its heart. At the base of the steps stood King T’Challa, his posture regal and commanding, yet his eyes softened with a warmth that immediately put Nouri at ease. His presence was undeniable, a king in every sense of the word, and yet, there was a humility about him that she recognized, one that mirrored her own in some ways.

“Welcome to Wakanda, Al Nouri, it is an honour to have you in Wakanda.” T’Challa said, his voice rich and deep, yet filled with a sincere warmth that resonated with the very core of Nouri’s being. His words were not just an official greeting—they were an invitation to something deeper, something more personal. He extended his hand to her, a gesture of friendship and respect, not of superiority.

Nouri smiled, her heart lightening at the genuine gesture. It had been a long time since she had felt this kind of welcome, the kind that made her feel both seen and valued. “The honour is mine, King T’Challa,” she replied, her voice soft yet firm. “I have come to offer my blessings, and my wisdom, to Wakanda. To help guide, as I have always done.”

T’Challa’s eyes softened with understanding. “Your wisdom is a gift, Al Nouri. Wakanda is grateful for your presence.” He paused, looking around at the city before them. “There is much we can learn from one another. You see the world differently, and we are eager to learn.”

Nouri’s smile deepened, her gaze softening as she replied, “Bast is certain of her choice to make you wear the mantle of the Black Panther.”

T’Challa gave a slight nod, his expression steady and unwavering. “I carry it with pride,” he said, his voice firm, “knowing that it is a responsibility greater than any I could bear alone.”

As Nouri’s eyes scanned the Golden City before them, the sun’s warm glow bathed the landscape in golden hues. The city seemed alive with energy, full of history and possibility.

The two of them began to walk up the grand staircase, ascending into the heart of the city. As they walked side by side, T’Challa spoke more about the vision he had for Wakanda’s future—how he hoped to maintain its traditions while also embracing the possibilities of the future. He spoke of unity, of innovation, of progress, and Nouri listened with rapt attention. There was something about the way he spoke that reminded her of the old leaders of Egypt—the wise rulers who balanced the old ways with the new. She admired his strength, his vision, but also the vulnerability in his eyes when he spoke of his people.

“We must protect what is sacred, but we cannot remain stagnant,” T’Challa said as they passed by children playing in the streets, their laughter light and carefree. “These children—are the future of Wakanda. We have to guide them, not just with strength, but with wisdom.”

“The future of Wakanda,” Nouri echoed, watching the children run and play with boundless energy. “They are the light of this world, and they are blessed to have a king who understands that.” She smiled, feeling her heart lift as she observed them. “It is rare to see a people so united, so full of potential. The unity of your people shines brightly.”

T’Challa’s gaze softened as he looked out at the children. “I do not lead alone. The strength of Wakanda lies within its people—their hearts, their spirits, their dedication to one another. And that,” he said with a hint of pride, “is what gives us our power.”

Nouri smiled, her heart swelling with respect for the king before her. She could see the love he had for his people, the fierce protectiveness that radiated from him. It was a quality she herself shared, and it was comforting to know that they were not so different in that regard.

After hours of walking through the city, exchanging stories and wisdom, they finally returned to the palace. The royal family was waiting for them, and T’Challa introduced Nouri to his mother, Ramonda, and his sister, Shuri.

“Al Nouri,” T’Challa began, his voice filled with affection, “please meet my mother, Ramonda, and my sister, Shuri.”

Nouri bowed her head slightly in respect, her heart swelling with the kindness radiating from the two women before her. Queen Ramonda stood tall and dignified, her presence commanding yet filled with a quiet grace. Shuri, ever curious and vibrant, flashed a smile that brightened the room.

“It is an honour to meet both of you,” Nouri said, her voice filled with warmth and respect.

“Welcome to Wakanda,” Ramonda said, her voice a balm to Nouri’s soul, filled with a deep understanding that only the mother of a nation could possess.

“We are honoured by your presence,” Shuri added, her voice laced with enthusiasm and curiosity. “I’ve heard much about you, Al Nouri. I am eager to learn from you.”

“The honour is all mine,” Nouri replied, her smile genuine. “It is rare to find such a welcoming family.”

As they spoke, Nouri’s attention was drawn to a fierce group of women clad in red, standing with poise and strength. They exuded power, their every movement deliberate and controlled, and Nouri immediately recognized their importance.

“The Dora Milaje,” T’Challa whispered with a hint of pride. “Wakanda’s elite warriors. They serve as the royal family’s bodyguards and protectors. They are our strongest and most trusted soldiers.”

Nouri chuckled softly, a playful spark in her eyes. “Ah, in Egypt we have the Medjai,” she said, nodding toward Ardeth and the three Medjai warriors who had accompanied her. “They know the art of protection well.”

T’Challa laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “It seems we both have the same mind. The Medjai and the Dora Milaje would have much to share, I think.”

Nouri smiled, her eyes twinkling as she turned to Ardeth. “Idhhab wa anqil ʿilmaka lahum, wa rubbama tataʿallam shay'an fi al-maqabil,”* she commanded, her voice soft and playful but firm.

Her words were met with quick nods from the Medjai, and they immediately made their way over to the Dora Milaje, ready to engage in the exchange of skills and wisdom. Nouri watched them go, a quiet sense of pride swelling within her.

“You speak Arabic?” Shuri asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I speak many languages, Princess,” Nouri replied with a smile, her tone playful yet humble. “Old and new.”

“Which ones?” Ramonda asked, her voice filled with genuine interest.

“Ancient Egyptian and Greek, of course,” Nouri said with a gentle laugh. “But also, modern Arabic and Persian. I’ve had many centuries to learn, Queen Mother.”

Shuri looked impressed. “That’s incredible!”

Nouri’s eyes softened as they walked into the palace. “Language is a bridge between worlds. It is the key to understanding a culture, a people, a nation. And I’ve had many years to discover the beauty in all the languages of the world.”

Their conversation continued as they walked deeper into the heart of the palace. As they passed through the grand hallways, T’Challa’s tone shifted, becoming more serious as he turned toward Nouri.

“Tell me, how is he?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with concern.

T’Challa’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. “The White Wolf is free,” he said, his voice steady. “The words no longer haunt him. He is no longer tormented by the memories of HYDRA He has found peace.”

Nouri’s heart lightened at the news. She had felt the weight of Bucky’s struggle from afar, the torment of his mind trapped in the labyrinth of Hydra’s control. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice filled with compassion.

“In a hut, near the forest,” Shuri answered, her voice gentle yet firm.

Nouri nodded, a sense of quiet resolve settling within her. “His heart is at peace and his scales balanced.”

For the next few days, Nouri settled into the rhythm of Wakanda, offering wisdom, guidance, and the quiet strength of someone who had seen the passage of time and understood its weight. She spent hours with T’Challa, speaking of the gods, of the ancient ways, and of the delicate balance that must be struck between honouring tradition and embracing progress. T’Challa listened intently, his mind open, always eager to learn from the wisdom Nouri imparted.

They walked through the streets of the Golden City together, Nouri offering insights on leadership, balance, and the interconnectedness of all things. She shared stories of Egypt, of the gods who had once walked among mortals, and of the lessons that time had taught her. T’Challa, in turn, spoke of his own experiences—his journey as king, the burden of his father’s legacy, and the challenges of leading a nation while facing the world outside.

“The wisdom of the gods is timeless, Nouri,” T’Challa said one evening as they stood at the edge of the palace overlooking the city. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of orange and purple, casting long shadows over the land. “But it’s the people—my people—that need to find their own way. How do I ensure that Wakanda continues to thrive without losing itself in the process?”

Nouri turned her gaze to the horizon, her expression thoughtful. “A leader’s strength lies in knowing when to guide and when to step back,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “You have already shown your people the power of unity, T’Challa. But you must also allow them to carve their own path, to grow in their own ways. Trust them to build upon what you have already set in motion.”

T’Challa absorbed her words in silence, his brow furrowing as he pondered the weight of her advice. “It’s not easy,” he said softly. “But I understand. I cannot carry Wakanda alone.”

“No,” Nouri replied, her eyes meeting his. “You never were meant to.”

As the days passed, Nouri’s presence began to weave into the very fabric of Wakanda. She spoke to the scholars and the elders, guiding them in matters of both knowledge and spirit. To the people, she was a figure of reassurance, offering counsel to those who sought it—whether it be for personal troubles or matters of the state. Her wisdom reached every corner of the city, from the young warriors of the Dora Milaje to the children learning their first lessons in the schools.

The Medjai, too, found their place in Wakanda. They trained with the Dora Milaje, exchanging knowledge and techniques in combat, while the women warriors, in turn, shared their strategies for protecting the royal family. Nouri watched them, proud of the bonds they had forged with these fierce protectors. It was a union of strength, of tradition, and of learning from one another—something she had hoped for when she’d first arrived.

Each day, Nouri felt more at home in Wakanda, her heart swelling with the sense of belonging she had not known for centuries. The people, the culture, the spirit of this land—it resonated with her deeply. She saw so much of what had once been in Egypt mirrored in the strength and resilience of Wakanda. She could sense the echoes of the past in the land, but also the promise of the future, of a new world being built by the hands of those who dared to dream.

---

January 20th, 2018

 

But, as with all things, time passed quickly. The day came when Nouri knew she had to leave, when the pull of Egypt, of home, became too strong to resist.

T’Challa had always known that Nouri’s stay was temporary. Though he had hoped she might stay longer, he understood her need to return to her roots, to her people.

“Your guidance has been invaluable, Nouri,” T’Challa said one morning, standing at the palace gates as the Medjai prepared for their departure. His expression was tinged with both gratitude and sadness. “Wakanda will not forget what you’ve shared with us.”

Nouri’s gaze softened as she looked at him, her heart full. “You are a king of great wisdom, T’Challa. Wakanda is in good hands.” Her voice, though gentle, carried the weight of centuries of experience. “You have the strength to lead, but it is your heart that will guide your people.”

T’Challa bowed his head in acknowledgment, his respect for her evident. “You’ve taught me more than I ever expected. I hope that one day, our paths cross again.”

“I have no doubt that they will,” Nouri replied with a smile. “The world is vast, but it is also small when hearts are aligned.”

With that, Nouri turned to face the Medjai, her warriors ready to return to Egypt. She had spent her time in Wakanda offering wisdom, guidance, and strength, but now it was time for her to return home—to the land where her journey had begun, where her roots lay buried deep in the sands of time.

As Nouri and the Medjai began their journey back to Egypt, the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow across the land. Nouri took one last look at the Golden City, her heart filled with a quiet pride. Wakanda had given her much—hope, a sense of belonging, and the reminder that even in times of great hardship, a people’s strength could never be underestimated.

Her journey was far from over, and though she had left Wakanda behind, she knew that her purpose was clear. There was still much to be done, much to be learned, and much to be shared. She would continue to guide, to protect, and to offer wisdom—just as she always had.

And in the quiet of the night, as she travelled across the lands, Nouri’s heart resonated with the memory of her time in Wakanda—the people, the king, and the unshakable bond they had formed. Though she was returning to Egypt, a piece of Wakanda would always remain with her, carried in her spirit as she moved forward into the next chapter of her eternal journey.

Notes:

*Translations:
"Go pass on your knowledge to them, and perhaps you might learn something in return."

Chapter 37: Reunion and a Fight

May 1st, 2018

 

Months had passed since Nouri's visit to Wakanda, and though the feeling of freedom still lingered in her heart, she could not shake the weight of longing. Freedom, in its purest form, was a gift she had never truly experienced before. She had seen the beauty of Wakanda, felt the pulse of its heart, and for the first time in centuries, she had been able to walk among mortals without the chains of her divine duty. But there was always something missing—a constant ache that had grown in her chest.

She missed him. She missed Steve.

His touch, his warmth, the gentleness with which he held her, the scent of him, and the sound of his voice when he whispered her name in the quiet of the night. Natasha had kept her updated, sending messages, pictures, and stories that painted a picture of Steve’s happiness as he fought for justice, and standing tall against the threats of the world. Nouri often found herself re-reading his messages, her heart swelling with pride, but there was always a pang of sorrow, a longing to be with him, to hold him close.

Yet, she understood that her role in this world was far from over.

With a sigh, Nouri tucked her phone away, feeling the weight of it settle in her pocket. A small smile lingered on her lips, but it was fleeting, and soon it was replaced by determination. There was work to do. She had made a promise to herself long ago that she would protect humanity, guide them through their darkness, and for that, she needed to call upon the one group that held the power to shape her destiny—the Ennead Council.

The chamber beneath the Great Pyramid was heavy with the scent of incense and the echo of centuries-old whispers. The stone walls hummed with the presence of the gods, and though she had often called upon them, it still felt like an immense task.

"I, Al Nouri, call upon the Ennead Council," she spoke, her voice steady and graceful, carrying the weight of her divine authority. It was a call that resonated through the ether, pulling at the very fabric of the universe.

From the shadows, the gods began to materialize, each of them appearing with the grandeur and grace befitting their titles. Horus stepped forward first, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that could melt the very stars. His wings were folded behind him, but the aura of power around him made him seem larger than life.

"You called us?" Horus’s voice was both commanding and curious, his gaze sweeping over Nouri, assessing her as if searching for something she had not yet revealed.

Nouri bowed her head respectfully. "Yes, praise be Horus, guardian of the heavens," she said, her voice warm but firm. She had always respected Horus for his strength, both in battle and in wisdom.

Horus nodded and took his seat on the Council’s elevated platform, his presence powerful yet calm. Isis was next. She moved with an elegance that was timeless, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief as she regarded Nouri.

"Al Nouri, it has been some time since you last called on us," Isis said with a playful smile, her voice laced with both affection and curiosity. "Two years, if I recall correctly. What brings you here today?"

Nouri smiled back, though there was a subtle sadness in her expression. "It has indeed been a long time, my dear sister. I have wandered through the mortal realm, seeking answers to questions that have long troubled my heart. But I find that my path is never truly my own, not when the world I once knew continues to unravel." Her voice softened. "I almost crossed into the Field of Reeds. I thought it might be time to leave this world behind. But I found my way again."

Taweret furrowed her brow in concern. Her large, elephantine form seemed to fill the space, and her deep voice was gentle, yet insistent. "You almost crossed into the Field of Reeds? Why? What led you to such despair?"

Nouri closed her eyes briefly, as if gathering the strength to speak. "The weight of eternity bears down on me at times," she said quietly. "I have watched over mortals for so long, guiding them through their suffering, but I have often felt that they are lost beyond saving. I thought perhaps it was time to let go, to release myself from my bond with them. But... I found something in myself that kept me tethered to this world." She opened her eyes, a flicker of fire behind them.

Bast stepped forward, her smile as warm as the sun. "You also travelled to Wakanda, yes?" she asked, her tone light, yet there was a hint of genuine interest in her voice.

Nouri nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, my dear sister. I was fortunate enough to witness the rise of a great leader. T'Challa has chosen a path of righteousness, and his heart is strong. You have chosen well in him." Her smile deepened, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "I have seen humanity's potential in him, and I cannot deny that it gives me hope."

Bast’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "He is a worthy successor. I am glad to hear your approval."

Ra leaned forward, his golden eyes piercing as he took in Nouri’s words. His presence was both regal and imposing, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of centuries. "Then why have you called upon us, Al Nouri? What is it that weighs so heavily on your heart?"

Nouri’s gaze lifted to meet Ra’s; her expression solemn. “The world is changing. I feel it in my soul. There are forces stirring—forces beyond mortal understanding, and even beyond the gods. They are moving quietly, but I sense them. Something is coming. I do not know what, but I fear it is a force that will challenge the balance we’ve so carefully maintained.”

Bast tilted her head, her feline ears twitching slightly in curiosity. “What is this force, Al Nouri? What do you sense?”

Nouri’s eyes darkened as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I do not know. A shadow that threatens to consume everything. It is as though the very fabric of this world is beginning to tear, and I... I do not know how to stop it.”

Isis stepped closer, her expression softening with understanding. “You are a protector, Al Nouri. But you must remember the balance. There is a reason we do not interfere. The mortals must find their own way, and in doing so, they learn. They grow.”

Taweret’s voice was firm but kind. “We are not like them, Al Nouri. We are gods. And while it is noble to care, you must not lose sight of your own path. To intervene again would change the very nature of your role, and the consequences could be far-reaching.”

Horus, who had been silent for a while, spoke again, his tone both comforting and commanding. “The mortals will face their trials, just as we have faced ours. You have always been their protector, but you are not their saviour. You cannot carry their burdens forever. They must find their own way, and so must you.”

Nouri’s heart felt heavy with their words. She had known this truth all along, but hearing it from the gods was different. They were right. Her role was not to save them all. It never had been.

Ra rose from his seat, his voice both solemn and authoritative. “You have always been one to challenge the rules, Al Nouri. You must now decide for yourself. Do you walk the path of a goddess who watches and guides, or do you become something more, something that walks among the mortals, fully embracing their world?”

Nouri stood tall; her gaze unwavering. “I walk the Eternal Path, and whatever lies ahead is challenging that very path.”

Ra’s voice softened; the weight of his centuries-old wisdom now tempered with a rare understanding. “Then go, Al Nouri. Do what you must. But know that the path you choose will not be without cost.”

As the last of the gods began to fade, each presence dissipating into the shadows from which they had come, Nouri stood in the centre of the grand chamber. The silence felt like an oppressive weight, the very air thick with the echoes of divine voices, their decision finally made.

The gods had spoken, their words carved into the very fabric of her being. They had given her their wisdom, their warnings, their ultimatums. But now, as the last of their divine auras slipped into the dark, Nouri was left with only the quiet of the chamber and the heavy realization that whatever came next would be her choice alone.

The room was silent now, save for the soft whispers of wind stirring the ancient walls. Nouri let out a long breath, feeling the weight of the divine Council's words pressing down on her. She turned, ready to walk from the chamber, but before she could take her first step, a familiar presence lingered in the air—a warmth that seemed to shimmer in the space between her and the darkness.

Isis.

The goddess had not yet departed. She emerged from the shadows with a grace that seemed effortless, her eyes shining with the depth of millennia of wisdom. Her gaze was not one of judgment, nor of reproach, but one of compassion—a gaze that Nouri hadn't expected, but desperately needed.

Isis stepped forward, her voice soft, yet firm. "Love," she began, as if gently lifting a heavy veil, "is a new emotion for you, yes?"

The question caught Nouri off guard. Her gaze faltered, and her thoughts scrambled for a moment. Love. It was a word Nouri had never fully understood—until now. Until him. She had never allowed herself to think of it, to feel it, not in the way she had with Steve.

"Yes," Nouri whispered, her voice barely audible. She took a steadying breath, her mind drifting back to the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength of his presence. "Yes, it is... I never thought I could feel it like this." She shook her head, as though the very thought of it still unsettled her. "But I do. For him."

Isis studied her for a long, quiet moment, her eyes soft with understanding. She took a slow step forward, her presence as calming as a breeze on a warm day. "How long have you and the mortal been... Engaged in this relationship?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity, but also a certain fondness.

Nouri was quiet for a long time, her heart suddenly racing. She wasn’t sure why this simple question made her chest tighten, but it did. It was as if the reality of it—what they had—was something too sacred to put into words.

"Four years," Nouri finally said, her voice steady, though there was a tenderness in her tone that she couldn’t hide. "It feels... Longer sometimes. And sometimes it feels too short, like I want to hold on to every moment we have." She paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "But it is ours, Isis. And it’s... Everything to me."

Isis smiled knowingly; her eyes gleaming with approval. "And he is thinking of marriage, I imagine?" The question was light, but Nouri could hear the warmth in her tone, a soft invitation to speak the truth.

Nouri froze, her heart skipping a beat. "What?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, a mix of surprise and confusion. The idea had never crossed her mind, not in those exact terms—marriage. It seemed so... Final, so tangible. But as the words echoed in her head, she realized that in a way, she’d been living as if their love had already been a vow.

Isis smiled, her expression warm, even amused. "He possesses the qualities of both a god and a righteous mortal," Isis said gently, her words like the softest caress. "In him, you will find both strength and warmth. Perhaps he sees those same qualities in you. Perhaps he sees... His future in you."

Nouri’s mind raced. Marriage. It was a word that felt strange, foreign even. But when she thought of Steve, of how he had always been by her side, unwavering in his devotion, the idea didn’t seem so strange anymore.

"Well, he did almost lift Thor’s hammer," Nouri blurted out, trying to deflect her own thoughts with humour. "A few years ago. He was so close. I’ve never seen him more determined."

Isis’ eyes widened in pure shock, her voice rising in astonishment. "WHAT?" she nearly yelled, her divine presence momentarily flickering with disbelief.

"Yeah," Nouri replied, laughing lightly at Isis’ reaction. "A few years ago. He was so close. I think even Thor was impressed. But... I think it made me realize something. He’s not just a mortal. He’s... Something more. More than I thought a mortal could be."

Isis let out a soft, thoughtful sigh, her expression changing to one of deep affection and understanding. "My dear sister," she said softly, her voice full of meaning, "this mortal would follow you into the Field of Reeds if you asked. He would walk by your side through eternity, never questioning, never wavering. He is not just a man to you, Nouri. He is your heart’s counterpart, your soul’s reflection."

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat as she absorbed Isis’ words. Eternity. She had never imagined love like that—something that transcended time, that would last beyond the fleeting moments of mortal existence. But with Steve... She felt it. He made her feel human in a way she had never allowed herself to feel before. And in his arms, she could almost forget she was a goddess at all.

Isis placed a gentle hand on Nouri’s cheek, her touch soft and warm, sending a ripple of emotion through Nouri’s heart. "Follow him, Nouri," Isis said, her voice quiet and gentle. "Your fellow gods may have put their hearts in Canopic jars, but yours still beats—for him. For the mortal you have come to love. Follow him. There is no greater strength than love. It is not weakness; it is power. It is everything."

Nouri stood still, her heart pounding in her chest, her body trembling slightly with the weight of Isis' words. "But... I’ve always been a guide," Nouri whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ve always been the one to lead, to show them the way. I don’t know if I can... Follow someone. Not like this."

Isis’ smile was soft and knowing. "Sometimes, Nouri, the greatest gift you can give is to allow someone to guide you, to let them walk beside you. And sometimes, the gods themselves need to follow the love they feel." She lifted her hand from Nouri’s cheek, her voice now tender and final. "Go to him, Nouri. Follow your heart. You were made for this."

Before Nouri could respond, before she could say anything else, Isis vanished—her presence dissolving back into the shadows as though she had never been there. But her words remained, swirling in the air, wrapped around Nouri’s heart.

Nouri stood alone in the chamber, her pulse racing, her emotions a chaotic storm within her. Follow him. The words echoed in her mind, and for the first time in centuries, she felt a quiet certainty settle over her. This was her path. He was her path.

Her heart, once distant and untouchable, was no longer so. And Steve... Steve Rogers had been the one to show her that love could be both a strength and a weakness, but ultimately, it was a power unlike any other. It was the one thing that could make her feel human again.

With a deep, steadying breath, Nouri turned toward the exit, her steps purposeful now, her heart lighter than it had been in centuries. She knew what she had to do. She was no longer just a goddess of fire and wisdom—she was Al Nouri, a goddess who loved a mortal man. And she would follow him wherever he went, heart and soul, no matter the cost.

---

As Nouri stepped out of the chamber and into the quiet night air, the pyramid loomed behind her, the weight of ancient history pressing against the modern world. The stars above, scattered across the heavens like silver dust, caught her gaze. She looked up, her fingers brushing the bracelets on her wrists. The other one was on Steve’s wrist, its presence both comforting and aching.

"I miss you," she whispered into the cool night air, her voice barely louder than the rustle of the wind. She waited, hoping for an answer, her heart beating faster with every passing second.

Silence.

The bustle of Cairo around her felt distant, almost muffled, as if the world was holding its breath. She sighed softly, letting the breeze carry her sorrow away, but then, as if in response, a gust of wind picked up, swirling around her, soft yet powerful.

“I miss you too…” the wind whispered.

Nouri froze, her heart skipping a beat. Steve’s voice, familiar and full of longing, sent a shiver down her spine. She spun around, looking into the darkened streets, but she saw no one. The wind continued to stir, as if carrying his words, his presence, to her.

"I’ve lived lifetimes and seen the world through many eyes, but when I look at you, Steve, I see everything I’ve ever wanted. I love you with a depth that I never knew was possible." Nouri's voice trembled slightly as she spoke aloud, as if the words would somehow reach him across the distance. Her eyes lingered on the sky, the stars seeming to wink back at her in their eternal mystery.

Her words hung in the air, unanswered, but just as she began to turn away, Steve’s voice, faint yet clear, rang out once more, threading through her thoughts like a promise.

“Nouri… I’ve fought for so many things in my life, but loving you… that’s been the easiest fight I’ve ever won.”

The sound of his voice faded as if the wind carried it away, leaving only the quiet of the night. Nouri smiled, a bittersweet warmth filling her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the connection, even if it was fleeting.

“Come home soon,” she whispered softly, her words slipping into the night with a trace of hope, but no answer came. Just the peaceful hum of the city and the gentle rustle of the wind.

Then, from behind her, a voice, familiar and steady, broke the quiet.

“Your heart is lighter than Ma'at’s feather,” Ardeth said, his tone both admiring and knowing.

Nouri didn’t startle, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “How long have you been watching?” She asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

“Long enough,” Ardeth replied with a knowing smile, stepping closer. He lowered his gaze briefly to the ground, his eyes catching the gleam of the moonlight on her bracelet. “The people love you, Nouri. And I have received word from Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly—the rebuild of your temple is complete.”

At the mention of her temple, Nouri’s heart soared. She turned her gaze from the stars to meet his, a proud smile spreading across her face. “That is good news,” she said, the relief palpable in her voice.

Yet, Ardeth’s eyes softened, a quiet understanding in them. “Yet, your mind is on the Captain.”

Nouri’s smile faltered for a moment, and she let out a small sigh, her gaze drifting back to the sky. “It is,” she admitted, her voice soft but firm. “I think about him more than I should, especially in these past few months.”

Ardeth studied her for a moment, then gave a small, knowing nod. “Love is a complicated thing, Nouri.”

Nouri turned her head slightly, a touch of amusement in her eyes. “I’ve never been afraid of emotions, Ardeth. But this…” She trailed off, unsure of how to express the vastness of what she felt for Steve. “He’s… everything. Everything I’ve been searching for, and so much more than I ever imagined.”

Ardeth was quiet for a moment, watching her with a rare tenderness. “Then do not let time separate what the heart has already claimed,” he said softly.

Nouri met his gaze, gratitude for his wisdom shining in her eyes. Ardeth gave her a gentle, knowing smile. “You are not alone in this, Nouri. Remember, no matter how far apart you may be, your path will always lead you back to where you belong.”

Nouri nodded, her fingers touching the bracelet once more, the weight of her emotions grounding her. “I know,” she whispered, her heart both heavy and light, as the stars above watched over her, eternal and unchanging, just as her love for Steve would be.

---

May 15th, 2018

 

Two weeks had passed since Nouri met with the Ennead Council, and still, the silence seemed endless. She spent most of her days lying in her room, her mind a storm of thoughts. The ache in her chest never quite left. Steve’s absence was like a void, one that she couldn't fill, no matter how many stars she watched or how much time she spent in the sun. Her longing for him felt physical—her body ached for him, for the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice, the simple act of holding his hand.

Why did you have to leave? The question replayed in her mind, like a broken record, as she laid in bed one night, the moonlight casting its pale glow across the earth.

She longed to see into his soul, to know if he still thought of her, to feel his emotions, his thoughts. But even with her divine powers, the thought of invading his privacy felt like a betrayal. Don’t do it. Don’t cross that line, Nouri.

Her fingers curled into fists at her side as her eyes locked with the night sky, the stars twinkling, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

But then, as if the universe had been waiting for the moment, his presence filled the room like a dark shadow. The air grew cold, charged with the unmistakable energy of Khonshu.

“You’re still pining for your mortal, are you?” Khonshu’s voice came through the darkness, dripping with disdain, every word as sharp as a dagger.

Nouri froze for a moment, her back stiffening. She finally turned to face him, her eyes narrowing as she gathered her strength. "I don't recall asking for your counsel, Father," she responded sharply, her voice steady. "What do you want from me?"

Khonshu loomed in the shadows, his presence swallowing the room, his glowing eyes the only thing visible in the dark. He took a step forward, his form casting a long, unnerving shadow across the floor. "Tell me of Marc Spector’s scales," he demanded, his voice cold and commanding, like a king summoning his subjects.

Nouri’s heart clenched as she thought of Marc—of the tortured and fractured soul that was bound by chaos. His scales were always out of balance, pulled in every direction, struggling to find peace. She had seen it all in his soul: fractured, fractured from his past, from his choices. She knew Khonshu would want him, but this... this felt different.

"His scales are in absolute chaos," Nouri said, hesitating. She had seen it, the fragments of Marc’s soul—a shattered mosaic, pieces of light and shadow fighting for dominance. "But why are you so interested in him? Don’t you already have an avatar?" Her voice was thick with confusion and something else—suspicion.

Khonshu scoffed, a sound like gravel being ground underfoot. "He is useless, parasite…" he sneered, his form shifting, moving closer. "Your mortal...” He spat the word like an insult, “...would be a perfect avatar for me.”

Nouri’s eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and fury. “Do try it, Birdman,” she laughed, though it was more a mockery than amusement. “He is mine.”

The air in the room shifted, thickening like a storm was about to break. A tension filled the space, a charge that was almost palpable.

The temperature in the room dropped, and Khonshu’s eyes glowed with fury, a deep, unearthly rage emanating from him. “If you choose him, Nouri, you choose their world,” he growled, his voice thick with warning. "And when the reckoning comes, it will be you who suffers the most." His words were like chains wrapping around her chest, tightening with every breath. "Don’t you forget—your destiny was never meant to be tied to a mortal. You belong to the gods. If you persist in this... foolishness, I will make you regret it.”

For a long moment, Nouri didn’t speak, her mind reeling from the weight of his words. She had always known this moment would come—this choice between the divine and the mortal. And yet, in her heart, there was no hesitation. Steve was her anchor, her reason, and she would do anything to protect him.

"You think I'm scared of your threats, Khonshu?" she retorted, her voice low, but unwavering. "I’ve faced worse than you."

He stepped forward, his presence suffocating, as if the very room itself was shrinking under the weight of his fury. "You should be scared," Khonshu said, his voice a low hiss, vibrating with an ancient fury. "You may think you’re untouchable, that your power is enough to defy fate, but you’re not ready for what’s coming. This path you’re walking? It will lead you to your death."

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I can handle the consequences, Khonshu,” she said quietly, but firmly. “If it means protecting what I love... I’ll bear any burden.”

For a long, drawn-out moment, Khonshu’s cold gaze locked with hers. His presence felt like the chill of the void, his power wrapping around her like chains. The silence was deafening.

Khonshu’s eyes narrowed, the weight of his judgment pressing down on her like a suffocating storm. "You think you can handle the consequences? You think this is just some little choice? If you bite off more than you can chew, Nouri... you will die." His voice was low, dark, and filled with the cold certainty of fate. "And it will be your heart —your attachment to these fragile mortals—that will lead to your end."

The warning hung in the air like a threat woven into the fabric of the universe itself. It was a whisper, soft but foreboding, that would echo in her thoughts for days to come.

Nouri’s heart raced, but she didn’t flinch. She stood tall, meeting Khonshu’s unyielding gaze. "I would rather die protecting them than live in silence, doing nothing." Her voice was steady, but underneath it all, there was a deep sadness—a knowing that her choices would carry a great cost.

Khonshu’s form flickered in the moonlight; his anger still palpable. "If you go through with this, Nouri, you will be bound to their world—forever. There will be no turning back. And when the reckoning comes, it will be you who will pay the price. Do not test me." His voice softened for a moment, almost sorrowful, though it was laced with a chilling edge. "Do not forget, I gave you your life, Nouri. I can take it away just as easily."

The room felt colder, the weight of his power pressing in from all sides. Nouri didn’t flinch. “And if I choose this path?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost a whisper. “What happens then? Will you kill me, Father?”

Khonshu’s eyes glowed like twin moons; his expression unreadable. “I don’t need to kill you, Nouri,” he said with a bitter smile. “You’ll do it yourself. It won’t be me who brings you to your end, but your own heart—your compassion. You’ll give it all away... and when you do, you will die.”

The finality in his voice sent a chill down her spine. But Nouri met his gaze, her own eyes burning with a mixture of defiance and a deep, heavy sorrow. She could feel the weight of it—her love for humanity, her need to protect them, her longing for Steve—and she knew, deep down, that this path she was walking might well lead to her own destruction. But she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when she knew her heart belonged to them.

"I’ll die for them," she whispered, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. "If it means saving Steve, if it means saving this world... I’ll die."

Khonshu’s lips curled into a bitter smile, a mix of affection and disdain. "We shall see," he muttered, his voice dripping with malice. "But mark my words, Nouri. If you continue down this path, you will find yourself alone. Alone and broken. And when the end comes, it won’t be the gods you’ll blame. It will be your heart.”

With that, the god’s form flickered in and out of existence, his words lingering in the heavy air like a dark cloud. Nouri remained standing, her chest tight, her breath shallow. She had heard his threats before, but this time, they felt different. His power, his anger—it all felt more real, more imminent.

She stood there for a long moment, the tension of the encounter still gripping her chest. I can handle it, she thought fiercely. I’ve survived worse. I’ve lost everything before and come back from it.

And yet, something about Khonshu's words gnawed at her. The fear that he might be right— that I might be wrong —began to settle like a stone in her stomach.

The silence of the night was shattered by a sharp knock at the door.

Nouri’s thoughts snapped back to the present, her heart thudding in her chest as she quickly turned toward the door. It had been a night of restless waiting, and now—this. Her breath hitched; her pulse quickened. There was urgency in that knock, a distinct sense of something important. Her hands trembled slightly as she steadied herself before walking toward the door. The second knock came, harder this time, more insistent.

She exhaled sharply, pulling the door open. Standing there, framed by the faint light of the moon, was Ardeth. His face was taut with urgency, his eyes scanning the horizon.

"The Quinjet," he said, his voice low and steady, yet carrying the weight of something undeniable. "It’s been spotted in the night sky."

Her stomach dropped, the words hitting her like a thunderclap. The Quinjet. He was here.

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat. Without another word, she bolted out the door, not waiting for Ardeth’s further instructions, not even hearing him call her name. Her feet hit the ground, bare against the rough earth, the warm desert sand pressing between her toes. Her clothes fluttered in the wind as she ran, her curly hair a wild, untamed mass of strands whipping behind her. She didn’t care. Nothing mattered now except the hope that he was there.

The moon cast long shadows over the endless desert, the faint outline of distant dunes stretching far beyond what her eyes could make out in the dark. She felt the cool night air rush past her skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire in her chest. She could feel the desert under her feet, the sands shifting with every stride, but still, she ran faster. The pounding of her heartbeat drowned out all other noise as she pushed her legs harder.

The stars above were bright, but the light they cast did little to illuminate the vast emptiness around her. He was home. She had to believe that. She refused to let doubt creep in.

Her body screamed for breath, but she refused to stop, the wind pulling at her clothes and hair, as though it, too, urged her onward. She could see it now—a faint silhouette against the starry sky, cutting through the night. Her pulse quickened.

It was there.

The Quinjet.

A black shape in the distance, gliding through the night sky like some divine messenger sent to answer her call. It was coming closer, and Nouri could feel the distance between them shrinking, though it was still too far. Too far for her liking. She pushed herself harder, her legs aching, her lungs burning, but still, she didn’t stop.

The Quinjet grew larger, the engines roaring softly against the backdrop of the night. She slowed for a brief second, her feet sinking into the soft sand as she gasped for air. She planted her hands on her knees, breath coming in ragged gasps, and forced herself to look up. The Quinjet was descending now, closer, almost close enough to touch.

He’s here, she thought again, and this time, the weight of the hope in her chest felt like it might explode.

But the sound of the Quinjet’s engines grew louder, the rush of air intensifying as it approached, its sleek form coming into clearer view. The metallic glint of its surface shimmered in the moonlight as it slowly descended into the sand, kicking up dust and sand in a wide arc.

Nouri stood, hands planted on her hips, chest heaving as she waited for the Quinjet to touch down.

Her heart thundered with every second that passed, and just as the Quinjet’s landing gear made contact with the ground, Nouri’s body surged forward once more. She took a final sprint toward it, feeling the winds from its descent batter her face, but nothing could stop her now.

---

Steve stepped off the jet, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. The cold air bit at his skin, but it wasn’t the chill he longed to escape. What he craved was something warm—Nouri. Her warmth, her voice, the gentle presence that grounded him in ways he couldn’t fully explain. The ache in his chest had been unbearable over the last five months. The silence, the distance—it had all led to this moment, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

Sam followed behind him, his footsteps light against the frost-covered ground. “It’s cold,” Sam muttered, his breath puffing in the frigid air.

Steve barely registered the comment. His gaze was fixed ahead, scanning the empty desert around the landing pad, until he saw a figure in the distance—a figure that made his heart skip a beat. Someone was running toward him, moving with a grace and certainty that could only belong to one person.

“Is that...?” Sam began, but Steve didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence.

“Nouri!” Steve breathed; his voice thick with emotion.

Without another thought, Steve took off toward her, his legs moving faster than they had in months, the cold no longer a concern. She was here. She was real. His heart raced as he closed the distance between them, his entire being pulling him toward her.

Nouri’s face lit up as she saw him running toward her. Her eyes, once distant and full of longing, now shone with a fire that mirrored his own. Her arms opened wide, and Steve didn’t hesitate—he reached her in seconds, his arms wrapping around her, lifting her off the ground.

The moment his lips met hers, everything else faded into the background. The months of separation, the pain, the fear—it all melted away in the heat of their kiss. It was a kiss filled with relief, love, and a promise that they’d never let go again. Time had stolen so much from them, but now, they were together again.

When they finally pulled away, Steve rested his forehead against hers, his breath uneven. “You’re home,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. The weight of the past months seemed to lift, but the warmth of her presence anchored him in the present.

Steve smiled softly, his fingers tracing the side of her face. “I never meant to leave you for so long,” he murmured. 

Steve closed his eyes, savouring the sound of her voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket. But then, his thoughts turned to Sam, who was still standing a few feet away, watching them with a raised eyebrow.

Nouri turned her head toward him and, with a warm smile, extended her arms. “Sam!” she called, and before he could react, she was pulling him into a hug, laughing lightly. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, her voice as bright as ever.

Sam chuckled, his arms awkwardly going around her. “Yeah, well, it’s good to be back. Cap's been a mess without you.”

Steve shot him a playful glare, though his heart still fluttered at the sight of Nouri and Sam reunited. There was something so comforting about seeing her interact with the people he cared about, knowing that she was now back in his world—and not just in his heart.

When Nouri pulled away from Sam, she looked up at Steve, her eyes soft and full of love. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.

“I know,” Steve replied, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I missed you more than I thought possible.”

With one last glance toward Sam, who was now walking off to give them some space, Steve leaned down to kiss Nouri once more, this time slower, deeper, as if trying to make up for every lost moment.

When they finally parted, Nouri rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "We're finally together again," she whispered.

"Yeah," Steve said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And I’m never letting you go."

---

As they made their way back through the desert, the cool desert winds cut through their clothing, a stark contrast to the sweltering warmth of Cairo they had all grown accustomed to. The vast stretch of sand lay beneath a twilight sky, the stars beginning to twinkle in the early evening.

Sam, still not used to the desert chill despite the heat, grumbled with each step. “For such a warm country,” he muttered, “it sure gets cold at night. I thought deserts were supposed to be warm.”

Steve let out a chuckle as he walked beside Nouri, his arm wrapped around her waist, feeling a sense of peace that only being near her could bring. “You get used to it,” Steve said, glancing over at Nouri.

Nouri laughed softly, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Yeah, it's the desert’s way of keeping things interesting,” she teased. “Plus, if you live here long enough, you’ll stop noticing. And if not, just bundle up in a cloak. Or a really big scarf. You’ll be fine.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “A scarf? Really? That’s how you survive the desert cold?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nouri grinned, a playful spark in her eyes. "Well, Sam, I actually can't really feel the cold air." She flicked her fingers casually, and a small flicker of fire danced at her fingertips, casting a warm glow around them.

Sam raised an eyebrow, watching the flame with a smirk. "Of course, you can’t."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Always showing off," he teased, but the smile on his face said otherwise.

Nouri’s smile widened as the fire disappeared, her fingers curling back into her palm. "What can I say? It’s a gift."

As they walked in easy silence, Steve felt his tension melt away, the familiarity of Cairo wrapping around him like an old friend. The city, with its bustle and history, felt more like home than anything else. “It’s good to be back,” Steve said, his voice quiet but full of contentment.

“It feels right,” Nouri agreed, her gaze lost in the horizon as they walked. “You know, I did something the other day... I called the Ennead together. It’s been two years since I even attempted to contact them, but I couldn’t shake this feeling. Something big is coming. And I needed to speak with them.”

Sam glanced at her, slightly intrigued. “What did they say?”

Nouri shrugged nonchalantly, though there was an undercurrent of concern in her voice. “Well, Ra and the others seem to be thrilled to see me again. But there’s this feeling... this tension. Something’s brewing. The stars are restless. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’m starting to get the sense that the universe is on the verge of shifting, and not in a way we’ll be prepared for.”

Sam’s expression softened at her words, a rarity for the usually sardonic soldier. “Sounds ominous. Any idea what it could be?”

“I wish I did,” Nouri replied, her tone a mixture of unease and determination. But the smile faltered as Nouri continued. “But... it didn’t end there. Afterward, I had a visit. Khonshu came to me.” She looked at Steve, then back to Sam, her voice lowering in a tone that carried both gravity and a hint of frustration. “He warned me. He told me that my love for humanity, my heart... it could be my undoing. He said I shouldn’t forget that he gave me life, and he could take it away just as easily.”

Sam blinked, taking in her words. “Khonshu said that to you? That’s a little... intense.”

Nouri sighed, her eyes drifting to the ground for a moment. “It’s more than just words. Khonshu... he’s complicated. He’s my father, and yet, sometimes I wonder if his sense of ‘justice’ is so twisted that he doesn’t understand why I do the things I do. He’s trying to protect me, in his own way. But the idea that my love for humanity could lead to my death? It’s a threat I can’t ignore.”

---

As they walked through the desert, the night air biting at their skin, Steve couldn’t shake the knot in his stomach. Nouri’s defiance had been clear when she talked about Khonshu’s warning, but he couldn’t let it go. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what she'd almost done two years ago.

He stopped walking, his shoes scraping against the sand as he turned to face her, his jaw tight.

“You should take Khonshu’s threat seriously, Nouri,” Steve said, his voice low but charged with a growing frustration. “He’s not the type to just throw things out there. And if he says that your love for humanity might lead to your death, then you should listen.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady and unflinching. “Steve, I—”

“No, you listen,” Steve snapped, cutting her off. His tone grew sharper, more insistent, a tinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. “This isn't about just what you want, Nouri. You almost killed yourself two years ago. You remember that? Do you remember what it felt like for me—for me—to watch you destroy yourself slowly?”

His voice started to rise, the frustration and helplessness pushing through. “I almost lost you then, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you again because you’re so damn stubborn about this! If Khonshu’s warning means you might die because you can’t control your heart—then you take it seriously!”

Nouri’s eyes widened, but she didn’t back down. She could feel the heat in his words, but she wasn’t about to give in. “Steve…”

“No,” Steve said louder, his voice almost a shout now. He stepped toward her, his hands balling into fists at his sides, his chest heaving. “I can’t keep watching you gamble with your life! You say you love humanity, that you’re here to protect them, you may be immortal but you’re not invincible! ”

His voice cracked, his frustration overflowing. He was angry—angry at Khonshu for his manipulative threats, but more so at himself for feeling powerless, for seeing Nouri walk a dangerous path when he was too afraid to stop her.

“Look at me!” he demanded, stepping closer, the urgency in his voice rising. “You’ve defied the gods, fought through impossible odds... and now you’re letting this—this idea that you can’t be hurt, that you’re untouchable—decide your fate? I can’t…” His voice faltered for a second, the rawness of his emotions catching him off guard.

He stepped back, his breath coming fast, as his anger mixed with his love for her. He was shaking, his chest heavy, and it took everything in him not to break down right there. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her again.

Nouri stood there, her expression unwavering, her heart racing. She could see the anguish in his eyes, but she was not going to be swayed by fear. Not again.

“Steve,” she said quietly, her voice steady but filled with a quiet strength, “I can’t live in fear of what could happen. I’ve walked this path for too long. If Khonshu wants to take my life, I will let him, I can’t change fate. I’m here to guide humanity. To be their light. And I won’t apologize for that. I can’t.”

Steve clenched his jaw, his hands still shaking, but he met her gaze, his voice calmer now, though it still held a trace of desperation. “I’m not asking you to apologize, Nouri,” he said, his voice quieter now, more controlled but no less intense. “I’m asking you to be careful. I can’t lose you. I love you too much to just let you ignore this.”

Her heart ached as she saw the anguish on his face, but she shook her head, her expression softening. “I know you love me. But you can’t control everything. You can’t control this.” She stepped forward, gently taking his hand in hers. “We can’t live our lives based on fear of what might happen. We have to live, my love. Together. No matter what comes.”

For a long moment, Steve stared at her, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his hand still trembling in hers. He could see the determination in her eyes. She was resolute. And as much as it terrified him, he knew there was no changing her mind.

“I just want you safe,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I want you here. With me.”

Nouri squeezed his hand, her heart swelling. “I’ll be here, Steve. And I’ll be safe. I won’t let anyone’s fear control me, but I won’t ignore it either. I promise.”

Steve let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “I just need you to promise me... that you’ll think about it. That you’ll always take care of yourself. Even when you’re saving the world.”

Nouri smiled softly, a warmth filling her chest at the sincerity in his words. “I promise, honey. I’ll think about it. Always.”

As they stood there, under the starlit desert sky, their hands intertwined, the weight of the conversation lingered. But for now, they had each other. And that was enough to face whatever came next. Steve was focused on Nouri, on the woman who had his heart—no matter the danger that lay ahead.

Chapter 38: The Beginning of the End

May 30th, 2018

 

The soft glow of the moon filtered through the windows, casting a tranquil light across the room. Nouri lay in Steve’s arms, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his body radiated against her skin, and she felt utterly safe in his embrace, as if nothing in the world could touch her here. The faint scent of the bukhoor she had burned earlier clung to her hair, the rich woodsy fragrance mingling with the natural scent of Steve, both calming and grounding her.

She moved a little closer, nestling against him, and he responded without thinking, instinctively pulling her tighter, his strong arms wrapping around her in a protective cocoon. His breath brushed against her hair as she tilted her head to breathe him in. She had spent so many lifetimes apart from humanity, watching them from a distance, but it was moments like this, here with him, that made everything feel real, alive.

Her peace, however, was short-lived. The shrill sound of a phone ringing broke through the quiet, harsh and insistent. Steve groaned, clearly frustrated by the interruption, but reluctantly rolled over to grab it from the nightstand.

“Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep, but there was a sharpness to it that told Nouri he was already slipping back into his soldier mindset.

Nouri’s fingers lightly traced the contours of his pectoral as she turned to face him, her lips brushing against his chest in soft, lingering kisses, unwilling to break the spell just yet. Steve responded with a quiet smile, clearly grateful for the moment, even as his focus shifted to the phone call.

“Okay, we’ll be there,” he said after a few moments, his voice now fully alert, before hanging up and tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and looked at Nouri, an apologetic expression crossing his features.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile as she rested her head on his chest again, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat. “Who was it?”

“Bruce Banner,” Steve replied, his voice low as he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips warm against hers.

Nouri paused, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes, concern flashing in hers. “Banner? What did he want?”

Steve sat up, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “We need to go get Vision and Wanda, and protect the Mind Stone.”

Nouri’s stomach twisted at the gravity in his voice. She could feel the weight of the situation settling in. Without another word, Steve stood, pulling on his shirt and making his way toward the door, the urgency in his movements clear.

“Why now?” Nouri asked as she swung her legs off the side of the bed, quickly following him. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said as he pulled on his jacket. “I’ll brief you on the way. We need to get Sam.”

Nouri grabbed her phone, typing a quick message to Natasha. 

Did Banner call you?

The reply came almost instantly, her words sharp with clarity. 

Yes, I’ll meet you there.

Nouri’s heart raced with the shift in atmosphere. It felt like the calm before the storm, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread, a gut feeling that this was more than just a simple mission. She quickly changed into her black tactical gear, slipping on her golden swords across her back. She tightened her grip on her sword’s hilt as she made her way out of her room, a sense of purpose settling over her.

Sam was waiting outside, already dressed for action, his usual confident grin lighting up his face as she approached.

“Time to go to work,” he said with a smirk, his tone light but with a glimmer of urgency behind it.

Nouri gave him a smile and a nod, her mind already racing through the possibilities of what lay ahead. Just as she was about to follow him out the door, a familiar voice called her name.

“Nouri!”

She turned to see Ardeth approaching, his usual calm demeanour now replaced with something more intense, his expression shadowed with concern.

“What’s happening?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face as he stepped closer. There was no mistaking the tension in his voice.

Nouri paused, looking at him for a long moment before replying, her voice low but firm. “Something big. We need to be ready. Gather your brothers, and wait for my call.”

Ardeth nodded, his face softening with understanding, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We will be ready.”

She gave him a small, appreciative smile before pulling away, her footsteps quickening as she headed for the Quinjet waiting just outside. The air around her felt charged, the desert stretching out before her in the cool silence of the night. As she walked, she glanced up at the star-filled sky. It had always been a comfort to her, even in the darkest of times. But tonight, something felt different. The wind whispered through the empty spaces around her, and she could swear she heard a voice.

“Your death is near.”

The voice was unmistakable—Khonshu, ever ominous, ever unsettling. His words sent a shiver down her spine, but she quickly dismissed them.

“Shut it Birdman,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to the spirit who constantly haunted her thoughts. The last thing she needed right now was his cryptic warnings.

She climbed into the Quinjet, and as the doors shut behind her, she took a deep breath. The engines hummed to life, and she looked over to Sam, who was already at the controls.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of unease in her chest.

“Scotland,” Sam replied, his voice calm but with the edge of urgency that matched her own. The Quinjet lifted off from the ground, soaring into the night sky.

Nouri settled back into her seat, glancing over at Steve, who had joined her in the cabin. His gaze was fixed forward, a soldier on a mission, but there was something else there—something she recognized. The same deep, unwavering commitment that she had seen before. It made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t fully explain.

“We’ll get them,” Steve said, his voice low and confident.

Nouri nodded, her mind racing with the weight of everything they were about to face. This was no longer just a mission—it was a crossroads for everything she had fought for, everything she had come to understand about humanity, about herself. There was no turning back now.

The Quinjet cut through the air, leaving the quiet hum of the city far behind them. She looked out the window, the vast expanse of the world beneath her. For the first time in a long while, Nouri felt the pull of destiny settle around her like a cloak. Whatever came next, she was ready. And if she had to face it alone, so be it.

As the Quinjet flew toward Scotland, her thoughts were sharp, focused. She had always known that her bond to the mortal world was a delicate one, a bridge between divine and human. But now, with the Mind Stone at risk, that bridge would be tested in ways she could never have predicted.

---

The Quinjet landed with a soft thud on the open field, the engine whirring as it powered down. Natasha was already waiting by the entrance, her arms crossed as she surveyed the area. The moment the ramp lowered, Nouri, Steve, Sam, and Natasha exited the craft, their faces set in grim determination. The wind rustled the tall grass beneath their boots, but there was no time to appreciate the tranquillity.

"Where are they?" Natasha asked, her voice sharp with urgency, her eyes scanning the distance. They mirrored Wanda’s determination—intense, unwavering.

Nouri’s eyes flickered toward the distant train station; her voice steady but filled with focus. "A train station," she said, her gaze narrowing as she began moving toward it.

The four of them piled into the car, and in no time, they were speeding toward the city. Nouri felt a tense anticipation rising in her chest as they neared their destination. The weight of the mission was heavy on her shoulders, but her resolve was even heavier.

As the car came to a halt outside the train station, the four of them quickly disembarked, Nouri falling into the shadows. She watched from her concealed position, her eyes scanning the chaos ahead. Wanda was already engaged in battle, fending off two Black Order soldiers. Vision was beside her, holding his ground but clearly strained. The team wasted no time, charging in with precision.

Sam soared into the air, his wings cutting through the wind as he kicked Midnight back with a force that sent her crashing into a nearby pillar. Natasha was right behind him, grabbing Midnight’s spear and using it against Glaive, her movements fast and ruthless. Glaive recoiled from the strike, but Natasha didn’t give him time to recover. She swung the spear again, landing a blow that sent him staggering.

Nouri’s eyes flickered toward Vision, and she saw his moment of weakness. She knew there was no time to waste. Her fingers sparked as fire enveloped her hands, and she unsheathed a flaming sword, its blade crackling with divine energy. In one sweeping motion, Nouri sliced through one of the attacking aliens, her sword leaving a trail of scorching flames in the air. The creature’s body evaporated into ash, and Nouri didn’t pause. She was already on the next one, her blade cutting through the air with grace and power.

Wanda’s voice rang out as she sent a blast of energy toward another enemy, but Nouri was already there, her sword blocking an incoming strike, sending a wave of heat through the air that scorched the alien’s weapon. Without missing a beat, Nouri spun, her sword arcing through the air and slicing through the alien’s chest. It dropped to the ground in a heap, consumed by the flames.

She turned just in time to see Proxima Midnight recovering, her spear aimed at Steve. Nouri’s eyes burned with fury, and in an instant, she was there, her sword raised high. Midnight turned just in time to block the strike, but Nouri’s strength was too much. The flames from her sword collided with Midnight’s weapon, and with a deafening crack, the spear shattered.

"You think you can stop me?" Proxima hissed, eyes blazing with anger.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need to stop you. I just need to protect them."

With a battle cry, Nouri drove her sword forward. The flames licked at Midnight’s armour, the heat unbearable, but Proxima fought back fiercely, summoning her strength to strike at Nouri’s defence. But Nouri was faster, more skilled. She parried the blow, then used her momentum to slam her sword into Midnight’s chest, sending her crashing to the ground.

Meanwhile, Sam was in the air again, knocking Proxima back with a brutal kick that sent her careening into a wall. She stumbled, barely managing to stay on her feet. "Get up," she ordered Glaive, her breath laboured as she wiped blood from her mouth.

"I can’t," Glaive gasped, trying to rise but struggling to find his footing.

Natasha, standing nearby, adjusted her grip on her weapon. "We don’t want to kill you," she said, her voice sharp and firm, eyes cold with resolve. "But we will."

Proxima’s eyes blazed with defiance as she glared back. "You’ll never get the chance again."

Before Natasha could reply, Proxima and Glaive were both beamed away in a flash of light, disappearing from sight.

The battle seemed to pause for a moment, the station eerily silent. Nouri’s breath came in steady, controlled exhales as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Her eyes flickered over to Vision, who was struggling but holding himself together.

"Can you stand?" Sam asked, concern evident in his voice as he landed next to Vision.

Vision nodded, his face showing gratitude but also the weight of the fight. "Thank you, Captain."

Steve stepped forward; his voice low but commanding. "Let’s get you on the jet."

Nouri wiped the ash from her sword and sheathed it, her body still humming with the heat of battle. She scanned the area quickly before her eyes flickered over to Wanda, who was still catching her breath. Wanda’s face showed the strain of the fight, her hands trembling slightly.

Without a word, Nouri moved toward her. "Wanda," Nouri called softly, her voice full of concern. "Come on, I’ll help you."

Wanda, still clearly shaken, looked up and met Nouri’s eyes. Her expression softened, though there was guilt in her gaze. "I’m sorry," Wanda whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I should have checked in. I—"

Nouri placed a firm hand on her shoulder, interrupting her. "We all make choices," she said, her tone gentle yet unyielding. "But this—this was not your burden alone to carry. We’re a team. We fight together. Now, let’s get you to safety."

With a steady grip, Nouri helped Wanda to her feet, guiding her toward the Quinjet. She could feel the weight of Wanda’s exhaustion, but her resolve was unwavering. "We’re going to get through this," Nouri assured her as they moved quickly.

As they reached the jet, Natasha was already at the door, her eyes still sharp, watching for any sign of danger. Nouri helped Wanda climb into the Quinjet, her voice low and reassuring. "You rest now. We’ve got this. You’re safe."

The doors to the Quinjet slammed shut behind them, sealing them in as the hum of the engines grew louder. Nouri looked at Natasha, her eyes steady. "I thought we had a deal," Natasha said, her voice sharp, eyes piercing. "Stay close, check in. Don’t take any chances."

Wanda lowered her gaze, a shadow of guilt crossing her face. "I’m sorry. We just wanted time."

Nouri stood tall, her body still crackling with energy, her resolve unshaken. "Time’s up," she said quietly, her voice firm yet calming.

Sam shot a glance at Steve. "Where to, Cap?"

Steve, who was sitting in the cockpit of the quinjet, met his gaze with a quiet resolve. "Home."

---

The Quinjet soared through the sky, the hum of the engines a constant reminder of the fight that still lingered in their minds. Nouri sat quietly beside Steve; her eyes distant as the weight of the battle still pressed heavily on her chest. Her body still hummed with the energy of the flames she had wielded, but it was her mind that troubled her now.

Steve’s expression was focused but softening when his eyes met hers. Their connection, already undeniable, had only grown stronger in the quiet aftermath of battle. He hadn't said much, but Nouri could feel the warmth of his gaze, the unspoken understanding between them. It made her heart flutter, but that flutter was quickly overshadowed by the heaviness of Khonshu's words.

"Your death is near. Stop this madness." The god's voice still echoed in her mind, his words so certain, so cold. It was a threat she couldn’t ignore, though she kept it buried deep, hidden from the others.

Steve shifted in his seat, leaning slightly toward her. His eyes softened. "You did great back there," he said quietly, his voice low enough to be just for her. "We all did. But... I noticed you seemed distracted after the fight. Something on your mind?"

Nouri didn’t meet his gaze immediately. Instead, her fingers traced the outline of the window, the cool glass offering little comfort. She knew he could sense the shift in her, just as he always did. His presence had a way of grounding her, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the growing sense of dread she felt in the pit of her stomach.

"I’m just... thinking," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. "A lot of things to process. Something big is coming." She let the words hang in the air, careful not to let her true feelings slip.

Steve studied her, his brows furrowing slightly. "Whatever it is, we’ll face it together," he said, his voice gentle but firm, as if offering her an anchor in the storm. 

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest at the simplicity of his words. She wanted to believe him. Could she tell him? Could she reveal the threat hanging over her, a death she could feel inching closer with every passing moment?

Her eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, she almost let it slip. She could almost taste the words on her tongue, could almost feel the relief that might come with sharing it. But something held her back, a need to protect them all from the weight of her fate. She couldn’t drag Steve into this uncertainty. Not when they had just begun something that felt so... right.

Instead, she smiled faintly, though the sadness in her eyes remained. "I’m just tired, honey. The fight took more out of me than I expected," she lied, her voice light as she tried to brush off the heavy thoughts clouding her mind.

Steve didn’t look convinced, but he let the silence speak for a moment, understanding more than he let on. His presence beside her was a comfort, like a steady heartbeat in the chaos of the world.

Steve’s hand reached out, gently taking hers. The touch was electric, a simple gesture that sent a wave of warmth through her veins. His thumb traced over the back of her hand, grounding her in that moment.

But as the Quinjet continued its course, Nouri’s mind remained a storm of doubt and fear. She could feel the weight of Khonshu’s words pressing on her chest, the certainty in his voice haunting her every step. She had chosen to keep this to herself for now, but the knowledge of her fate was like a shadow that refused to fade.

---

May 31st, 2018

 

The Quinjet touched down with a low hum, and the ramp lowered, revealing the familiar stretch of grass leading up to the Avengers Compound. The team stepped off the jet, Nouri laughing lightly as she looked around.

"You weren't kidding when you said we were going home," Nouri chuckled, the weight of the past years lifting ever so slightly as the familiar landscape came into view. There was something about being here again that made her feel, if only for a moment, like she had found a small piece of her former self.

The others followed, silently appreciative of their return, though the mood was heavy. As they entered the Compound, they spotted Rhodey, standing near a hologram of the Secretary of State. The conversation he was having seemed tense, and Wanda, ever the curious one, nudged Nouri gently.

"What's going on?" Wanda asked, her voice low, eyes flicking between Rhodey and the hologram.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. "This doesn't look like a casual chat about how to fix the world's problems," she remarked.

As the team gathered around, Steve stepped forward, his usual calm but firm demeanour taking charge. "Mr. Secretary," he said, voice cutting through the air.

The hologram flickered, and General Ross turned to face him, his expression sour. "You got some nerve. I'll give you that," Ross muttered, clearly not amused by their sudden reappearance.

Natasha's voice cut through the tension, calm but sharp. "You could use some of that nerve right now."

Ross let out an exasperated breath, running a hand through his hair. "The world's on fire. And you think all is forgiven?"

"I'm not looking for forgiveness," Steve responded, his gaze unwavering. "And I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So, we're here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way... We'll fight you, too."

Ross scowled, turning to glare at Rhodey. "Arrest them."

Rhodey, surprisingly unfazed, nodded. "All over it." He quickly flicked off the hologram, and with a wry grin, he turned back to face the group. "That's a court-martial. It’s great to see you, Cap."

Steve met his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You too, Rhodey."

Rhodey gave a light shake of his head as he surveyed the team. "Well, you guys really look like crap. Must've been a rough couple of years." He chuckled, though there was a certain sincerity in his tone.

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, the hotels weren't exactly five-star."

Nouri couldn’t help herself, elbowing Sam lightly with a grin. "As if you didn’t enjoy your time in Cairo," she scoffed, her tone playful. "You were practically living the dream."

Sam shot her a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. "You know that was more work than vacation, right?"

Nouri raised an eyebrow, the glint of mischief in her eyes. "Work?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Right, I'm sure all those 'fights' were... very productive."

Sam laughed, his shoulders shaking as he looked over at Steve. "I swear, Nouri's always got something to say. Can’t get a moment’s peace around her."

Before Nouri could respond, Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat, a smile on his face as he looked at them. "Uh, I think you look great. Yeah. I’m back."

The awkwardness in his tone was palpable, and Nouri couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "That's the most awkward ‘I’m back’ I’ve ever heard," she teased, her eyes dancing with humour.

Natasha, ever the steady presence, smiled warmly at Bruce. "Hi, Bruce."

"Hi, Nat," Bruce replied softly, his voice a little quieter than usual.

Sam, always the one to break the tension with humour, muttered, "This is awkward."

They all chuckled, a brief but meaningful moment of lightness in the midst of everything else that had happened.

And just like that, the weight of the years began to feel a little lighter.

---

They all gathered in the dimly lit room, the weight of their impending decisions pressing down on them. Nouri sank into the couch, her fingers rubbing her temples as she tried to quiet the swirling voices in her mind. The constant sound of Khonshu’s voice, it was overwhelming.

Bruce broke the silence, his voice cutting through the fog of her thoughts. "So, we gotta assume they’re coming back, right? And they can clearly find us. We need all hands-on deck. Where’s Clint?"

Natasha looked at the floor for a moment, her face shadowed by unspoken thoughts. "After the whole Accords situation, Clint and Scott took a deal. They couldn’t risk their families getting caught in this anymore." She gave a weary sigh. "It was too tough on them."

Bruce frowned. "Who’s Scott?"

"Ant-Man," Steve replied, stepping into the conversation with a tone of recognition, as if they were all still trying to catch up on the weight of the situation. His eyes scanned the room, gauging everyone’s reactions.

"An Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Bruce blinked, clearly trying to digest the absurdity of the names.

"Yeah, we got a few of those now," Natasha muttered, but her eyes were focused on Nouri, her expression unreadable.

Bruce’s face shifted to one of grim seriousness. "Look, Thanos has the biggest army in the Universe. And he’s not gonna stop until he gets..." His voice trailed off as the weight of the statement settled in. "Vision’s stone."

"Then we protect it," Nouri spoke, her voice clear and determined, her gaze unwavering as she met Vision’s eyes. Her hands clenched in her lap, a subtle sign of the fire building within her.

Vision, ever the calm and calculating presence, spoke up, his tone like soft steel. "No. We need to destroy it." He stood up, walking toward Wanda, his presence still heavy with the knowledge of what needed to be done. "I’ve been thinking about this entity inside of me. Its nature, its composition. If exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy signature, something very close to its own, it could cause the molecular integrity of the stone to fail."

His gaze softened as he met Wanda’s eyes, though the pain in his voice was evident. "Only you can pay that price, Wanda. Thanos threatens everything. One life can’t outweigh the lives of billions."

Wanda, standing by him, shook her head, her eyes filled with doubt and fear. "That’s too high a price."

Vision's hand gently brushed against Wanda’s. "I know it's hard, but you have the power. You can end this." He was speaking not only to Wanda but to everyone in the room. He knew the cost, the devastation that came with it, but his conviction was unwavering. "One life cannot stand in the way of saving the universe."

Steve stepped forward, his expression conflicted, the weight of the decision pulling him in different directions. His voice was firm, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it. "But it should. We don’t trade lives. That’s not who we are."

Vision met Steve's gaze with an emotionless calm, though his words carried the weight of his existence. "Captain, 70 years ago, you laid down your life for millions of people. Tell me, why is this any different?" He stepped closer, his form towering over Steve, though not with intimidation—more with a quiet, knowing presence.

Steve’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as his past and his present collided. Before he could answer, Bruce’s voice cut through, a counterpoint to Vision’s logic.

"Because you might have a choice," Bruce said, his voice serious as he glanced at Vision. "Your mind is made up of a complex construct of overlays—Jarvis, Ultron, Tony, me, and now the Stone. It's all mixed together, learning from each other."

Wanda’s confusion was palpable. "You’re saying Vision isn’t just the stone?"

Nouri, sitting back with a knowing look in her eyes, spoke quietly. "I sense his soul."

Bruce nodded, adding his thoughts. "Exactly. If we take out the Stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. The best parts, perhaps."

Natasha turned sharply toward Bruce; her brow furrowed. "Can we do that?"

Bruce shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. "Not me. Not here. Not without risk."

Rhodey, who had been listening quietly, stood up from his seat and crossed his arms, his tone pragmatic. "You better find someone, and somewhere, fast. Ross isn’t exactly going to let you guys have your old rooms back."

The tension in the room spiked as they all realized the weight of the situation. Steve looked around, his mind working furiously. He paused before turning toward Nouri. There was a quiet determination in his gaze, one that matched the resolve in his voice.

"I know somewhere," Steve said quietly, his words settling like a promise in the room.

Nouri nodded without hesitation; her eyes sharp with determination. The connection to the ancient world radiated from her, her presence commanding in a way that made the air around her seem to thrum with the power of centuries. "They will help us," she said, voice unwavering. "I will send my men to meet us there." Without another word, she swiftly pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen as she sent the message.

---

The Quinjet rumbled in the air as Sam piloted, the roar of the engines filling the space, while Rhodey, Steve, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision settled into their seats. Nouri’s gaze drifted toward the window, but her mind was elsewhere. The nagging sensation grew stronger, a feeling in her chest, like something deep within her was stirring. Khonshu’s words? Or my own fear... She shook her head slightly, trying to push away the unease. It wasn’t fear, not exactly, but a sense of the unknown.

"We’re hitting 2600, heading 0-3-0," Sam’s voice broke the silence, his grip firm on the controls. "I hope you’re right about this, Cap. Or we’re gonna land a lot faster than you want to."

The Quinjet passed through a shimmering force field, entering Wakanda’s borders. As the ship began its descent, the ramp lowered with a soft hum. The air seemed different here, heavier with the weight of ancient power, and as the team stepped onto Wakandan soil, the magnitude of what was ahead settled over them like a cloak.

Bruce turned to Rhodey with a raised eyebrow. "Should we bow?"

Rhodey smirked, his voice laced with humour. "Yeah, right. He's a king."

Steve, ever the diplomat, extended his hand to T’Challa, his grip firm and respectful. "Seems like I’m always thanking you for something, your highness."

Bruce, always the oddball, couldn’t resist. He awkwardly bent his knees and made an exaggerated bow, his gaze flickering to the others, as if unsure whether he’d done it right.

"What are you doing?" Rhodey asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

T’Challa, with a quick wave of his hand, smiled kindly. "Uh, we don’t do that here."

Nouri, standing nearby with her arms crossed, couldn’t help but laugh. "You bow to him and not me?"

T’Challa, ever the gracious king, smiled at Nouri and bowed his head slightly. "Praise be, Al Nouri. Your warriors arrived a few minutes ago."

Nouri’s smile softened, her gaze flicking to T’Challa before she nodded. "Always a pleasure, T’Challa."

As the group moved further into the city, T’Challa’s demeanour turned more serious. "How big of an assault can we expect?" he asked, his voice low, eyes scanning the horizon.

Bruce hesitated before speaking, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault."

Steve nodded, his eyes narrowing as he looked around. "How are we looking?"

T’Challa’s expression remained calm as he spoke, his words carefully measured. "You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…" He paused, his gaze flickering to Bucky, who was quietly observing the scene.

Bucky stepped forward, offering a wry smile. "A semi-stable, 100-year-old man," he said with a chuckle. His tone was light, but there was an underlying sense of camaraderie that resonated with everyone in the room.

The two old friends shared a brief but heartfelt hug. It was the kind of moment that spoke volumes about the time they’d spent apart and the trust that had been built between them.

"And thirty immortal Medjai warriors," Ardeth replied, stepping forward and extending his hand to Steve. Steve shook it, though his expression seemed just a bit disappointed.

"But that’s not enough?" Nouri asked, raising an eyebrow. Steve nodded; a look of determination set on his face.

Without waiting for further instructions, Nouri turned to Ardeth and nodded once. The two of them walked out to the field, and with every step, the weight of the moment grew heavier. Nouri’s gaze lifted to the sky, her lips parting in a low chant, the ancient words carrying an ethereal resonance. The ground around them seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, time itself appeared to pause.

She pulled her sword from its sheath with a fluid motion, the blade gleaming in the fading light of the day. Without hesitation, she thrust it deep into the earth, the steel cutting through the soil with a sharp hiss, the sound echoing like a distant thunderclap.

The ground trembled beneath them. At first, it was subtle—a small shiver in the earth—but then it intensified. The soil cracked open, jagged lines splitting the ground in every direction. From the depths, ancient murmurs stirred, as if the earth itself had awakened from a long slumber. There was a faint, unnatural heat that radiated from the cracks, and a thick, musty air rose up, filled with the scent of decay and forgotten time.

From the dark rifts in the earth, skeletal hands first emerged, clawing their way through the dirt with bone-crushing force. Slowly, bodies began to rise, their movements jerky and stiff at first. The ground split open wider, as though it were being torn apart by the force of something ancient and immense. The Medjai, mummified warriors bound by decree, began to crawl from the fissures—slowly at first, their bodies stiff, the wrappings of ancient linen falling away as they stood.

Their eyes glowed with an eerie, supernatural light—glowing faintly with a haunting blue fire that spoke of long-forgotten powers. The warriors stood tall, one by one, until a hundred strong, silent and imposing, filled the field. Each man was clad in worn but regal armour, the hieroglyphics and symbols of Egypt etched into their skin and armour. They were not mere mortals but the embodiment of centuries of history, rising at Nouri’s command.

The Avengers stood in stunned silence, unable to fully process what they were witnessing.

As the first of the warriors emerged, Natasha took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise. “That... that's not something you see every day.” She whispered, her voice low with awe and unease.

Wanda's face remained expressionless, but her eyes flickered with the faintest trace of wariness.

Vision, ever the logical one, furrowed his brow, attempting to process the impossible. "The laws of nature are being disrupted. These... these are not mere illusions."

Bruce, however, couldn’t contain his fascination and horror. "Are they... are they really alive? Or... is this just necromancy?" He leaned in, inspecting the warriors as they began to stand tall, the ground cracking beneath them as if nature itself was trembling under the strain of their resurrection.

Steve, standing beside Nouri, looked out at the assembled warriors, his mouth slightly agape. "This is..." He couldn’t find the words.

"You’ll have the strength of the gods behind you," Nouri said, her voice quieter now but filled with a calm certainty. She turned to the warriors, her gaze sweeping over them as if she had summoned them just for this purpose. "Medjai, you stand ready to fight. The mortal realm is in need of your strength."

Ardeth, his expression serious and full of respect, nodded once. "They are yours to command."

The Medjai stood in perfect formation, like an army of the ancient world brought back to life. Their silent steps reverberated through the ground, sending a shiver of anticipation through the air. A sense of otherworldly power hung around them, palpable in the stillness of the moment.

Nouri’s voice cut through the silence, “100 Medjai warriors. These warriors fought beside me for centuries. Now they fight for you.”

As the Medjai began to march in unison, their movements precise, the Avengers looked on in stunned silence. They had seen powerful forces in their lives, but this—this was something else. Something ancient, a power that had transcended time.

After a long moment, Natasha crossed her arms, her voice quiet but full of respect. "I never thought I’d see the day... I’m glad we’re on the same side."

Wanda nodded, still processing what had just unfolded. "This power... it feels like it’s from another time, another world."

“I’m not sure which is scarier,” Bruce said, swallowing. “The fact that Nouri just raised an army of the dead... or that she did it so effortlessly.”

Nouri, standing by herself now as the warriors marched off toward their stations, gave the team a small, knowing smile. "It was never about effort," she said softly. "It’s about understanding the flow and balance of time, the cycles. Everything has its place, even death. These warriors are not here to torment—they are here to protect."

The Avengers exchanged uneasy glances but nodded, a mixture of awe and respect for the goddess who had just brought them the strength they needed.

After a moment, Nouri turned and began walking back toward the Wakandan palace with the rest of the group.

---

They all gathered around Shuri's lab, the atmosphere thick with tension as Vision lay motionless on the table, his body suspended in stillness. The faint hum of technology filled the room, adding to the urgency that hung in the air. Bruce and Shuri were at the centre, their eyes locked on the holographic projections as they carefully examined the stone embedded deep in Vision’s head.

The others stood around the lab, watching with bated breath, knowing that the fate of their world hung in the balance. T'Challa, Wanda, Natasha, Okoye, and Nouri were all present, standing at attention like soldiers waiting for orders.

"Whoa," Shuri muttered in awe, her fingers moving swiftly across the interface. "The structure is polymorphic. It's changing in real-time." Her eyes widened as she analyzed the hologram. "This is incredible."

Bruce nodded slowly, his expression deep in thought. "Yeah, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially, adjusting on the fly. The way this stone interacts with his brain... it's unlike anything we've seen."

Shuri frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. "Why didn’t you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?"

Bruce’s eyes flickered to the side, a brief moment of regret crossing his face. "We didn’t think of that at the time," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.

Shuri let out a soft laugh, clearly amused, her tone light. "I’m sure you did your best," she teased, her sharp mind already moving on to the next problem.

Wanda, standing by the table, looked at Vision, her gaze filled with concern. "Can you fix him?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Shuri didn’t hesitate; her tone confident but cautious. "Yes, I can. But there are more than two trillion neurons in his brain. Each one is connected to his entire being. One misalignment could cause a cascade of failures that could destroy him completely."

Nouri’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with urgency. "How long will it take?"

Shuri’s calm eyes met hers, her expression firm. "As long as you can give me. I’ll need time to reroute the circuits and realign the neural pathways. We’re talking hours, not minutes."

Okoye, who had been monitoring a device on her wrist, suddenly looked up, her sharp gaze narrowing. "Something’s entered the atmosphere. It's big."

Everyone in the room turned toward her, the tension in the air escalating. Okoye’s eyes locked onto the screen, a frown tugging at her lips.

Before anyone could respond, Sam’s voice crackled over the comms. "Hey, Cap, we got a situation here. They’re coming in hot."

The sound of explosions echoed in the distance, followed by a loud rumble. The defence shield surrounding Wakanda activated, a massive surge of energy tearing through the atmosphere as it destroyed one of the incoming vessels.

Vision, now appearing beside the window, turned to face the group. His face was a mixture of urgency and resignation. "It’s too late," he said, his voice grim. "If we don’t destroy the stone now, it will destroy us all. The stone is destabilizing."

"Vision, get your ass back on that table," Natasha snapped, her eyes flashing with determination.

T'Challa stepped forward, never one to shy away from battle. "We will hold them off. We’re not letting them take this city." His voice was firm, unwavering.

Steve, his expression sharp with focus, turned to Wanda. "Wanda, as soon as the stone’s out of his head... you blow it to hell."

"I will," Wanda responded, her eyes glowing with resolve. "We can’t let it fall into their hands."

Nouri, standing to the side, felt the familiar heat of the flames within her. She had known fire for millennia, but this—this was a different kind of fight. A fight to protect the lives of mortals she had come to care for. 

T'Challa nodded sharply, his tone unwavering. "Evacuate the city. We’re locking down all defensive procedures. Get our people to safety." He turned toward Steve with a commanding gaze. "And get this man a shield."

---

As the chaos of the impending battle loomed, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air. The carriers were ready, the soldiers gathered, and the tension was palpable. But in this fleeting moment, Nouri and Steve stood apart from the others, a rare silence between them, Nouri grabbed his hand, and they turned a corner to get a little bit of privacy.

Nouri’s gaze softened as she looked at Steve, her heart a quiet storm in her chest. She reached up, brushing a strand of his hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She could feel the pulse of the world around them, the lives they were about to stake their own on—but here, in this brief moment, it was just him and her.

Steve met her eyes, his expression a mixture of determination and something softer, something vulnerable that he rarely let others see. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low, as though he feared the answer she might give.

Nouri smiled, a soft, knowing curve of her lips. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life," she said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "I’ll follow you to the end of the line, my love. No matter what happens, I’ll be with you."

Before he could say anything more, Nouri closed the small gap between them, her lips finding his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was brief, but filled with everything they couldn’t put into words. A promise, an unspoken vow, one that transcended time and fate.

When they pulled apart, Steve’s breath was uneven, his hand coming up to rest on her cheek, as if grounding himself in the reality of her presence.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice barely a breath against his skin.

His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all the noise around them seemed to fade. He smiled, a rare, sincere expression. "I love you too, Nouri," he replied, his voice rough with emotion.

---

They stepped out of the palace, the air thick with anticipation. Steve, now with a brand-new shield—a gleaming, vibranium beauty—stood at the forefront, his jaw set with determination. Behind him, the Wakandan carriers hovered just above the ground, their engines humming softly. Filled with Wakandan soldiers, Natasha, Steve, and Bucky stood alongside Bruce, now fully suited in the Hulk buster suit. The Medjai, a silent force, had their own carrier. Nouri, standing tall at the head of the group, was a force to be reckoned with.

Steve turned to look back at Nouri. His eyes met hers, a silent affirmation of their bond. There was pride in his gaze, mixed with admiration.

Ardeth, as ever, stood beside her. He leaned in, his voice low, but filled with conviction. "We will follow you to the afterlife," he whispered in Nouri's ear.

Nouri chuckled softly, her smile warm, the weight of their shared history evident in her expression. "And I'll lead you there," she replied, her voice a mix of amusement and affection.

As they reached their destination, the carriers came to a sudden halt. Everyone disembarked swiftly, forming their positions as the Medjai moved as one, their steps in perfect sync. Nouri stood shoulder-to-shoulder with T'Challa and Steve, her presence a pillar of strength amidst the impending chaos.

M'Baku, the mighty leader of the Jabari, stepped forward, his chest swelling with pride. He raised his voice, rallying his troops with a mighty war cry that echoed through the air. As the sound reverberated, the ground itself seemed to tremble with the power of it. But as T'Challa approached, M'Baku’s voice softened, a gesture of respect between the two warriors.

"Thank you for standing with us," T'Challa said, his voice firm but filled with gratitude. His hand came to rest on M'Baku's broad shoulder.

M'Baku’s response was a grin that could have lit the sky. "Of course, brother," he said, his words laced with loyalty and unwavering strength.

T'Challa, Steve, and Natasha moved toward the edge of the barrier, where Proxima Midnight and Obsidian Cole stood, their menacing forms already preparing for battle. The tension in the air was palpable, but Nouri remained where she stood, her eyes scanning the horizon, her mind already calculating the chaos ahead.

With a flick of her wrist, Nouri unsheathed her swords, flames igniting from the blades, casting an ethereal glow. As her black clothes burned away, revealing her warrior outfit, the sacred hieroglyphs across her skin became impossibly vivid. Each symbol glowed with an inner light, pulsing softly, as if alive with power. The ancient markings stood out sharply against her skin, their meanings timeless and sacred, a testament to her divine heritage and strength.

The three leaders turned; their attention focused on the impending battle. Nouri’s gaze never wavered. The Medjai moved in sync, their silent steps echoing through the air as they followed her lead. She was both their queen and their protector, and they would follow her into the heart of darkness if it meant saving those who needed her.

Bucky, ever the soldier, scanned the scene, his brow furrowing. "Did they surrender?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion as the enemies seemed to stand motionless before them.

Steve shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Not exactly."

Then, a voice—strong and clear—cut through the tension.

"Djeser Al Nouri!"* Ardeth’s voice rang out, their ancient chant.

The Medjai responded in unison, stomping their staffs against the ground in a rhythmic beat, their voices rising in a deep, resonant chorus:

"Djeser Al Nouri! Medjay uha'!"*

Their chant was a vow, a promise, an unbreakable bond to their goddess. Their loyalty was unshakable, their spirits forged by centuries of service to Nouri.

T'Challa’s gaze hardened, and he rallied the Wakandan soldiers with a commanding cry of his own. "Yibambe!" His voice rang through the air, filled with strength and resolve. The Wakandans responded with fierce determination; their shields raised high as the Outriders charged toward the barrier.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he observed the oncoming creatures. "What the hell?"

Natasha, ever the strategist, smirked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Looks like we pissed her off."

T'Challa wasted no time. "Shields up!" he ordered, as the soldiers formed a protective line, their shields locking into place like an impenetrable wall. Okoye, ever watchful, observed the Outriders as they bombarded the dome, only a few breaking through.

"They’re killing themselves," she remarked, her voice steady despite the chaos unfolding before them.

Sam, his eyes locked on the creatures, sent Redwing into the fray, his voice cutting through the confusion. "You seen the teeth on those things?"

"Alright, back up, Sam," Rhodey’s voice crackled over the comms. He soared above the fray in his War Machine suit, releasing a barrage of mines. "You're gonna get your wings singed if you’re not careful."

Sam hovered near Steve; his tone urgent. "Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get behind us... there’s nothing between them and Vision."

Steve’s voice remained calm; his leadership unwavering. "We better keep 'em in front of us," he commanded.

Okoye turned to T'Challa, her face a mask of determination. "How do we do that?"

T'Challa's eyes hardened with resolve. "We open the barrier." He touched his ear. "On my signal, open North-West Section Seventeen."

M'Baku, his gaze fixed on the scene before them, turned to Okoye. "This will be the end of Wakanda," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of their situation.

Okoye stood tall, unwavering, the fire of determination burning in her eyes. "Then it will be the noblest ending in history."

With a hiss, the section of the barrier opened.

T'Challa led the charge, his voice booming over the battlefield. "Wakanda Forever!" His hands crossed over his chest in the iconic gesture, and his Black Panther helmet descended, covering his face. He moved like a force of nature, his warriors following in his wake, their chants of unity ringing through the air.

Steve, resolute as ever, followed in T'Challa’s footsteps, his shield raised high. Beside him, Nouri and the Medjai moved as one, their presence like a storm on the horizon, ready to tear through anything that stood in their way.

Together, they moved forward—warriors of light, of strength, of conviction. Their battle cry reverberated through the land, a symbol of defiance against the darkness that sought to consume them.

This was their moment. And no force on Earth, or in the heavens, would stand in their way.

Notes:

*Translation:
"Djeser Al Nouri!" → "Sacred is Al Nouri!"
"Medjay uha'!" → "The Medjai rise!"

Chapter 39: Death and all his Friends

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback

The Border Tribe held firm, their energy cloaks shimmering like a protective wall, keeping the Outriders at bay. The Royal Guards unleashed a relentless barrage of fire, their Sonic Spears cutting through the air, each shot a flash of deadly precision. Bruce and Bucky joined the fray, moving with calculated efficiency to assist their comrades, while Rhodey and Sam soared above, bombarding the advancing hordes from the skies. But despite their combined efforts, the Outriders were relentless. They began circling the barrier, looking for weak spots, a breach that could lead them directly to Vision.

Nouri stood at the front lines, her eyes blazing with fiery intensity as she sliced through the Outriders like a tempest. Her movements were fluid, almost graceful, as the flames that coursed from her hands swirled around her like a blazing river. Her swords, sharp and radiant, cut down any who dared approach her, her strikes never missing their mark. Each blow was a symphony of violence, as she twirled and danced in the chaos, her fire lighting up the battlefield.

"Come closer, and I'll show you how to truly burn," Nouri muttered, her voice a low growl as another wave of Outriders charged toward her.

With a swift motion, she whirled around, cleaving an Outrider in two, the flames consuming its body before it could even touch the ground. Behind her, the Medjai fought with fierce resolve, their warriors as fluid and deadly as Nouri herself. Dressed in their traditional garb, they moved like shadows, each blow perfectly timed, each strike aimed with precision. They were her brothers, and together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Beneath Nouri’s feet, the ground trembled as the Medjai held their formation, their spears flashing through the chaos, cutting down Outriders who attempted to flank them. Their eyes, sharp and vigilant, always sought their goddess, their loyalty unshaken by the brutality of the battlefield.

"Form up, Medjai!" Nouri commanded, her voice cutting through the storm of battle. "Keep them contained!"

The warriors moved like a tide, sweeping across the battlefield as they carved a path through the enemies. One Medjai, his face hardened with years of battle, locked eyes with Nouri before charging into the fray, his sword cutting through an Outrider’s chest.

Nouri continued her relentless assault, each movement as fluid as water, her fire flowing with her like a constant surge. She was a storm incarnate, her swords flashing in the dark. Another wave of Outriders rushed at her, and she met them head-on, her blades cutting through them in arcs of flame that illuminated the battlefield.

"La turihum rahma!"* Nouri shouted, as she twisted and sliced, her swords searing through another group of enemies, the heat radiating from her body as she felt the weight of each life she took.

The clash of weapons rang in the air, but Nouri barely noticed it—her focus was absolute, her eyes sharp as she cut down Outriders left and right. She moved with unmatched speed, each sword swing leaving a trail of flame that consumed her enemies in seconds. Her body was a blur, a whirlwind of fire and steel, and as she fought, her thoughts never wavered. Vision was still out there, vulnerable. But for now, she fought.

Then, in the sky, a brilliant beam of light caught her attention. She didn’t look away; she only smiled as she recognized the familiar surge of power.

Thor’s axe, crackling with lightning, soared through the air like a comet, cleaving the Outriders in half with devastating force. Nouri didn’t miss a beat. Her swords continued their deadly dance as the God of Thunder made his entrance, his presence electrifying the atmosphere.

Bruce, standing nearby, couldn’t contain his laughter. "Hah! Hah! Hah! You guys are so screwed now!" he shouted, his voice booming above the chaos.

Nouri winked in Thor’s direction, offering him a brief, teasing smile before turning back to her enemies. "He’s back, and I’m still the one doing the hard work," she muttered under her breath, reigniting her swords with an even fiercer intensity.

As Thor charged toward the Outriders, his voice ringing out like thunder, "BRING ME THANOS!" Nouri felt the familiar surge of adrenaline. The battle was about to shift in their favour. But even as Thor made his entrance, a small voice called out to her.

“How much for the sword?” The raccoon asked, eyeing her weapons.

Nouri paused for a moment, her swords glowing as she sliced through yet another Outrider. "Not for sale," she said, her voice laced with confusion. She had fought beside gods, aliens, and super soldiers, but never had a raccoon spoken to her.

Rocket seemed unimpressed, though. “I’m so getting those swords”

Before she could reply, the battle intensified as new threats arrived—massive Threshers, mechanical beasts burrowing beneath the Wakandan barrier. Their screeching metal bodies tore through the ranks, threatening to overwhelm the soldiers and breach the defences.

"Dammit!" Nouri cursed, gritting her teeth as she dodged a swipe from one of the Threshers. "We need to stop them, or Vision's done for."

She fought alongside Natasha, her movements synchronizing with the Black Widow’s as they cut through the machines, their combined skill enough to drive back the Threshers for a moment. But the machines were relentless.

Suddenly, a massive blast of energy flew through the battlefield, tossing the Threshers into the Outriders with brutal force. Wanda, her hands glowing with energy, had just hurled them into the mass of invaders.

"Good one, Wanda!" Nouri shouted, her eyes flashing as she continued to slash through the Outriders’ lines. But their brief victory was short-lived.

"Get back to Vision!" Nouri ordered urgently over comms; her voice sharp with command. "The Threshers were a diversion!"

Sam, hearing the call, immediately radioed back. "Vision’s vulnerable, but—" His transmission was cut short as an Outrider tackled him to the ground.

"We’ve got to move now!" Nouri urged. With Bruce and Wanda, she charged toward Vision’s position, but just as they neared, Wanda was ambushed by Midnight, a shadowy figure with a deadly intent.

Wanda fought back fiercely, but Midnight was too much. She nearly struck Wanda down, only to be stopped by Natasha and Okoye, who fought back with deadly precision.

Nouri saw her chance. Her flame-infused blades met Midnight’s throat with a resounding crack. The assassin let out a scream as the fire consumed her, her body turning to ash in seconds.

"We’re almost there," Nouri said, her voice low, as she turned her focus back to the task at hand.

But the fight wasn’t over. As they neared Vision, Glaive appeared, cutting a path through the trees. Nouri’s eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening.

With a single swipe of her sword, she struck, the fire engulfing the towering warrior in a surge of heat. Glaive, taken by surprise, fell to the ground, defeated in a matter of seconds.

Vision stood tall, his energy flaring as he destroyed Glaive’s weapon. The remaining Black Order members fell quickly, and the Outriders began to retreat, their morale shattered by the loss of their leaders.

"Don’t let them get away!" Thor’s voice rang out as he and the Wakandan air force tore through the sky, destroying the Outriders' dropships one by one.

Nouri stood tall, bloodied but unbowed, her fiery swords flickering in the air as she watched the remaining invaders flee. "Not today," she whispered to herself.

The battle in Wakanda had been long and brutal, but Nouri had never once faltered. She had fought with every ounce of strength, her flame burning brighter with each passing moment. And now, as the dust settled, she stood victorious—her resolve unshaken.

"Time to rest," she muttered, though she knew the fight was far from over. The war against Thanos was just beginning.

---

With the Outriders decimated, Nouri stood in the midst of the chaos, her breath shallow but steady as she took in the battlefield. Steve's voice echoed through the air, urging the Avengers to regroup. The dust from the shattered earth settled around her, but it was far from over.

Vision’s wince drew her attention. She could see the pain rippling through him, his eyes wide with distress as he clutched his head. "Thanos is coming," he said, his voice strained.

The winds began to shift. Cold and unnatural. A deep, unrelenting chill seeped into the air, tugging at Nouri’s hair, forcing it to whip around her face. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. This wasn’t the calm before the storm—it was the storm itself.

Steve’s voice rang out, sharp and authoritative. "Converge on my position!" he commanded, and Nouri felt the urgency, the raw determination in his tone. They had no time to waste.

A portal tore through the sky, and Thanos stepped forward, his massive form casting an ominous shadow over the battlefield. The five Stones glinted on his gauntlet, each one a symbol of the suffering he had wrought, the destruction he intended. He had the power, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

"Thanos," Bruce’s voice trembled as he confirmed the identity of the looming titan, the word nearly choking him with dread. The weight of it hit Nouri in the chest, but she didn’t have time to think.

She turned to Steve, locking eyes with him. He didn’t need to say anything—she knew exactly what was coming. "We hold him off," Steve said, his expression hardening with resolve. "For as long as we can."

Nouri nodded and readied herself. Her hands crackled with the power of the sun, the fire swirling just beneath her skin, urging her to act. She wasn’t going to stand by and let him destroy everything.

Bruce lunged at Thanos with the Hulk’s brutal fury, but the Space Stone flicked with a casual wave of Thanos’s hand, and Bruce vanished, helplessly falling through space until he crashed into a jagged cliffside.

"Get up, Bruce!" Nouri shouted, but the battle raged on. Thanos’s eyes were fixed on Vision, and with every step, the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble.

Thanos’s first strike came as a shockwave, blasting Steve and Nouri back with the force of the Power Stone. Nouri’s body slammed into the ground, pain shooting up her spine, but she rose, her fire igniting, her resolve as unyielding as the flames she controlled.

T'Challa was next, lunging with precision and speed, aiming for Thanos’s throat. But Thanos caught him in mid-air, lifting him effortlessly by the throat before slamming him into the ground with a sickening crack.

Nouri’s heart clenched as she watched her friends fall. She could see Sam swooping in, his wings slicing the air, but Thanos barely turned his head. The Space Stone flicked again, and Sam’s wings crumpled as if they were made of paper. Sam crashed hard into the ground, unable to move.

"Nouri!" Steve shouted, pulling her attention back to the fight. The Avengers were falling one by one, and it was clear: Thanos was unstoppable.

Vision, despite his own suffering, reached out to Wanda, his voice desperate. "Destroy the Stone, Wanda!" he pleaded, but Wanda’s heart twisted with the weight of the decision. She couldn’t do it. Not like this.

"I won’t," she said, her voice trembling. "I can’t lose you."

But Thanos wasn’t waiting. He pressed forward, each step a promise of destruction. Natasha, Okoye, and Rhodey all tried to take him on, but he swatted them away with terrifying ease. Natasha’s form was trapped in a rock cage, Okoye sent flying with a flick of the Power Stone, and Rhodey’s armour crushed with a wave of Thanos’s hand.

Nouri’s breath quickened as she watched, helpless. They were all outmatched. And now, only Wanda stood between Thanos and the Mind Stone. Wanda, torn between love and duty, finally relented, her energy pooling around the Stone.

Nouri knew what came next. She could see it in Wanda’s eyes. The pain, the agony. Vision’s life would end either way.

Wanda whispered an apology, and with one last cry, she poured all her power into the Stone. It pulsed with energy, but before the deed could be done, Thanos stepped forward, bringing his full wrath to bear.

He knocked Wanda aside with a backhanded swing, sending her sprawling. Thanos’s eyes locked onto the Mind Stone, and with a devastatingly final gesture, he grabbed Vision’s head, tearing the Stone from his skull.

Wanda screamed, a gut-wrenching cry of pure grief as she watched Vision’s body fall. Her eyes turned wild, filled with fury and sorrow, but it wasn’t enough. Thanos had completed his quest. He had all the Stones.

Nouri’s blood boiled as she locked eyes with Thanos. She saw her moment, and without hesitation, she lunged at him, the fire inside her flaring with every step. Her body was a blur of speed and power as she swung her blade towards him, a strike meant to sever the very essence of the universe. But Thanos, with the barest flick of his hand, swatted her away as though she were nothing more than a fly.

"Who are you?" he mocked, his booming voice echoing through the chaos around them. He barely noticed her in the heat of battle, but now, with his victory secured, he looked at her with a cruel interest.

Her fury was palpable. She bared her teeth, the rage growing inside her like a wildfire. "I am a god!" she screamed, her voice raw with determination. Her sword cut through the air, an arc of fire trailing behind it. This time, she wouldn’t falter. She wouldn’t fail. But Thanos didn’t even flinch as her blade met his armour. He blocked her strike effortlessly, a smirk playing across his face.

And then, with terrifying ease, he flicked her aside.

Nouri was sent tumbling across the battlefield, the force of his flick like a mountain crashing into her. She barely caught herself before the ground swallowed her whole. The pain coursed through her like a river of fire, but she refused to give up.

She rose to her feet, a snarl on her lips, eyes burning with fury. Thanos laughed, a deep rumble of amusement at her defiance.

“You think you can defeat me?” he mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. “Pathetic.”

With a growl, Nouri surged forward again, her body a tempest, but this time, Thanos was ready. Before she could reach him, he reached down, grabbing her by the throat with a single hand, lifting her from the ground like a puppet. Her sword slipped from her fingers, falling uselessly to the dirt. The fire inside her flickered, but it was beginning to die. The power she had once controlled so effortlessly was draining, leaving her with nothing but the aching remnants of her strength.

She clawed at his hand, her fingers burning with the last vestiges of her power, but it wasn’t enough. She could feel the Gauntlet pulsing with power, but it was invulnerable. Her vision began to blur, and her breathing came in ragged gasps. She turned her head; her eyes meeting Steve’s from across the battlefield. Her lips parted, barely able to form words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling like a dying ember.

Thanos’s grip tightened. She could feel her breath being crushed from her lungs, her world tilting. The edges of her vision darkened, and she fought to stay conscious, fighting with everything she had left. The flames inside her burned brighter for a second, but it was fleeting.

“Pathetic,” Thanos sneered, his tone a mockery of her strength.

Her body burned with every ounce of her remaining power, but it wasn’t enough. Thanos's gaze flickered with amusement, and then, with a cruel chuckle, he slammed her into a nearby tree. The impact shattered the bark, the world spinning in a blur of pain as her body rattled with the collision. She gasped, the force of the blow stealing the air from her lungs. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth as it dripped from her split lip.

She struggled to move, her hands trembling with exhaustion. Every part of her body screamed in agony, but she refused to lie there. She refused to die like this. She pushed herself to her knees, her breath shallow, her heart pounding in her chest. She could still fight. She had to fight.

But Thanos wasn’t done.

He moved toward her, slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence crushing her like a storm cloud. His massive hand picked up her swords, the weapons she had wielded for millennia, and she reached for them, desperation flooding her veins. But she was too slow. His sadistic grin widened as he drove the swords into her chest, the sharp edges tearing through her skin and into her heart.

Nouri’s breath hitched in her throat, and she felt the cold bite of steel cutting through her. Her eyes widened as the shock and agony washed over her, consuming her in an instant. The fire that had once burned so brightly within her flickered and then went dark. She couldn’t scream. The pain was too much.

Without a moment’s notice, Thor hurled Stormbreaker with all the fury that had been building up inside him. The axe soared through the air, embedding itself deep into Thanos's chest with a sickening thud.

“I told you," Thor growled, his voice a venomous whisper, “You’d die for that.”

His eyes burned with rage as he gripped the back of Thanos's head and drove Stormbreaker deeper, pushing with all his strength. The Mad Titan cried out, his body convulsing from the pain, but Thor's fury was unrelenting. The once-proud villain gasped for breath, his hands shaking as he reached for his gauntlet.

“You should’ve...” Thanos wheezed, his voice a strained rasp, "...You should’ve given me head!!”

Thor’s face twisted with disgust, but he was far from finished. Just as he was about to bring Stormbreaker down for the final blow, Thanos, in one last act of desperation, raised his gauntlet and snapped his fingers.

“NO!” Thor’s roar echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with horror, but it was too late.

Thor, still fuming with rage, stepped closer, his voice rising with fury. "What did you do?" he demanded, his anger palpable. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Thanos smirked mockingly at Thor, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. Without another word, he raised the Space Stone and teleported away, leaving Stormbreaker embedded in the Wakandan battlefield.

Steve, his voice filled with confusion and disbelief, looked around frantically. "Where'd he go? Thor... where'd he go?" His voice was shaky, panic creeping in as he searched the empty battlefield, only to find the aftermath of what had just happened.

Bucky, standing nearby, suddenly felt a terrible weight, a hollow sensation creeping through his body. His prosthetic arm began to disintegrate into ash, the pieces falling away like dust in the wind. His breath hitched, and he turned to Steve, struggling to get the words out. “Steve?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he turned to see Bucky. But before he could even react, his best friend, the man who had been his brother through every battle, stumbled and collapsed. The world around them seemed to shatter—time itself halting. Bucky’s body began to disintegrate into dust, his prosthetic arm falling apart first, then his entire form crumbling to nothing.

"No… no, no, no…" Steve’s voice trembled, barely a whisper of the man he had been just moments before. His heart shattered with each grain of dust that slipped from his friend’s form. Every part of him, every ounce of hope he had held onto, began to crumble with Bucky’s death.

Thor, standing beside him, was frozen—his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his face twisted with the unbearable weight of grief. He watched as Steve’s expression crumpled under the impossible sorrow of watching another friend fall. Around them, the battlefield turned into a horror, a wasteland of what had once been life. The soldiers who had fought with courage and pride were nothing now—just ash on the wind.

M’Baku, who had fought with such resolve, looked around in horror as his men turned to dust before his eyes. His body froze in shock, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening.

T'Challa, his face set in determination as always, reached down to a fallen Okoye, his voice urgent. “Up, General. Up! This is no place to die!” But his words were drowned out by the devastating sound of his own body disintegrating, his form crumbling into ash before her eyes.

Okoye, torn between disbelief and anguish, fell to her knees as the world she knew shattered. Tears streamed down her face, her voice choked in sorrow, “No… No!”

Steve’s chest was tight, his heart pounding in his ears as he looked down at Nouri, his goddess, the one person who had always anchored him in the storm of his existence. Her breath was shallow, laboured, each intake a desperate fight against the overwhelming tide of death that slowly, relentlessly pulled her away. Blood, dark and foreign, dripped from her lips, staining her once-perfect skin—a silent testament to the cruel fate she was now facing. Her body trembled weakly, the pain overtaking her every movement. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay focused, to stay present, but even they betrayed her. Slowly, they began to slip, unable to hold on to the fading light of life.

“No… no, please,” Steve choked out, his voice breaking under the weight of his sorrow. He collapsed beside her, his knees hitting the cold ground as he desperately tried to pull her close, to keep her here, with him. His hands cupped her face, fingers trembling violently against her skin, now colder than he had ever felt it before.

"Stay with me, please. You can’t go. You can’t leave me like this. Not after everything we’ve fought for... not after everything we still had left to do.” His voice cracked, the words breaking apart as his heart shattered, piece by piece. “We had so much more, Nouri… so much more. We were supposed to—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The future they had dreamed of the love they had fought for, was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“It’s okay, my love,” Nouri whispered, her voice so soft it barely reached him, like a breath stolen by the wind. A faint, fragile smile tugged at the corner of her lips—a ghost of the strength that had once been her essence. It wasn’t the radiant, all-knowing smile he knew so well, but it was enough. “I’ve lived long enough…” she coughed, blood filling her mouth once more, staining her teeth as she struggled to speak. She grimaced, pain flashing across her features. "I’ve lived long enough… to know what it means to love… and to be loved. Please… don’t mourn for me. Don’t carry that weight for me.”

Steve’s heart broke with each word she spoke, but especially with those last ones. “No!” he cried, his voice full of desperation and disbelief. He leaned over her, his hands gripping her even tighter, as if he could somehow stop the flow of time itself. “You can’t say that. You don’t get to leave me like this. Not now, not after everything! We—We were supposed to—” The words broke on his lips, each one heavier than the last. “I can’t lose you. Not like this. You can't leave me alone in this world that feels so empty without you…”

Before he could choke out another word, a figure fell to his knees beside them. Ardeth. The man who had once been Nouri’s protector, her brother in every way that mattered, now kneeling at her side, unable to fully process the loss they were both facing. His breath hitched in his chest, the very air leaving him, as he looked at the woman who had once been the light in his life. The one who had shown him the true meaning of loyalty, love, and strength. And now, she was fading, slipping through their fingers.

"Nouri... no..." Ardeth whispered, his voice barely audible, as though he couldn’t even bear to speak her name out loud. His hands hovered helplessly above her, trembling as they reached for her, but unable to make contact. It was as if touching her would make it real, would make the end inevitable. His heart broke with every passing second, with every breath she took that he knew was her last. The woman who had been his sister, his closest ally, his guiding star, was slipping away from him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I chose my fate, I knew the price of my actions…” Nouri’s voice was little more than a whisper now, barely audible even in the silence of their grief. Each breath was a struggle, her body trying to fight against the inevitable, but it was no use. Blood filled her mouth once more, her chest rising and falling with increasing difficulty. She coughed, each rasp of her breath taking something from her. “I chose this… to save them… to protect them….” Her eyes met Steve’s one last time, her gaze filled with love, with longing.

“Al Nouri…” Ardeth’s voice cracked, his hands hovering over her, shaking uncontrollably, unable to touch the woman who had once been his everything. His heart was breaking in ways he didn’t know were possible, and the pain was suffocating. She had been his sister, his closest friend. He would have laid down his life for her without hesitation. And now, all that remained was her fading life, slipping through his hands like dust.

With a final, shaking breath, Nouri reached for the sword lodged in her chest. Her fingers were weak, trembling as they wrapped around the hilt, but her gaze was strong, unwavering. There was power in her eyes still, even as her body began to fail her. “With this sword, I, Al Nouri Ra-Khonshu, bestow upon this vessel my power… my immortality…” Her voice cracked, each word taking all the strength she had left. “Take it, Ardeth… You must take it… You must carry on my work…”

Ardeth’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes flickered between the sword and Nouri’s fading form. His hands hovered over the hilt, torn between the sacred duty she had just entrusted to him and the overwhelming pain of watching her slip away. He had always promised to protect her. He had sworn an oath to be there for her, to shield her from harm. And now, she was asking him to carry the weight of her life. The weight of the world she had worked so tirelessly to protect. His heart ached as he looked at her, but in her eyes, he saw the fire of her spirit—the same fire that had burned in her for centuries. It was a fire he could not ignore.

“Take it!” Nouri urged, her voice suddenly filled with a fierce strength, a godly power that still burned within her. “Take it, and carry on my work… for the world… for the gods… for humanity!” Her voice was commanding, unstoppable, even as her body crumpled under the weight of her sacrifice.

Ardeth hesitated, his hands shaking violently. The weight of the sword was unbearable, but in that moment, he understood. He understood what she had asked of him, what she had chosen. And, with a heavy heart, he grasped the hilt of the sword. The power surged through him, filling him with her strength, her will, and her love. But it was a hollow gift. He could feel it—the crushing weight of her absence, the loss of her light.

Before he could say another word, Nouri turned her gaze back to Steve. Her eyes, now soft with tenderness and love, locked with his one last time. Her voice was a fragile whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes. “I will meet you… in the Field of Reeds…” The words were a promise, a final gift, a thread of hope that she had woven between them, even in her last moments.

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, her eyes closed. Her body went still. The light that had once burned so brightly within her was gone. The air around them seemed to grow colder, the world itself seeming to halt in its tracks. Time had stopped, holding its breath as they all waited for something to break the silence, but there was nothing. No sound. No warmth. Nothing.

Steve, his heart torn to shreds, screamed her name, his voice raw and desperate, filled with the weight of his sorrow. “No! Nouri, no! Please, don’t leave me like this… Not like this! You can’t go… You can’t leave me…!” His cries filled the empty space between them, but there was no response. No answer. No comforting touch. His goddess, the woman who had loved him with everything she had, was gone. The woman who had kept him grounded, who had given him light in the darkest of times, was now just a lifeless body in his arms.

Thor, whose face was pale with sorrow, stepped forward. His usual strength, his bravado, had crumbled in the wake of Nouri’s passing. He could see the destruction in Steve’s eyes—the devastation that would never truly heal. The anger that had once been the fuel for battle now dissipated, leaving only the deep, aching sorrow of knowing they had lost something irreplaceable. Someone irreplaceable.

But Nouri’s death was not the end of their pain. Ardeth, still holding the sword with a broken heart, turned to call out to the Medjai. But there was no answer. As Nouri died, so too did the Medjai. Their immortality, bound to her, slipped away with her final breath. One by one, the warriors who had stood by her for centuries faded into sand. Their light extinguished. Their loyalty, their strength, all gone in an instant. And with their passing, the very fabric of their world seemed to crumble.

In that moment, it wasn’t just the death of a goddess. It was the death of everything they had known and loved. The Medjai were gone. Nouri’s light was gone. And all that remained was the haunting silence, the crushing weight of the emptiness she had left behind.

The world had turned to ash. The air, thick with grief, felt colder, as though the very earth itself had lost its warmth. The ground beneath them seemed to hold a mournful weight, every footstep heavy with the burden of what had just transpired. A deafening silence enveloped the land, a silence that cried out for the protector who had now faded into the winds of time.

The grief, raw and unbearable, clung to them like a cloak. It was more than the loss of a life—it was the loss of a beacon, a guiding light that had shown humanity their potential. And all that remained in the void was the haunting echo of Nouri's final words, her last plea for mercy, her final breath still hanging in the air, slowly fading into nothingness.

Ardeth picked up Nouri’s body, his arms cradling her as though she were a fragile relic, her once-powerful form now reduced to stillness. The weight of her loss settled heavily on him, but there was no time to mourn—not yet.

“Where are you taking her?” Steve whispered, his voice thick with a quiet desperation. His eyes were hollow, as if all light had been drained from him in one unbearable instant. He hadn’t expected to lose her like this—she had been invincible to him. But the truth was unavoidable, and it crushed him.

“To her temple,” Ardeth answered, choking on his words, his voice barely audible. He had never believed he would have to bury her—not Nouri, not the goddess who had stood so fiercely with them. “I will honour her...” he faltered, and the words trailed off into the heavy air. How could anyone ever honour someone like her?

Steve stood frozen for a moment, unable to move. His hands clenched into fists, the ache in his chest growing as he watched Ardeth carry her body—her beautiful, powerful, radiant form now nothing more than a shell. His heart screamed for her to open her eyes, to breathe again, but deep down, he knew she was gone. His heart shattered into a million pieces, the weight of his love for her now unbearable.

He followed, numbly, as Ardeth, Natasha, and he walked toward the Quinjet. There was no sound between them, only the unbearable heaviness that accompanied the loss of someone you loved with every part of your soul. Steve’s steps felt like a slow march toward something he couldn’t yet understand.

When they entered the Quinjet, Steve helped to place Nouri’s body on the cold, unforgiving floor. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to be standing beside him, laughing, guiding him through this chaotic world. But she wasn’t.

Ardeth’s hands shook as he began the mummification ritual. Steve watched silently, his heart breaking more with every movement Ardeth made—every action that spoke to the finality of Nouri’s passing.

Ardeth carefully washed her body, removing the blood and dirt that clung to her like a cruel reminder. Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as his chest tightened, suffocating him. This wasn’t just the loss of a god; it was the loss of her. The woman who had once looked at him with eyes full of kindness and fire, who had taught him how to believe again, how to feel again. She had been everything—his rock, his heart. His love.

As Ardeth began to remove her jewellery, each piece was a painful reminder of the goddess she had been—the regalia she had worn so proudly. Steve wanted to scream, to demand this all be undone. But there was no more time for demands. No more time for anything except the unbearable reality of their loss.

“I never thought it would end like this,” Steve murmured to himself, his voice lost in the hum of the Quinjet. The tears were too close to the surface, and his throat was tight. He couldn’t let go of her. How could he? She was everything he had wanted, everything he never thought he could have. Now, she was just... gone.

When they landed in Luxor, Ardeth walked out of the Quinjet with Nouri’s body. His arms held her like a sacred offering. Steve followed, his legs heavy with sorrow, his heart still refusing to accept what was happening. This couldn’t be real. She had to come back. She couldn’t just disappear from his life.

Ardeth led them into the temple. “Please,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Join me for the ritual.”

Steve could only nod. His eyes never left the body of the woman who had once been his reason to keep fighting, his heart now a hollow place where she used to be.

They followed Ardeth into the chamber, where the sarcophagus awaited. Ardeth placed Nouri’s body carefully inside, his hands trembling as he did so. “The gods were never meant to die,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But a few weeks ago, Nouri spoke with Khonshu. He warned her that her death was near. In secret, she had this made.”

Steve’s heart broke all over again. She knew. She had known this was coming. And yet, she had still tried to help them all, still fought with them, still believed in something bigger than herself. And now, she was gone, her body slowly being prepared for the journey to the afterlife.

The ritual continued, and Steve stood frozen in place, his eyes never leaving Nouri’s still form. Ardeth performed the sacred rites, carefully removing her organs, placing them into the canopic jars. The weight of his actions—each movement, each prayer—was too much for Steve to bear. He wanted to shout, to scream, to ask why it had to be her, why the world had to take her away from him.

Instead, he stood silent, his chest tight, watching as Ardeth continued. He couldn’t move. His mind was still replaying every moment he had spent with Nouri; from the first time they had met to the quiet conversations late at night. Her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes had lit up when they spoke of the future. The future that would never be for them now.

“Why?” Steve whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, the question floating in the air like a ghost. Why had she been taken from him?

Ardeth closed the sarcophagus, and Steve felt the finality of it crash over him. He stepped forward, hands trembling, and with Natasha's help, they placed the sarcophagus back on the Quinjet. The journey home was even quieter than the one before. No words were needed. They all understood what had been lost.

Back at the Avengers' Compound, the sarcophagus was placed in a sterile, cold medical room. Steve stood at the door, unable to move closer. The air was thick with the silence of their grief. He wanted to scream, to throw something, to shatter the reality that had just shattered his heart.

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice broke through the fog of his mind, her words soft but insistent. “We need to keep going. We need to honour her.”

Steve turned to her, his eyes dull, full of pain. “How?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “How do I keep going without her? She was the light in my life... and now...” His voice trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“We carry her with us,” Natasha replied quietly, her eyes flickering toward the sarcophagus. “We carry her strength, her wisdom. We remember her, and we fight for what she believed in.”

Steve nodded; his hands clenched tightly at his sides. The grief was overwhelming, and yet he knew Natasha was right. He would carry her memory forward, no matter how much it tore at him. Because Nouri had taught him something he would never forget love was worth the fight, no matter the cost. And now, it was his turn to fight in her honour.

And in that moment, they understood. She may have been gone, but the legacy she left behind would never fade.

Notes:

Well... she's dead
*Translations:
"Show them no mercy!"

Chapter 40: The Field of Reeds

Notes:

I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3
I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Nouri awoke to a cold, suffocating darkness, the weight of ancient stone surrounding her. The air was thick, and the silence was deafening. She stood on uneven stone steps that descended into a vast chasm, the endless abyss before her. The flickering glow of faint, ethereal light barely illuminated the cold walls. She gazed down and saw the hieroglyphs etched into her skin, slowly fading, disintegrating like ash in the wind. The power that had once coursed through her veins seemed to be slipping away, leaving nothing but an overwhelming, numbing chill.

Her chest tightened as she reached out to feel for the light within her, but it was gone. The warmth was gone. She felt cold, isolated, her essence weakening.

In the distance, beyond the shadows, a stone arch loomed. Nouri’s feet carried her forward, her movement hesitant, each step heavier than the last. As she approached, she saw a figure standing just before the arch—a familiar, comforting face. A flash of recognition surged through her.

“Bucky?” Nouri’s voice was hoarse, a whisper barely escaping her lips.

His face twisted in confusion; his eyes wide with disbelief. "Nouri?" he asked, his voice broken. "Where am I?"

Her heart wrenched, seeing the confusion and fear in his eyes. "The afterlife," she whispered softly, her voice filled with sorrow. But before she could speak further, her eyes caught the sight of the scales of Ma'at, unmoving, devoid of any judgment. There was no one near them, no soul passing through. It felt wrong. Hollow.

“You can’t pass through?” she asked, her voice trembling with a growing sense of unease.

Bucky shook his head. “I—I don’t think so. I can’t…”

Nouri’s gaze dropped for a moment, a sad acceptance settling over her. She turned away from him, her resolve hardening. With a single, purposeful step, she crossed through the arch, moving forward alone. Bucky’s confused gaze lingered on her as she walked toward the scales.

The air seemed heavier as Nouri reached the foot of the scales, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked up, meeting the cold, calculating gaze of Anubis.

“Every action has its price, and you have paid the price with your life,” Anubis intoned, his voice laced with disappointment. His eyes studied her with a piercing gaze, yet there was something restrained beneath his words.

Nouri’s lips trembled, but she whispered, "I do not regret giving my life, so others may live."

Anubis looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing her words, before speaking again. "Your actions were indeed honourable, Al Nouri. The Council honours your bravery," he said, his voice softer now, though the weight of ancient judgment still hung heavy in the air.

But Nouri could feel it—this wasn’t really death. Her human form had become something else entirely, something spiritual. She would continue in the Field of Reeds, but there would be no Steve by her side, no connection to the world she had once fought so fiercely to protect.

Anubis extended his hand, and before Nouri could react, his fingers brushed against her chest, reaching into her very being. With a sudden pull, he extracted her heart, a beating, glowing orb of divine light that seemed to pulse with the weight of a thousand lifetimes.

He placed it carefully upon the scales. The scales balanced, the air holding its breath in the silence that followed.

“The real test,” Anubis said, his voice low and grave, “is the passage through the Du’at.”

Nouri nodded; her heart heavy with understanding. Without another word, Anubis motioned for her to follow him. He led her down a dark, winding path toward Taweret’s ship, waiting in the distance, ready to carry her across the vast expanse of the Du’at.

The journey on the ship was silent. Taweret stood at the helm, her face unreadable. Nouri said nothing. Her thoughts were heavy with the choices she had made, and now, with nothing left to anchor her, the void of the afterlife seemed to close in around her. There was no sense of relief here, no solace. Just the stillness of a world that no longer had any claim on her.

The ship docked, the sound of water lapping gently against the boat’s edge. Taweret didn’t speak, but Nouri could feel her presence like a constant, guiding force. As Nouri stepped off the ship, the world before her stretched out—the Field of Reeds.

It was quiet here. Too quiet.

The wind barely moved, as if even nature itself held its breath in the wake of her arrival. Nouri took a step forward, her senses heightened, her every movement echoing in the vast emptiness. She had come so far, yet something still tugged at her heart. It was a nagging feeling, something left unresolved.

Nouri sat in the Field of Reeds; the air heavy with an ancient weight. The stillness around her was broken only by the soft rustling of the wind. She closed her eyes for a moment, longing for something more—anything to fill the void left by the loss of her mortal life.

Suddenly, a familiar, derisive voice pierced the quiet.

"Well, well, look at you. Alone and broken, as I expected," Khonshu’s voice echoed through the space, laced with venom and mocking amusement. "So much for your ‘noble sacrifice,’ daughter."

Nouri’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I can’t even have peace in the afterlife, can I?"

Khonshu stepped into her view, his towering form casting a shadow over her, his bird-like features sharp with disdain. “Peace? You don’t deserve peace, Nouri. Not after meddling so recklessly with mortals. You think the world needs you, but look where it’s gotten you. Stripped of your powers, alone, powerless in the face of what you’ve left behind.”

Nouri stood; her posture steady despite the crushing weight of his words. "I did what I had to do," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I gave my life for those who still have the chance to live. What more could I do?"

Khonshu sneered, his voice a hiss that seemed to reverberate in the stillness of the Field of Reeds. "Pathetic. You always had such grand ideals, didn’t you? ‘Save humanity.’ ‘Guide them.’ But look at where it’s gotten you. Mortals are weak, fragile. They will destroy themselves, and you—” His voice softened, though the disdain was still evident. “You can’t save them. You can’t change their fate.”

Nouri’s heart ached with the weight of his words, but she held her ground, locking eyes with him. “I never thought I could save them, Khonshu. I just wanted to help. They need guidance, not judgment. And maybe I was too hopeful... too naive, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

Khonshu’s expression shifted slightly, his gaze flickering between frustration and something deeper—something almost like concern. “Guidance, huh? You think playing at being one of them will make a difference? They’re fools, Nouri. You’ve let them bind you with their emotions, their weakness. But still, you keep fighting for them.”

Nouri took a breath, steadying herself, and took a small step forward. “I don’t regret it. I can’t stand by when I know they’re struggling. And maybe they are weak, but they have the potential for greatness. They are better than they think.”

Khonshu’s eyes softened, just a little, as he studied her. “You’ve always had that fire in you,” he said quietly. “That unyielding belief that you can change the world, even when the gods tell you to stand aside.” He paused, his voice lowering. “You’ve made your choices, and now you face the consequences, Nouri. But... I never said I didn’t admire your heart. It’s what makes you who you are.”

Nouri’s eyes flickered with a mix of relief and sadness. “I never wanted to disappoint you, Khonshu. I only wanted to do what was right.”

Khonshu looked at her, his expression softening as he took a step closer. For the briefest moment, his usual hard exterior cracked, and his gaze softened with something close to affection. “I know you didn’t, Nouri. You’ve always been my... stubborn daughter. You’ll never stop fighting for what you believe in, no matter how much I push you away.”

Nouri’s chest tightened at his words, the warmth of his rare tenderness catching her off guard. “I... I never wanted to lose everything.”

Khonshu sighed, his voice a low rumble filled with both exasperation and something more genuine—concern. “You haven’t lost everything. You’ll never truly lose me, Nouri. No matter what you think, no matter how much you defy me, I’m still your father. And I’ll always have a part in your journey.”

Nouri swallowed hard, her emotions swirling in the silence between them. “I don’t need saving. Not from you.”

Khonshu’s expression softened even more; the usual sharpness replaced with a subtle sense of vulnerability. “You’re stronger than you realize. You always have been. And if you truly believe that returning is what you need to do, then I won’t stop you. Just know this—your heart is still my heart. Even if I can’t be there every step of the way, I will be watching over you.”

Nouri blinked, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d ever say that.”

Khonshu looked away, his gaze turning distant for a moment, but when he spoke again, his voice was quieter—almost tender. “I won’t make it easy for you, Nouri. But you’ve always been a stubborn one. That’s what makes you so... infuriating.” A rare chuckle escaped him, the sound both mocking and affectionate. “And that’s what makes you mine.”

Nouri’s lips quivered into a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Khonshu.”

Khonshu’s eyes softened once more, and for the first time in a long while, there was something fatherly in his gaze. “Go on, Nouri. Make your choice. Just don’t expect me to stop pushing you, even if you don’t always like it.”

Nouri nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. “I will. I always have.”

With that, Khonshu’s presence lingered for a moment longer before dissipating into the ether, leaving Nouri standing in the stillness of the Field of Reeds. She could feel his love, as harsh as it often was, lingering in the space between them. It was the first time in a long while that she felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she’d believed.

---

As the silence returned, Nouri’s heart still ached with the weight of Khonshu’s words. But before she could retreat into herself, another voice, far warmer, rang out, cutting through the stillness.

"I sense you are troubled."

Ra’s voice resonated with a quiet authority that seemed to carry the wisdom of millennia. He appeared before her, his regal presence filling the space. Nouri didn’t look up at first, her mind still consumed with the echoes of Khonshu’s words.

Ra stepped closer, his form imposing yet comforting, like a familiar, ancient force. "Do you regret it, Nouri?"

Nouri sighed softly, looking at the endless expanse of the Field of Reeds. The air was still, and yet it felt heavy with everything she had left behind. “I wish I had more time with him,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ra’s gaze softened as he sat beside her, the warmth of his presence like the glow of the sun itself. He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that rumbled through the quiet. “You’ve always been a rebel, Nouri. Meddling with mortals, falling in love with one, raising the dead…” His tone was affectionate, like a father speaking to his child, and despite herself, Nouri found a small, bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"You’ve always followed your heart,” Ra continued, his voice lighter but full of affection. “That’s what made you different from the rest of us. That love you carry for them—it's something none of us truly understand, but it’s real. And it’s why you have always been at odds with us.”

Her chest tightened as his words sank in, and she turned her gaze to meet his. “But if I loved them so much, why does it hurt so much?” Nouri’s voice trembled with emotion. “Why do I feel like I’ve lost everything?”

Ra placed a warm hand on her shoulder, his touch a comfort she had not realized she needed until that moment. “Because you have lost, Nouri,” he said gently. “But what you’ve gained—the knowledge, the wisdom, and most of all, your heart—that is what defines you. You are not just a goddess of the past, Nouri. You are a bridge between the mortals and us. And while their world may not always seem worthy of your guidance, they still need you. And you… need them.”

His words lingered, and Nouri felt a deep stirring within her. "Humanity is lost, Ra," she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. "Their scales are out of balance. The chaos that’s consuming them… I can’t just leave them to suffer."

Ra's gaze deepened, and for the first time, Nouri saw a glimmer of understanding in his ancient eyes. He nodded slowly, his voice steady and solemn. “I feel it too, Nouri. The scales of humanity are not balanced, and their chaos is threatening to unravel everything. I, too, sense that you must return. You are the only one who can help restore their balance. They need you—perhaps more than ever.”

Nouri’s heart swelled at his words, the weight of her duty pressing on her chest. "I don’t belong in the Field of Reeds. They still need me, Ra. He still needs me." She whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

Ra smiled gently, his expression softening. “I know, but understand this, Nouri. Your path is not theirs. The gods cannot intervene in the way you have. You’ve crossed a line that cannot be undone. It is the price of your love for them.”

Nouri’s voice quivered as she asked the question she had been too afraid to voice until now. “Then… how do I return?” Her eyes searched his with desperation. “How do I go back to them? To him?”

Ra’s gaze turned solemn, his ancient eyes searching hers for a long, silent moment. Finally, his voice dropped to a grave tone, heavy with the weight of her decision. "You must go to Osiris' gate. He will decide if you may return to the living world."

Nouri felt a tremor run through her at his words. She stood in silence, the enormity of her decision pressing down on her. "Then I must go," she whispered, her voice steady despite the turmoil that raged within her.

Ra nodded once, his expression filled with both affection and sorrow. "You have always known where your heart lies, Nouri. Go, then. But know that your return will not be as it was. Your journey is not just back to life—it is a journey to confront your true purpose, to understand the sacrifice that comes with it."

With those final words, Ra disappeared, his warmth fading from the space around her, leaving Nouri alone with her thoughts. The decision had been made. The pull of the living world, of the love she had left behind, was too great for her to ignore. She rose to her feet, her heart pounding with both fear and determination. She sprinted toward Osiris’ gate, each step taking her closer to the world she had left behind.

The journey felt endless, her feet barely touching the ground as she moved with an urgency she could not control. The air around her seemed thick with the power of the afterlife, but the pull of her destiny was stronger than ever before.

When she finally reached the towering golden gates of Osiris, her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the ancient power resonating from beyond the gates, and the weight of Osiris’ gaze upon her.

“You stand at the threshold of eternal peace, Al Nouri,” Osiris’ voice echoed through her mind, steady and powerful. The tone was both inviting and ominous. “The world you once knew, with all its turmoil and sorrow, is gone. Here, in the Field of Reeds, the weight of mortal suffering no longer touches you. You are free to rest, free to be at peace—for all eternity.”

Nouri felt the pull of that peace, a quiet, alluring promise that whispered to her tired soul. For a moment, it seemed so easy, so tempting. But the voice of Osiris continued, heavy with unspoken truths.

“But to return to the living, Al Nouri, a price must be paid.” The words hung in the air, and a shadow seemed to stretch out across the horizon. “The road back is not one of simple choice. To return, you must crawl—crawl through the very fabric of existence, fighting through the pain of a world that has moved on without you. The peace you seek, the peace you once knew... it will never be yours again.”

Nouri's chest tightened, her heart aching with the gravity of his warning. Osiris’ voice grew quieter, but no less urgent. “Choose wisely, for the price is more than you may wish to pay. If you cross back, you will never find peace as you once did. You will carry humanity's pain with you, always. And there is no escaping that burden once it is yours.”

His words reverberated in her soul, and Nouri stood motionless before the gates, her heart aching with the weight of her decision. She thought of Steve, of the Medjai, of the world she had once fiercely protected. She thought of the fire within her heart—the fire that refused to die, no matter how much the gods tried to extinguish it.

“I wish to return,” Nouri spoke quietly, her voice unwavering with resolve, though the weight of her choice pressed down on her chest like a thousand stones.

The gates creaked open, and the world beyond beckoned. It wasn’t peace she sought, though. It was purpose. It was the chance to fight again—to fight for humanity, to fight for the love she had left behind, and to reclaim her place among them.

And so, the crawl began, not just back to life, but into the heart of her true destiny.

---

June 23rd, 2018

 

More than twenty days had passed since Steve last saw Nouri breathe. It felt like an eternity, each day stretching out, dragging its feet as the weight of her absence pressed down on him. He had become a fixture in that room, the room where she had once been. Every minute of every day, he stayed there, too numb to move, too broken to leave. The silence was suffocating, and yet he couldn’t tear himself away. Sometimes, he’d sit in the chair beside her, speaking to her in hushed tones, his voice quiet and fragile, as if the smallest sound might disturb the fragile memory of her. He would tell her about the world outside, about the things he’d seen, about the things they still needed to do. But no matter how hard he tried, there was no response—no shift in the air, no spark in the stillness that would assure him she was still with him in some way.

Other times, he would just sit there, staring at the empty space where she had once been. The room felt hollow without her, like a part of him had been torn away. The furniture, the walls, the very air seemed to whisper her absence. It was as if the world itself had dimmed without her light. He couldn't escape the thoughts that spun in his mind, the question that he had asked himself every day, What if I had done more?

His beard grew in thick and fast, a stark reminder of the time passing without purpose. At first, it had been a distraction—something to focus on as he tried to fill the hours with something, anything. He would shave it off, only for it to grow back almost immediately, the stubble creeping back like the days he couldn’t outrun. It was relentless, like the pain that gnawed at him from the inside. Time kept moving forward, but he felt stuck in that moment—stuck in the space between life and death, between hope and despair.

Some nights, he would stand outside, looking up at the stars and the moon, as if hoping they could hear him. He spoke to them in the quiet, his voice catching in his throat as he asked them to send a sign—any sign—that Nouri was still out there, watching over him. He had tried everything—praying to the stars, speaking to the moon, hoping that somehow, somewhere, Nouri might hear him. But each night, the universe offered only silence. The stars hung above him like cold, indifferent witnesses to his grief. He would wait for hours, the cool night air against his skin, but no matter how long he stood there, the silence never broke.

Ardeth had returned to Egypt. His grief was deep, and his guilt, the burden of having left Nouri alone in the first place, was unbearable. Steve understood that kind of pain—the kind that sat in your chest like a heavy stone, pressing down with every breath you took. He had hoped that Ardeth’s return to Egypt might bring him some peace, some way to heal. But it was clear now that the same guilt that consumed Steve was consuming him too.

Now, Steve stood before the mirror, holding a blade in his hand. His reflection stared back at him—freshly shaved, his face still pale, drawn, but sharper than it had been. He inspected himself, his eyes studying the features that had once been full of purpose, of hope. Now, they were clouded, haunted. There was no longer the steely resolve that had once defined him; instead, his expression was hollow, a mixture of exhaustion, grief, and something deeper—a quiet despair he didn’t know how to escape.

The man in the mirror felt like a stranger to him. He wasn’t the same person who had fought beside Nouri, who had laughed, who had believed in something greater than himself. That man was gone. All that was left was a ghost, someone who had lost his way in a world that felt too big, too chaotic to understand.

Steve let out a long, slow breath. The blade in his hand trembled slightly. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him every time he moved, every time he tried to take a step forward. But there was no forward anymore, only the echo of Nouri’s absence, haunting him in every moment, every breath.

He put the razor down, not because he was done, but because he couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore. It was all a blur now—time, loss, everything. The world felt like a thousand years had passed in a single day.

He turned away from the mirror and walked back to the empty room, his footsteps echoing in the silence that had become his constant companion. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t outrun it. Not anymore. His eyes shift, and suddenly, the mirror begins to shake—gently at first, and then violently, rattling.

He ran outside, heart pounding, joining Natasha, Bruce, and Rhodey, who were staring at something ahead, all their eyes wide in disbelief. There, touching down with a heavy, smooth thud, was a ship—its entry gears deploying as it landed.

The ship was carried by Carol Danvers. Steve had met her just days before, but he didn’t have time to process her presence as Tony and Nebula followed closely behind. Tony leaned on Nebula, visibly struggling to stay upright. Steve rushed forward, helping him steady himself.

Tony's grip on Steve’s arm was tight, but shaky. His legs wobbled, barely holding him up.

"I couldn’t stop him," Tony muttered, the words heavy with guilt, as if he could barely get them out.

Steve’s voice was low and tired. "Neither could I."

Tony looked at Steve, his face drawn and weary. His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "I lost the kid."

Steve’s eyes darkened, his heart aching. "Tony... we lost."

Tony tries again, his voice catching in his throat. "Is, uh..." He pauses, a painful question hanging in the air. "Where’s Pepper?"

The painful question hung in the air like a cloud.

Before Steve could respond, a voice rang out from behind them. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" Pepper rushed forward, throwing her arms around Tony. She held him tightly as if trying to keep the weight of everything from crushing them both.

Tony, despite everything, wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, the tears he couldn’t shed earlier finally threatening to spill. "It’s okay," he murmured, his voice raw with exhaustion.

They moved inside; the tension thick between them. In the living room, Tony sat at a table, blood being drawn for healing. A holographic casualty report flickered before them, showing the names and faces of those lost in the Decimation.

"It’s been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth," Rhodey said, his voice quiet, heavy with the weight of reality.

"World governments are in pieces," Natasha added, her voice softer still. "The parts that remain are scrambling to make sense of what’s left. And it looks like he did exactly what he said he would. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures."

Tony’s voice rose with frustration, his anger barely contained. "Where is he now?"

Steve, shaking his head, answered quietly, "We don’t know. He opened a portal and just... walked through."

Thor had been sitting on a bench, his posture slumped, his eyes clouded with defeat.

Tony glanced over at him, confusion overtaking his frustration. "What’s wrong with him?"

"Oh, he’s pissed," Rocket quipped from the corner, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Thinks he failed. Which, I mean, he did. But hey, there’s a lot of that going around, isn’t there?"

Tony, sarcastic as ever, turned toward Rocket. "Honestly, until just now, I literally thought you were a Build-A-Bear."

Rocket shrugged. "Maybe I am."

Tony’s eyes narrowed, a mocking edge creeping into his voice. "And where’s the goddess herself?" he sneered.

Steve’s gaze dropped, his expression darkening. He silently pointed to the room where Nouri’s sarcophagus rested.

"She gave up her life..." Natasha whispered, her words weighted with grief.

Tony’s frustration reached its peak. "We’ve been hunting Thanos for three weeks," Steve said, trying to regain control of the conversation. "Deep space scans, satellites... We got nothing. Tony, you fought him."

Tony’s eyes widened, then narrowed with anger. "Who told you that?" he scoffed. "I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the store. That’s what happened. There was no fight."

Steve gave him a small nod, understanding. "Okay."

Tony, unable to contain his rage, erupted. "He’s unbeatable."

"Did he give you any clues? Any coordinates? Anything?" Steve pressed, trying to focus his friend.

Tony shook his head violently. "Pfft! I saw this coming years ago. I had a vision. Didn’t want to believe it. Thought I was dreaming."

Steve moved closer, urgency creeping into his tone. "Tony, I’m gonna need you to focus."

Tony’s anger flared, his voice rising with frustration. "And I needed you! In the past! That trumps what you need right now, doesn’t it? Too late, buddy. Sorry."

He stood up suddenly, swiping everything off the table with a loud clatter. "I need to shave. And I told all youse—"

Tony took a step toward Steve, but Rhodey quickly stepped between them.

"Tony, Tony, Tony!" Rhodey said, trying to calm him down, his hands outstretched.

Tony shoved past him, frustration boiling over. "Alive or otherwise, what we needed was a suit of armour around the world! Remember that? Whether it messed with our freedoms or not—that’s what we needed!"

"Well, that didn’t work out, did it?" Steve snapped, his frustration finally surfacing.

"I said ‘we’d lose’," Tony continued, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "You said, 'We’ll do that together too.' And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren’t there. But that’s what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We’re the Avengers. Not the Prevengers."

"Okay," Rhodey interjected, trying to calm things down.

Tony wasn’t done. "Right?"

"Okay?" Rhodey repeated, trying to ease the tension.

Tony, now inches from Steve, continued. "Nah, nah. Here’s my point. You know what?"

"Tony, you're sick," Rhodey said, the concern now evident in his voice.

"She’s great, by the way," Tony muttered, referring to Carol, his anger still bubbling under the surface.

"Sit down." Rhodey’s tone was firm, stepping between them.

Tony, voice dropping into a venomous whisper, snarled at Steve. "We need new blood. A bunch of tired old mules!" He then stepped right up to Steve, eyes burning with anger. "I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust. Liar."

Steve stood frozen, staring at Tony, the weight of their past friendship weighing heavily between them. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the silence thick and uncomfortable.

Tony’s face twisted in raw emotion as he suddenly ripped the Arc Reactor from his chest. He shoved it into Steve’s hand, his voice hoarse. "Here, take this. You find him. And you put that on. You hide."

Tony collapsed onto the floor, his body crumbling under the strain.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, rushing to his side.

"I’m fine," Tony murmured weakly, trying to reassure them.

But as he collapsed fully, his body betraying him, Steve and the others gathered around him, their faces full of concern.

---

June 25th, 2018

 

When Ra and Osiris had told Nouri she would have to crawl her way back, she had thought it was some metaphor for overcoming hardship, a spiritual struggle perhaps. But the gods never spoke in metaphor when it came to her fate. The reality was far harsher than she could have imagined.

She looked up, her breath catching in her throat. Before her stretched an endless cliff, an enormous, jagged mountain that seemed to have no end. The sky above was dark, heavy with clouds that swirled as if they too were caught in the weight of her task. The mountain loomed like a dark titan; its peaks hidden in the mist. Its surface was cracked and unforgiving, the very air around it thick with tension.

Nouri swallowed, her heart pounding as she took in the sight. This was her trial, the price of her return. The mountain did not care for gods or mortals—it only demanded her perseverance, her will to return to the world of the living.

With a deep breath, she set her hands against the jagged rock face, feeling the coolness of the stone beneath her fingertips. As soon as she moved, the mountain seemed to resist, as if it were alive, a living entity that didn't want her to ascend. Her fingertips scraped against the rough surface, but she pressed on, forcing herself to take the first step, then another, and another.

The climb was gruelling from the start. Every time she reached for a new hold, it felt as if the mountain would pull away beneath her, threatening to send her back into the darkness. The rock was sharp, cutting into her palms as blood began to seep from the cracks in her skin. She barely noticed the pain, pushing through it with the same steady determination that had always defined her. The agony in her hands, the tightness in her chest—nothing mattered but reaching the top.

She climbed, her body protesting every movement. The muscles in her arms screamed in pain, and every pull was met with an ache that made her question whether she could go on. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, shifting beneath her weight as she pressed onward, her legs burning with every upward motion. But she could not stop. She knew, deep in her heart, that the price of her return was blood. Her blood. The gods had made sure of it, and they would make sure she paid every drop.

For days, she climbed, the world around her swallowed by the mist and the mountain’s shadow. Time felt like it had stretched into eternity—no sun, no moon, just the endless dark and the cruel, jagged rock that tore at her skin. The cuts on her palms and the soles of her feet had become deep, painful gashes, and her body had grown weak from exhaustion. But there was something else now, something that had started to fuel her—the light.

It was faint at first, barely a flicker in the distance. But Nouri could feel it, like the warmth of a distant sun caressing her soul. It was the light that had once been her birthright, the same light that she had spent centuries watching over humanity. The light beckoned to her, a reminder of what she was fighting for, and it burned in her chest like an ember. She could feel the world of the living waiting for her, calling her, and she knew she couldn’t stop until she reached it.

Still, the climb continued, endless, unrelenting. Her blood was smeared across the stone, streaking the cliffside with evidence of her struggle. She could feel the weight of it, the toll it was taking on her. The very mountain seemed to laugh at her, pulling at her resolve. But Nouri was not one to give up. She had faced worse—much worse. The gods could not break her. Not now.

Her mind drifted for a moment, flashes of memories—the warmth of the sun on her skin, the laughter of the Medjai, the endless nights watching over humanity. But those memories were like whispers in the distance, fading as she focused on the climb ahead. With every pull, every inch she gained, she knew the light was getting closer.

As the days turned into nearly three weeks of relentless toil, her body began to break. Her hands were raw, the flesh split wide open from gripping the rough stone, and her feet were nothing but shredded remnants of skin and bone. Yet she kept moving, kept climbing, driven by a single thought—The light. It is coming.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Nouri’s fingers found a solid ledge. Her arms trembled under the weight of her body as she heaved herself up, the summit now in sight. With one final push, her head broke through the fog, and she was free. She could hardly stand, every fibre of her being aching. Her body screamed for rest, and her eyes struggled to stay open, but the light before her called louder than any pain.

It wasn’t the agony that held her; it was the light. It burned like a beacon, pulling at her very soul. With shaky legs, she forced herself to rise, feeling the ground beneath her grow firm as she looked around, her gaze locking onto something she didn’t expect to see.

Steve Rogers.

He sat beside her sarcophagus, his back hunched, and his face lined with weariness and sorrow. His eyes were fixed on the stone, the weight of something dark and painful etched across his features. He looked so utterly broken, as though the world had drained him of everything. He looked lost—his shoulders slumped, his face gaunt, and his eyes hollowed by grief.

Nouri hovered just beyond her physical form, watching him from the shadows. The sorrow radiating from him twisted her heart. She longed to reach out, to comfort him, but she couldn’t—she was still bound to the realm of the dead.

Her gaze shifted to her own body, discarded like a forgotten relic. It lay there, cold and lifeless, a stark reminder of all that had been lost and the years spent waiting. But something inside her stirred—the pull to return.

With a trembling hand, Nouri reached out and touched her own body. The moment her fingers made contact with the cold stone; a sharp, invisible force yanked her forward. Her essence was sucked back into her physical form, the world spinning wildly as she was forced back into the shell that had once held her. The pain that followed was unlike anything she had ever known—every nerve in her body screamed in protest, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let herself fall back.

And then, as if she was fighting against the weight of time itself, the faintest rise of her chest.

So slight, so imperceptible that it could’ve been a trick of the light, but Steve saw it. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened, staring at her in disbelief. He froze, unsure whether to believe his own eyes, as though any movement might shatter the fragile miracle before him.

But he saw it.

Her chest rose.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Steve allowed himself to hope again.

Chapter 41: Love and all her Friends

Notes:

Soooo what do we think? <3

The air was thick, suffocating, as if it clung to her skin, every breath a struggle. Nouri’s body was bound tightly, swathed in the linen that constricted her, forcing her to fight for each fleeting moment of air. The sensation of being trapped, of being buried alive, was overwhelming, and she could barely breathe.

Her limbs felt like stone, immovable, as though the earth itself had claimed her, refusing to let her go. The pressure on her chest was unbearable, like something was slowly squeezing the very life out of her. Pain radiated through her body, sharp and fiery, as if the very skin on her chest was being peeled off inch by inch. Each breath was a battle, her lungs constricting with the weight of the air, the suffocating linen binding her, the agony of being so close to death yet so far from peace.

She tried to move, to escape the confines of the wrapping, but she couldn’t. The linen was too tight, too unforgiving, and every movement sent waves of pain crashing through her. Her vision blurred, tears welling in her eyes as a muffled scream tried to break free from her parched throat.

No. She couldn’t—she had to get out. There was no other choice.

With everything she had left, she forced herself to move, summoned the strength buried deep within her. The sound of fabric tearing filled her ears, the feeling of the linen finally giving way to her desperate will was intoxicating.

She tore the wrapping from her face, gasping for air as fresh, cool breaths filled her lungs. The bright light of the outside world hit her like a wave, the warmth of the sun feeling like a lifeline. Her skin tingled, alive with sensation, and she could feel the hieroglyphs on her skin shining, burning once again as if the sun itself was awakening her.

Nouri managed to sit up, her limbs trembling with exhaustion, her body aching, but she was alive—she was alive. Her eyes adjusted to the light, taking in the sight of the sarcophagus she had been placed in, the dark walls of the tomb, the sand that clung to her skin as she shook it free. The harsh reality of her rebirth was overwhelming, but there was something else. She had to move, to get out, to make sure she was truly free.

With trembling hands, she ripped the remaining linen from her limbs, coughing up sand as she pushed herself out of the sarcophagus. The sunlight seemed to embrace her, but it was the sound of his voice, the voice she thought she'd never hear again, that made her heart stop.

"You're... alive?" Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, disbelief and awe echoing in the space between them.

Nouri’s gaze met his, her heart racing in her chest as she struggled to form the words. "Yes," she rasped, her voice hoarse from centuries of silence, from the weight of her own death.

Steve stood frozen, staring at her in shock, his face a mixture of disbelief and something deeper. "How?" His voice cracked, his breath catching in his throat.

Nouri took a step forward, her legs still shaky, but her determination unwavering. The ache in her chest was nothing compared to the weight of the words she needed to speak.

“There is no force in the universe that could keep me from you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough to reach his heart.

Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, and as she did, everything else fell away. She collapsed into his arms, her body still weak, but the moment their skin touched, it was as if the universe had shifted. She felt the warmth of his embrace like a beacon in the dark, and she kissed him—fiercely, urgently.

Tears, unbidden, fell from her eyes, the raw emotion she had held back for so long finally breaking free.

“Death couldn’t keep me from loving you,” Nouri whispered between kisses, her voice thick with emotion, her lips trembling as they moved against his.

Steve pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he caught his breath, his hands trembling as they cupped her face. “I... I don’t understand. How did you come back? How is this possible?”

Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, her chest still heaving with the weight of her return, but there was peace in her heart now. “My time here isn’t done,” she said softly, her fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of life, of him. “The gods have sensed that humanity’s scales are in chaos, and they ask that I restore the balance.” Her gaze softened as she spoke, the weight of her purpose settling into her bones. “They knew I had to return... for them... for you.”

Steve looked at her, his expression a mixture of wonder, confusion, and overwhelming gratitude. His hands tightened around her, pulling her close, as if afraid to let her go again. “I have no words...” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Nouri rested her head against his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart. The sound was familiar, grounding her in a world that had changed so much.

Before she could speak again, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. Natasha entered the tomb, her face unreadable. She didn’t say a word at first, her eyes flicking between Nouri and Steve. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Natasha's lips, but she remained silent.

A part of Natasha had always known, deep down, that Nouri wouldn’t stay gone forever.

Steve, his arms still wrapped tightly around Nouri, slowly turned to Natasha, his eyes still wide with shock. “You knew?” he asked, his voice soft but incredulous.

Natasha nodded, her expression softening just a fraction. "A part of me always knew she would come back," she said quietly, her gaze shifting to Nouri, whose gaze was still locked with Steve's. "You can’t keep a force like her down for long."

The air was heavy with unsaid words, with promises that hung between them like the light of the setting sun. But for now, in this moment, Nouri was alive, and the love she had fought for, that had brought her back from death itself, was still burning bright.

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the sky, Nouri stepped out of the bathroom, feeling the weight of the world settle heavier on her shoulders. She had freshened up, changed into simple mortal clothes—an unassuming top paired with sweatpants—and now, more than ever, she could feel the distance between herself and this new, strange world.

The Avengers had gathered in the living space, their sombre faces reflecting the burden they carried. Her eyes drifted over the group—Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, Thor, and Bruce—each of them staring off into the distance, lost in their own thoughts.

"Hey," Nouri said softly as she walked into the room. Her voice had a lightness to it, but it was tinged with sadness. "What happened while I was… um… gone?" She chuckled, trying to mask the tightness in her chest, but it fell flat. The others exchanged glances, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air.

Natasha, her voice cool but tired, spoke up first. "Thanos did what he said he would. He wiped out half of all living creatures."

Nouri’s heart sank at the news. She had known the universe was vast, but never had she imagined its weight could feel so heavy.

"Yeah," Nouri replied quietly, "I met some of our friends in the afterlife." She didn’t mean to sound so solemn, but the words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered.

There was a brief silence, broken only by Rhodey’s attempt to lighten the mood. "I take it it's busy down there?" He quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile, but Nouri could see the weariness in his eyes.

"No, sadly," she replied, her voice softer. "They can’t even pass to the scales of Ma'at. They’re trapped in a place between life and death, not truly gone but not truly here either. It’s… tormenting for them." Her gaze dropped to her hands, as if trying to imagine the souls stuck in that eternal purgatory.

Bruce furrowed his brow in confusion. "Can't you bring them back?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Nouri let out a deep sigh. "It’s beyond my powers, Bruce." Her voice wavered slightly, the pain of her limitations creeping into her tone. She hated having to admit it, but it was the truth.

"We also went to space," Steve added, breaking the silence that followed. His voice was steady, but there was a weight to it that Nouri couldn’t ignore.

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, genuinely curious despite the heaviness that clung to the room.

Natasha’s eyes darkened as she spoke. "We killed Thanos. We thought it might bring everyone back."

Nouri looked at her, searching her face for signs of the pain they’d all endured. "I take it, it didn’t work?" Her voice was quiet, the question almost rhetorical.

"No," Thor replied shortly, his tone cold, void of its usual boisterous energy. The God of Thunder had been shaken, perhaps more than he was willing to admit.

Nouri sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation. It was like the world had become emptier, colder. She could feel it in her chest—a hollow ache where the warmth of hope once resided. The universe felt too vast, too indifferent. It had always been cruel, but now it was quiet in its cruelty.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint sound of the wind outside. As the evening wore on, the tension in the air refused to lift.

---

Later that night, after everyone had retreated to their rooms, Nouri found herself lying next to Steve in the quiet of their bedroom. The soft moonlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a silvery glow across the room, but it did nothing to ease the weight in her chest. It was strange—Steve’s presence was usually a source of warmth, a balm for her weary soul, but tonight, a coldness lingered, an emptiness she couldn’t quite shake.

She lay on her side, her back slightly turned towards him, her body feeling distant from his even though they were so close. The rhythmic sound of Steve’s breathing next to her was comforting, but it was almost like a distant lullaby that couldn’t quite soothe the sorrow that had settled deep inside her. She longed to close her eyes and let herself forget for just a moment, but no matter how tightly she curled herself against him, the chill of the world and the loss she carried with her wouldn’t go away.

Steve, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in her mood almost immediately. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently through her hair, tucking a stray lock behind her ear.

"Is there truly no way for you to bring them back?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a note of hope, as if he could somehow make everything right by asking. The question, though filled with longing, was almost like a prayer—a desperate wish that Nouri might have an answer.

Nouri closed her eyes, allowing herself a brief moment of peace, even if it was just for the night. She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs before she exhaled slowly.

“I wish I could…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and broken, as if speaking the words too loudly might shatter whatever fragile semblance of calm they had managed to create in their shared silence. She wanted to fix it, to take away the pain she saw in Steve’s eyes. But the truth was, there was nothing she could do. She had already tried.

Steve turned slightly to face her, his hand moving down to rest over her own on his chest, his thumb gently brushing over her skin as if trying to comfort her.

"What are we going to do?" he sighed, his words heavy with the uncertainty that mirrored her own. It wasn’t just the weight of their past that pressed down on them, but the unknown future that awaited them. They were both lost, but Steve—ever the soldier, ever the protector—still clung to the hope that they could find a way through it together.

Nouri bit her lip, her heart aching as she watched him, the vulnerability on his face echoing the turmoil inside her. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time—lost and unsure. She placed her hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, but it wasn’t enough to anchor her.

“There’s nothing we can do…” she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness, though it came out more resigned than anything else. There was no way forward, no simple fix for what they were facing. All they had were each other and the choices they would make together from here.

Steve shifted slightly, his hand moving to brush against her cheek, his touch gentle but insistent, like he was trying to pull her back from the edge of despair. His voice, though strained, held an underlying sense of hope.

"Should we stay here?" His question was quiet, tentative, but filled with the kind of raw honesty that made Nouri’s chest tighten. It was a question that neither of them had an answer to, and yet he asked it anyway. Should they stay in this world they were building together, this small corner of normalcy in a world that had changed around them? Or should they move on, seek something else, something more?

Nouri turned her face into the palm of his hand, her lips brushing softly against his skin as she exhaled a breath that felt too heavy. "I don’t know…" she said, her words barely above a murmur, thick with confusion. Her mind raced, torn between what she wanted and what she needed. She had her responsibilities, her ties to Egypt, to the past she couldn’t escape. Yet in Steve’s arms, she felt like she could stay forever, as though the weight of the world could be held at bay. But could she really stay? Would it be enough?

She sighed again, her fingers tracing small patterns over his chest, her thoughts a blur. "We could build our own place, close by? Something simple, just for us…" Her voice trailed off as the idea took shape in her mind. They could find a little corner of peace, a sanctuary, even if it was just for a while. But then the other part of her—her divine calling, her purpose—pulled her in the opposite direction. She would need to return to Egypt. The world was too broken, too lost for her to ignore it any longer.

Steve’s lips curled into a soft smile; his eyes filled with a warmth that made her heart skip a beat. "Taking a page out of Barton’s book?" he teased, his voice light and filled with that familiar, comforting humour. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her as he kissed the soft spot on her neck. His lips brushed against her skin again, each kiss sending a ripple of warmth through her, but the coldness that had taken root in her heart lingered.

"I could go back to teaching…" Nouri said quietly, her voice thoughtful, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it. She was trying to make sense of her feelings, to find something—anything—that felt like a path forward. Teaching had been a part of her life before everything had changed, a simpler time when she wasn’t burdened by the weight of immortality and divine responsibilities. But could she go back to that? Could she still find meaning in it now?

Steve didn’t hesitate, his lips brushing along her jaw as he whispered, "If that is what you truly want." His words were gentle, almost reverent, and they warmed her more than anything else. He didn’t want to decide for her; he wanted to support her, to give her space to choose what she needed. His kisses deepened as his hands slid down her sides, pulling her even closer to him. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her skin burning with each touch. The sensations left her breathless, but beneath the heat, she could still feel the ache of uncertainty inside her.

She moaned softly, her body responding to him, the warmth between them igniting something deep inside her. But even in the midst of their closeness, a part of her remained distant, her mind still clouded with questions. She kissed him back, her hands threading through his hair as the moment consumed them. But as the heat between them intensified, the conflict in her heart remained, pulling at her in every direction.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Nouri allowed herself to truly relax, to close her eyes and let the warmth of Steve’s embrace fill her up. Maybe the future was uncertain, but with him by her side, she felt like she could face anything.

---

October 15th, 2018

 

The world had changed in ways that Nouri couldn’t have predicted. She had been split between New York and Egypt for the past few months, trying to help in the aftermath of Thanos’s devastation. She had visited every part of the world she could, using every ounce of her strength and wisdom to restore peace, but it felt like trying to patch a broken vase with frayed threads. Nothing she did seemed to stick. People were broken, hurting, and the wounds of the universe ran deeper than anything she could heal.

In Egypt, she had watched the land of her birth become increasingly divided in the wake of the snap. Whole villages were lost, and the delicate balance of life and death felt off-kilter. It was as though the ancient gods themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something. For what, she wasn’t sure. But the pressure was immense, even for a goddess who had walked the earth for millennia.

Ardeth had greeted her return with joy, and the sight of his fellow Medjai brothers, resurrected and standing tall once more, had brought a brief spark of hope to Nouri’s weary heart. But even their strength couldn't fill the void left by the destruction she’d witnessed.

Nouri had turned to teaching, once again. Several Ivy League schools had reached out, practically begging her to join them as a guest professor in ancient civilizations. They wanted her wisdom. They wanted her knowledge of Egypt’s past, but more than that, they wanted to honour her. Harvard and Columbia were the front-runners, and though she hadn’t made up her mind yet, the prospect of teaching again offered a faint glimmer of normalcy.

Nouri had just returned from a trip to Egypt when she found herself sitting on the couch in the Avengers Compound, her laptop open in front of her, surrounded by scattered papers and half-empty teacups. The soft hum of the wind outside filtered through the windows, but inside, it was quiet, save for the occasional tap of her fingers on the keyboard.

Steve entered the room, his movements quiet as always, but there was a softness to his presence that immediately made her feel more grounded. He’d been giving her space, knowing she was dealing with a lot, but tonight, he needed to check in.

“How was your trip?” he asked gently, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to offer a comfort that words couldn’t.

Nouri blinked, looking up from her laptop with tired eyes, her face drawn with the weight of everything she had experienced. “It was…” She paused, searching for the right words, her voice a soft murmur. “Awful.”

Steve sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. He didn’t need her to explain the details; he could see it in her eyes. “What happened?” he asked, his voice a steady anchor.

“I tried, honey,” she sighed, rubbing her temples as though the simple act of speaking was exhausting. “I tried to bring them peace, comfort, anything to help. But... they’re beyond repair.” Her words were heavy, soaked with the guilt she carried. “It feels like the world is too broken to heal. I don’t even know if I’m doing more harm than good.” She paused, her heart sinking as the truth of it hit her again. “I’m going back in a few days. There’s still so much more to do.”

Steve’s expression softened. He knew how much she cared, how deeply she felt for the people she helped, even when they didn’t fully understand her or her sacrifices. “Can I come with you?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. It wasn’t just an offer to travel; it was an offer to help her shoulder the burden.

Nouri turned her head slightly, looking at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “I could use the company.”

Steve smiled, relief flooding his face as he brushed a kiss across her temple. “I’m all yours.”

For a long moment, they just sat in silence, the weight of the world outside forgotten. But Nouri’s mind wouldn’t let go, and after a few minutes, she pulled herself upright again, eyes flicking back to her laptop. She had been carefully crafting possible courses for the universities—lectures that could offer a blend of ancient wisdom and modern perspective. Her heart fluttered slightly with each new idea she wrote down, the thought of teaching and engaging with students again igniting a part of her that had been dormant for far too long.

One course would focus on "The Role of Divine Influence in Ancient Egyptian Governance," examining how the gods were woven into the fabric of political life in her homeland. Another idea explored the intersection of myth and history, “The Pharaohs and the Gods: A Study of Symbolism in Egyptian Rulership,” blending archaeology with spiritual analysis. There were others, too—concepts that pushed the boundaries of what humanity knew about ancient Egypt, bringing together ancient texts, archaeological discoveries, and, of course, Nouri’s own first-hand knowledge of the gods and their ways.

As she typed, a sense of pride filled her. These weren’t just courses; they were pieces of her life, of her history, of the stories she had lived through, and the gods she had walked with. She was offering not just an education but a way to pass on the wisdom of ages, to restore pieces of forgotten truths to the modern world.

“There’s a lot of interest in me teaching,” Nouri said with a small, contented smile, her eyes still lingering on the laptop screen. She leaned back in the couch, a slight spark of excitement in her gaze, despite the weariness that still tugged at her. “Harvard and Columbia are both offering to create positions just for me, but I think I'll go with Columbia, that why I'll be closer to you.”

Steve glanced at the screen. “Al Nouri, the Goddess and Professor. I can already see it now: the world’s greatest ancient civilization expert... and the expert on everything.” He leaned in and gave her a playful nudge, trying to lift her spirits. “What’s next? Writing your own textbooks?”

Nouri chuckled, though the sound didn’t quite carry the same lightness it used to. “Maybe,” she teased, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “If I write a textbook, maybe you can be my teaching assistant.” She raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of practice with ancient civilizations... as long as you’re willing to do the work.”

Steve laughed, pulling her a little closer as he kissed her forehead. “I’d love that. I’m already the best at running around and fetching coffee, so I’d be perfect.”

“Well,” Nouri teased, settling into his embrace, “you’d have to earn it. There’s a lot of paperwork involved.”

“Oh, I’m a pro at that,” Steve grinned, holding her just a little tighter. His expression softened as he looked at her again, his smile turning tender. “You really could change the world, you know. You already have, in so many ways.”

She met his eyes, and for the first time in a while, Nouri felt the weight of everything shift, just slightly. There was no expectation here, no brokenness, just Steve’s quiet support. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

“Well, you know me,” she murmured with a small smile, “I always aim to make an impact.” She kissed him then, the kind of kiss that lingered, soft and full of affection. For a moment, everything else faded. The weight of the gods, the hurt she couldn’t fix, the pressure of her mission—all of it was forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Steve’s hand found its way to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in a gentle caress. “I’m not going anywhere, darling. I’m here. Always.” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Nouri smiled, feeling the gentle tug of love and hope in her chest for the first time in weeks. She had always known the weight of the gods. She had borne it for millennia. But now, there was something else to hold her up—something human, something real. And it was more than enough.

As they leaned back into the couch together, Nouri’s heart felt lighter. For the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to simply breathe, to be present in the moment. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

---

October 20th, 2018

 

Nouri sat in the kitchen, her eyes scanning over the course ideas she had sent to Columbia. The excitement of sharing her knowledge, of guiding future generations, was palpable. Knowledge, she always believed, was the strongest power anyone could possess. And now, her words might inspire others. It felt good to know her work had meaning beyond the classroom. She leaned back in her chair, allowing a satisfied sigh to escape her lips.

Meanwhile, Steve had already packed their bags for their trip to Egypt, the excitement in his chest growing as he prepared for the surprise. Unknown to Nouri, he had carefully packed a beautiful white outfit for her—an outfit he hoped she'd wear that evening. He and Ardeth had been secretly planning the night for weeks, and the time had finally come.

"Are you ready?" Steve asked, peering into the room with a mischievous smile.

“I am,” Nouri replied, her voice soft but filled with warmth. She stood and gathered her things, her heart light with anticipation. Hand in hand, they walked toward the jet, and as they soared through the skies, the air between them was thick with affection. The entire flight was filled with stolen kisses, soft laughter, and declarations of love. They spoke of their future, of the paths they would walk together, of the deep connection they shared. Steve’s romantic side was in full force, and though Nouri adored him, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that something was brewing beneath the surface.

Once they landed, Ardeth greeted them warmly, guiding them to a house that, though unchanged, felt alive with the same warmth and light as always.

“Dinner is at 8,” Steve said, his tone light yet firm. “Be ready. I've packed something for you,” he added with a playful grin before kissing her quickly and leaving her to prepare.

Nouri was left stunned, her curiosity piqued. She unwrapped the outfit Steve had packed for her—an exquisite white caftan adorned with intricate gold accents. The matching jewellery sparkled like the stars above, and her fingers brushed over the delicate pieces.

“What on Earth is this boy planning?” she thought, grinning to herself as she got ready, every detail of the outfit making her feel as radiant as the desert moon.

As the evening deepened and the stars began to sparkle above them, Ardeth escorted Nouri toward the place Steve had meticulously prepared for their special evening. The cool Egyptian breeze brushed against her skin, sending a soft shiver through her as it heightened her senses. The world around her seemed to fade, and in that quiet space, she felt only the pull of the night’s magic and the fluttering in her chest.

“Where are we going?” Nouri asked Ardeth, her voice light but with an edge of playful suspicion, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Ardeth’s eyes twinkled as he caught the mischief in her voice, but he remained silent, only offering her a soft smile as he shook his head, refusing to give anything away. The world around them grew quiet as they walked beneath the vast expanse of the twilight sky, the only sound being the rhythm of their footsteps. Nouri felt her heart quicken in her chest, the anticipation building like the air before a storm.

And then, as they rounded the final corner, Nouri’s breath caught in her throat.

Before her lay a breathtaking sight. The night was transformed into a sacred space. There, under the ancient gaze of the pyramids, was an altar—a table draped in white linen, surrounded by flickering candles whose warm glow danced in the desert breeze. White veils, flowing like ethereal curtains, cascaded around the table, fluttering gently in the wind, as if the very fabric of the night were alive. Red roses, Nouri’s favourite flower, were scattered around, their deep hue contrasting beautifully with the golden glow of the candles. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the eternal beauty of love had been carved into the sand.

Her eyes widened in awe, and she took a step forward, her pulse racing.

Steve emerged from the shadows, his eyes filled with warmth and an emotion so deep that it nearly took Nouri’s breath away. His gaze locked onto hers as he approached slowly, his every step purposeful, grounded in the ancient land they stood upon. Ardeth stepped back, giving them room to breathe, allowing the sacred moment to unfold. The air between them seemed to crackle with the promise of something timeless, something eternal—just as their love was.

"Nouri…" Steve’s voice was soft, but it held the weight of his heart, each syllable full of sincerity. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. There is no one else in this world—or beyond—whom I would rather walk beside for all of eternity than you. You’ve shown me what love truly means. You've taught me to fight for what’s worth fighting for. So, tonight, under the stars, in the land that gave you life… I ask you—will you marry me? Right here, right now?”

Nouri’s heart stopped. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The power of his words held her captive, her chest rising and falling with every breath, as if her heart wanted to break free from the weight of emotion that overwhelmed her. She stood frozen, a thousand thoughts running through her mind, but no words could escape her lips.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and the world around her seemed to fade into the background. The only thing that mattered was Steve’s words, the look in his eyes that promised forever.

"I take you, now and forever," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "I am yours, Steve. I will walk with you through every life, every challenge, every joy. And under the eyes of the gods, I ask you again—do you take me as your wife, in this life and the next?"

Steve’s eyes softened, his love for her reflected in the depths of his gaze. His voice, steady and full of power, echoed with the certainty of their bond.

"Yes," he answered, the word resonating through her like the ancient call of the gods themselves. "I take you, Nouri, in this life and the next. You are my heart, my world, my goddess, my eternal love. I am yours, forever."

The wind shifted, swirling around them as if the gods themselves were watching in approval. The desert, timeless and eternal, bore witness to this sacred union. The stars above seemed to shimmer brighter, lighting the world as their love illuminated the night.

Ardeth, standing quietly by, his eyes filled with pride and reverence, stepped forward. His voice rang out with the strength of a thousand ceremonies, filled with the sacred weight of the moment. “Al Nouri,” he began, his words echoing with the resonance of ages, “I ask thee, goddess of the Eternal Path, to light this fire and forge these rings from the flame. Let this fire burn brightly, as your love burns eternal, and from it, let the rings take form.”

Nouri closed her eyes, her heartbeat echoing through her chest like the steady rhythm of the earth beneath her feet. Her fingers tingled as she reached for the divine flame. With a graceful motion, she raised her hand, and from her fingertips, a brilliant flame sparked to life. The fire crackled and danced before her, golden and radiant, its light reflecting the stars that had borne witness to her birth, her path, and her love.

As the flame burned brightly, Nouri focused her energy on it, weaving her love, her power, and the divine essence of her being into the fire. The gold on the altar melted and shaped itself into two perfect rings—symbols of their bond, forged by fire and love, as eternal as the desert sands themselves.

Steve stepped forward, his heart full, his eyes never leaving hers. His touch was gentle but full of reverence, as if he too understood the gravity of this sacred moment. The warmth of his hand in hers grounded Nouri, making everything around them fade into nothingness except for their shared heartbeat.

"Al Nouri," Steve’s voice was thick with emotion, each word filled with devotion. “In this world, among all the stars in the sky, I have walked many paths, fought many battles… but none have been as certain as the one I walk with you by my side. You are my heart, my soul, my everything. So, I ask you now, in front of the gods, under the vast sky that has witnessed our love… will you take my hand in this life and the next, to share this eternity with me?”

His words flowed like a sacred incantation, each syllable heavy with the meaning of a thousand lifetimes, as if he were offering her not just his love, but his soul, his very existence.

Nouri’s heart raced as she looked into his eyes, feeling the depth of his words and the eternity they shared. She could feel the weight of the universe in his gaze—pure, unwavering, and deep as the ancient rivers that flowed through Egypt.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Steven Grant Rogers, I will walk with you for eternity, through every life, every challenge, every joy. I take you, now and forever, as my husband, as my Captain. And in this moment, under the watchful eyes of the gods, I ask you again—do you take me as your wife, in this life and the next?"

The wind seemed to still around them, as if the very earth was holding its breath, waiting for the answer. Steve’s eyes softened, filled with the depth of everything he felt for her. His voice, steady and strong, rang out with the certainty of their eternal bond.

"Yes," Steve said, his words simple yet filled with more power and certainty than any vow spoken before. "I take you, Nouri, in this life and the next. You are my heart, my world, my goddess, my eternal love. I am yours, forever."

The very air seemed to shimmer as the gods themselves watched over them, the desert echoing with the blessings of ancient power.

“And may the power bestowed by the gods,” Ardeth said with a smile, his voice warm with affection for the couple, “I give you these rings, forged in the eternal flame, to symbolise your unbreakable bond. Let them serve as a reminder that no force, not time nor distance, can sever what has been woven here today. I now pronounce you man and wife… or, Captain and Goddess,” he added with a playful laugh, breaking the tension and offering them a moment of lightness.

And in that instant, without hesitation, Steve kissed Nouri deeply, the kiss soft at first, but growing more passionate with every second. The kiss was their vow, their promise, their future—bound together forever by love, by fire, and by the gods.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the cool desert air, Steve’s smile was full of joy, his heart light and full. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, his voice thick with gratitude as he turned to Ardeth.

The wind shifted again, carrying a whispered blessing.

“I bless this love and marriage, and wish you eternal happiness,” the wind seemed to murmur, its voice full of warmth, ancient and powerful.

Nouri closed her eyes, feeling the presence of Isis in the wind. Her heart swelled with reverence, and she whispered back, “Thank you, Isis.”

Turning back to Steve, she smiled—wide, pure, and filled with a joy that could only come from knowing she had found her forever. Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve pulled her into a deep, lingering kiss. And under the stars, surrounded by the history and magic of Egypt, they knew that no matter what the future held, they were forever bound—by love, by fire, and by the gods themselves.

Chapter 42: Al Nouri the Professor

Notes:

Hope you enjoy it <3
Please don't hesitate to leave a comment and a kudos! <3
I will shamelessly advertise for my Sirius Black X OFC story called "star's aligned," its really good, feel free to check it out <3

2019

 

Two months had passed since Nouri and Steve's intimate wedding in Cairo, a quiet moment just for them. They had decided to keep it a secret, hidden from the world. It wasn’t about the attention, or the grand gestures; it was about their love, something sacred and personal.

Their decision had been simple: they were married for each other, not for the world. No press, no announcements, just the two of them, committing to a future together. It felt like the right thing to do—uncomplicated, genuine, theirs.

The days that followed had been peaceful, in an almost surreal way. Life wasn’t easy, and the world was still healing from the aftermath of the Snap, but they had found a routine that worked for them. The Avengers Compound had become their home once more, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world. Nouri had spent her days buried in her work, preparing course proposals for a lecture series she was planning on Egyptology and ancient cultures. Her ideas had already drawn praise from Columbia, and even a few prominent historians, and that made her smile, though she remained humble about it.

Steve, on the other hand, had thrown himself into helping others—helping rebuild. He’d started organizing a support group for those who had survived the Snap. It wasn’t much at first, just a handful of people coming together to share stories and lean on each other. But Steve was patient, and soon the group grew. People came from all over, many of them struggling to find their place in a world that had shifted beneath them. Steve’s leadership wasn’t just about being Captain America; it was about being someone who truly understood pain, loss, and the journey toward healing. Nouri had seen the way his eyes softened whenever someone opened up, his hands steady as he comforted them, never judging, only listening.

---

One evening, Nouri found Steve in their small living space, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out, a quiet smile on his face as he looked over some papers. She walked over and sat beside him, her hand lightly resting on his knee.

"You look like you're carrying the weight of the world again," she said softly, her voice teasing but filled with affection.

Steve chuckled, glancing at her. "It's not so bad," he replied, though she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "It's just... there’s always more to do. More people to help. I never realized how many were still struggling, even after all this time."

Nouri gave him a playful nudge. "You can’t save everyone, honey," she said, her eyes warm with understanding. "But you can be there for them. You’ve already done more than enough."

He sighed and leaned back, letting his head rest against the back of the couch. "Sometimes I feel like no matter how much I do, it's never enough." His voice lowered, the vulnerability in his words something he rarely allowed himself to express. "I thought, after everything we’ve been through, I’d finally be able to breathe. But it's like the world keeps needing something, keeps demanding something more."

Nouri’s heart ached for him. She knew the weight he carried—had seen it all too clearly during the battles, the losses, and the countless moments when he had to step up as the symbol of hope and strength. But in private moments like these, when it was just the two of them, he let down his guard.

"You don’t have to be everything to everyone," Nouri said softly, her fingers gently brushing through his hair. "You just need to be you. That’s enough."

Steve smiled, but there was something tired behind his eyes. "You always know the right thing to say."

Nouri kissed his forehead lightly. "It's easy when I’m talking to you."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that felt like home. She could feel the weight of the last few months slowly lifting off her shoulders, the steady rhythm of their life together calming her. But there was something else—the tug of responsibility, the pull to do more, to fix what was broken in the world. She knew Steve felt it, too.

---

September 2019

 

It was Nouri’s first day as a professor, and standing in front of the mirror, she adjusted the hem of her blazer, staring at her reflection with a deep breath. The outfit was perfect—academic, professional—but the butterflies in her stomach wouldn’t let up. Her reflection looked confident, poised, but inside, doubt crept in. She couldn’t shake the thought: What if no one shows up? What if no one cares about Ancient Egypt?

Before she could lose herself in her thoughts any longer, she heard a soft knock on the door. Steve appeared in the doorway, wearing his signature smile, arms crossed. “First day?” he asked, eyes glinting with a touch of amusement.

Nouri chuckled, her nerves easing slightly. “First lecture at Columbia. I’m not even sure how many students signed up for the course. Or if anyone will actually show up…” Her voice trailed off, the uncertainty creeping back.

Steve stepped closer, walking toward her. Without saying a word, he kissed her gently on the forehead, his touch grounding her. “You’ll do great. You’re a force to be reckoned with. If anyone’s lucky enough to be in that lecture hall, it’s them.” He gave her a smile full of warmth and love, before stepping back and adjusting the strap of his bag.

Nouri nodded, her smile returning, even though the fluttering in her chest was still there. Steve reached for the door, holding it open for her. “Come on, let’s get you there.”

They left the Compound, Steve driving them through the busy streets toward the university. As they approached the campus, Nouri felt her heart race again. She could almost feel the weight of the generations of scholars and minds who had walked these grounds before her. Don’t mess this up, she thought.

Steve dropped her off outside the imposing stone building, the columns framing the entrance like something out of history. “I’ll be here when you’re done,” he said with a wink and a quick kiss.

Taking a deep breath, Nouri stepped out of the car and walked toward the building, her heels clicking on the stone pavement. She was escorted through the hallways and led to the lecture hall. As soon as the door opened, she was hit with a surprising sight: the auditorium was packed. Students filled every seat, their eager faces focused on her as she stood at the podium.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her calm. She took a slow, steady breath as she set her laptop on the podium and clicked the mouse to bring up her first slide. Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs adorned the screen, a perfect introduction to what she was about to begin.

As Nouri turned to face the students, the noise in the room dimmed, a buzz of excitement hanging in the air. She could feel their anticipation. The room was alive with energy—students at the edge of their seats, murmurs fading as she began to speak.

“Welcome to Ancient Egypt 101. I’m Al Nouri,” she began, her voice firm but inviting. “I’ll be your teacher and guide through this course. Before we get started, yes, I am an ancient being from Ancient Egypt. No, you will not win any favours in the afterlife with me. I’m here to teach.” Her eyes scanned the room, noting the curiosity and awe on their faces. They’re actually here to learn. They’re excited about Egypt; she thought with a quiet thrill.

She smiled, settling her nerves. “This course will dive deep into one of the most fascinating and enduring civilizations in human history. We’ll only scratch the surface today—just the tip of the iceberg—but I hope to inspire a passion for the subject that will stay with you throughout the semester.”

Nouri clicked to the next slide: a map of Ancient Egypt, showing its rich landscapes and borders that stretched from the Mediterranean Sea in the north to the Sudanese border in the south. “Now, Ancient Egypt—when you think of it, you probably picture the pyramids, right? The Sphinx? Pharaohs?” A few heads nodded in agreement.

“But what we need to understand, first and foremost, is that Egypt wasn’t just a land of monuments, gods, and tombs—it was a civilization that spanned thousands of years. From the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt around 3100 BC to the eventual conquest by Alexander the Great, Egypt’s influence on the world is profound. They were masters of architecture, mathematics, medicine, and, of course, religion.”

She let the words sink in as she clicked through the slides. The image of the Great Pyramid of Giza appeared on the screen, accompanied by a few notes about its construction and purpose.

“But we’ll get to the pyramids later,” she continued, her tone light, “because I’m sure you’ve all heard about them before. I want us to start by exploring the heart of Ancient Egyptian society—the concept of Ma’at. Can anyone tell me what Ma’at means?” She scanned the room, waiting for a response.

One brave student raised their hand. “Isn’t it justice or balance?”

“Exactly,” Nouri said, giving them an encouraging nod. “Ma’at represents truth, order, balance, and justice. It was the foundation of Egyptian society, upheld by the gods and the pharaohs. Without Ma’at, the entire world would fall into chaos.”

Her gaze lingered over the class, watching as their eyes flickered with understanding. “Ma’at wasn’t just a moral concept. It governed everything. The pharaohs, the priests, the common people—they all had a role to play in keeping the balance. This idea permeated their politics, religion, and even their daily lives.”

She paused for a moment, allowing the weight of the concept to settle in before moving on. “Now, let’s talk about the gods. Ancient Egyptians had a pantheon of deities that governed everything from the rising of the sun to the flooding of the Nile. Ra, the sun god, was at the centre of their belief system. His journey across the sky each day represented life and renewal. But what’s interesting is that Egypt didn’t just worship the gods—they believed that the gods were present with them in the world. Everything, from the crops to the weather, was seen as a manifestation of the gods' will.”

She could see the students hanging on every word now. Their interest was palpable, and it pushed Nouri forward, her excitement building. “But it wasn’t just about the gods; it was about the connection between humanity and the divine. The pharaohs were seen as divine figures themselves, intermediaries between the gods and the people. They didn’t just rule Egypt—they were gods on Earth.”

Her words were met with a hushed murmur of awe. She clicked to the next slide, showing an image of the Nile River. “And then there was the Nile—everything in Egypt depended on the river. It was their lifeline, their way of survival. It brought life to the land through its annual flooding, providing fertile soil for crops. Without the Nile, Egypt would have been nothing.”

She could feel the class’s energy shift as they leaned forward, taking in every word.

“Ancient Egypt,” Nouri continued, “is often remembered for its grandeur, its monuments, and its timeless artifacts. But it was the people—the farmers, the labourers, the priests, the scribes—that made the civilization thrive. We’re going to study their achievements, their contributions to knowledge, and their enduring legacy. But it all started with their belief in Ma’at, the gods, and the balance they worked to uphold.”

Nouri paused, her gaze sweeping over the students, who were now all silent and wide-eyed. “So, this semester, we’ll dive into these topics. I hope you’ll find as much wonder in the ancient world as I do.”

She clicked to the final slide, her heart swelling with pride as she saw the course outline appear on the screen. “We’ll be exploring Egypt’s history, its art, its literature, and its religion. But remember, we’re just scratching the surface today. There’s so much more to uncover.”

The room was quiet for a moment before a student spoke up. “This is going to be amazing.”

Nouri smiled, her nerves finally melting away. “I’m glad you think so. I look forward to the journey we’ll take together.” She looked out over her students, noting their wide-eyed expressions, some with hands raised eagerly. This was the moment she had been waiting for—the chance to connect with them, to pass on her knowledge and, perhaps, spark a deeper understanding.

A student in the front row, a young man with thick glasses, raised his hand. “Professor Al Nouri,” he began, his voice tinged with excitement, “you mentioned the gods and pharaohs being divine figures. Did the people truly believe the pharaohs were gods themselves? Or was it more of a political construct?”

Nouri smiled at the question, pleased by its depth. “Ah, excellent question,” she said, gesturing to the student. “It’s a bit of both. The pharaohs were seen as the earthly representatives of the gods—often, they were believed to be descended from the gods, or in some cases, the direct embodiment of a deity. Pharaohs like Ramses II were even deified in their lifetimes. But it was also a political tool. By positioning themselves as divine, pharaohs solidified their absolute power and legitimacy. It’s what made Egypt unique in its connection between the divine and the monarchy.”

Another hand shot up, this one belonging to a young woman with dark brown hair and an air of intrigue. “Professor,” she said, “You mentioned Ma’at and how it governs everything. Was that the basis for their laws and society? Did they have a system of justice?”

“Yes,” Nouri replied, nodding. “Ma’at was the foundation. The pharaoh, as the living embodiment of Ma’at, was responsible for ensuring that balance, order, and justice were maintained. There was no written law code in the way we think of laws today, but Ma’at influenced every aspect of life. It dictated how disputes were settled, how people treated one another, and even how the afterlife was viewed—people had to live in accordance with Ma’at if they wanted to be judged favourably by the gods.”

A student in the back, a tall young man with tattoos peeking out from his sleeves, hesitated before raising his hand. “I’ve always been curious about the afterlife in Egypt. How did they really believe it worked? What was the journey like for a soul?”

Nouri’s heart skipped at the question. The afterlife, one of the most complex and sacred aspects of Egyptian belief, was something close to her heart. “The afterlife was incredibly important to the Egyptians,” she began, her voice softer, almost reverent. “They believed that death was a journey—a journey that required protection and guidance. Upon death, the soul would face the judgment of Osiris, the god of the afterlife. The heart would be weighed against the feather of Ma’at to determine if the person had lived a just life. If they were found worthy, they would enter the Field of Reeds, a paradise-like place where they could live for eternity.”

She paused, letting the room digest this. “But if they failed the judgment, their soul would be devoured by Ammit, the devourer of souls, and they would cease to exist or they would be frozen in sand in the Du’at.” Nouri looked around the room, sensing their intrigue, before adding, “In fact, it’s the journey of the soul that connects deeply to my role in ancient Egypt. I was once called upon to guide souls through this very process.”

The room went silent, her words hanging in the air. The students exchanged glances, a few whispering among themselves. She gave them a moment to absorb that, watching their reactions closely. Many were staring at her wide-eyed, some still unsure whether they had misheard or if she was joking. But there was something about her—something that made them believe her.

A student in the back raised his hand hesitantly. “So... what’s the most important thing we should take away from this class? What do you think people miss most when they study Ancient Egypt?”

Nouri looked at the student, the wisdom of millennia flickering in her gaze. She took a breath, her voice calm but filled with the depth of all her years. “What people often miss is that Egypt wasn’t just about grand monuments or the dead—it was about understanding life. The ancient Egyptians were deeply spiritual, but they believed in living with purpose. They believed in balance, in living in harmony with the world and the gods. So, if you take one thing away from this class, it’s that Ancient Egypt teaches us the importance of understanding our place in the world, both as individuals and as part of a greater whole.”

There was a moment of reflective silence in the room. Nouri stood tall, her eyes sweeping over her students, her heart warmed by the energy in the room. They weren’t just studying ancient history; they were grappling with timeless questions that were still relevant today.

Nouri glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing the time creeping toward the end of the lecture. A soft sigh escaped her lips—she had just scratched the surface of Egypt’s rich history, but she had to wrap it up. Still, she couldn’t resist the glimmer of excitement in the room. The students had been so engaged, so eager to learn. This was it. This is where she belonged.

“Alright, everyone,” Nouri said, her voice drawing their attention. “Time’s almost up for today. But I’ve got time for a few questions before we wrap up.”

A hand shot up from a student sitting near the middle of the room, a woman with long brown hair and an inquisitive expression. “Professor, I’ve always been fascinated by Egyptian art and how it reflects the culture. Why were the gods and pharaohs often depicted in such a specific way? For example, why did they always have that certain posture or proportion?”

Nouri smiled, pleased with the question. “Ah, another great question.” She walked to the side of the podium, glancing at the students, enjoying their interest. “The way the gods and pharaohs were depicted in Egyptian art wasn’t just about aesthetics—it was a form of symbolic communication. The strict adherence to proportion and posture was meant to convey order, divinity, and strength. It wasn’t about showing individuals in their naturalistic form but in an idealized way. The gods were often portrayed in a way that emphasized their eternal nature—tall, imposing, and flawless. The pharaohs, too, were shown in a way that represented their divine right to rule and their connection to the gods.”

She paused, letting that sink in before continuing. “Take the famous seated statue of Ramses II, for example. His posture is rigid, straight-backed, almost godlike. His size and strength were emphasized, showing that he was not just a ruler but someone divinely sanctioned. The depiction wasn’t only about power; it was also about maintaining Ma’at, the balance, the truth that had to be upheld at all times. The art made sure that the pharaoh’s divine role was clear for all who saw it, creating an image that would last beyond death.”

Nouri’s gaze lingered on the class for a moment. “It’s a fascinating aspect of Egyptian culture—everything had meaning. Even something as seemingly simple as the way a figure stood had a deeper connection to their power and role in society.” She smiled as the students absorbed the information, the room still as they reflected on her words.

A soft murmur spread among the students as they absorbed the response. Another hand went up—this time, a shy-looking girl in the back who seemed hesitant. “Professor, I was wondering... about Cleopatra. Was she truly the last of the pharaohs? And where is her tomb? We’ve all heard the stories.”

Nouri’s eyes twinkled, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. The question had come sooner than she’d expected. “Ah, Cleopatra,” she said, her voice softening as if she were remembering a time long past. “The last true pharaoh of Egypt. She ruled with intelligence and grace, and her story has captivated many throughout history.” She leaned slightly forward, glancing around the room. “But as for her tomb…” She shook her head slightly, the mystery lingering in her words. “It’s believed to be somewhere near Alexandria, but no one has ever found it. There are many theories, but no one has succeeded in uncovering it. And the truth is, Cleopatra’s tomb cannot be found by just anyone.”

A few students exchanged puzzled looks. The room went quiet, waiting for her to continue.

Nouri smiled cryptically. “Some say it cannot be found by a man. Perhaps it requires something... else.” She let the mystery hang in the air. The students seemed captivated, but one student—a quiet, unassuming girl near the back—raised her hand shyly, her voice barely audible. “Professor... do you think it could be found by a woman?”

Nouri’s smile deepened, and a mischievous spark lit in her eyes. She leaned forward, her tone teasing yet thoughtful. “Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it?” she mused. “Perhaps there’s more to Cleopatra’s tomb than just a location. Perhaps the key to it lies in the hands of those who seek it—who seek it with the right heart.” She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room, watching her students’ faces light up with curiosity. “Now, I’ll leave that question for you to ponder.”

The room fell silent, the kind of silence that makes you question if everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the punchline. Nouri stood at the front, the weight of her question hanging in the air. She had asked it with just enough drama to keep them on edge. She straightened up, brushing a lock of her dark curls behind her ear.

"Before we wrap up today," she began, her voice taking on a teasing tone, "there's one last question I want to leave you with. And trust me, it’s more important than you might think. So, take a second to think about it—seriously, this is one of those questions that might actually make you rethink your life choices."

The class exchanged nervous glances, their pens poised mid-air, unsure if they were being pranked. Nouri loved it. The discomfort was almost palpable, and she thrived in it.

"So," she continued, her voice taking on a more dramatic, almost theatrical edge. "What is the true purpose of seeking knowledge? Is it to gain power? To achieve glory? Or is there something deeper that we’re all missing?"

She leaned back slightly against the podium, surveying the room as they sat in stunned silence. No hands shot up. No one seemed to have a clue, and it made her want to laugh out loud at how hard they were all thinking about a question they would never have the answer to in this class.

"Guess not," she muttered to herself, raising an eyebrow. "You all look like you're on the verge of an existential crisis. Don’t worry, we’ll get to that later. Maybe by the end of the semester, some of you will finally have a good answer."

Just as she was about to finish her thought, a voice rang out from the back of the room, breaking the tension like a sudden gust of wind. “The true purpose is to seek understanding, not power. It’s about sharing what you know to help others.”  

The class went into full-on chaos mode as the students turned, eyes wide, whispering in disbelief. “Wait—is that—is that him?” “Oh my god, is that Captain America?” “No way, he’s actually here!”

Nouri’s smile deepened into a grin as her eyes flickered to the back of the room. The students, however, were already buzzing with excitement, and a few heads turned to the source of the voice, their eyes wide. There, casually leaning against the doorframe, stood Steve Rogers, looking entirely too smug for someone who hadn’t been invited. His arms were crossed, his biceps—unnecessarily—bulging under his jacket, and that unmistakable smirk tugged at his lips. He was the very definition of effortlessly cool, and he knew it. His jaw was set, the confident smirk of a man who knew he was being way too cool for his own good.

Nouri’s lips curled into a smile, one that was equal parts amusement and mock annoyance. “Students only, Mr. Rogers,” she called out, the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice. She had to admit, she liked how he looked in that moment, effortlessly fitting in with his usual cocky charm. “What are you doing here?”

Steve pushed off the doorframe, strolling casually into the classroom like it was his second home. “Seems like your students don’t have the answer yet,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with confidence. He started down the stairs, not bothering to glance at the students who were now whispering furiously amongst themselves.

As he walked closer to the front, Nouri could feel the shift in the room. The air thickened. The students were trying to pretend they weren’t dying of curiosity. The whole room felt electric. But there was one thing that stood out to Nouri more than anything else: the way Steve’s eyes softened when he met her gaze. The warmth in them was unmistakable.

Steve reached the podium, his presence filling the room. He was standing right beside her now, towering over the crowd with the kind of confidence that only someone who had been in battle—and probably taken down an entire army—could have. And still look good doing it.

"And the answer," Steve continued, turning to the students but keeping his eyes fixed on Nouri, "is simple. Knowledge is meant to build, not control. It’s about protecting those who need it, and sharing it to help others. Not to flaunt power or seek personal glory."

The students sat there, half in awe and half in shock. Their eyes darted back and forth between the two of them like they were watching a romantic comedy unfold in real time.

Nouri couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Who taught you that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, genuinely curious but also enjoying the teasing moment.

Steve shot her a knowing look, that familiar cocky grin still in place. “You did, obviously,” he said with a wink, his voice full of that charming ease that always made her heart do a little flip.

The students were practically in a trance by this point, caught between trying to process the fact that Captain America was flirting with their professor, and realizing they might actually be learning something useful for once.

“Well,” Nouri said, rolling her eyes but giving him a fond smile, “I suppose I’ve been bested by a much better answer. I may have to reconsider who’s teaching this class after all.”

She turned to the class, who were still in varying states of shock. “Alright, class. That’s it for today. Go ahead and do your readings and actually think about the question I asked you. What is the true purpose of knowledge?” She gave them a pointed look. “And no, it’s not to Google the answer during class. Really, try to think about it.”

As the students scrambled to pack up and file out, murmurs of excitement followed them. Nouri turned back to Steve, her expression softening. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic,” she said, shaking her head with a smirk.

Steve leaned casually against the podium; his voice low as he smirked right back at her. “I just couldn't resist. You looked like you needed a little help. Besides, someone had to make sure you didn't lose your edge.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in mock offense. “Help? Or a distraction?”

“A little of both,” he said with a wink, his expression utterly smug. “And honestly, it was fun. Those kids will be talking about this class for weeks.”

Nouri couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad you're here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Steve said softly, his tone genuine. “Besides, they’ll be fine. And now, I finally get to have you to myself.” As he leaned in for a quick kiss from the goddess.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Always the charmer.”

As they walked out of the lecture hall side by side, the weight of the day’s success settled on Nouri. She had done it—her first lecture, and she hadn’t completely embarrassed herself. And, of course, having Steve’s presence made everything feel a little easier.

“You know,” she teased, glancing up at him, “you’re lucky you’re cute. Otherwise, I’d be asking for a refund on my lecture fees.”

Steve laughed softly, his hand brushing against hers as they walked. “I know,” he said with a wink. “But I think I’m the one who should be paying for this lecture. After all, you’re the one who taught me what really matters.”

And just like that, Nouri felt the quiet certainty that, whatever came next, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

---

Back at the Avengers Compound, Nouri settled into her quiet workspace. The soft hum of the surrounding activity didn’t distract her, even as the chatter and movement in the hallways seemed to grow louder. She was already knee-deep in preparing her lecture for the next day. It was her second lecture on Ancient Egypt, and the students were eager. The thought of reconnecting with them made her heartbeat faster. She hadn’t realized how much she missed teaching until she’d started. The classroom was her place of comfort, a place where she could share the wealth of her knowledge while remaining grounded in the mortal world. She liked that.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she typed her lecture notes for her class at Harvard. The subject of the lecture tomorrow was one she held close to her heart: the gods of ancient Egypt and their roles within the framework of Egypt’s religious practices. Her mind was already pulling together the intricate details of the gods and goddesses—their symbolism, their influence on the people, their places in myth and history.

She leaned back in her chair and stared out of the window for a moment, a sigh escaping her lips. It was a fine line to walk. To be part of the world she so deeply cared for but never fully reveal her true nature. To be a guide, but from the shadows.

Yet even as she worked, her mind kept drifting to Steve. He had his first meeting with his support group earlier. She knew he was dealing with so much. But Nouri had always been able to compartmentalize. Her work was where she could focus. She could carry her own burdens later. She had to get this lecture right. Her students were depending on her—her mind swept back to the task at hand.

---

The lecture hall buzzed with the low murmur of students settling in, the occasional shuffle of papers, and the sound of laptops clicking open. It had been a long week since Nouri’s first lecture, and she could already sense the heightened curiosity in the room. The students had come in droves, some eager to learn, others simply intrigued by the woman who had piqued their interest with her knowledge of ancient civilizations.

“Good morning,” Nouri greeted the class, her voice steady but carrying the weight of authority. “I hope you all had time to review the readings from last week. Today, we dive into the core of ancient Egyptian belief—its gods, their roles in creation, and their balance in the universe. We will begin with the Ennead, the sacred nine gods who shaped not only the world but also the principles of life and death, order and chaos.”

Nouri paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle before she continued, her gaze sweeping across the room.

“The Ennead consisted of Ra, the Sun God, who gave life to all. His reign was absolute, as he commanded the heavens and the earth. He was both creator and sustainer, embodying the very essence of life itself. But Ra’s power was not solitary; it was intertwined with the other gods, each of whom represented different aspects of existence.”

She moved to the board and began writing, listing the gods as she spoke.

“Ra's first creation was Shu, the god of air and sunlight, who separated the sky from the earth. Shu was the first deity of the Ennead, tasked with maintaining balance by ensuring that the earth and sky remained apart.”

Nouri’s eyes sparkled as she moved down the list.

“Next is Tefnut, the goddess of moisture and rain. She was the twin sister of Shu and played a crucial role in sustaining life. Without moisture, the earth would be barren, and life would not thrive.”

Her voice was rich with reverence as she continued.

“Then there is Geb, the god of the earth. He was a foundational figure, quite literally. Geb’s role was to anchor the world, ensuring that the earth remained stable. He was also a god of fertility, providing the earth with what it needed to sustain life.”

She paused, her expression shifting as she spoke of a more familiar figure.

“Now we come to the goddess Hathor, the goddess of love, music, and motherhood. Hathor embodied the nurturing aspect of the divine. She was revered for her ability to bring joy, comfort, and healing, and she played a central role in the lives of the Egyptians, particularly in the afterlife.”

Nouri’s eyes met the students’ with a knowing smile. One student, sitting near the front, leaned in, their pen poised above their notebook, captivated by the mention of Hathor’s nurturing role.

“Horus, the son of Osiris and Isis, is one of the most well-known gods in Egyptian mythology. He was the god of kingship and the protector of the Pharaohs. Horus’s story is one of vengeance and justice, as he sought to avenge his father, Osiris, and claim his rightful place as ruler of Egypt. He is often depicted as a falcon or with a falcon’s head, symbolizing his power and vision.”

As she continued, the students scribbled down notes, hanging on every word.

“Then there is Isis, the goddess of magic, healing, and motherhood. She was the sister and wife of Osiris, and her magic was unmatched. Isis was revered as a protector of the dead, a guardian of the vulnerable, and a goddess who helped guide souls to the afterlife.”

Nouri’s tone softened as she moved to the next deity.

“Anubis, the god of mummification and the afterlife. Anubis’s role was to guide souls through the underworld, ensuring they were properly prepared for the journey ahead. His jackal-headed form was a symbol of his connection to death and rebirth, and he stood as a guardian of the deceased.”

She shifted her focus now, speaking more introspectively.

“Khonshu, the moon god, is deeply tied to the passage of time and the cycles of the moon. He was often associated with the night and the divine protection that comes with it. Khonshu’s influence was felt in both the realms of the gods and the mortal world.”

Nouri’s voice became slightly more personal as she spoke.

“As for myself, I was born of the union between the sun and moon. I am Al Nouri, Goddess of the Eternal Path. My role was to bridge the gap between light and darkness, to guide those lost in the world of mortals. It was my duty to watch over humanity, to offer wisdom, and to guide souls through the afterlife.”

She moved on, her voice steady, though there was a subtle weight in her words.

“Osiris, the god of the afterlife and resurrection. He ruled over the realm of the dead, guiding the souls of the departed to their final resting place. Osiris was also a god of agriculture, embodying life and death in equal measure, ensuring that death was not the end but a continuation of the cycle.”

Her hands traced the next name on the board.

“Nephthys, the sister of Isis, was a goddess of the night, mourning, and protection. Though she was often seen as a shadow beside her more famous siblings, Nephthys had her own important role in protecting the deceased and assisting in the rebirth of souls.”

“And, of course, Taweret, the goddess of childbirth and fertility. She was a protector of mothers and children, ensuring safe births and guarding against the dangers of childbirth. Taweret was depicted as a hippopotamus, a symbol of strength and protection.”

She moved to the final two names.

“Nut, the sky goddess, who arched over the world, separating the heavens from the earth. She was also a goddess of the stars, her body forming the night sky. And lastly, Ammit, the devourer of souls, who ate the hearts of those who were deemed unworthy during the judgment of the dead.”

Nouri took a step back, her gaze shifting back to her students. One student, a young woman with wide eyes, whispered, “I had no idea there were so many gods in their pantheon…”

“The Ennead, as you can see, is not simply a pantheon of gods,” Nouri continued, her voice calm but with an edge of passion. “It is a system that reflects the balance of life, death, and rebirth. These deities were not just worshipped—they represented the principles that guided Egyptian society. Each god had a unique role in maintaining Ma’at—the divine order. And it was through these gods that the Egyptians understood their place in the cosmos.”

The class absorbed her words, some of the students exchanging quiet glances, their minds clearly awash with the immense scope of what they had just learned.

Nouri paused, her hands resting gently on the podium. The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of chalk scraping against the board as she wrote.

“The Ennead had their own set laws, each carved from eons of cosmic order,” Nouri said, her voice calm yet filled with an authoritative warmth. She glanced at the class before turning back to the board. “One such law is ‘The Law of Divine Autonomy.’”

She wrote the phrase on the board, underlining it with a flourish. “Each god or goddess within the Ennead governs their own domain and exercises their own authority. We, the gods, are bound by the realms we’ve been assigned.” She turned to face her students, eyes flashing with the weight of the centuries she had witnessed. “Interfering with another deity’s domain is seen as a grave violation. It’s not just a breach of etiquette; it’s an act of disrespect for another god’s sovereignty. In the old days, such transgressions were met with divine retribution.”

There was a subtle tension in the room, as if her words hung heavy with unspoken history. A student in the back raised their hand, a sceptical expression on their face. “So, no god ever interferes, even if it’s to help people or prevent harm?”

Nouri nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, but that’s the catch. The temptation to act, to interfere, is always present. Some gods, like Khonshu, may believe they are acting in the service of humanity, even if it means violating the law. But such actions come with a cost.”

She continued, moving with the fluid grace of someone who had lived through this very conflict. “And," she added with a slightly more sombre tone, "this law is especially critical when a god seeks to manipulate the cosmic balance for personal gain, as we saw with... well, let's just say a certain member of the Ennead who has since fallen from grace.” Nouri’s eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of pain crossing her face before she regained her composure.

She resumed her lecture, turning back to the board and writing another line. “‘The Law of Punishment for Betrayal,’” she said, tapping the chalk thoughtfully. “This one is particularly harsh. In the Ennead, betrayal is not simply frowned upon—it is an affront to the very fabric of our existence.”

Nouri’s gaze swept across the room, feeling the weight of the words. A student leaned forward, intrigued. “Can you give an example of betrayal?”

Nouri’s tone shifted as she met their gaze. “Of course. Any god who dares challenge the divine hierarchy, or worse, betray the trust of the council, faces severe punishment. It’s not just about breaking rules—it’s about breaking bonds. Those bonds hold the universe together. Without them, chaos would reign.”

She turned back to the class, taking a moment to let the gravity of her words settle in. “These laws were created not just to maintain order, but to preserve the delicate balance between creation and destruction. Even the smallest action can tip that balance. And when a god oversteps—well, the consequences are often... irreversible.”

The room was still. One student, a young man sitting near the front, quietly muttered to himself, "But... what if the gods don't always agree on what the balance is?"

Nouri smiled slightly, the thought clearly something she had grappled with. “Indeed, balance is subjective. It’s why divine law is so complex and layered. The gods may see their actions as necessary, but those who suffer the consequences often see them as unjust.”

The class sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, reflecting on her words. Nouri smiled, sensing the weight of their contemplation.

“I know that was a lot to digest," she said with a light chuckle, breaking the tension. "But the history of the Ennead is more than just rules. It’s about power, identity, and the struggle between order and chaos. And at the heart of it all is the question every god faces: What is our role in the world we shape?”

She straightened, wiping her hands on her trousers as she turned back to the board. “Any more questions?” she asked, her tone returning to its usual academic coolness.

The students seemed hesitant, but after a moment, another hand shot up. “What about Khonshu’s role in the Ennead? He seems different from the others.”

Nouri’s smile deepened. “Khonshu was indeed unique. While Ra represented the day and Osiris the afterlife, Khonshu embodied the night and the passage of time. His influence was subtle, yet vast. He was a god of healing and protection, guiding travellers of the night through the darkness. But he also represented change—both the cycles of the moon and the transformation of the soul. He was often depicted as a guardian of the night, providing solace in times of darkness.”

Nouri glanced around, inviting any further questions, but the students seemed satisfied for the moment. “Until then, think about the balance we discussed today. The gods may shape the world, but in the end, we all play a part in how the story unfolds.”

“Thank you for your attention,” she said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Next class, we will delve deeper into the roles of the gods in the afterlife and their interactions with the mortal realm.”

With that, the students began to file out, their heads buzzing with the new knowledge they had gained. Nouri watched them go, her heart light. Teaching, guiding—this was where she truly belonged. For now, at least.

Chapter 43: 2020-2023

2020

 

The months after Thanos’s snap had felt like a blur, but as the world slowly rebuilt, Nouri found solace in the simple act of teaching. Columbia University, with its grand halls and bustling campus, had become her refuge. It was almost as if time itself had slowed down—students still eager to learn, faculty members still curious about the ancient wisdom she offered. There was something soothing about the rhythm of her lectures, the way words about Egypt’s ancient history poured from her with ease, as though the centuries had granted her the patience she hadn’t known she possessed.

Her classes had become a place of refuge for her as much as for them. The connection she felt with humanity, the knowledge she imparted, and the discussions they sparked—these small victories were a comfort. But even in the comfort of routine, she couldn’t ignore the weight on her chest, a sorrow that wouldn’t lift, a world that would never be quite the same again.

Steve visited often, though it was never during the full class. He would come in the last fifteen minutes, always slipping into the back row as quietly as he could, never interrupting the flow of her words. Nouri would catch glimpses of him, the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiled softly, listening attentively. His presence was always a bittersweet reminder of the grief both of them carried—his for the fallen, and hers for the bond broken between gods and mortals.

But despite the heavy silence between the worlds, their connection remained unwavering, a bond that had been solidified in their vows. They were married now, bound together not just by their love, but by a promise of eternity. Nouri had never believed in the fragility of love—her nature had always made her understand the concept of forever—but it was Steve who had shown her that love was just as much about choice as it was about fate. Together, they had chosen each other for all of eternity, no matter how long or difficult their journey might be.

After class, they would walk together, their conversations often flowing easily between the mundane and the profound. Sometimes, Steve would talk about his support group, his face a little more open than it had been in those early days. He had found a place to heal, even if only in fragments, and Nouri could see how much it meant to him. But she also noticed how often he looked at the world around him with a kind of quiet sadness, as though it no longer felt like his own.

"I don't know," he’d once said during one of their walks, his voice distant. "Sometimes I wonder if we can ever fully come back from what happened. I know we’re all trying, but the world... it just feels different now, you know?"

Nouri’s heart ached for him. She wanted to tell him that things would get better, that they would rebuild, but even she didn’t have the answer. Instead, she would offer a gentle smile, something comforting, and perhaps a touch of the wisdom of the past to anchor him.

"We don’t have to rush. Healing... it’s not about time, it’s about finding pieces of ourselves in the places we least expect," she’d say. "The world will find its balance, just as we will. We may never be the same, but there’s beauty in that too."

He would nod, his face softening, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the weight of the world lightened just a fraction.

---

2021

 

The routine of the year was familiar. It felt almost like they were walking in a loop, the world outside their little circle continuing to shift and change, while they remained in a strange limbo between what had been and what was yet to come.

Nouri still taught at Columbia, her classes filled with eager students who hung on her every word, their fascination with Egypt's ancient deities and the wisdom of the past palpable in every lecture. She had come to appreciate these moments, the quiet assurance of guiding young minds through history, even as she battled her own internal storm. She had started to think that perhaps these students, so full of potential and wonder, were the true hope for the future—the ones who would rebuild the bridges between the past and the present.

Steve’s routine had remained unchanged. His time in the support group was something that grounded him, though there was always a distant look in his eyes when he spoke of it. He had returned to his role as a leader of sorts, but now, his leadership wasn’t about fighting battles—it was about helping others find their way, just as he had once done. When he wasn’t in his group sessions, he would still visit her lectures, sitting quietly at the back, his presence a comfort, though he never spoke much about his struggles, preferring instead to listen.

They took trips to Egypt together—brief but meaningful getaways, where the world outside their little bubble seemed to pause for a moment. Nouri would take him to the temples, the pyramids, and the ancient ruins. In these moments, Steve would listen with an open heart, always fascinated by the depth of Nouri’s knowledge. Yet, even in the shadows of the Great Pyramids, there was an unspoken sorrow between them. The world had changed—humanity had changed—and despite their love for one another, they both struggled to keep pace.

During these trips, Nouri had not heard much from the Ennead. The gods had distanced themselves even more, perhaps due to their own sense of guilt, or perhaps because they were too wrapped up in their own divine affairs. Anubis, however, would send the occasional message, updates about the afterlife, but even those seemed distant and cold, like a lifeline thrown across a vast chasm.

The world around them was growing colder, a sense of disconnectedness creeping into every corner of their lives. The air seemed thinner; the cities less alive with the same warmth that once filled the streets. Nouri felt it most acutely during the quiet hours—when she would sit alone in Compound, her thoughts racing, her gaze fixed on the sky, knowing that even as she taught and helped others, a part of her longed for a time when the gods had walked alongside humanity.

And yet, even with the coldness surrounding them, she had Steve. He had become her anchor, just as she had become his. They were two souls, carrying the weight of a world that had shifted beneath their feet, finding their way in a place that had left them both behind. Their marriage, their bond, had been forged in both light and shadow, and it was the one constant they could hold onto.

"Do you ever wonder," Nouri asked one evening, as they sat on the rooftop of Avengers Compound, the wind sweeping through their hair, "if the world will ever be the same? Or if it’s supposed to be?"

Steve glanced at her, the sadness in his eyes deepening. "I think... it’s never going to be the same. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s about making it better, not just going back."

Nouri smiled softly; her gaze turned to the stars above them. "You’re right," she murmured. "We may never return to what was. But we have each other. And sometimes, that’s enough."

And in that moment, they both held onto that truth, as fragile and as strong as the world itself. Their love was their anchor, their bond eternal, and with it, they would weather whatever storms lay ahead.

---

January 26th, 2022

 

The cold air clung to the walls of the Avengers Compound as Nouri sat by the window, her gaze lost in the dying embers of the fire. The warmth of the flames did little to fight off the chill that had settled into the bones of the place. Snow drifted outside, blanketing the world in white, while the flickering orange light cast shadows across the room. It felt eerily still, a quiet reminder of the events that had unfolded—the pain of loss still hanging in the air like a weight none of them had quite managed to shake.

Natasha was hunched over a table, tapping furiously at her laptop, her eyes scanning every possible lead for Clint. Steve, tucked into a nook nearby, had a book open in his lap, though his eyes were far from the pages. The three of them had grown quiet over the months, reluctant to speak of the battle they had lost in Wakanda. They had all lost, but for Steve and Natasha, it felt like a wound that hadn't quite healed. But in their silence, they found comfort in each other's company—and Nouri's presence as well.

Nouri, her fingers resting against the cold windowpane, stared out at the horizon. The sun dipped low, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink before it sank behind the trees. The first flakes of snow began to drift lazily from the sky, their descent a stark contrast to the turmoil inside.

The lights flickered. A subtle flicker, not quite enough to cause alarm, but enough to pull Natasha and Steve from their quiet reverie. They exchanged a glance, then turned to Nouri, who remained unfazed, still looking out the window.

"It's just Khonshu," Nouri said, her voice casual, her tone flat.

Steve and Natasha looked at each other, both concerned but not surprised. They nodded, silently agreeing to wait, though the strange, imperious presence of Khonshu was always unsettling.

Then the lights went out entirely.

The room fell into darkness, and Natasha and Steve both stiffened, the unease crawling up their spines. But Nouri simply sighed, her breath visible in the air as the room grew colder. She didn’t budge from her spot.

A violent gust of wind slammed against the window, rattling the glass in its frame. Nouri’s brow furrowed in irritation. With a huff, she stood up, her movements sharp and purposeful, and walked past Steve and Natasha without a word. They followed her with their eyes as she stepped out into the snow, her feet sinking into the soft powder as she made her way into the yard.

Outside, the world seemed dead quiet, save for the whisper of the wind through the trees. Nouri raised her chin, her gaze turning toward the darkened horizon.

“What do you want, Khonshu?” she growled, her voice thick with annoyance.

A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, stepping out from the trees as though he had materialized from the very night itself. Khonshu, towering and all-seeing, stood before her, his eyes glowing with cold light.

“I am in need of your assistance,” Khonshu's voice rang out, deep and commanding.

“The great Khonshu,” Nouri mocked, her laugh sharp and bitter. “In the need of my help?” She snorted; the sound bitter with disbelief.

“Do not mock me, child,” Khonshu’s voice darkened, his tone venomous. “I know of your bond to the mortal, your weakness. It clouds your judgment.”

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t flinch. She raised an eyebrow. “Can't your avatar do your bidding?” she asked, the words dripping with sarcastic venom.

“I require a new avatar,” Khonshu said, his voice now edging with impatience. He took a step closer, his towering form casting a long shadow across the snow.

Nouri crossed her arms, her breath visible in the cold air as she stared at him, her expression unreadable. “Who?” she asked, though she already had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.

“Marc Spector,” Khonshu answered, the name hanging in the air like a cursed breath.

The mention of his name made Nouri’s stomach twist with an uncomfortable chill. Marc Spector. A man with fractured scales, the chaos of his soul reflected in his every action.

Nouri’s brow furrowed as she stood still, her mind sharpening. Without saying a word, she closed her eyes, her sight slipping into the realms beyond the physical. She reached out, her essence stretching out across the miles, threading through the strands of existence, searching for him. She felt the discord, the chaos of his soul—a man torn between worlds, struggling against himself.

Her eyes flickered open, their usual calm replaced by a storm of emotions. "I see him," she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. “His scales are shattered... he’s in Egypt, working as a mercenary... and he’s been discharged from the Marines due to his fugue state. Lost in the chaos of his own mind.”

Khonshu’s gaze sharpened, his voice rising. “He is mine now. Find him.”

Nouri didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze shifted toward the dark sky, the wind whipping around her as though it too was impatient. For a long moment, she stood there, her silence almost deafening.

Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with reluctant resolve. “I won’t intervene in your plans, Khonshu. Not this time.”

Khonshu’s expression hardened. “You would turn your back on me? On your duty?”

With a quiet sigh, Nouri turned her back on him, her footsteps sinking into the snow as she walked away. “I have seen enough. His path is his own to walk, not mine to control.”

Khonshu’s towering form flickered in the cold air, his eyes burning with anger, the harsh light of the moon flickering in his gaze. The air between them seemed to crackle with tension as his voice rose once more, imperious and biting.

“You would defy me, Nouri?” Khonshu’s words were sharp as a blade. “You, who were born from my moon and Ra’s flame? Do you truly think you can walk away from this? From me?”

Nouri’s breath came out in visible puffs, her eyes fixed on the falling snowflakes, her gaze distant, unfazed by his fury. She stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on her, her mind a storm of thoughts that blurred and intertwined. This was her choice, the same choice she had made long ago when she rebelled against the Ennead’s cold, distant laws. She had learned to stand her ground before, and she would do it now.

She didn’t look back, not at him, not at his form casting long shadows in the darkness of the night. But his voice, like a distant thunder, echoed in her chest.

“You have no idea what you are giving up, Nouri. You think your little mortal world will protect you from the chaos that lies ahead? You are nothing without me.”

Nouri’s jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of emotion passing through her eyes. It was pain, not from his words, but from what had been left unsaid. She had loved him once, in a way only a daughter could love a father, but that love had been twisted, suffocated by his cold demands. She had been his puppet for so long.

But no more.

With a sharp exhale, she let the bitterness of his words slide away, her heart harder than it had been in centuries. “I am not yours to dictate anymore.”

Her words were quiet, but they held a finality that rippled through the space between them, causing even the wind to still. The god who had once been her father, her creator, stood frozen for a long moment, the rage in his gaze battling with something else—perhaps regret, perhaps recognition of the daughter he had created, but could not control.

His form began to fade, dissolving into the cold night air, his presence lingering like a heavy cloud before it too vanished.

Nouri remained standing there, the silence pressing in around her, but the decision was already made. Her heart felt lighter for it, though the weight of the choice remained.

Slowly, she turned her back to the place where Khonshu had stood, her footsteps light in the fresh snow. She walked away without looking back, the world shifting around her as the Compound loomed in the distance, a quiet refuge now more than ever.

As she approached the door, she could feel the weight of her decision hanging in the air, the remnants of the storm she had just weathered still swirling within her. When she opened the door, Natasha and Steve were waiting in the living room, their eyes full of questions. Their stares were heavy, but Nouri didn’t meet them.

She walked past them in silence, her expression unreadable, her features masked in calm that betrayed the chaos stirring beneath. The room, despite its warmth, felt distant, as though she had crossed an invisible line into another world.

Natasha’s lips parted as if to speak, but the words didn’t come. Steve stood rooted, his eyes lingering on her retreating form, but still, neither of them said a word.

Nouri passed them, her heart steady but her mind still racing. The weight of her choice, like the gravity of the snow falling outside, hung between them like a storm yet to break. She could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken questions, the concern in their eyes. But she didn’t need to say anything. Her silence spoke louder than any words could.

She had made her choice, and it was final.

---

October 3rd, 2023

 

Once again, Nouri found herself standing before a class at Columbia University, delivering a lecture to a room full of new and returning students. She loved teaching—loved the way history came alive in the minds of young people—but something felt hollow now. She could almost feel the weight of the world outside the lecture hall, the world that had shattered five years ago. The world she had failed to save.

As the lecture wrapped up a little earlier than usual, Nouri gathered her notes and left the classroom without a second thought. She didn’t linger in the usual post-lecture buzz of students talking and asking questions. Instead, she walked straight out of the campus gates, her steps heavy, each one carrying her farther from her students and closer to a place that had become both familiar and haunting.

The streets of New York were quieter than they used to be. A little emptier, even more so in the past few months. The shops were abandoned or barely hanging on, windows cracked, doors shut. Murals adorned the stone walls of buildings, painted in memory of the ones lost during the Snap. Some were vibrant and hopeful, others dark and mournful. One of them caught Nouri's eye— a portrait of a man holding his child, both of them gazing upward, the word “Gone, but not forgotten” sprawled beneath them.

Nouri's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the artwork. Gone... but not forgotten. She could feel the words like a weight on her chest, pulling at her, making her chest tighten with something she couldn’t quite place. She lowered her gaze, ashamed, and pushed forward into the familiar silence of Brooklyn, towards the small café where Steve had been attending support group meetings.

The café was run-down, the paint chipped, and the windows half-covered with old newspapers. Inside, the air felt heavy, weighed down by the silence, broken only by the faint clink of mugs and the shuffling of chairs. The walls, cracked and stained, displayed a weathered poster with bold, distressed letters: “WHERE DO WE GO, NOW THAT THEY’RE GONE?”

Nouri hesitated at the door, the question gnawing at her, the guilt swallowing her whole. She had failed to protect them all. She had failed to stop the Snap, and now she had to live with the weight of the aftermath— the uncertainty of what she had truly done. She let out a breath and stepped inside.

In the corner of the room, Steve was seated among seven other people, each one carrying their own grief, the weight of the world’s collapse pressing down on them. The room seemed to be holding its breath. They were all here, fractured pieces of lives once whole, trying to pick up the pieces. Nouri stood at the door, unsure of whether to disturb them, her eyes finding Steve's. He looked up and their gazes met, his soft expression recognizing her immediately. The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight smile, but there was nothing light about it.

A man broke the silence, his voice hesitant. "So, I, uh... went on a date the other day," he said, his words stumbling out, nervous and uncertain. "First time in five years, you know? I’m sitting there at dinner... I didn’t even know what to talk about."

Steve gave a slight nod of encouragement, his face softening. "What did you talk about?"

The man chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his hands together. "Same old crap... job, his job... how much we miss the Mets." His eyes flickered downward. "And then... things get quiet. He cried, as they were serving the salads."

The silence in the room thickened as the group took in his words. Another man leaned forward; his voice low but insistent. "What about you?"

The first man shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "I cried... just before dessert," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "But I’m seeing him again tomorrow, so..."

Steve’s gaze softened; his tone steady but with a deep understanding. "That's great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump, you didn't know where you were gonna come down. And that's it. That's those little brave baby steps we gotta take. To try and become whole again, try and find purpose.?"

Steve’s eyes drifted off, lost in his thoughts as he stared at the ground, a faraway look in his eyes. The group fell into an uneasy silence, each person reflecting on their own pain.

As the quiet stretched on, Steve’s eyes flicked over to Nouri again. She stood there, still in the doorway, her presence a stark contrast to the others. His voice softened even further, almost as if speaking to her alone. "I went into the ice in '45 right after I lost my best friend. Woke up 70 years later," he said, his words hanging heavy in the air. "You gotta move on. Gotta to move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us guys, and we got to do something with it. Otherwise... Thanos should have killed all of us."

The weight of his words hit harder than any punch. The group was silent, absorbing the finality of what he said, what they were all thinking. The man who had sacrificed so much, who had woken up in a world unrecognizable, was still haunted by the past— by everything they had lost.

Nouri stood still, unable to move, unable to speak. She could feel Steve’s gaze on her, a mix of acknowledgment and shared pain. The room felt colder now, the silence stretching like a thin sheet of ice. The others began to leave, shaking hands, mumbling words of comfort, but it felt like a dream, all of it. Nouri approached Steve, the shame she had carried for the last five years still weighing her down like an anchor.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, and Steve held her back, his grip tight but gentle, as though she was the only thing tethering him to a world that didn’t make sense anymore. She felt his heartbeat against hers, strong and steady, but under it was the weariness of everything they had seen, everything they had lost.

They left the café together in silence, walking to the car parked nearby. The car ride back to the Compound was eerily quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Nouri could feel Steve’s grief, his guilt pressing against her own, and the shame that had settled deep in her bones. They had both failed. They had both lost. And now, they were left to pick up the pieces of a world that would never be the same again.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Nouri spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "My love... do you think we could have done more?"

His jaw clenched. "I think we did everything we could. But sometimes... it’s just not enough."

Nouri nodded, the tears that had threatened to spill finally slipping down her cheeks. They were truly lost, she thought. And they were left to rebuild the pieces, one broken shard at a time.

Notes:

A bit shorter than usual, but we are getting closer to the end :(

Chapter 44: Time Travel

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback

October 3rd, 2023

 

Nouri and Steve walked through the cold halls of the Compound; the air thick with the weight of everything they had lost. There was a bitter silence hanging in the air, broken only by the echo of their footsteps.

As they approached the conference room, they saw Natasha sitting alone, her face buried in her hands. The tears had started again, though she did her best to suppress them. Nouri felt a pang in her chest but held back, knowing how much Natasha prided herself on keeping her emotions under control. Still, the rawness of her grief was palpable.

Steve gave her a gentle glance, his sombre expression mirroring the tiredness they all felt. Leaning against the bookcase, he offered a dry joke. "You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already. Might be a little much."

His voice carried that same sombre tone, the kind they’d just finished with in therapy. Natasha wiped at her face with the back of her hand, forcing a weak smile.

"You here to do your laundry?" she asked, her voice hoarse, the sarcasm an attempt to mask the sorrow.

Nouri stepped forward, her presence like a quiet anchor in the storm. "And to see a friend," she replied with a soft chuckle, though her eyes remained empathetic, reading Natasha’s silent pain like an open book.

"Clearly, your friend is fine," Natasha muttered, her eyes flicking to Steve with a mix of sarcasm and the kind of sadness only those who had seen the worst of the world could understand.

Nouri smiled warmly, an easy affection in her voice. "Oh, Natalia," she said, walking over to her, placing a gentle hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

Steve chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood as best he could. "We saw a pod of whales when I was coming over the bridge."

"In the Hudson?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity breaking through her grief.

"Fewer ships. Cleaner water," Steve said, his eyes drifting out the window, lost in the memory for a moment.

Natasha shook her head, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. "If you're about to tell me to look on the bright side, I’m about to hit you in the head with a peanut butter sandwich."

Steve raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Sorry. Force of habit."

He tossed his jacket over a nearby chair and sat down across from her. Nouri followed, taking the chair next to Natasha, sitting quietly for a moment before speaking.

"You know," Steve began, leaning back in his chair, "I keep telling everybody they should move on... grow. Some do. But not us." His words were heavy with the weight of his own struggles.

"If I move on, who does this?" Natasha asked, her voice thick with meaning.

Nouri looked at him, then back at Natasha, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe it doesn’t need to be done," she suggested, as if trying to ease the pressure they all felt. "Sometimes, it’s okay to stay still and let the world catch up to you."

Natasha met her gaze, a long pause falling over the room. "I used to have nothing," she said quietly, as though the words were being pulled from deep within her. "And then I got this. This job... this family. And I was... I was better because of it. And even though... they're gone... I’m still trying to be better."

Her voice cracked, but Nouri was right there, her hand resting on Natasha's, her touch grounding. "You are still better," she whispered. "None of that changes who you are."

Steve shifted in his seat, a wry smile forming on his lips despite the mood. "I think we all need to get a life," he said, trying to keep things light.

Natasha’s lips quirked in a fleeting smile. "You first."

"Excuse me," Nouri interjected with a mock pout, her eyes playful, "I have a life, as a teacher." Her sarcasm broke the tension just enough, and Natasha let out a small laugh.

At that moment, the screen in front of them flickered to life, displaying a grainy video. A familiar face appeared, a little dishevelled and frantic.

"Oh! Hi. Hi! Is anyone home?" Scott Lang’s voice crackled through the speaker, his face coming into focus. "This is Scott Lang. We met a few years ago, at the airport? In Germany? I got really big, and I had my mask on. You wouldn't recognize me."

Steve blinked, standing up. "Is this an old message?" he asked, his tone concerned.

Natasha joined him, squinting at the screen. "It’s the front gate."

Scott’s voice filtered through the speakers again, tinged with urgency. "Ant-Man? Ant-Man, I know you know that. I need to talk to you guys."

Steve and Nouri exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The air around them shifted, the hope in Scott’s message making them all realize something: there was still a fight to be had.

"This is it," Nouri murmured under her breath, her fingers brushing the edge of the table. "The world... it hasn’t completely forgotten us."

Natasha stood, her hand wiping at her cheek again, but this time with a semblance of resolve. "Alright, Scott," she said softly, "We’re coming."

---

Nouri got up and walked over to the door, opening it to escort Scott into the conference room. The tension was palpable as Scott began pacing in front of Steve and Natasha, who sat at the table, exchanging glances as they observed his anxious movements.

"Scott. Are you okay?" Steve asked, his concern evident in his voice as he leaned forward.

"Yeah. I’m fine," Scott replied, though his voice betrayed him, and he wasn’t convincing anyone.

Scott hesitated, his foot tapping nervously against the floor before he blurted out, "Have you ever studied Quantum Physics?"

"Only to make conversation," Natasha quipped with her usual dry humour, trying to lighten the mood, but even she seemed to sense the gravity of the moment.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, whispering in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Scott, looking slightly uncomfortable but determined, nodded at Nouri before continuing, "Alright, so... five years ago, right before Thanos, I was in a place called the Quantum Realm. The Quantum Realm is like its own microscopic universe. To get in there, you have to be incredibly small." He faltered, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Hope, she’s my... She was my..." He trailed off, his eyes momentarily clouding with unspoken sorrow. "She was supposed to pull me out. And then Thanos happened, and I got stuck in there."

Nouri’s eyes softened, and her gaze met Natasha’s, a wordless understanding passing between them. "I’m sorry. That must’ve been a very long five years," Natasha said gently, her voice tinged with empathy.

"Yeah, but that’s just it. It wasn’t. For me, it was five hours," Scott responded, his tone thick with disbelief, his mind clearly still grappling with the impossible nature of it all.

Steve, Nouri, and Natasha exchanged quick, bewildered glances. The idea of time being so fluid, of reality bending in such a way... it was a lot to process.

Scott continued, the sense of urgency growing in his voice. "See, the rules of the Quantum Realm aren’t like they are up here. Everything is unpredictable." He paused, looking around the table as if searching for some form of understanding. "Is that anybody’s sandwich? I’m starving." Without waiting for a response, Scott grabbed Natasha’s sandwich and took a large bite, clearly more focused on his thoughts than anything else.

"Scott, what are you talking about?" Steve asked, still struggling to follow.

"What I’m saying is, time works differently in the Quantum Realm," Scott explained, now brimming with excitement. "The only problem is, right now, we don’t have a way to navigate it. But what if we did? I can’t stop thinking about it. What if we could somehow control the chaos, and we could navigate it? What if there was a way to enter the Quantum Realm at a certain point in time, but then exit at another point in time? Like... Like before Thanos."

Nouri furrowed her brows, her voice quiet but full of thought. "Are you suggesting we could reverse the Snap? Go back and stop him before he got the stones?" She was getting ahead of herself, but the possibilities were too large to ignore.

"Wait, are you talking about a time machine?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as the words settled in his mind.

"No. No, of course not. No, not a time machine. It’s more like a... yeah, a time machine," Scott admitted with a shrug, his excitement building despite the craziness of his idea. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s gotta be some way... There’s gotta be... some way. It’s crazy."

Natasha, ever the realist but with a sarcastic edge, smirked. "Scott, I get emails from a raccoon, and Nouri came back from the dead, so nothing sounds crazy anymore."

Nouri elbowed Natasha gently in protest, rolling her eyes but chuckling softly. "I’m still not entirely sure how that happened either," she added, glancing at Natasha with a playful yet slightly exasperated look.

Scott’s eyes widened, his voice cracking with urgency as he looked at each of them. "So, who do we talk to about this?"

Nouri sighed, her gaze turning serious as she placed a hand on the back of her chair. "We should talk to him." She nodded subtly toward the back of the room, her eyes locking with Steve’s.

Steve’s face fell into a sombre expression at the thought of Tony, but he knew Nouri was right. Tony was the one who might understand—who might have the drive and the mind to figure this out.

Nouri spoke up again, her tone a mix of authority and determination. "If anyone can help us figure this out, it’s him. But... we need to be careful. This is bigger than we realize. Time doesn’t bend without consequences." Her words were heavy, laden with the wisdom of centuries, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all. The idea of changing time... it wasn’t something that should be taken lightly.

The room fell silent for a moment, as if they were all processing the enormity of what Scott was suggesting.

"Alright," Scott said, breaking the tension, his voice thick with a mixture of hope and anxiety. "Let’s get to work."

---

October 8th, 2023

 

A car pulled up to a wooden cabin in the woods. Steve, Nouri, Natasha, and Scott got out of the car, and Tony sighed, dreading the conversation that was about to unfold.

Scott explained his plan to Tony, his voice uncertain. “Now, we know what it sounds like…”

Steve stepped forward, meeting Tony’s eyes, his voice carrying the weight of years of fighting alongside him. “Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?”

Tony stared at him, then began explaining, his tone sharp and almost dismissive. “Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?”

Scott, Nouri, Steve, and Natasha exchanged puzzled looks, clearly out of their depth in the science department.

Scott nodded, though his expression remained uncertain. “Uh... sure. I think?”

Steve took the drink Tony handed him; his voice steady as ever. “Thank you.”

Tony’s lips twisted into a half-smile. “In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home.”

Scott’s expression didn’t waver. “I did.”

“No,” Tony retorted, shaking his head. “You accidentally survived. It’s a billion-to-one cosmic fluke. And now you want to pull off a... what do you call it?”

Scott tried to hide his pride. “A time heist?”

Tony stared at him, incredulous. “Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn’t we think of this before? Oh, because it’s laughable? Because it’s a pipe dream?”

Nouri’s gaze sharpened, her voice cutting through the tension. “We’ve fought monsters, aliens, gods... Is time truly so different?” She let the question hang in the air, her eyes moving over each person.

Scott’s words spilled out, urgency creeping into his voice. “The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

Natasha stepped in, her tone firm, her usual calm demeanour now filled with quiet determination. “We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back.”

Tony crossed his arms, shaking his head, his voice colder now. “Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?”

Steve stepped forward; his voice thick with conviction. “I don’t believe we would.”

Tony sighed deeply; his voice tinged with bitterness. “Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won’t help if there’s no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.”

Scott, not backing down, tried again. “Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel. That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—”

Tony interrupted, his voice cutting sharply. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back to the Future?”

Scott looked embarrassed, stumbling over his words. “No.”

Tony’s shoulders relaxed, but his voice remained firm, almost relieved. “Good. You had me worried there. ’Cause that’d be horse shit. That’s not how quantum physics works.”

Natasha spoke up again, her voice softer, but unwavering. “Tony... We have to take a stand.”

Nouri’s voice followed, steady and full of compassion. “He’s right, Tony. We’ve stood for so long, in the face of every darkness. Sometimes, you have to make the hard choice.”

Tony shook his head, his expression hardening again. “We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

Scott’s voice rose, desperation creeping in. “I know you’ve got a lot on the line. You’ve got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did.” He stepped closer, trying to make Tony understand. “And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. To bring everyone back. And you’re telling me that won’t even—”

“That’s right, Scott,” Tony cut him off, his voice tight. “I won’t even. I’ve got a kid.”

At that moment, Morgan came running toward her dad, and Tony scooped her up into his arms.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” Morgan said, her little face lighting up with excitement.

Tony chuckled, hugging her. “Good job. I’m saved.” He turned to face Steve, Nat, and Scott, his voice softening. “I wish you’d come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and the table’s set for seven.”

Steve looked at Tony, a knowing look in his eyes. “Tony, I get it. And I’m happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

Nouri added quietly, her tone heavy with understanding. “A second chance for all of us. We can make it count, Tony. And if we fail, we’ll stand and fight again.”

Tony shook his head, his expression hardening again. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can’t roll the dice again. If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.”

As the four walked back to their car outside Tony’s house, Natasha glanced at Steve. “He’s scared.”

Nouri nodded; her voice quiet but firm. “He’s not wrong. Fear is a sharp blade. It cuts through reason, through hope.”

Scott threw his hands up in frustration. “Yeah, but what are we gonna do? We need him. What, are we gonna stop?”

Steve’s gaze hardened, resolve setting in. “No, I wanna do it right. We’re gonna need a really big brain.”

Scott looked at Tony’s house, incredulous. “Bigger than his?”

---

The four of them returned to the Compound, the heavy weight of the past few days hanging in the air. It felt as if everything around them had shifted, and nothing would ever be the same again. They retired for the night, the silence between them speaking volumes, as each of them tried to process the chaotic aftermath of the snap.

The next morning, Steve called Bruce to set up a meeting at a nearby café, and they all headed out. When they entered the café, Bruce was already sitting at a table, but he wasn’t quite the same. There was a calm confidence to him now, a blend of Bruce Banner and the Hulk—a mix that was more grounded, more composed, yet undeniably different.

Nouri’s eyes widened as she looked at Bruce. His presence was changed, but it was still unmistakably him. The tension that had once defined his interactions with the Hulk now seemed to have shifted into a strange, balanced harmony. She took a moment before speaking, her voice softer than usual but full of curiosity.

"Bruce?" she began, tilting her head slightly, "This... this is new. You look different." Her words were filled with awe, and a trace of warmth reached her tone as she watched him with a renewed sense of understanding.

Bruce met her gaze and smirked, though it was clear there was a deep history behind the change. "Yeah, I guess it is. I’m a bit of a work in progress," he said, before pushing a plate of eggs forward toward Scott, who had sat down across from him, looking a bit out of place.

"Come on," Bruce continued, his voice light, "I feel like I'm the only one eating." He gestured for Scott to dig in, his easy-going demeanour clearly masking the complexity of the situation.

Scott blinked, still trying to make sense of the world around him. "I'm so confused," he muttered, looking from Bruce to Nouri and back again, struggling to keep up.

“You’re not the only one,” Nouri whispered, her voice tinged with a quiet empathy, as she reached over to squeeze Scott's hand briefly. She, too, was processing the changes, not just in the world but within herself. The emotional weight of their struggle felt heavier with each passing day, but she knew better than anyone that it was those who had lost the most who had the most to gain from coming together.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, then pushed the plate toward Scott with a serious look. "These are confusing times," he said, his tone gravely serious, before his eyes softened just a little as he glanced at Nouri. She could see that, underneath the bravado, there was a pain still lingering in his eyes, something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

Scott waved his hand dismissively, still not fully processing what was happening. "Right. No, no, that's not what I meant," he quickly backpedalled, his brain scrambling to catch up.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, letting a grin creep across his face. "No, I get it. I'm kidding! I know. It’s crazy. I’m wearing shirts now," he said with a playful laugh, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

Scott, still processing everything, couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah! Wh...How? Why?" His voice cracked slightly, still reeling from the magnitude of what they'd been through. It was almost like they were all trying to find some shred of normalcy, some semblance of humour in the chaos.

Bruce’s expression shifted back to something more serious, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "Five years ago, we got our asses beaten. Except it was worse for me. Because I lost twice. First, Hulk lost, then Banner lost. Then, we all lost." He stared into the distance for a moment, as if the weight of those words hung heavily on his chest.

Nouri’s tone shifted, her voice quiet and full of empathy as she leaned forward. "Bruce..." she began, her eyes filled with understanding. "You carried the burden of that loss more than anyone else. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself. We all lost. But we’re still here, together."

Bruce looked up, meeting her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the walls he had built up around himself seemed to crack. "I’ve spent so long treating the Hulk like a curse. Something to get rid of. But then I started looking at him as the cure. Eighteen months in a gamma lab. I put the brains and the brawn together. And now, look at me. Best of both worlds," he said, his voice softening with a hint of pride.

Nouri’s voice softened, almost a whisper as she spoke again, a flicker of something ancient in her eyes. "And now you’ve become more than just the sum of your parts. The Hulk and Bruce together. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still find peace, Bruce. You’ve already done the impossible. And now... we need you to help us do it again."

The table went quiet for a moment, the weight of Nouri’s words hanging in the air. Bruce exhaled slowly, his features relaxing just a little as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Right. The whole-time travel do-over? Guys, it’s outside my area of expertise." He sighed, a familiar tension creeping back into his voice.

Natasha leaned forward; her expression soft but her voice firm. "Well, you pulled this off. I remember a time when that seemed pretty impossible too." Her words held a trace of nostalgia, a recognition of how far they had all come.

Bruce nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I guess we’ve all been through some pretty wild stuff. But time travel?" He shook his head in disbelief, still struggling to reconcile the strange reality they were now facing.

They all sat back; the weight of their shared experiences palpable in the silence that followed. Nouri’s gaze wandered over her friends, a mixture of sadness and determination in her eyes. She had seen the world at its darkest, had witnessed the cruelty of fate, but she had also seen the light—the resilience of humanity. And she knew, deep in her bones, that no matter the cost, she would not let them fall again.

"Let’s get to work," she said, her voice low but firm, filled with an unwavering resolve. "We’ve all sacrificed too much to stop now."

They all nodded, their spirits renewed by her presence, and together, they returned to the Avengers Compound—prepared for whatever came next.

---

October 10th, 2023

 

Inside the lab at the Avengers Compound, Bruce was fiddling with buttons on a panel, his brow furrowed in concentration. Scott, fully suited up in his Ant-Man gear, stood in front of his van, which had its back open to reveal the Quantum Tunnel. Natasha, Nouri, and Steve stood beside Bruce, watching closely, a sense of anticipation in the air.

“Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one. Scott, fire up the... uh... the van thing,” Bruce instructed, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and hesitation as his fingers danced over the controls.

Scott opened the portal, and the room filled with a low hum.

“Breakers are set, emergency generators are on standby,” Steve said, his voice steady and reassuring, his eyes scanning the setup like a soldier preparing for battle.

“Good. 'Cause if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950’s,” Bruce said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he looked at Scott.

Scott, Nouri, Natasha, and Steve all turned to Bruce with panicked expressions.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, his voice laced with apprehension.

“He’s kidding,” Natasha said quickly, but her eyes were narrowed at Bruce as she stepped a little closer to him. “Bruce, you can’t just joke about things like that! It’s not funny.”

Bruce chuckled nervously, trying to shrug it off. “It was a bad joke.”

Nouri’s eyes locked on Bruce, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “You were kidding, right?” She leaned in, her tone low and serious as she tilted her head. “You’re not actually planning on sending him to the 1950s, are you?”

Bruce gave her an apologetic look, his hands still hovering over the panel. “Honestly, I have no idea,” he whispered back, his voice tense as he tried to focus on the controls. “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is. But trust me, I’ll fix it. Probably.”

Nouri’s brow furrowed further, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. “Bruce... you really need to work on your ‘humour.’”

Bruce pressed a button and nodded at Scott. “Alright, helmet on, Scott. I’m sending you back one week, you’ll walk around for an hour, and then we bring you back in 10 seconds. Makes sense, right?”

“Perfectly not confusing,” Scott replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He adjusted his helmet, glancing nervously at the others.

Steve offered a warm smile, his eyes locking with Scott’s in an encouraging gesture. “Good luck, Scott. You got this.”

Scott gave Steve a small salute, his chest puffing out in a burst of confidence. “You’re right. I do, Captain America.” His grin was infectious, though the tension was still palpable.

Bruce pressed a button, and with a flash, Scott disappeared into the Quantum Tunnel.

“On the count of three. 3... 2... 1!” Bruce called out, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

He pressed another button, and everyone watched as a figure emerged from the tunnel—but it wasn’t Scott. Instead, a teenager in the Ant-Man suit appeared, looking around in confusion.

“Uh, guys? This... this doesn’t feel right,” Teen Scott said, his voice high-pitched and bewildered.

“What is this?” Steve asked, his face morphing into a mix of confusion and disbelief. He glanced over at Bruce. “What happened?”

Bruce stared at the young version of Scott; his eyes wide. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, pushing more buttons frantically.

Nouri’s gaze flickered to Steve, then back to the young version of Scott, her jaw tightening. “That... who is that?” she asked, her voice a whisper of bewilderment as she took a step forward.

Bruce's fingers moved with urgency on the control panel. “Hold on, just a second! Something’s wrong... very wrong.”

“Is that Scott?” Natasha asked, her voice rising with concern, still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

“Yeah, it’s Scott!” Teen Scott shouted, raising his hands in confusion. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m... uh, younger!”

Nouri’s eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene. “This is... this is not possible. Is this some kind of joke?” She could feel a rising sense of panic beneath her calm exterior.

Just as they tried to process that, Teen Scott was yanked back into the Quantum Tunnel. A new figure emerged: an elderly man wearing the Ant-Man suit.

“Ow! My back!” Old Scott groaned, stumbling out of the tunnel with a laboured movement.

Nouri’s expression shifted to one of alarm, and she took a step forward. “What is going on?!” She could feel her pulse quicken as the chaos continued to unfold around her.

Bruce’s frustration grew as he tried to analyse the problem. “Can I get a little space here?!” He shoved his hands over the controls with increasing desperation.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you just bring him back?” Steve’s patience was clearly wearing thin. He stepped closer to Bruce, his hands on his hips as he glared at the control panel.

“I’m working on it!” Bruce snapped, tapping furiously at the buttons. Sweat was starting to bead on his forehead as he struggled to fix the situation.

With one last frantic press of a button, another figure emerged from the Quantum Tunnel: this time, a baby in the Ant-Man suit.

“It’s a baby,” Steve said, his voice flat and deadpan.

Bruce, despite the insanity of the situation, tried to maintain his composure. “It’s Scott,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I think. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“As a baby,” Steve reiterated, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“He’ll grow,” Bruce muttered, his voice trailing off as he attempted to right the situation.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve demanded, a note of panic creeping into his voice as he moved toward Bruce.

Bruce turned to Natasha. “When I say, kill the power. Just pull the lever.”

Natasha nodded; her steps quick as she walked toward the generator.

“And... kill it!” Bruce called out; his voice tinged with a hint of fear.

Natasha yanked the lever down, and the lab powered down in an instant. Scott, now back to his original self, stumbled out of the tunnel, disoriented.

“Somebody peed my pants,” Scott muttered, rubbing his head as he tried to steady himself.

“Oh, thank god,” Natasha breathed, visibly relieved as she rushed to help him stand.

“But I don’t know if it was ‘baby’ me, or ‘old’ me... or just ‘me’ me,” Scott mumbled, still clearly trying to piece everything together.

Bruce, throwing his arms up dramatically, couldn’t help but grin. “Time travel!”

Steve left the lab in annoyance, closely followed by Nouri. When Steve sat down on the bench outside, staring at the ground, she took a seat beside him. The weight of everything—the seemingly impossible task ahead, the weight of their losses—was palpable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Nouri, ever observant, could feel the burden Steve carried, and her heart ached for him. Without a word, she reached over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a brief but grounding gesture. It was a reminder, not just of her love, but of her unwavering support. She pulled back, her eyes searching his face for any sign of reassurance, but he remained quiet, lost in his thoughts.

Suddenly, a deafening noise broke the heavy silence, and both their heads snapped up. The sound of an engine roaring echoed through the air, growing louder with every passing second. An Audi R8 came speeding toward the entrance, coming to an abrupt stop just a bit too far before reversing to park next to them. The window rolled down, and Tony’s grinning face appeared.

“Why the long face? Let me guess: He turned into a baby?” Tony said, his voice light, but his eyes scanning Steve’s weary expression.

“Among other things, yeah,” Steve replied, still staring at the car. "What are you doing here?"

Tony stepped out of the car, moving to the back as if he had all the time in the world. Nouri smiled faintly, her eyes softening as she glanced at Tony, who always seemed to have a way of lightening the mood—even when he didn’t mean to.

“Ignoring your question,” Tony replied casually, opening the trunk with exaggerated flair. “That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang. It’s tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should’ve cautioned you against it.”

“You did,” Steve answered, his voice flat, recalling Tony's warnings from earlier with frustration.

“Oh, did I?” Tony feigned ignorance, raising an eyebrow. “Thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it.” He held up a small device in his hand. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace.” He flashed a playful peace sign with his fingers. “Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”

Nouri let out a soft laugh, a quiet sound of fondness. “You’ve always had a way with words, Tony,” she teased, giving him a knowing look. “But hey, we all need a little peace.”

“Me too,” Steve added softly, still distant, but his voice quieter now.

Tony’s expression softened as he looked at Steve. “We’ve got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And... maybe not die trying will be nice.” He held Steve's gaze, his voice turning more serious. “Sounds like a deal?”

Steve was silent for a moment, weighing his words carefully. He finally extended his hand. “Sounds like a deal,” he said, his tone quieter but firm. The two men shook, their hands clasping in a brief but powerful exchange.

Nouri’s gaze softened as she watched Tony, her smile gentle but full of respect. “The only Stark I know who still keeps things interesting,” she said with a teasing smirk.

Tony raised his hands defensively. “What can I say? Can’t let you guys have all the fun.”

Tony then walked over to his trunk and pulled something out—something that Steve had clearly not expected. Captain America’s shield. He handed it to Steve, who hesitated, the weight of the gesture sinking in. Nouri stood up as well, taking a step closer to Tony and Steve.

“Tony...” Steve began, his voice unsure.

“Why?” Tony replied with a soft chuckle. “He made it for you.” He glanced at Nouri, giving her a small, knowing smile. “Besides, I need to get it out of the garage before Morgan turns it into a sled. You know how she is.”

Nouri placed a hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder, her voice gentle. “He’s right, honey. It’s yours. And it always will be.”

Steve took a deep breath, still unsure, but there was a slight tremor of gratitude in his hand as he fitted his arm into the shield. “Thank you, Tony,” he said quietly.

Tony nodded, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Just keep it quiet, alright? Didn't bring one for the whole team,” he added, but his expression shifted as he grew more serious. “...We are getting the whole team, right?”

Nouri’s eyes met Tony’s; her expression determined. “We’re working on that right now,” she replied, her voice steady.

The three of them stood there for a moment, the weight of what they had to do hanging in the air, but there was a sense of resolve between them. Tony’s grin softened as he looked between Steve and Nouri, the bond between them clearer than ever. “Alright, team. Let’s go save the world.”

---

October 11th, 2023

 

Nouri stood at the window, her gaze fixed on the dark storm clouds gathering over the Compound, the air heavy with the weight of what had just happened. The tension in the atmosphere was suffocating, like the calm before a coming storm. Her eyes tracked the landing of Rocket and Nebula—two unlikely allies—one a fierce, battle-worn warrior, the other a foul-mouthed raccoon with a vendetta.

As the ship touched down, Rocket’s beady eyes found hers immediately, a smug grin spreading across his furry face. Nouri’s heart sank slightly at the sight of him—his presence always had a way of pulling her out of whatever calm she tried to grasp.

Rocket’s tone was as biting as ever, a mix of irritation and dark amusement. “Well, well, if it isn’t the goddess herself,” he sneered, giving her a once-over that was part admiration, part disbelief. “Wakanda, right? You’re the one with the pretty golden toys—those swords you lit on fire. Impressive. Not bad with the weapons.”

Nouri couldn’t help the mocking smile that tugged at her lips. She let her gaze linger on him for a moment before responding with a teasing edge in her voice, “Oh, look who remembers me. You’re not so bad yourself, Trash Panda. Always with your hands in things you shouldn’t touch. Stealing shiny stuff. What is it this time? Stealing more of the universe’s treasures.”

Rocket’s ears twitched, and his eyes narrowed. “Cute,” he sneered, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Keep running that mouth, Fireball, and see how much fire you can handle.”

Nouri’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’m sure I could handle you just fine, Rocket. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep the fire contained. Wouldn’t want to melt that precious fur of yours.”

As Rocket and Nebula discussed their next steps with the others, Rhodey returned, his face lighting up when he saw Nouri standing there, alive, after everything. His smile was pure relief, a rare moment of joy in the grimness of their situation.

"Nouri," Rhodey said, his voice thick with emotion, his words almost a whisper. "I thought... I thought I’d never see you again."

Nouri's heart swelled with a bittersweet relief. "I could say the same."

The feeling of being reunited with the people she had fought beside was a warmth she hadn’t realized she missed. But it was short-lived. The task ahead weighed heavily on them all.

"Thor’s easy to find," Bruce had said, his voice calm as ever. "He's in Norway. Rocket and I can go after him."

Nouri nodded, her mind already moving to Clint. The archer was harder to locate, his soul buried under layers of grief and anger. That was where Nouri’s abilities came into play.

The others went to prepare, leaving Nouri alone for a moment in the lab, her thoughts swirling. As she stared out the window, trying to find a sliver of peace, Natasha came to her side.

"Can you see him?" Natasha’s voice was a low murmur, filled with both urgency and concern.

Nouri's gaze turned inward, focusing on Clint’s fragmented soul. "Seeing someone’s soul, when their scales are in chaos, is difficult," she confessed, her voice laced with frustration. "The pain is overwhelming... but I can try."

Natasha waited, holding her breath, as Nouri closed her eyes, reaching out into the ether.

The silence between them stretched, thick with the anticipation of the answer.

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat as she finally locked onto Clint’s presence. His soul, dark and broken, called to her, a familiar pain twisting in her chest. She gasped, her body shaking as she felt the weight of his grief. It felt as though his suffering was her own. She could taste it, bitter and raw, seeping into her very being. She clenched her fists, trying to hold herself steady.

"He’s in Tokyo," Nouri whispered, her voice barely audible, a crack in it from the weight of the emotion that flooded her.

"Thank you," Natasha said quickly, her voice filled with gratitude before she hurried off to prepare.

But Nouri couldn’t move. She stood there, staring at the rain splattering against the windows, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The pain she had felt from Clint was still lingering, a heavy ache pressing against her chest. It wasn’t just his suffering anymore. It was as if the pain of every soul she had ever seen was crashing down on her all at once.

She stumbled outside of the Compound, clutching her chest as the storm continued to rage. The world seemed to spin, the weight of the souls pressing down on her.

Nouri stood on her knees, rain pelting down around her, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the pain of Clint’s soul, and the collective suffering of all mortals, coursed through her. It was more than just physical—it was the weight of every sorrow, every injustice, every wound humanity had ever suffered, and it felt as though they were all crashing into her at once. She clutched her chest, her heart threatened by the sheer force of the agony that threatened to tear her apart.

The wind whispered, it was not just a voice. It was a presence, an overwhelming force that seemed to stretch across the very fabric of the universe, as if the wind itself carried the weight of ancient power.

"Al Nouri, daughter of Ra and Khonshu," the voice intoned, deep and resounding, as though it came from the stars themselves, rippling through her very soul. The words were not just spoken—they breathed through her, like the wind carrying the essence of ages. It was Osiris, his voice laced with ancient sorrow and boundless wisdom. But it was not just his voice she felt. She felt the presence of every god, their collective consciousness reaching her in this moment of torment.

Nouri’s eyes widened as she felt the power of the gods flooding her, the vastness of their presence overwhelming her. It wasn’t just the pain of one soul she felt—it was the accumulated suffering of humanity, past, present, and future. It was as though the universe itself was pressing down on her. The weight of time, of fate, of destiny—it was too much. She felt as though her very being was being ripped apart by the forces she could not control.

The rain stopped. The world seemed to stand still.

"The price of returning to the mortal realm is carrying humanity’s pain," Osiris’s voice echoed through the stillness. It wasn’t just a statement. It was a truth, a law that Nouri had known, but now felt in her core. The price of compassion, of love for humanity, was everything. "You, who have walked between the realms of life and death, you who have seen the threads of destiny, must now bear the weight of all that has been and all that will be."

Her body trembled under the strain. Every fibre of her being screamed, her divine nature torn between the love she felt for mortals and the unbearable cost of that love. She had always known the pain of mortals, but now it was as if the floodgates had opened, and every cry, every heartache, every lost soul was hers to carry.

Another pulse of agony hit her like a crashing wave. She fell forward, her face to the ground, her fingers digging into the earth as if she could anchor herself to it, as if she could escape from the overwhelming torrent of pain. It was unbearable. A scream rose in her throat, raw and unfiltered.

"I will pay the price!" Nouri cried out, her voice carrying through the storm like a divine declaration. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her chest, trying to hold herself together, trying to find something in the agony that was hers to claim. "I will bear it all. I will carry this burden if it means I can help them!" Her words rang out in the night, though they felt as fragile as the flickering of a candle in a storm.

The wind shifted, swirling around her like a whirlwind of voices. Ra’s voice emerged, sharp and commanding, carrying the weight of the sun itself. "You cannot disturb the threads of time," he declared, his tone thunderous and ancient. "If you do, you will cease to exist. Your very essence will be torn asunder, lost to the sand of fate. Heed this warning, daughter of mine, daughter of the sun and moon. We are bound to this realm and this time. Your actions here, now, will have consequences that not even the gods can control."

Nouri’s heart ached, her breath faltering. She understood. She could not change the course of time. She could not meddle with the tapestry of fate. It wasn’t just her life that would be forfeit—it would be the very fabric of the universe that would unravel.

She trembled, fighting to stand against the weight of the divine words that surrounded her, the fury of the gods pressing down on her. Her body, though immortal, felt frail in this moment. The divine laws that governed her very existence now held her in their unyielding grip.

“I understand.” Nouri whispered, her voice a breath against the wind. A great stillness descended upon the world. Nouri’s chest tightened with a new understanding, a cold clarity settling over her heart. She would stay where she was meant to be. She would not participate in the Time Heist. It was not just her life she would risk, but the very balance of the cosmos itself.

Her gaze lifted to the storm above, her divine eyes searching the heavens. The gods had spoken, their voices clear and unyielding. She could feel them all—Ra, Osiris, Khonshu—guiding her, holding her back from the edge of fate.

Ra’s voice softened, just a fraction, as if a glimmer of understanding flickered within him. "You have made your choice, Al Nouri. The path you walk is your own. But know this—your actions here, your compassion, will carry great weight. Your fate is tied to that of humanity, and you must bear it alone."

Nouri’s heart swelled with a bittersweet understanding. She would not participate in the Time Heist. She would not meddle with the threads of time. But she would not turn away from her purpose either.

"If that is the price, then I shall pay," she whispered, her voice quiet but resolute.

And with that, the wind began to die down. The storm subsided, leaving Nouri in a profound silence. The weight of her decision hung heavy in the air, the divine voices retreating into the cosmos, their presence lingering as a final, knowing whisper.

Nouri sat there in the rain-soaked earth, her chest heaving with the weight of the gods' words. She was at peace with her decision, though the cost was great. She would remain as she had always been—a bridge between the divine and mortal realms. But she would no longer walk among mortals. Not in this moment.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind. But in the deepest part of her heart, Nouri knew: the journey ahead would not be easy, but it was hers to walk.

Chapter 45: The Cost of Time

October 13th, 2023

 

A few days had passed, and the group was knee-deep in planning. Scott and Bruce were focused on discussing the suits for the time heist and something called Pym Particles, while Tony and Rocket worked tirelessly on building the time-traveling machine. Amidst the chaos, Nouri sat in a corner, her gaze distant, lost in thought. She had been struggling with the weight of everything that had happened, the trauma of losing so much and the uncertain future ahead.

Later that evening, everyone gathered into one of the many conference rooms, filled with holographic displays showcasing each of the six Infinity Stones. It was a crucial meeting—this would determine where and when to find the stones, how they would go back in time, and how they would right the wrongs caused by Thanos. Tony, Steve, and Bruce were pacing at the front, clearly taking charge of planning the mission. The air was thick with the tension of the task at hand.

Before Steve could even begin, Nouri spoke up, her voice softer than usual, but still commanding attention. "I’m sorry, but I have to sit this one out," she said, her voice laced with a quiet shame. "I will be staying behind."

The room went silent. Everyone turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Why?" Natasha asked, her brows furrowing as she approached Nouri, sensing her unease.

"Yeah, why?" Tony chimed in, unable to mask his confusion.

Steve just stared at her, confusion painting his features. "Nouri, what's going on?"

Nouri hesitated, her eyes briefly flickering to the floor as she spoke again, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. "I’m bound to this realm," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "And this time, if I meddle, I will cease to exist. The gods will tear my essence apart." She lowered her head in shame, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

A long silence followed her words. Natasha, always quick to offer support, placed a gentle hand on Nouri's shoulder, her voice soft but reassuring. "It’s okay," Natasha whispered, her words full of empathy.

Steve, though still concerned, shook his head. His voice was steady, but there was a quiet pain in his words. "Okay, so the 'how' works. Now we’ve got to figure out the when and the where. Almost all of us have had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones," he said, trying to refocus the group.

"Well, I'd substitute the word 'encounter' for 'damn well near been killed by' one of the six Infinity Stones," Tony said dryly, walking with a coffee cup in hand.

"I haven’t," Scott added with a shrug. "I don't even know what the hell you're all talking about."

Bruce chimed in with a bit of practicality. "Regardless, we only have enough Pym Particles for one round trip each. Two more now that Nouri’s staying behind." He glanced at Nouri, his expression thoughtful. "And these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history."

"Our history," Tony added. "So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in."

"Which means we have to pick our targets carefully," Nouri interjected, raising her head, her voice stronger now, as if finding her footing again. She met Tony's eyes, a flicker of determination in hers. "We can't afford to waste time or resources."

"Correct," Tony said, his eyes scanning the holographic display.

Steve nodded; his tone focused. "Let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?"

Everyone turned their gaze to Thor, who was sitting in a chair with sunglasses on. His posture was slumped, making it impossible to tell if he was awake or asleep.

"Is he asleep?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I’m pretty sure he's dead," Nouri remarked with a wry grin, flicking a small flame toward his face to wake him up.

Thor jumped in his chair as the fire brushed his face, immediately groggily sitting up. "Where to start?" he muttered. "Umm… The Aether first. It’s not really a stone, not in the traditional sense. Someone called it a stone before, but it’s not. It’s more like an… angry sludge thing, so, uh, someone’s gonna need to amend that." He waved his hands around, trying to clarify his point.

Nouri rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Angry sludge, huh? I’ll take your word for it," she said, leaning back in her chair.

Thor continued, trying to stay on track. "Here’s an interesting story, though—many years ago, my grandfather had to hide the stones from the Dark Elves..." He wiggled his fingers in a dramatic, spooky ghost-like gesture. "Wooooh, scary beings," he added, clearly amused with himself.

Thor continuing his story. "So, Jane..." An image of Jane Foster popped up on the screen. "Oh, there she is. That's Jane... She's... an old flame of mine... She... she stuck her hand inside a rock this one time... and then the Aether stuck itself inside her... And, she became very, very sick. So, I had to take her to Asgard, which is where I'm from. And we had to try and fix her. We were dating at the time, you see." Thor’s voice trailed off, and he seemed to lose himself in the memory for a moment, his eyes growing distant. "I got to introduce her to my mother... who’s dead....”

Nouri's eyes widened, and she nearly burst out laughing. "Oh, god, Thor... You're really doing this now?" she asked, struggling to keep her composure.

Thor glanced at her, blinking rapidly as he snapped back to reality. "Oh, yeah. Jane and I aren’t even dating anymore. These things happen. You know, nothing lasts forever..." His voice wavered, and he started to look a little broken.

Nouri, still amused and yet oddly touched by his vulnerability, leaned in with a teasing smile. "Wow, how the mighty have fallen," she said, the words laced with a hint of fondness.

Tony, having had enough of the emotional display, pushed Thor back toward his chair with a firm hand. "I’m not done yet!" Thor protested. "The only thing permanent in life is impermanence!"

"Awesome. Eggs? Breakfast?” Tony said, turning away with a smirk.

Thor huffed, looking a bit more defeated than usual. "I’d like a Bloody Mary, thank you," he muttered.

Nouri couldn't hold back any longer. She burst into laughter, earning a few chuckles from Clint and Natasha. "Oh, man. This is gonna be fun," she said, wiping a tear from her eye

---

Later that evening, after the meeting had wrapped up, Nouri stood up from her seat, her thoughts still tangled with the chaos of what they had just discussed. She had been too lost in the plans, in the strategies, to fully digest everything. The pain of everything that had happened, felt like an invisible cloak around her shoulders. Nouri was just about to slip away from the group, seeking a moment of solitude when a voice from behind stopped her.

“Nouri, wait up,” Natasha called, her tone playful but laced with curiosity. “Got a minute?”

Nouri turned to face Natasha, the smile that had been on her lips quickly turning into something more guarded. “What’s up, Nat?”

Natasha’s eyes immediately flicked to Nouri’s hand, where the glint of gold caught the light. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Nice ring you’ve got there,” she said, stepping closer, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That a wedding ring I see?”

Nouri froze, her heart skipping a beat as she realized Natasha had noticed. She hesitated for a moment, then sighed, letting the truth slip out. “Yeah. It is.”

“Oh? And here I thought we were all just friends,” Natasha teased, crossing her arms as she leaned in closer. “What, been keeping this little secret from the team, huh? You and Steve—getting married? Really? No invite? No heads-up? I thought I was supposed to be your bestie, not just a ‘plus one’ for your next cosmic wedding."

Nouri couldn’t help but laugh, though there was a hint of nervousness in her voice. “It wasn’t exactly a big wedding, Nat. It was... kind of spur of the moment. Just us, some ancient ruins, Ardeth... you know, the usual.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening into a full-on smirk. “Oh, right. Just the casual ‘small’ wedding in Egypt.” She shook her head dramatically. “What was it, some sort of ‘surprise, we’re married’ type thing? Or was there a real ceremony with champagne and confetti? Because, you know, I would've loved to crash that.”

Nouri grinned, rolling her eyes. “You would’ve ruined the vibe, honestly. It was really low-key. Not even any confetti.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with mock hurt. “I’m just so glad you didn’t invite me. Really, Nouri. I get it. Gods, rings, ancient temples... But hey, next time, remember your Earth-bound friends. We need to know when to wear the dress that matches the theme.”

Nouri chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ll send you an invite next time. If there’s a next time,” she added with a wink.

“Oh, I’ll be expecting one,” Natasha replied, the teasing fading slightly into something more genuine. “You know I’ve got a thing for surprises. But seriously—10 years, huh?” She gave Nouri a sideways glance. “You two really went all in. I thought I was the only one who had been around long enough to witness Steve getting tied down.”

Nouri’s smile softened; her voice quiet but filled with affection. “Yeah, it’s been a long time. But he’s the one I’ve always wanted. I’m glad we got to make it official... even if it was just the two of us in a desert, no witnesses, no fanfare.”

Natasha’s expression softened too, though she still kept the light-heartedness in her tone. “Look, I’m happy for you two. Honestly. I just didn’t get an invite to the wedding, and I’m a little hurt.” She placed her hand on her chest dramatically. “I mean, the woman who literally spent years fighting beside you both—I didn’t even make it to the party? What kind of friend are you, Nouri?”

Nouri laughed, shaking her head. “Next time, I’ll send you a formal invitation. Pinky promise.”

“Good,” Natasha said with a smile, her voice dropping to something more serious. “But seriously, you and Steve? Married? That’s... that’s huge, Nouri. I’m glad for you two. I really am.” She softened, her smile turning warmer. “You’ve both been through a lot, and I can see that you’re good for each other.”

Nouri’s expression softened as she looked at Natasha, the humour fading from her face. “Thanks, Nat. That means a lot.”

Natasha reached out and pulled her into a brief, one-armed hug. “You’re welcome. Just don’t forget about us little people when you two are ruling Egypt together, okay?”

“I’ll try to keep the world domination plans to a minimum,” Nouri replied with a grin, pulling away from the hug.

Natasha chuckled, giving her a playful shove. Natasha turned to leave but paused before walking away. “Oh, and one more thing... I really want to know who your godly officiant was. Was it Ra? Was Khonshu there with a bird head, overseeing the ceremony?”

Nouri burst out laughing, watching Natasha disappear down the hallway. “It was Ardeth, but next time, I’ll let you officiate it, okay?” she called after her, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

As the sound of Natasha’s footsteps faded, Nouri watched her walk away, a smile still lingering on her lips. As much as Natasha had given her a hard time, it felt good to know she had a friend who cared enough to tease, to poke fun, and to share in the light moments, even in the middle of chaos.

---

October 14th, 2023

 

The next evening, everyone was gathered around, eating and drinking. Rocket was pacing on the table in front of them, talking about the Power Stone.

"Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag," Rocket said, his little feet tapping against the table as he walked back and forth.

"Is that a person?" Nouri asked, genuinely curious, looking up from her coffee cup.

Rocket shot her a look, his tone sharp. "Morag's a planet. Quill was a person."

"A planet? In outer space?” Scott piped up, leaning forward with interest.

Rocket shot him a sideways glance, clearly getting a little impatient. "Oh, look. It’s like a little puppy, all happy and everything. Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I’ll get you to space," Rocket mocked, adopting a high-pitched voice as he exaggerated the way he'd imagine talking to a puppy.

Nouri couldn't help but smirk at Rocket’s antics, though she gave him a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

---

October 15th, 2023

 

The next day, the group gathered in the living room. A sense of unease hung in the air, as if the world itself had yet to recover from the devastation that had unfolded.

Nebula stood by the window, her arms crossed, her expression distant. “Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir,” she explained, her voice low and heavy with bitterness.

Natasha, always the methodical one, was scribbling notes in her pad. She looked up, brow furrowed in curiosity. “What is Vormir?” she asked, her pen paused mid-sentence.

Nouri, who had been quietly observing, felt a pull in her chest at the mention of the Soul Stone. Her eyes, though focused on the conversation, seemed distant for a moment, lost in the weight of her own memories. She could sense the agony in Nebula’s words. She had known loss—both from her divine perspective and from her own deep connection with humanity. Death had its own way of marking the soul, no matter how immortal one might be.

Nebula’s gaze turned inward; her voice quiet but cutting. “Vormir is... a dominion of death,” she said slowly, her eyes clouded with pain. “At the very centre of Celestial existence. It’s where... Thanos murdered my sister.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Nebula’s words hanging heavy in the air. Natasha glanced up, her eyes reflecting an understanding that only came from experience, but her pen hovered over the page without making a sound.

Scott, sensing the growing weight of the room, tried to break the tension, his voice cutting through the heaviness. “Not it,” he said, his usual attempt at levity to lighten the mood.

---

The evening air had cooled, and Nouri entered the conference room with a tray of coffee cups. She stepped inside, a small smile tugging at her lips as she noticed Tony and Natasha lounging on a table cluttered with papers, scribbled notes, and half-empty cups of coffee. Bruce was sprawled on the floor, his back against the wall, clearly taking a break from whatever work was underway.

Nouri set the coffee down on the table, her eyes scanning the disorganized scene with amusement. "Here you go," she said, handing out the cups with a light chuckle. "I thought you all might need some real fuel, considering your current position."

Natasha sat up first, grabbing the cup from Nouri and taking a sip. "That Time Stone guy..." she muttered, her mind still stuck on the recent conversations.

Nouri's gaze softened as she turned her attention to the display, where the image of the Time Stone flickered into view. "Doctor Strange," she said, her voice calm but laced with a strange familiarity. She’d seen the wizard before—her divine abilities and connection to time made him an intriguing figure.

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he, though?” Natasha asked

Tony, never one to miss a chance to crack a joke. "Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit out of a hat."

Bruce, lying flat on the floor, added his two cents, glancing up with a dry comment. "Nice place in the village, though. Really sets the tone for someone with... let’s call it ‘eccentric charm.’"

Tony chuckled. "Yeah. Sullivan Street."

Bruce nodded, a distant look crossing his face as he responded. "Mm, Bleecker."

Natasha blinked, still processing what they were talking about. "Wait, he lived in New York?"

Tony, ever the sarcastic one, couldn’t resist a jab. "No. He lived in Toronto. Were you even paying attention?"

Natasha shot Tony a glare but didn’t argue. Nouri, standing off to the side, quietly sipped her own coffee. She glanced between them all, her brow furrowing as a thought struck her.

"Guys," she said, her tone shifting to something more serious. "If you pick the right year, there are three stones in New York."

Her words hung in the air for a moment. The silence that followed was palpable as everyone’s heads turned toward her, realization slowly dawning. They sat up straighter, the clutter on the table momentarily forgotten as they processed what Nouri had said.

"Three...?" Tony muttered, looking at Nouri with a mix of surprise and intrigue.

Bruce sat up fully now, rubbing his face as his mind started to race. "You mean, all of them could’ve been in one place at some point?"

Nouri’s lips parted slightly as she met Bruce’s eyes, the weight of her knowledge hanging heavy between them. "Yea? The tesseract and Loki’s sceptre at Stark Tower, and the mind stone at Bleecker street," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well," Tony said after a moment, breaking the silence with his usual sarcasm, "I guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a goddess on our side."

Nouri smirked, setting her coffee down with a small chuckle. "Let’s just say, I’m not here to babysit."

---

October 16th, 2023

 

Nouri stood with quiet resolve in the lab, her gaze fixed on the Avengers as they prepared to embark on their most crucial mission yet. The hum of the Quantum Time Machine filled the air, a steady reminder of the weight of what they were about to attempt. Steve and the others walked towards the machine in a coordinated file, each of them wearing their Quantum Suits, though some had personalized their gear in small ways. Rhodey’s War Machine armour had been bulked up and repainted, its polished surface gleaming as he moved with a purposeful stride.

Nouri’s thoughts briefly drifted to the past five years—the heartache, the loss. There was no time to dwell on it now, not when there was so much on the line. Bruce had already explained to her how to work the computer, and her fingers hovered over the console, prepared for whatever came next. But her attention remained on Steve.

She caught his eye as he approached, offering him a silent, comforting glance. His expression softened for just a moment, but the weight of his role as leader was still evident in his posture.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, steady and filled with conviction. "Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends, we lost family, we lost a part of ourselves." His eyes scanned the room, pausing on each face. "Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs." His gaze lingered on Nouri for a heartbeat before continuing. "Most of us are going somewhere we know. But that doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win."

His words hung in the air for a moment, and Nouri felt the weight of them. The gravity of their situation had always been evident, but now, with their last hope for victory within reach, the stakes had never been higher.

Tony, ever the sceptic, gave Steve a lingering look before offering his own words, a smile tugging at his lips. "Whatever it takes. Good luck."

"He's pretty good at that," Rocket remarked, referring to Steve's stirring speech, a note of admiration in his voice.

"Right?" Scott added, bouncing slightly on his feet. He was practically vibrating with excitement, as if this was all some grand adventure instead of the last hope for saving everything they loved.

Nouri gave a small, knowing smile, but her heart ached for Steve. He'd led them through so much, and now, he carried the weight of everything again. Her voice broke through the quiet hum of the lab, her tone softer but just as determined. “You’ve got this,” she said, offering him a reassuring glance.

Steve nodded, his expression unreadable, but his eyes showed the faintest trace of relief. She could see that he had been holding on to the hope that this time, they wouldn't fail.

"Alright," Tony said, taking charge as he often did, but with a clear sense of urgency in his voice. "You heard the man. Stroke those keys, Fireball."

Nouri rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk at Tony’s nickname for her. “Tractors engaged,” she responded, her voice laced with mock annoyance, though there was warmth in her tone. She’d long grown used to Tony’s antics, but it never stopped him from trying to rile her up.

Rocket turned to Clint, who was holding the shrunken Benatar in his hand. His voice was light-hearted, but there was a trace of genuine concern in his eyes. "You promise to bring that back in one piece, right?"

Clint chuckled, glancing down at the tiny ship in his hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll do my best."

"As promises go, that was pretty lame," Rocket commented dryly, his tone a mix of amusement and suspicion.

Natasha, her excitement barely contained, flashed a grin as she turned to face the team. "See you in a minute."

“Alright everyone, see you soon,” Nouri added, her voice strong and steady. There was no more time for words—only action. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and a deep sense of purpose as she adjusted the settings on the machine.

And then, just like that, the lab was empty, the team disappearing into the past with a flash of light and the soft hum of the machine powering down. Nouri remained in the quiet aftermath, her heart still racing with the weight of the mission.

For a long moment, she stood still, eyes closed, letting the reality of it all sink in. This was their chance. They had to succeed. There was no turning back.

---

One hour passed, Nouri had been carefully tracking them in the Quantum Realm. She stood motionless, her eyes closed, reaching into the ether as she felt their movements, each second stretching into an eternity. Her connection to the world around her had always been sharp, but now it was stronger than ever. The pulse of the universe echoed through her, the weight of every soul, every life, every decision in the space between realms.

And then, suddenly, she felt it.

A searing pain pierced her chest, far deeper than anything physical. It was the kind of pain she had felt before, the kind that whispered of loss, of something precious slipping away. It was the same gnawing ache she’d felt when the universe itself seemed to tremble with loss—when everything felt wrong. Someone didn’t make it, someone close to her. The question that clawed at her mind was who?

The pain was unbearable, her breath catching in her throat as her hand flew to her chest.

No...

Her mind spun, struggling to focus as the cold, sharp ache twisted inside her. As if the universe had finally broken her, she felt her knees weaken. The space around her blurred. The light seemed to dim. She gasped for air, but it was as if it was being stolen from her, piece by piece.

Suddenly, the Quantum platform began to shimmer before her. She barely noticed the others as they materialized one by one. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, the weight of loss anchoring her to the spot. She could barely hear Bruce’s voice through the fog of her mind.

"Did we get them all?" Bruce asked, his voice tinged with concern, a strange sense of urgency creeping into his tone.

"You telling me this'll actually work?" Rhodey responded, his doubt hanging in the air like a cloud.

Nouri's senses, still reeling from the loss, clung to their voices, trying to make sense of it all. And then the silence fell. The unspoken truth that lingered between them.

Clint's expression was unreadable as he stood on the edge of the platform, his gaze distant, lost in thought. The others noticed him immediately, but it wasn’t just his face they saw—it was the absence of something in his eyes, the weight of something broken.

"Clint, where's Nat?" Bruce's voice was quiet at first, hesitant. But the question hung in the air, growing more insistent.

The silence stretched longer. Clint didn’t answer. His lips trembled as he stepped away from the group, his movements sharp, almost robotic. He didn’t even look at them. And that was when the truth hit.

Natasha. She was gone.

Nouri staggered back, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She knew. She knew it in the deepest part of her soul. The pain in her chest—the heartache—it was her. Natasha. The one who had given herself, the one who had sacrificed everything for the greater good. Nouri’s hands trembled as she gripped her chest, struggling to breathe, the weight of the loss unbearable.

“I do not regret my choice.”

Natasha’s voice echoed in her mind, soft but strong, a faint whisper in the whirlwind of grief. Nouri’s knees buckled beneath her, the ground beneath her feeling as though it was shifting, crumbling, disintegrating. She couldn't stop the scream that clawed its way from her throat, but no sound came. It was as if her voice had been stolen, just like the woman she had loved, just like the light that Natasha had been in their lives.

Steve was at her side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her as her body trembled with the weight of sorrow. "Nouri, it's okay," he whispered, though his voice faltered as he held her close.

But Nouri couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her heart was breaking with the knowledge that someone who had meant so much was gone, lost to the universe forever. She barely registered Steve’s hands guiding her down to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her.

Her body ached in ways she hadn’t known it could. She had seen death before, so many times over the centuries, so many lives taken—souls torn from their bodies—but this felt different. This wasn’t just death. This was the loss of something irreplaceable. Natasha had been more than a warrior, more than a friend. She had been a beacon, a reminder of what humanity could be, even in their darkest times. Natasha was the one who helped Nouri escape her ushabti.

The grief was suffocating, the heavy weight of it making her chest feel like it was collapsing in on itself. Nouri's eyes glazed over; her vision clouded as the tears she couldn’t release built up behind her eyes. She clutched Steve’s arm, unable to speak, unable to express the storm of emotions that tore at her.

The quiet filled the room, the tension palpable, as Clint stormed out of the lab, the door slamming behind him. His grief, raw and jagged, was his own. Nouri couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t even find the strength to blame herself.

---

When Nouri finally gathered the strength to leave the shelter of her thoughts, she stepped outside, her feet carrying her to the lake. The air was heavy with the weight of grief, the kind that seemed to settle in the bones and never quite let go. Tony, Steve, Thor, Clint, and Bruce were there, standing around the still water, their eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow.

Nouri’s gaze fell on the water as she approached. She could feel the ache in her chest, the hollowness that only deepened as she watched the team in mourning. Her heart swelled with a deep, unbearable sadness as the realization hit her—Natasha Romanoff, the woman who had stood beside them all, the woman who had saved them time and again, was truly gone.

She took a deep breath and whispered the words she had been holding in for so long, as though the very act of speaking them might bring Natasha’s spirit closer.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, the Black Widow, the assassin, the S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the redhead, the woman who is the reason I am living and free from my imprisonment... I vow to honour you.”

Nouri stood there for a moment; her eyes fixed on the lake as she threw red roses into the water. The roses were a symbol—of love, of loss, of everything Natasha had stood for. They drifted gently on the water’s surface, and Nouri whispered a prayer for her soul.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Tony finally broke it, his voice tinged with a raw vulnerability.

"Do we know if she had family?" Tony asked, his words quiet, almost as if he were testing them.

Steve, standing beside him, swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. His voice, when it came, was thick with emotion. "Yeah. Us."

Thor, standing a little farther off, his brow furrowed in confusion, turned to them. "What?"

Tony shot Thor a look, frustration seeping into his voice. "I just asked him a question-"

Thor’s confusion only deepened, and he growled, trying to dismiss the sorrow that was weighing on him. "Yeah, you're acting like she's dead. Why are we acting like she's dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn’t that right?" His voice rose, frustration and hope tangled together. "So, stop this shit. We're the Avengers. Get it together."

Clint, who had been standing to the side, his hands clenched into fists, finally spoke. His voice was low, heavy with the weight of grief. "We can't get her back."

Thor’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What—what?"

Clint shook his head, his face contorted with sorrow. "It can't be undone. It can't."

Thor let out a dry laugh, trying to mask his pain with sarcasm. "I’m sorry, no offense, but you're a very earthly being. Okay? We're talking about space magic. And ‘can't’ seems very definitive, don't you think?"

Clint turned to Thor, his voice now edged with frustration and anger. "Yeah, look, I know that I'm way outside my paygrade here. But she still isn’t here, is she?"

Thor, attempting to explain himself, replied, "No, that's my point—"

Clint’s anger flared, and he interrupted, his voice rising in volume. "It can’t be undone! Or that’s at least what the red floating guy had to say. Maybe you wanna go talk to him, okay? GO GRAB YOUR HAMMER, AND YOU GO FLY AND TALK TO HIM!"

“Clint’s right,” Nouri said quietly, her voice calm but firm as she stepped forward. The others turned to face her, their eyes filled with grief and disbelief.

“She’s passed on to the Field of the Reeds,” Nouri continued, her words soft but carrying the weight of an eternity. “And since she sacrificed herself... she’ll stay there for all eternity.”

The anger in Clint’s eyes quickly softened into a deep, quiet sorrow. His shoulders slumped as the weight of Natasha's sacrifice pressed down on him. He stared at the ground for a long moment, his voice thick with grief. "It was supposed to be me," he murmured, his voice cracking. "She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it."

Nouri stepped forward; her presence quiet but comforting. "She doesn’t regret her choice," she said softly, her voice gentle but filled with certainty.

As the wind swept through the area, tousling Clint's hair, Nouri smiled faintly, her gaze softening. She looked up at the sky and then back at Clint, her eyes filled with a deep understanding. “She’s with us still," she continued, her words filled with warmth and reverence. "The wind that touches your face... that’s her. She’ll be watching over us, in every breath we take, in every moment we share."

Clint closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as a single tear slipped down his cheek. The wind, so gentle and familiar, felt like Natasha’s presence—her spirit, still with them in ways words couldn’t explain. The grief in his chest was still overwhelming, but for a moment, he allowed himself to feel comforted, knowing that Natasha was not truly gone.

Bruce, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, grabbed a nearby bench and hurled it across the lake with a force that rattled the ground. His breath came fast, ragged, but when he turned to face the others, his expression had shifted, resignation settling on his features.

"She's not coming back," Bruce said, his voice soft, his shoulders slumping with the weight of defeat. "We have to make it worth it. We have to."

Steve, his jaw set and his posture rigid with unyielding resolve, turned to Bruce, his voice unwavering. "We will."

Nouri watched them all in silence, feeling the loss of Natasha seep into her own bones. She had been so close to her too, in her own way—through the grief of the others, through the bond they shared in fighting for a better world. The pain was nearly unbearable, and for a moment, Nouri wished she could undo what had been done, even knowing how impossible that was.

But as she looked at the team, standing together despite their grief, she knew that Natasha’s sacrifice would not be forgotten. She had given her life for them, and in that act, she had become more than a hero. She had become a legend.

And Nouri, as much as she felt the ache of loss, vowed to honour that sacrifice. To carry the weight of her memory into whatever battle lay ahead

---

At night, Nouri lay awake, the weight of Natasha’s death pressing on her chest. The quiet was unbearable, filled only with the echoes of the world that felt broken, irreparably so. She turned toward Steve, his face barely visible in the darkness, and saw that he, too, couldn’t sleep. The same grief haunted them both.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s voice was quiet, a rasp of exhaustion that felt so alien coming from him. He reached out, pulling Nouri closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. But she felt no comfort, only the distance between them that seemed to widen with every passing hour.

Nouri shook her head, her throat tight. She couldn’t escape the thought of Natasha, the friend they had lost so suddenly. The world felt so empty without her.

With trembling fingers, Nouri reached for her phone, needing to do something, anything. She dialled a number that had once felt like a distant, forgotten lifeline.

“Mesu sen. Shedi renu New York,”* she said in a voice that barely carried the weight of the words. The phone call ended quickly, but the silence that followed was even heavier. She set the phone down and exhaled, feeling the hollow ache spread in her chest.

“Who did you call?” Steve’s voice, thick with curiosity and exhaustion, pulled her from the fog of her thoughts.

“Ardeth... I want him to take over my classes.” She didn’t meet Steve’s gaze as she spoke, knowing the reality of what that meant. She couldn’t face her students—not right now. Not when her heart felt so shattered.

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, a soft, wordless gesture that only made the emptiness grow. They lay there, both trying to breathe through the quiet, through the loss.

For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing but the sound of their breaths, each one shallow and strained.

Finally, Steve’s voice broke the silence, a question so raw it seemed to come from the depths of his pain. “Tell me about the afterlife.”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected that. She looked at him, his face drawn, dark circles beneath his eyes. He was reaching for something—anything—that might offer him some kind of peace.

“The afterlife?” she whispered, almost as if she were afraid to speak the words aloud.

Steve nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Yes darling. The Field of Reeds. Tell me everything.” There was an urgency to his voice, like he was trying to find a way to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him.

Nouri swallowed hard, gathering herself. She could feel his grief, his brokenness, but it was the same pain she carried within her own soul. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the words.

“When someone dies, they wake up in the afterlife,” she began, her voice shaky. “It’s cold. Dark. There’s nothing. You’re not really... you, not yet. You have to pass through a stone arch. It’s the first step. You cross, and your physical body is separated from your soul. You’re... raw, exposed, in a place where time doesn’t make sense anymore. Then Anubis finds you. He’s the one who guides you. You weight your heart with him and with Taweret.”

Steve listened intently, but his eyes were distant, as if he could see something beyond her words. He squeezed her hand, his grip tight. She continued, knowing that she had to finish this, if only to give him something—anything—that might bring him comfort.

“Anubis takes you to Taweret’s ship, and you sail through the Du’at. You’re crossing a realm of death... and at the end, your heart is weighed against Ma’at’s feather—the feather of truth. If your heart is lighter than the feather, you’ve lived a life of purity, and your soul is worthy of the afterlife. You enter the Field of Reeds. You’re at peace.” Her voice faltered. The words felt so hollow.

“If the heart is heavier, it’s devoured by Ammit, the devourer of souls. It’s condemned to eternal unrest... thrown into the sand, frozen in time, unable to move forward.” Nouri paused, her throat tightening. She bit back a tear. "But if the heart is heavier, if you lived with guilt, with sin, with regret, it’s devoured by Ammit—the devourer of souls. But Ammit’s imprisoned, so for now... the souls are simply lost. Condemned to... nothing. Frozen in sand, trapped in time. It’s like it never existed.”

Steve’s chest tightened as he absorbed the weight of her words. He closed his eyes, the grief hitting him harder than before. “What happens to those who pass the test? To the ones who are... pure?”

“The Field of Reeds,” Nouri said softly, her voice distant now, as if the very thought of it brought her a strange kind of solace. “It’s... it’s beautiful. It’s a paradise, a reflection of Egypt’s land. It’s fertile, quiet. The soul lives in peace, tending the crops, fishing in the Nile. There’s nothing but peace. You’re reunited with your loved ones, your ancestors. You live forever in happiness. It’s everything you could want...” Her voice trailed off, and Steve was quiet for a long moment. She could see his pain written on his face, his longing for something so unattainable in the world they now lived in.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, the pain of her words settling over him like a weight. He wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He wanted peace, a peace that Natasha would never get, and one he didn’t know how to find.

She looked at him then, truly seeing him—his eyes red with grief, his soul aching in a way he couldn’t yet understand. She could feel it—he was lost in a storm of emotions, desperately seeking something that felt so out of reach. For a moment, Nouri felt the rawness of her own grief too—so sharp, so overwhelming. She was holding it together for him, but part of her was breaking, too.

Her chest tightened as the tears threatened to slip free. She’d never been afraid of her emotions, but for the first time, it felt like the weight of them might crush her. She didn’t want Steve to see her break down—not yet. She couldn’t afford to fall apart when he was searching for something she wasn’t sure she could give him.

But then, she realized. Maybe that’s what they both needed. To break. To feel everything.

“Steve,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Let me show you.”

She reached for his hand, and in an instant, they were no longer in their bedroom.

The quiet was overwhelming. The peace of the Field of Reeds wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and for a moment, Steve felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. He could breathe. His chest no longer felt like it was caving in. There was nothing but silence, peace, and the faint sound of the river.

The stillness was deafening in its beauty. He looked around, awestruck by the serenity of it all. The fields stretched endlessly in every direction, the sky clear and bright. The Nile sparkled in the distance, a reflection of the peace that had eluded him his entire life. For a moment, he forgot about the battles, the loss. He just... existed. There was no pain here. No loss. Only a soft, gentle light that made everything feel... right.

“The Field of Reeds can be anything you want it to be,” Nouri’s voice was a whisper in the quiet. Steve turned to look at her, his eyes brimming with tears he couldn’t hold back. His eyes locked onto something in the distance—a figure, standing by the water. A redhead. She stood by the edge of the river, her red hair glimmering in the light.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “She’s here,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes.

Nouri’s voice was gentle as she spoke. “This is what they find when they enter the Field of Reeds. Peace. Quiet. Everything they need. Everything they ever needed. This is where they belong.”

But before he could speak, Nouri pulled him close, and with a quiet, almost imperceptible movement, the world shifted. Steve blinked, and he was back in their bed, his heart racing.

“That was...” he stammered, his voice breaking. “That was... beautiful.”

Nouri’s gaze softened, but her heart twisted in her chest. She knew why he had wanted to see it. She could feel it in his bones. “Why did you want to know?” she asked, her voice quiet, though a shadow lingered in her eyes.

“Curiosity,” Steve muttered, but there was no conviction in his words. He kissed her softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He turned away, trying to find sleep, to escape the pain in his chest.

Nouri lay still, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t believe him. She knew what he was searching for. Peace. The same peace Natasha had found, the same peace they all longed for. And if he needed it, she would follow him there.

Even if it meant giving up everything she had left.

Notes:

*Translations:
"Gather your brothers. Go to New York."

Chapter 46: Endgame

Notes:

I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

October 17th, 2023

 

Once Tony, Rocket, and Bruce had completed the assembly of the Nano Gauntlet, the team gathered around it, the air thick with tension.

"All right. The glove’s ready. Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?" Rocket says, looking at the gauntlet with scepticism.

"I’ll do it," Thor volunteers, stepping forward.

"Excuse me?" Tony responds, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"It’s okay," Thor insists, trying to wave off their concerns.

The others immediately object. "No, no, no, whoa. Stop. Stop. Wait a sec. Wait, wait–"

"Thor, just wait. We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet," Steve says, trying to calm him down.

Thor looks at them all. "I’m sorry. What, we’re just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?"

"We should at least discuss it," Nouri adds, stepping forward, her tone firm but calm. She glances at the gauntlet, her expression serious. "We can’t rush into this. It’s too dangerous."

"No, no, sitting here staring at that thing isn’t gonna bring everybody back. I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So, this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty," Thor argues, voice rising with frustration.

Tony shakes his head. "It’s not about that–"

Thor interrupts, raising his voice, his frustration evident. "It’s not that– Stop it! Just let me! Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right." His voice cracks, and he tears up. "Please."

Tony tries to reason with him. "Look– It’s not just the fact that that glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I’m telling you, you’re in no condition."

Thor responds, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and determination. "What do– What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?"

"Cheez Whiz?" Rhodey quips, earning a brief chuckle from the group.

“Fat?” Nouri added, her voice light-hearted but tinged with genuine concern, her eyes narrowed as she watches Thor, still unsure of his ability to wield the gauntlet.

"Lightning," Thor answers, his voice low and resolute.

Tony looks at him, unimpressed. "Yeah."

Bruce speaks up. "Lightning won’t help you, pal."

Thor, reluctantly, lets go of the gauntlet. "Sorry, Thor. Maybe next time."

“I’ll do it,” Nouri says suddenly, stepping forward with a quiet confidence, her presence commanding. Her eyes are focused, and the faintest trace of heat radiates from her skin as she speaks.

Immediately, everyone disagrees, the room filling with objections.

“You’re really funny, honey,” Steve laughs, shaking his head, clearly trying to deflect the seriousness of the situation with humour.

“If that thing burned Thanos, than I should do it.” Nouri says, ignoring Steve’s comment, her gaze hardening as she watches the gauntlet.

Tony, trying to keep the tension light, raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Maybe next time, Fire goddess." His voice drips with sarcasm, but there’s a thread of genuine concern beneath it.

"Nouri, it’s very honourable, but it’s gotta be me," Bruce interjects, his voice steady, but a little strained. "You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive."

Steve, looking at Nouri with a mixture of scepticism and care, adds, "How do we know you will?"

Bruce turns to face the team, then the gauntlet, and replies, "We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma." He takes a deep breath, his resolve firm. "It’s like... I was made for this."

Tony doesn’t hide his exhaustion. "Good to go, yeah?" he asks, his voice flat as he watches Bruce.

"Let’s do it," Bruce responds, his expression calm.

Tony nods. "You remember– everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Don’t change anything from the last five years."

Bruce confirms, "Got it."

The team suits up, each preparing for the inevitable. Steve, already in his suit and helmet, adjusts the fit of his shield with focused determination, ready for whatever comes next. Scott, fully suited, moves with precision, adjusting his helmet as he prepares himself for the battle ahead. Rhodey stepped forward in his War Machine armour, the suit locking into place with mechanical whirs, his readiness unwavering. Rocket moved behind Thor, his small figure barely visible next to the god, but his eyes are sharp, always alert and prepared for action.

Tony, as always, is deep in concentration, his suit forming around him with smooth, seamless movements. A plasma shield flickers to life around him, its energy shield ready to protect Clint and himself from any danger.

Nouri, however, doesn’t bother with her modern suit. Her modern clothes burn away in an instant, and in their place, her ancient bandage suit emerges from the flames, wrapping itself around her body with the fluidity of time itself. She stands, glowing with power, her skin covered by shimmering hieroglyphs. The symbols pulse with energy, each one a reminder of her ancient strength, and they light up with a fiery brilliance, the aura surrounding her like a protective flame. As she steps forward, she whispers quietly, almost to herself:

“Dua Serqet, netjeret neferet, djed-i nek, kheper en sa’a! Hery-ib Sekhmet, kheperu en khepesh, mesut-a djeser! Dua Aset, heka-u merut, setep sekhem nefer! Shedi ir Heka, sa-a henqet, uw-i heka mewet! Nesu en menekh nebu, nek ta!”*

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., do me a favour and activate Barn Door Protocol. Will you?" Tony orders, his tone sharp as ever.

"Yes, boss," F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds, and the Avengers facility goes into lockdown, just in case the Gauntlet's energies proved to be too powerful to contain.

Nouri stood her ground, her eyes unwavering as the air around her begins to shimmer with heat. A protective shield of fire forms around her, crackling with fire. She raises her hands, and the flames swirl, enveloping her in a fierce aura of power.

Tony watches as her shield flares to life, his lips curling into a sarcastic grin. "Oh, great. Now we have a walking bonfire protecting us. Perfect." He looks around at the others, tone shifting to a more serious note.

The fiery shield flickers in response, its intensity almost palpable. Nouri’s eyes narrow at Tony’s teasing. "Shut it Tinman."

Nouri steps back slightly, her eyes flicking over the team. "Alright, let’s not waste any more time. Let’s do this."

"Everybody comes home," Bruce says quietly, his hand slipping into the gauntlet. As the nanobots expand to fit his hand, a surge of unimaginable power rushes through him. His body trembles, and a pained grunt escapes his lips. The process is brutal, searing his arm from the wrist to the shoulder.

"Take it off! Take it off!" Thor shouts, panic rising in his voice. He rushes forward, eyes wide with fear, his hands stretched out as if to stop Bruce from completing the task.

Bruce grits his teeth, the pain almost unbearable. His hand shakes as the gauntlet glows with a dangerous, ethereal light. But he doesn't stop.

"No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?" Steve’s voice is thick with concern, his eyes searching for any sign that Bruce might be okay.

Nouri steps forward, her eyes filled with a quiet intensity, unable to tear her gaze away from Bruce. Her heart beats faster with each agonizing grunt from him. She wants to reach out, to help, but she knows that this moment is bigger than all of them. Still, the need to be close to him is almost overwhelming.

"Talk to me, Banner," Tony demands, stepping closer. His voice is sharp, trying to cut through the searing pain Bruce is enduring. His expression is one of forced composure, but it’s clear that even Tony is struggling to cope with seeing Bruce in so much agony.

"I’m okay. I’m okay," Bruce gasps, his voice ragged, barely audible through the agony. He pushes through the pain, his knuckles white as he tightens his grip on the gauntlet. "Just... need to... focus..."

Thor gives a half-hearted thumbs-up, his face still creased with worry. He’s trying to maintain his usual bravado, but it’s clear this situation has him rattled.

Bruce lets out a deafening scream, the power of the gauntlet coursing through his body like fire. His muscles strain against the sheer force of it, the damage to his body becoming more apparent with each passing second. He fights against it, his mind and willpower the only things keeping him standing.

The moment he finally snaps his fingers; a burst of white light explodes from the gauntlet. The force is blinding. But the toll is too great. Bruce's body goes limp, his face contorted in agony as he loses consciousness.

"Bruce!" Steve yells, rushing to his side, his hands hovering over Bruce, unsure of what to do. He’s too late. The damage has been done.

"Don’t move him," Tony orders, urgency lacing his voice. He steps in quickly, pulling out a spray from his pack. With careful precision, he sprays the substance onto Bruce’s arm, treating the burns that cover him. It helps a little, but it’s clear that the damage from the gauntlet’s power is devastating. "Come on, Bruce, stay with us."

Nouri moves quickly, kneeling next to Bruce, her hands working with practiced care. She wraps his arm with linen, her lips moving silently as she prays for his healing. The warmth of her touch might not do much, but it's the only thing she can offer. Her eyes meet Steve’s for a moment, full of helplessness and fear.

“Please, don’t let this be for nothing,” she whispers under her breath, her voice trembling with the weight of everything they’ve all been through.

Bruce weakly grips Steve’s arm, his voice barely a whisper, but his eyes search Steve’s, pleading for answers. “Did it work?”

Thor, standing at the edge of the room, his hands still clenched into fists, speaks softly. “Worth a shot. It’s over. It’s okay.” But even his voice is heavy with the knowledge that this victory came at a terrible cost.

Scott walks toward the windows, staring out with a sense of disbelief. His voice cracks as he says, “Guys – I think it worked! Look!” His words send a ripple of hope through the room.

Bruce opens his eyes just in time to see the Sanctuary II hovering in the sky, a missile locked in its trajectory. His eyes widen in horror, a weak curse escaping his lips.

“Watch out!” he shouts, but it’s already too late.

The missile rockets toward them, striking the base with explosive force. The shockwave hits instantly, sending Scott flying backward. A barrage of missiles follows, raining down on the base and decimating everything in its path. The explosion rattles the ground beneath them.

Nouri feels the tremors before she sees the destruction. The ground cracks beneath her feet with a deafening roar, splitting open like the earth itself is fighting to tear them apart. She stumbles, trying to keep her balance, but before she can react, she’s sent plummeting downward. The force of the fall feels endless, the world around her spinning as debris rains down. She barely manages to catch herself, her hands scraping against jagged rocks, but the air around her is thick with dust and debris, choking her with every breath.

"Nouri!" Steve's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and full of panic, but she can’t answer. Her mind is focused entirely on the ground beneath her, desperately searching for something to hold onto as everything around them crumbles into oblivion. Her heart pounds, but there’s no time for fear. She has to keep moving.

Thor is thrown back by the shockwave, tumbling across the floor, but he’s back on his feet in an instant, eyes scanning for anyone who might need help. His bellow echoes through the chaos, but Nouri doesn’t have time to look up, already sliding further down into the wreckage.

The explosion is relentless, tearing through the base with brutal force, the walls collapsing like paper under a god’s fist. She tries to push herself forward, to crawl out, but the ground is unstable, and she keeps sliding down into the dark, deeper and deeper. Her arm reaches out for something—anything—but there’s nothing. No solid ground, no support. It’s just rubble and devastation.

And then—crash. A massive wall falls onto her legs, pinning her beneath its weight. The impact knocks the air out of her lungs. She gasps, her breath shallow, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s closing in on her. The pressure on her legs is agonizing, and she can’t move. She tries to wiggle free, but it's no use. The wall is too heavy, and her strength is not enough.

“Get up, get up!” Nouri murmurs to herself, her voice hoarse, desperation clawing at her chest. The fire in her core flickers to life, but even that feels like a weak spark against the crushing weight of the rubble.

Around her, she hears the sounds of chaos. Rhodey’s voice cracks through the comms, frantic. "Mayday, mayday! Does anybody copy? We're in the lower level, it's flooding!"

"We're drowning! Does anybody copy? Mayday!" Rhodey’s voice is desperate now, panicked.

“Wait! I’m here! I’m here, can you hear me?” Scott’s voice follows, sharp with urgency as he rushes to help.

“Nouri!” Steve calls out from above, his voice strained. “Where are you?”

“Down here!” Nouri yells, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she struggles to free herself from the debris. She hears him running above her, his heavy footsteps echoing, but there’s nothing he can do. She can hear the water now, rushing in from all sides, creeping closer, its cold fingers threatening to engulf her. The flood is rising, and Nouri is trapped beneath the weight of the wall.

"Scott! Get Rhodey and Rocket out of here!" Nouri yells, her voice hoarse but determined.

“No! Nouri, we’re coming!” Steve’s voice reaches her again, but it’s muffled, distant. She feels his presence, but there’s no escape.

Steve’s words are like a lifeline, a promise of safety, but there’s nothing he can do—not when the very earth is fighting against them.

Nouri presses her hand against the rubble, willing it to move, but the wall remains immovable, the crushing weight pressing down harder with each passing second. The air is growing thick, suffocating her. The water is getting closer, flooding the lower levels of the base at an alarming rate.

“Go,” Nouri says, her voice soft but strong, a smile stretching across her lips even as the weight of the world presses down on her. She forces the smile, a smile meant for Steve, a smile to reassure him, but inside, she feels the dread rising like a tide. She knows what’s coming. She knows there’s no way out.

Steve shakes his head furiously, his desperation echoing through the comms. “I’m not leaving you, Nouri. I can’t leave you.”

“You have to,” Nouri whispers, her hand touching his cheek through the comms, though she knows he’s not there. She pulls him close in her mind, pressing her forehead against his for just a moment, as if she can give him the strength to go. “You have to win.”

Steve doesn’t want to go. She can feel it—his heart breaking, unwilling to leave her, to abandon her in this dark, flooded hole. But Nouri doesn’t have the luxury of time. She doesn’t have the luxury of letting him stay.

Steve kisses her, his voice breaking as he does, but he leaves her.

The moment his footsteps fade, Nouri’s strength falters. Alone beneath the rubble, she feels the weight of the world pressing on her chest. She looks around, her heart aching. The flood is coming closer, and there’s nothing she can do. Nothing but hope.

She prays to the gods—not for herself, but for the battle. "Djet en ka neteru imy wat, ipt nefer Ra ma Khonshu,"* she whispers, her voice barely a breath, lost in the deafening silence of the ruins.

For a moment, there’s only silence. The world is still. And then—a voice, so faint at first, it might have been the wind. But Nouri knows it’s not.

“Hr kht hr neteru, maat hr wab.”* The voice whispers, ancient and powerful.

Is it Ra? Khonshu? Anubis? Sekhmet? The weight of the gods' presence presses on her, and she feels herself straining against the rubble as if they are urging her on.

Nouri feels her soul surges with power, the fire of the gods coursing through her like a lightning strike. The pain is unbearable, but it's nothing compared to the fire that burns through her veins, consuming every part of her until she feels as though she is one with the cosmos itself. Her body ignites in celestial fire.

Her eyes turn white, glowing with the power of creation. She screams, the sound shaking the very foundations of the base, and with a burst of divine force, she tears the rubble away from her, her body rising from the destruction reborn, stronger than ever. Her eyes glow with the fire of the sun and the moon, and the earth itself seems to bend to her will. She rises from the ruins, and as she does, the floodwaters recede, held back by the sheer force of her will.

She sees Scott in the distance, pulling Rhodey, Rocket, and Bruce to safety. Relief floods her chest, but she doesn’t stop. She can’t stop.

She climbs out of the hole, the power of the gods still crackling through her. She doesn’t know what comes next, but she knows one thing for certain—she’s not alone anymore. The gods are with her. And with them, she’ll fight for the world. For humanity.

---

Nouri’s body ached. Her bloodied skin stung with every movement, the bruises deepening as her spirit ignited with fury. She climbed out of the hole she had been forced into for so long, her hands scraping the rough earth, a raw, desperate scream of frustration slipping from her lips as she finally pulled herself free. Every fibre of her being screamed in agony, but her heart—the heart of a goddess—was filled with only one thing: vengeance.

Thanos. He was here.

“One last fight…” Nouri whispered to herself, her voice trembling with the force of both the pain in her body and the fury in her soul. Her eyes locked onto Tony, unconscious on the ground, the sight of him nearly tearing her apart. She sprinted towards him, every step excruciating, but she would not falter.

“Get up!” Nouri shouted, shaking him desperately. Tony's eyes fluttered, and he groaned, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “Oh, thank god,” Nouri sighed in relief, a brief moment of peace before her eyes shifted.

The sound of devastation, of pure brutality, struck her next. Thanos. He was relentlessly pummelling Thor into the dirt. Thor struggled, every ounce of strength going into reaching for Stormbreaker, but it was too late. Thanos snatched it out of his hands, and with a cruel twist, used it against him as Thor tried to defend himself.

And then—

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of Mjolnir —a true god's weapon—whizzed through the air. It stopped in midair, floating, as if time had frozen for a moment. Then, with a sudden force, it whirled back toward Thanos. Both he and Thor watched in awe as Steve, broken but unyielding, held Mjolnir in his hands.

"I knew it!" Thor exclaimed; his voice full of wonder.

“Finally!” Nouri yelled in disbelief, her heart soaring at the sight.

 But then Thanos, enraged, kicked Thor to the ground and turned his attention to Steve, who now wielded both his shield and Mjolnir with the might of a god. The two clashed in a violent dance of power and fury. Steve charged, swinging Mjolnir with all his might, landing a blow that sent Thanos sprawling. But the Mad Titan quickly recovered, his rage amplifying his strength. Steve threw his shield, but Thanos easily deflected it, and in a swift counter, he hurled his double-bladed sword toward Steve, forcing him to dodge.

Without skipping a beat, Steve threw Mjolnir at his shield, causing an explosive shockwave that knocked Thanos off his feet, but not for long. Steve wasted no time—he unleashed a surge of lightning through Mjolnir, channelling the raw energy of the storm itself, crashing down on Thanos. The godly storm danced around the Titan’s form as Steve stood, resolute.

But then, Nouri’s voice rang out through the chaos as she rushed towards Steve’s side. Her cry echoed through the battlefield as she conjured her swords, twin blades of pure fire, the ancient power of the sun igniting with every strike. She fought alongside Steve, matching his moves, her blades dancing through the air like a flash of sunlight.

“The qualities of a god…” Nouri managed to joke; her breath laboured from the force of their assault. Her swords carved through Thanos’ armour, but it wasn’t enough. The Mad Titan was too strong. Her body screamed for respite, but she pushed herself forward, her connection to humanity—the burning desire to protect them—driving her.

The fight raged on. Thanos, with all his might, broke free from their assault. He removed his helmet, throwing it aside with disdain, and then stabbed Steve in the leg, sending him to the ground. He knocked Mjolnir from Steve’s hand with brutal efficiency, and with one swift motion, he shattered Steve's shield with his double-bladed sword, sending Steve hurtling across the battlefield.

Nouri’s heart clenched as she watched Steve stagger to his feet, but the sight was fleeting. Thanos’ heavy fist sent Nouri tumbling to the ground, her body almost unconscious from the force of the blow. She gasped for air, her vision blurry as she struggled to rise.

Thanos’ voice boomed over them, cold and merciless. “In all my years of conquest—violence—slaughter—it was never personal," he sneered, turning his back on them, relishing his power. "But I'll tell you now—what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet—I’m going to enjoy it. Very, very much.”

Nouri’s heart raced. The weight of her powers surged through her once more, her vision clearing as the fury ignited in her chest. But before she could move, she felt Steve's hand at her side, pulling her up, his grip firm with determination. He was injured, but he still fought. She couldn’t let him fall, not now.

With a deep breath, she found herself standing once more, her body refusing to give in. Her knees shook, her skin pulsing with fire, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—give up.

Thanos’ army descended upon them in waves—Children of Thanos, Chitauri, Sakaarans, Outriders, and the terrifying Chitauri Gorillas, all preparing to charge. Steve stood tall, his broken shield still strapped to his arm, facing the oncoming tide of enemies with the sheer will of a warrior.

As the first wave began to close in, they exchanged a brief glance. It wasn’t over yet.

Nouri’s breath came in shallow bursts, her chest tight, as though the weight of the world was pressing in on her. Her heart pounded, and yet, amidst the chaos, one thought burned clearly in her mind—she wasn’t about to watch everything she loved fall. Not now. Not after everything they’d sacrificed. Her heart raced with fury and love for all she’d lost. She would stand with Steve until the very end. And if this was the final battle, then damn it, she would burn bright for it.

A surge of determination flooded her veins. With a defiant growl, she whispered, “We fight together.” Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of a goddess's resolve, the fire in her soul igniting her words.

Steve glanced at her; his blue eyes steady, resolute. A flicker of gratitude passed between them. They had been through the depths of despair, and yet, here they stood, ready to face what might be their final battle.

Suddenly, a crackling sound came through their comms, shattering the tense silence.

“Hey, Cap, you read me?” Sam’s voice crackled.

Steve paused, scanning the area. His fingers tightened around Mjolnir.

“Cap, it’s Sam. Can you hear me?” The voice came again, more urgent this time.

Steve’s gaze flicked to the sky as a yellow portal began to form behind him, flickering with magic.

“On your left,” Sam’s voice rang out, a signal Nouri had come to recognize all too well.

Nouri and Steve turned in unison, eyes snapping toward the portal on their left. The air shimmered with energy, and then, as though emerging from the very fabric of reality itself, three figures stepped through. Okoye, Shuri, and Black Panther—fully restored, their presence a beacon of hope.

Steve exchanged a brief but knowing glance with the Wakandans, and before they could say anything more, the next wave of reinforcements arrived. Sam zoomed in from above in his Falcon armour, his wings cutting through the air as he landed next to them.

More portals burst open across the battlefield, one after another, like ripples in a stormy sea. Heroes from all corners of the universe poured through, each arrival more powerful than the last.

Doctor Strange descended through one portal, his cloak swirling behind him as Drax, Mantis, Star-Lord, and Spider-Man landed with a mighty crash. The ground beneath them trembled with the force of their arrival. Behind them, Black Panther and his army, flanked by Valkyrie and the Asgardians, took their place on the frontlines. Wong and the Masters of the Mystic Arts appeared, ready to defend their realm. The Ravagers followed suit, their ships swooping in above the chaos.

Nouri’s heart soared as her eyes scanned the battlefield. She saw them—her brothers. The Medjai.

From a nearby portal, they emerged, riding on horseback, as if from another age. Nearly 1,000 of them, the ancient warriors of her people, entered the battlefield with a fierce, unwavering resolve. At the front of the cavalry, her eyes found Ardeth, his form towering and resolute. His horse was a magnificent black stallion—her horse. The one that had always been by her side in her past life. He dismounted, and let the horse trot to Nouri at the front of the line.

With a fierce cry, Ardeth’s voice rang out, the ancient chant filling the air with power and reverence:

“Djeser Al Nouri!”* 

The Medjai responded in unison, their deep, resonant voices shaking the ground beneath them as they stomped their staffs against the earth.

“Djeser Al Nouri! Medjay uha’!”*

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest. She felt the weight of their presence—their unshakable loyalty—and a surge of joy and gratitude filled her soul. These were her brothers, her warriors, standing by her side once more, just as they had in ancient Egypt.

A smile broke across her face, fierce and proud, as she locked eyes with Ardeth. She had not seen him in centuries, yet here he was, leading her people back to her.

Almost every hero, magically transported to the battlefield, now stood ready to face Thanos' forces. From the rubble of the Avengers facility, Giant-Man emerged, followed by Hulk, War Machine, and Rocket. The Avengers, Guardians, Wakandans, Asgardians, and Ravagers all took up battle positions, lining up across from Thanos' army.

Steve, his grip tight on Mjolnir, raised the hammer high. His voice rang out, a call to arms that carried across the field:

“AVENGERS!” His voice rang clear, a rallying cry that sent a shockwave of energy through the battlefield. “Assemble!”

Nouri’s voice rang out next, her own battle cry echoing through the air, full of power and defiance. “Djeser Al Nouri! Medjay uha’!” The ancient chant, her war cry, rose above the noise, a signal to her people, to all those who stood with her.

Thor’s voice boomed, and Black Panther’s battle cry followed, the sound of their unity fuelling the charge. The Avengers surged forward, the battlefield suddenly alive with the hum of magic and the pounding of hooves. Nouri locked eyes with Ardeth once more before she mounted her hors, the familiar motion of her old self guiding her.

Side by side with Steve, her horse galloped forward with a wild, unstoppable force. She had once ridden into battle with her brothers at her side, and now, here she was again—charging into war, fighting alongside the Avengers, with the very same fire in her heart.

Thanos raised his massive sword, commanding his army to charge in return. His dark forces collided with the tide of heroes, the clash of metal against magic, flesh against steel, shaking the very air around them.

Nouri felt the flames of the sun surge through her once more as she joined the fray, her fiery power igniting around her as she swung her sword with deadly precision. With every strike, she felt the weight of her divine purpose settle deep within her chest. She was here to protect, to guide, and to fight—for all of humanity, for all the lives that had been torn apart by Thanos’ snap.

The battlefield became a chaotic symphony of destruction. Heroes and villains alike clashed, but Nouri fought with the fury of a goddess, her every move calculated, her every strike a testament to her centuries of wisdom and experience.

The Avengers surged forward; their unity stronger than ever. They fought with passion, with fire in their hearts. And Nouri? She fought not only for them—but for all those she had loved and lost. For the mortals who still held the potential for greatness, even in the face of unimaginable darkness.

As she swung her sword once more, she caught sight of Steve in the distance, his form radiating with determination, Mjolnir held high as he led the charge. She couldn’t help but smile, a fierce, knowing grin.

Together, they would win.

And when the dust settled, they would rebuild.

---

The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the sharp, metallic tang of blood. Nouri rode into the heart of the chaos, her steed galloping through the carnage. She was a whirlwind, a fury unleashed upon Thanos’s army. Her sword was an extension of herself—each strike precise, every movement fluid, graceful, and deadly. Her eyes burned with a fire that could only come from her divine lineage, her mind focused solely on the fight ahead.

She had been forged for this moment.

Her blade cleaved through Chitauri, Sakaarans, and Outriders with a savage elegance, the sound of her strikes cutting through the air like thunder. Her curls whipped behind her like a dark storm cloud, her fiery eyes locked onto the battlefield with an unyielding intensity. She was unstoppable, her power unleashed in full force.

Nouri was the storm.

"Nouri, get the Gauntlet!" Steve’s voice crackled urgently through her comms. She didn’t need to hear more. She knew exactly what to do.

"Got it, Cap," Nouri replied, the words leaving her lips with a steely calm. She spurred her horse forward, her eyes scanning the battlefield for Peter, feeling the pressure of time on her shoulders.

"I got this. I got this! Okay, I don’t got this. Help! Somebody, help!" Peter’s panicked voice echoed over the comms, and Nouri’s heart skipped a beat.

Her steed thundered across the battlefield as she raced toward him. Peter was lying on the ground, clutching the Gauntlet to his chest in a desperate grip.

“Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?” Carol Danvers’s voice cut through the noise as she landed beside Nouri, standing like an immovable force.

Peter blinked up at Carol, his voice cracking. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that.” His hands were shaking as he passed the Gauntlet to her.

Carol took it with a nod. “We’ll figure it out.”

Nouri’s eyes flicked to the chaos around them, the battle still raging with the weight of the universe hanging in the balance. "We’ve got to move, now!" she said, urgency in her voice. She grabbed her sword again, slashing through enemies as Carol blasted a path forward.

The sound of Valkyrie’s Pegasus landing sent shockwaves through the air, and Nouri’s heart swelled with pride. The women of their team, a united force, descended like a storm. Wanda’s powers erupted in a burst of energy, and with a flick of her wrist, she tore through two Leviathans in an instant. Valkyrie’s sword flashed, cutting through enemy lines with unmatched precision. Okoye and Mantis took down another wave of Sakaarans, their movements like poetry in motion. Gamora cleaved through a massive gorilla, her blade singing as it sliced through flesh.

Nouri didn’t stop. She fought like a storm, a hurricane of fire and fury, cutting down anything in her way. Her movements were fluid, every strike carrying the weight of millennia of training. She was unstoppable—nothing would stand between her and the Gauntlet.

But then, the sky above them rippled with a sudden blast of energy, and the enemy forces scattered like insects before the oncoming storm. Carol Danvers, with the Gauntlet in hand, flew through the chaos like a comet, her powerful fists clearing a path. The Outriders and Sakaarans couldn’t keep up, their weapons useless against her.

But Thanos—Thanos wasn’t done yet.

He watched, fury building, as Carol blasted her way forward. With a snarl, he hurled his double sword at the van containing the Gauntlet, and in a single stroke, the Quantum Realm tunnel was destroyed. Carol was thrown back by the shockwave, losing her grip on the Gauntlet as it tumbled to the ground.

“No!” Nouri’s heart raced. She dashed toward the fallen relic, her hands reaching for it.

Thanos’s massive form appeared before her, his presence darkening the battlefield like a shadow. His voice was a low growl as he glared at her. “You think this wise?”

Nouri’s eyes blazed with fury. "I do not answer to the likes of you," she hissed, her voice full of contempt. "And you will not win today."

Without another word, she surged forward, her sword drawn. She wasn’t going to let him take everything. Not again.She burned with purpose, with a fury that had been building for centuries.

Thanos swung at her with his immense strength, but Nouri moved like the wind, ducking beneath his blows, her feet a blur as she countered with precision. Her sword flashed, each strike aimed for his weak points, the places where his defences faltered. His laughter echoed in her ears as he tried to catch her, but she was too fast, too powerful.

“You think you can defeat me?” Thanos sneered. “You are nothing. A fleeting mortal, a creature of fire and blood.”

“I am no mere mortal,” Nouri spat back, her voice fierce. She swung her blade again, the strike landing with a thundering crack. “And I am not afraid of you.”

Her fire surged, her power growing with every strike. Thanos, struggling to regain control, swiped at her again, but Nouri was already gone, her movements a blur as she burned through his defences. She wasn’t holding back anymore. This was personal. This was about everything she had fought for.

Thanos stumbled, trying to block her next attack, but Nouri's fire ripped through his guard, leaving him open. Her sword cut through the air with a brutal strike, and Thanos was thrown back, his body crashing into the ground with a thunderous thud.

Nouri wasn’t done. She was a force, unstoppable. She pressed on, her strength rising like a wave ready to crash over him. "You’ll pay for what you did to humanity," she growled, her eyes blazing with righteous fury.

Just as she was about to deliver the final blow, Tony appeared at her side, his armour glowing as he fired at Thanos with calculated precision. Together, they moved like a synchronized force of nature—Nouri’s sword, Tony’s tech—tearing through Thanos’ defences.

Doctor Strange raised a single finger, signaling that their one chance at victory was now slipping away. Tony nodded, urgency in his movements.

"I am—inevitable," Thanos muttered, his voice shaking with disbelief. He raised his hand, attempting to snap his fingers.

Nouri saw the moment his fingers twitched, preparing to snap, but nothing happened. Instead, a hollow “clink” echoed across the battlefield. Thanos looked down, bewildered. The Stones were gone.

But nothing happened.

The silence was deafening.

Thanos looked down; his confusion palpable. The Stones were gone.

Nouri’s heart lurched. She felt it—the sudden sharp pain, a scream of agony deep in her chest, as though the world itself had cracked open.

And then, she saw it.

A soul leaving its body. A life fading from the world.

Her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t just a moment. It was someone. A friend, a life intertwined with her own. She didn’t have time to mourn. Not yet.

“Tony,” Nouri gasped, her voice thick with raw, choked pain as she watched him. She had seen it all—the heroism, the courage, the sacrifice—but nothing could prepare her for this. Tony, his face contorted with agony, stood tall despite the staggering weight of the Gauntlet now on his hand. His body was trembling from the gamma radiation coursing through him, the unyielding pain from the stones seemingly consuming him.

Thanos, standing in disbelief, his mind reeling at what was happening, couldn't fathom how Tony had defied him. How they had done it. And that’s when Tony spoke.

“And I… am… Iron Man,” he said, his voice strained but resolute, as though he was not just a man, but a symbol. A symbol that would do anything to save the world—even at the cost of his own life.

With a single snap, a deafening CLANG echoed across the battlefield, and a blinding flash of white light exploded, filling the air with the brilliance of a thousand stars. Time seemed to halt in that instant. Rocket’s shot hit a Leviathan, the monstrous creature crumbling into ash before it could consume him. The Black Order began to disintegrate, their screams silenced by the unstoppable force Tony had unleashed.

Steve, battered and exhausted beyond measure, took in the scene. He knew—they had won. But that victory felt bittersweet.

Thanos, his horror painted on his face, watched in stunned disbelief as his entire army, his world, crumbled before his eyes. His eyes met Steve’s—an understanding passed between them. The tyrant’s downfall had come at the hands of a single man, a man whose heart had burned with a desire to protect.

Thanos slowly sank to the ground, his body wracked with the weight of his loss. The arrogance, the certainty of his superiority—all of it shattered. And as he sat, mourning what he had lost, his form began to fade into nothingness, erasing him from existence.

Nouri felt the world shift as she watched Thanos’ army dissolve into dust before her eyes. The strange silence that followed was unnerving—final. And yet, amid this cataclysmic event, there was one certainty:

Tony Stark was gone.

Her heart constricted. 

He was gone.

Her gaze quickly turned to Steve, still standing tall, though his shoulders sagged with the weight of their shared loss. Unhurt, but broken all the same.

And then she saw him. Tony.

Tony’s body lay lifeless on the ground, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as he collapsed from the overwhelming energy he had channelled. His eyes were closed, but it was clear—the Gauntlet had destroyed him. His body had taken too much, and now he lay at the feet of those he had saved.

Rhodey was the first to reach him. He flew in, his heart sinking with each passing second. His lifelong friend, the man who had always been there, was now fading before him. He landed beside Tony, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. With a solemn, heavy heart, Rhodey bowed his head in silent sorrow, the loss too vast to put into words.

Peter was next. He ran to Tony, his chest tight with fear and grief, his heart racing. He dropped to his knees beside him, his hands trembling as he touched Tony’s arm. His voice broke through the silence, strained and desperate.

“Mr. Stark? Hey—Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark—we won. We won. You did it, sir. You did it.” His words were barely audible, choked by tears. His fingers brushed against Tony’s unresponsive form. “Mr. Stark, please,” Peter begged, his voice cracking as he reached out to Tony, his mentor, the man who had been his guide, his protector. But there was no response. Tony’s body lay still.

Peter couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. He pulled Tony close, his small arms wrapping around him in an embrace as if trying to will Tony back to life. “I'm sorry—Tony... I'm so sorry.”

Nouri watched, her heart breaking as Peter’s grief took over. The boy, whose life had been saved countless times by Tony, now found himself powerless to save the man who had been more of a father than anyone. Peter’s sobs filled the space, echoing in Nouri’s chest, a reflection of the loss that she, too, felt.

As Peter was gently led aside by Rhodey to grieve, Pepper approached. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, her every step hesitant as she came to the love of her life, the man who had given everything. She sank down in front of him, her hand trembling as she placed it on Tony’s battered shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice soft, but filled with all the love and pain she had carried for so long.

Tony’s barely open eyes shifted toward her, and with what little strength he had left, he whispered, “Hey, Pep…”

Pepper’s hand moved to his Arc Reactor, the heart of Tony’s power. She rested her palm on it, her touch gentle, as if trying to ease his suffering. The Reactor flickered, a faint light still shining, but it was dying. She knew it was. She could feel it in her very bones.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” she whispered, her voice trembling, unable to keep the edge of panic from creeping in.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded with cold precision, almost too detached. “Life functions critical.”

Tony’s smile was faint, but there was a quiet acceptance in it. His eyes welled with tears as he tried to hold onto the life he had fought for.

Pepper gently cupped his face, urging him to focus on her. “Tony. Look at me.” She spoke softly but urgently. “We're gonna be okay. You can rest now.”

Those words, words he had needed to hear, were enough to set him at peace. The light of his Arc Reactor flickered one last time and then, as if the world itself was holding its breath, the light went dark. The glow that had fuelled him for so long—the beacon of his genius, his heart, his very soul—was gone.

Pepper’s heart shattered. Her face buried in his shoulder, her tears mingling with the blood that stained his armour. She sobbed, unable to keep it in any longer. The man she had loved, the one who had saved the world—was gone.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, Earth’s Best Defender—he was gone.

One by one, the others gathered around. Steve kneeled; his eyes fixed on the man who had saved them all. Rhodey stood solemnly behind him, his arms folded as he grieved in silence. Rocket, even with all his bitterness, bowed his head, paying tribute to the fallen hero.

As Tony’s body stilled, Nouri closed her eyes, a quiet prayer slipping from her lips, words of honour and reverence. She stepped forward, the weight of centuries pressing down on her shoulders. She walked beside Steve, who kept his head low, his grief consuming him.

Nouri kneeled next to Tony, placing a trembling hand over his chest. The silence around them felt endless. Nouri’s breath hitched as she reached into Tony’s chest, not to take life, but to give him peace. She opened a small gate to the afterlife, a tear running down her cheek.

“I will take him where he belongs,” she whispered, her voice thick with sorrow, but with the calm of one who understood the gravity of what had to be done. “I will give him a warrior’s rest.”

She closed her eyes, focusing, and then spoke with finality: “You have earned your peace, Anthony Stark. May the Field of Reeds welcome you as a warrior.”

With those words, Nouri gently took his heart and soul into her hands, feeling the weight of his struggles and his sacrifices. Slowly, with reverence, she opened the gate to the afterlife, placing Tony’s essence inside.

For the first time in a long while, the stars above Nouri seemed to shine a little brighter. The world would never forget Tony Stark, and neither would she.

Notes:

*Translations:
“Dua Serqet, netjeret neferet, djed-i nek, kheper en sa’a! Hery-ib Sekhmet, kheperu en khepesh, mesut-a djeser! Dua Aset, heka-u merut, setep sekhem nefer! Shedi ir Heka, sa-a henqet, uw-i heka mewet! Nesu en menekh nebu, nek ta!” → "Praise be to Serqet, great goddess, I call upon you, let protection be formed! Oh, heart of Sekhmet, let strength take shape, let the body be made whole! Praise be to Isis, she of great magic, grant this power of healing! Pour out your magic, shield this sacrifice, let the divine flow through him! May the king of all light guard you, and the earth be yours!"

Djet en ka neteru imy wat, ipt nefer Ra ma Khonshu → Let your power surge within me, just once, as the fire of Ra and the light of Khonshu converge.

Hr kht hr neteru, maat hr wab → You ask for the strength of the gods? Then let it flow through you, unyielding and pure

“Djeser Al Nouri! Medjay uha’!” → Sacred is Al Nouri! The Medjai rise!"

Chapter 47: Death is not the End

Notes:

Ngl I cried so hard

October 26th, 2023

 

The days since the battle had blurred into a haze, the silence deafening in its weight. Despite the victory, despite bringing back everyone lost in the Snap, nothing felt whole. Nouri and Steve had stayed close to the others, offering what little strength they could, but Nouri felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her own grief.

Tonight, something shifted. Nouri couldn’t breathe in the quiet of the farmhouse anymore. The walls felt too close; the emptiness too loud in every corner. She needed to escape—needed to find the air she couldn’t seem to draw inside the house.

She stepped out without a word, not wanting to disturb anyone, not ready to face the others’ sadness—or her own. The cool night air wrapped around her, offering her solace in the stillness, and she walked into the woods nearby. The ground beneath her feet was soft and quiet, the rustling of the trees in the wind the only sound that met her ears. The forest had always been her refuge, a place where she could find herself, feel grounded, and perhaps even find clarity. But tonight, it only seemed to echo her pain.

The loss of Tony. The loss of Natasha. They had been more than comrades. More than friends. They had been family.

As she walked deeper into the forest, her footsteps growing quieter with each step, memories of their voices and laughter played over and over in her mind. It gnawed at her heart, the thought that they were gone. She had seen death countless times before—watched souls cross to the other side, heard the whispers of the dead—but this... this felt different. How can we go on without them?

The weight of it all broke something inside her. The tears that had stayed hidden for so long began to fall. She sank down against a tree, her legs giving way as the grief overwhelmed her. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her shoulders shaking with the force of the sorrow that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

She had always carried the pain of mortality with her—felt the loss of each life she encountered—but this was different. This pain, this emptiness... it wasn’t just the loss of Tony and Natasha. It was the reminder of how fragile everything was, how quickly it could all fall apart. Was this what I was meant for? To watch them all, fall?

Just as the sobs began to overwhelm her, the rustle of leaves broke the silence. A presence—a dark shadow—moved closer, its form heavy and powerful in the night. Nouri’s head snapped up, startled by the energy that swept over her, the pull of something both familiar and comforting.

Anubis appeared from the shadows between the trees, his tall figure looming with an ancient grace. His eyes glowed softly in the dark, his robes billowing like a storm on the wind. His presence was commanding, but not unkind. He was a god of death, a guide to the underworld—but tonight, he carried with him something more: a reminder of the balance, the eternal cycle of life and death.

“You should not carry this grief alone, Nouri,” Anubis said, his voice a quiet rumble in the stillness of the night.

Nouri wiped her eyes, still unable to quell the tide of tears that continued to fall. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “How do I go on when everything feels shattered? Natasha... Tony... they were my family, Anubis. I’ve lost so much already, and now... this. I can’t even feel their presence anymore.”

Anubis knelt before her; his gaze steady but filled with understanding. “You know the nature of death, Nouri,” he said gently. “You understand the journey of the soul, the transition. But grief is not something that can simply be understood by knowledge alone. It is a wound, one that takes time to heal. Even gods feel sorrow for those they have loved.”

Nouri shook her head, her voice thick with emotion. “But they’re gone, Anubis. They’ve crossed over. I know that. But... this emptiness—this absence... it’s like a part of me is missing. And I can’t fill it.”

Anubis’s eyes softened. “The loss of those you love is never easy. No one can ever truly fill the void left by their absence. But remember, Nouri, death is but a transition. You are a bridge between worlds, and even those who have passed are not beyond your reach. Their souls—Tony’s, Natasha’s—are now in the Field of Reeds. They are at peace. They will never truly be lost.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “But how do I move forward? How do I carry on knowing they’re... gone?”

“You do not carry their absence, Nouri. You carry their memory. Their love. Their legacy,” Anubis said, his voice a steady presence that soothed her turbulent heart. “You will always remember them—not in the emptiness, but in the ways they shaped your path. Their souls are at peace, and that is the greatest gift you can give them now—your strength to continue in their honour.”

Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, letting his words wash over her. She understood what he was saying; she knew death and the soul. But in her grief, the weight of it all had clouded that knowledge. She had been so caught in the pain, so caught in the loss, that she had forgotten the balance—the cycle that always returned.

Anubis’s hand rested gently on her shoulder, his touch grounding. “You will go on, Nouri. As you always have. Grief will not consume you, and you will not forget them. Their memory will carry you forward, just as you carry them in your heart.”

Nouri looked up at him, the ache still present but softened by his words. “Thank you, Anubis,” she whispered, her voice steadying, though she knew the grief would take time.

Anubis rose to his feet, his figure starting to fade into the shadows. Before he fully disappeared, his voice lingered, deeper and richer than before, a final note of comfort and divine wisdom.

“Grief is not a burden to bear forever. It is a journey; one you will walk with others by your side. But remember, you are more than your sorrow. You have the strength to endure. The Field of Reeds awaits you and the Captain soon.”

With those words, he was gone, leaving Nouri standing alone in the forest—but no longer feeling quite so lost. She would mourn. She would remember. But she would also continue, carrying their legacy, honouring their memory. And perhaps, for the first time in days, she felt the faintest flicker of hope in her heart.

---

October 29th 2023

 

Today was not a day for celebration. Today was a day of mourning, of heavy hearts, and silent memories. The Avengers had done what they were supposed to do. They had fought, bled, and sacrificed, bringing back everyone lost in the Snap. But that didn’t erase the empty space left by Natasha and Tony—two of their own, two of the brightest lights in their world.

Steve hadn’t spoken since the fight at the Compound. Since the dust had settled, the reality of their losses had been too much to bear. Neither of them truly believed that Tony and Natasha were gone. How could they? Tony had been the heart, the stubborn, brilliant force that had always found a way, and Natasha... she was the soul, the one who had held them all together when everything was falling apart.

“I’ll bring the car around…” Steve’s voice broke the stillness, quiet but firm, as if each word cost him something more than he could afford. He was almost out of breath—his exhaustion not just physical, but emotional. For a man so kind and loving, seeing him this broken, this consumed by grief, shattered Nouri. She had heard him cry in the night—his sobs torn from deep within him. It killed her to hear him in such pain. And seeing him dressed in all black, his shoulders heavy with an invisible burden, she could almost feel the weight of his grief pressing down on her as well. Even Ra’s light, which had always been a source of warmth and strength, seemed unable to reach him now.

Nouri stood at the edge of the bed, her presence muted, her own heart a well of sorrow. She wore a black caftan, that draped around her like midnight water, soft and flowing, brushing against her ankles with every breath of wind. The fabric, dark as the Nile’s fertile soil, shimmered subtly with fine gold stitching, curling along the edges like a flame—delicate, purposeful. She wore no jewellery, no adornment, except for a sheer black veil that lay gently over her hair and shoulders, a symbol of mourning and respect. Her hair, usually wild and free, was neatly pinned at the back, though a few curls escaped, dancing against her cheeks as if defying the sombre occasion, as if to remind her that, even in grief, life could still move, still burn with the faintest spark.

Her feet wore black heels, soft and quiet, lifting her just enough to remind her of the weight she carried—not just as a goddess, but as someone who had loved and lost. She moved with a grace that could only come from divine restraint—a goddess in mourning, not seeking attention, but offering presence, letting her silence speak louder than any words could.

The ride to the Stark farmhouse was quiet. Steve, as always, kept a steady presence beside her, but neither of them had words. Nouri’s sniffles, soft and muffled, were the only sound that filled the space between them. She never cried. Not in the way mortals did. But today, seeing the world in such pain, feeling the collective grief of humanity’s loss, she could not hold it back. A few tears fell freely, like the last ember of a fire that had once burned too brightly to fade. It wasn’t just for Tony and Natasha. It was for all the lives lost in the fight, for all the pain that had been carried by her, by Steve, by all of them.

When they reached the farmhouse, Steve stepped out, his hands shaking slightly as he reached for her, guiding her carefully out of the car. His words were gentle, almost too soft, as though any louder would break them both.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. The touch was tender, but it didn’t reach the depths of the sorrow between them. He pulled the veil gently to cover her face, a silent gesture of both protection and mourning.

Inside, Pepper greeted them with a tired smile, her eyes red from too many tears. Morgan, Tony’s daughter, clung to her, a picture of innocence amidst the devastation. The grief in the room was palpable, suffocating. Soon, Thor, Rhodey, and Happy joined, their presence a reminder of the shared battle, the shared loss. Then, the hologram appeared, the familiar voice of Tony Stark filling the room.

"So, I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting... in the case of an untimely death on my part," Tony’s hologram began, his voice light, but tinged with something that now felt unbearably final. "I mean, not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s— it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing. Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end." He suddenly stood up, walking toward the camera, his trademark smirk lighting up his face. "What am I even trippin’ for? Everything’s gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to." His eyes softened, and he leaned down, his smile directed straight at Morgan. "I love you 3,000."

The words hit Nouri like a physical blow. She wiped away a tear, but her heart was breaking for Morgan, for Pepper, for everyone who had known Tony and loved him. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her, and without another word, she stepped outside, needing to breathe, needing space to hold her grief.

The air outside was still, as though the very world was holding its breath. Pepper, her face a mask of sorrow, carried a wreath out from the house, her steps slow, measured. The wreath, a symbol of both loss and reverence, was laid gently upon the water. It floated, steady and calm, but above it, the first arc reactor, Tony’s first arc reactor, lay framed with the words: “Proof That Tony Stark Has a Heart.”

The words, so simple, so deeply true, echoed in Nouri’s mind. Tony had always been a paradox—brilliant, broken, but always with a heart so full of love that it could not help but reach beyond the limits of time and space.

Steve and Nouri stood behind Happy and Rhodey, their hands clasped together, though neither of them spoke. The rest of the Avengers, those who had fought so hard, stood silently around them. The friends, the family, all gathered together for one final farewell. The wreath drifted away, slowly, as though the river itself was taking Tony on a journey—one last journey, to wherever heroes went when their work was done.

Nouri’s heart tightened in her chest, but she didn’t look away. This was her family. She would mourn with them, for them, until the last shred of grief had passed. Until the light in the world that had once shone so brightly would begin to burn again, in their hearts, in their memories.

And even though the tears in her eyes had already begun to fade, she still felt his absence, felt it in the deepest parts of her—felt it in every whisper of wind, in every flicker of the flames. In the soul of a god who had loved too fiercely, who had fought too hard, and who would never truly be gone.

---

October 30th 2023

 

The day after the funeral, the weight of loss still clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Nouri and Steve hadn't spoken a word to each other. There was too much between them, too much unspoken. Steve had promised to return the stones to their rightful timelines, but even in that promise, there was an undeniable distance. As if the universe itself had torn them apart, leaving the space between them heavy with grief.

When they arrived back at Tony's farmhouse, the house felt different—empty in a way it never had before. Steve moved silently, as though the weight of the world was pulling him down with every step.

In one of the rooms, Steve began to change into the quantum suit. The soft rustling of fabric and the quiet sounds of him preparing felt like a thousand echoes in the silence. But Nouri couldn’t just stand there anymore. She couldn't watch him crumble without saying something, without doing something.

As she stepped into the room, she saw him—really saw him—his face gaunt, eyes red-rimmed, like he'd been fighting with himself for hours. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the hurt, the anger, the sorrow. It was as if all the grief of the universe had settled into his bones.

He turned to look at her then, and she saw the storm in his eyes—the silent, fierce storm he had been battling alone for far too long. His voice cracked when he spoke.

“All I want is peace and quiet,” Steve gasped, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Nouri’s heart clenched in her chest. She took a step forward, her voice gentle, but deliberate. "Is that why you asked me about the afterlife?"

Steve's eyes darted away, unable to meet hers. His hand shook as he reached for the quantum suit's case, the weight of the decision settling heavy on him.

“Steve…” Nouri said softly, walking closer to him. She reached out and gently took his hand in hers. The touch was a balm to both their aching hearts, but she could feel the tremors running through him.

He nodded, his breath ragged. There was nothing left to say. Nothing left to fight for. His heart was already lost.

Nouri, with a deep, painful understanding, whispered, “If that is truly your wish, you must say it.”

Steve furrowed his brow, confusion washing over his face. “What do you mean?”

“You have to choose to die, Steve,” Nouri said, her voice steady but heavy with sorrow. “The afterlife is not for the lost—it’s for those who have found their end. If you want to walk that path, you must say it. You must mean it.”

Steve’s chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat. His hands, which had always been so steady in battle, now trembled violently, as if the gravity of her words was crushing him.

He squeezed the case tighter, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. His lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

For a long moment, they just stood there, inches apart, but the distance between their hearts felt like an ocean. His eyes searched hers, desperate for something—maybe for permission, maybe for an answer to the questions he couldn’t even ask.

"Steven..." Nouri said softly, her thumb brushing his cheek. She gently cupped his face in her palm, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingers, feeling the weight of his sadness in his every breath. "If you want this... if you truly want this, you have to speak it."

He closed his eyes, the weight of the world pressing down on his chest. His voice was barely a whisper. “I... I don’t know if I can say it.” His eyes opened, raw and vulnerable. "I don't know if I can..."

"Then you aren’t ready,” Nouri said, her voice like a quiet plea. She stepped back, gently releasing his face from her touch, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “You don’t have to force yourself. I won’t let you make this decision unless your heart is truly ready.”

His body seemed to tremble from the inside out, the tremors a reflection of the war waging in his mind. He clenched his fists, and for a moment, she thought he might withdraw. But then, something changed. The burden he had carried for so long finally surfaced, and with it, a desperate determination.

“I am,” he said firmly, his voice trembling with the weight of those two words. He took a deep breath. "I am ready."

There was a pause—an agonizing silence that stretched for what felt like eternity. Steve, the man who had always fought for others, who had always refused to let go, was standing on the precipice of the hardest thing he had ever done.

Then, in a voice that seemed to crack the very air around them, he said it.

“My name is Steven Grant Rogers.” His voice wavered but held firm. His breath shuddered as he closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to say the most painful words he could ever speak.

“And I want to die.” His voice broke on the last word, a gasping, shuddering whisper of finality.

The air in the room shifted, a strange and heavy presence, like the universe itself had heard him. Nouri’s heart shattered. It hurt to watch him like this—to see the pain in his eyes and the torment in his soul.

She stepped forward, her hand reaching out to gently touch his chest. “You understand that if you go, you cannot return. You will never set foot in the land of the living again.” Her words were heavy with sorrow, but there was no turning back now.

“I know,” Steve whispered, nodding once, his voice thick with the weight of acceptance. "I know."

Nouri’s eyes softened, and she pressed her warm hand against his heart. Her fingers lingered there, feeling the thud of life that was still there, still fighting despite everything. "Then I will guide you through the afterlife myself,” she said, her voice a promise, an echo of something ancient.

She wiped away a few stray tears from his eyes, the silent proof of the devastation he carried. And then, before he could change his mind, before the weight of the decision could crush him again, Nouri kissed him.

The kiss lingered, and for a brief, fleeting moment, they were just two souls connected in the most intimate way. But then, without another word, they turned, walking hand-in-hand toward the door, toward the quantum portal where Bucky and Sam were waiting.

Neither of them spoke as they walked, the weight of the world heavy in the silence between them. They knew what was coming, and they knew there was no turning back.

This was it.

Steve was ready to let go.

And Nouri, for all her wisdom and power, would guide him on that final journey and for all eternity.

---

“Now, remember,” Bruce’s voice wavers slightly, the weight of the task ahead pressing down on him. “You have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. If you don’t—well, you’re gonna open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.”

Steve nods, his face hardened with resolve. “Don’t worry, Bruce. We’ll clip all the branches. No loose ends.”

Bruce’s gaze lingers on Steve, his voice growing quieter, heavy with an emotion he’s not used to showing. “You know… when I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back. I thought it was gonna work. I thought…” He swallows, his throat tightening. “I miss her, man.”

Steve’s expression falters for just a second, but he masks it quickly, nodding slowly. “I miss her too, Bruce.”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with grief. Then Nouri steps forward, her eyes reflecting the same sorrow. “We all miss her.”

Sam, standing by, shifts his weight uncomfortably, the reality of what they’re about to do settling in. “You know, if you want, I can come with you.”

Steve smiles, though it’s faint, his eyes holding a weariness that runs deeper than the battle they just fought. “You’re a good man, Sam. But this one’s on me.”

Turning, Steve walks over to Bucky, his steps slow, purposeful. The bond between them is more than just friendship—it’s been forged through years of hardship and survival. He pauses in front of Bucky, locking eyes with him, the unspoken understanding between them palpable.

"Don’t do anything stupid until I get back," Steve tells him with a wry smile, his tone teasing but laced with a tenderness that only Bucky can read.

Bucky chuckles, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice. “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

They share a brief, tight hug. It’s more than just a farewell—it’s a promise, a silent agreement that no matter what happens, they will always be there for each other. Steve pulls away, his hand resting briefly on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” Bucky says quietly, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s always been the strong one.

Steve’s eyes soften, his smile reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay, Buck.”

He steps toward the Quantum portal, glancing over his shoulder one last time at the team that has become his family. Sam watches him, his face filled with a quiet sadness, but also a recognition that this is something Steve has to do.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Bruce gives him a half-shrug, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.”

Steve reaches out and picks up Mjolnir, the hammer now an extension of him—proof of his strength and resolve. His fingers wrap around its handle, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. He’s still the man who fought for justice, who gave everything for others.

"Ready, Cap?" Bruce asks, his voice steady but tinged with the emotion of the moment.

Steve nods, his voice firm. "Alright. We’ll meet you back here. Stay safe."

Bruce gives a sharp nod. “Going quantum. Three, two, one–”

Steve disappears into the portal, leaving an empty space where he stood. The room is eerily quiet for a moment, as everyone waits in anticipation.

A few moments later, Bruce’s voice breaks the silence. “Returning in five, four, three, two, one–”

Steve reappears, holding an empty case in his hand. He nods to Nouri, who walks over to the car, retrieving his shield. She hands it to him, her fingers brushing against his. The contact is fleeting, but it carries an unspoken understanding. She knows the burden he carries.

“Sam, let’s take a walk,” Steve says, his voice calm, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He motions for Sam to follow, and the two begin to walk toward the lake, the sound of their footsteps almost lost in the wind.

Nouri watches them go, but her gaze shifts back to Bucky, whose eyes are fixed on the ground. She approaches him slowly, her heart heavy.

“You two leaving?” Bucky asks with a soft chuckle, his voice almost hollow. He knows, deep down, that Steve is running on fumes. They all are.

Nouri smiles gently, her eyes soft with understanding. “He’s tired.”

Bucky sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah… I know.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, and Nouri can see the unspoken words lingering in Bucky’s eyes—things he hasn’t said, things he hasn’t let himself feel.

“I wish I had more time to get to know you,” Nouri says, her voice quiet, but her words carry a weight that resonates in the air between them. “And I wish I knew you the way he did.”

Bucky’s throat tightens at her words. He knows exactly what she means—Steve was always the one who knew how to break through his walls. And in this moment, it hurts more than he’s willing to admit.

Nouri hesitates for a moment before stepping closer to him, placing a hand gently over his chest, right where his heart beats steadily—still strong, despite everything.

“You carry so much pain,” Nouri says softly, her voice heavy with sadness. There’s a vulnerability in her words, a recognition of the torment he’s carried for so long.

Bucky stiffens at her touch, but he doesn’t pull away. His breath catches, and for a moment, it feels like the world has stopped.

“Do not let it bury you,” Nouri continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you ever need me, call upon me, and I will come.”

Her words hang in the air like a promise—an offer of solace in the midst of the chaos. And just as she finishes speaking, Bucky pulls her into an embrace. It’s not something he often does, but right now, he needs it.

“I’m not good at this… being vulnerable,” Bucky admits, his voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t want to lose any more of my family.”

Nouri wrapped her arms around Bucky, feeling the weight of the moment settle into her chest. His body trembled slightly, and though he didn’t speak, she could feel the heaviness in his soul. She held him tighter, her own heart aching for the loss they both had endured.

After a long silence, they turned, both of them sensing the shift in the air. Steve was standing with Sam, handing over his shield. The simple action held so much weight—more than just a passing of a symbol of strength, but a passing of a legacy.

Nouri’s throat tightened as she watched, a knot of emotions settling in her chest. She had been part of this journey, part of their story. She wasn’t ready to lose them, but she knew deep down that this was the right thing. But still... she couldn’t help the question that slipped out.

“Do you think he’s making a mistake?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though her eyes never left Steve and Sam.

Bucky was quiet for a beat, his expression unreadable as he watched his best friend and Sam share a quiet moment of understanding. Then he turned to Nouri, his voice low but resolute. “No. Sam’s perfect for the job.” His words were sure, but there was an underlying sorrow to them—a sense of finality that neither of them could escape.

They walked together, moving toward the pair of men, who were sharing a laugh despite the somber air surrounding them. Nouri smiled faintly, her heart heavy with the weight of the goodbye that was coming. She placed her hand on Bucky’s shoulder for a moment, offering him silent strength. Then, with a soft breath, she turned to Steve.

“You ready?” Nouri asked, her voice filled with more emotion than she intended. Steve nodded, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held a depth that spoke volumes.

Nouri stepped forward and pulled Sam into a tight hug, feeling the gentle strength in his embrace. She whispered into his ear, her words quiet but sincere. “You are the only choice.”

Sam held her a moment longer, and when they pulled away, there were no regrets in his eyes, no hesitations. Only a certainty—he was ready.

Bucky and Sam took a step back, allowing Nouri and Steve to move to the edge of the lake. The cool water lapped at the shore, and the distant sound of nature was the only thing that filled the space between them.

Nouri’s heart was pounding in her chest, each step she took bringing them closer to something unknown, something she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for. But if there was one thing she knew, it was that Steve needed her now, just as she had always been there for him.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling just slightly, though she tried to keep her composure.

“I am sure,” Steve replied, his voice steady, but she could see the faintest tremor in his hand as he reached for hers. She took it without hesitation, her fingers curling around his with a quiet strength.

“Anubis netjer en duat, petah a’a-k,”* Nouri said, the words flowing from her lips like a prayer, and the air around them seemed to thrum with energy as a glowing portal began to form before them.

Steve looked back at his friends, his family, the world he was leaving behind. His gaze lingered for a long moment, the pain in his eyes deep and raw, but also filled with something else—peace, perhaps. A quiet acceptance of the path he had to take. Then, with a deep breath, he turned to Nouri, his eyes locking with hers.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible, but the meaning clear. His voice cracked, and for the first time, Nouri could see just how fragile he felt. It broke her heart, but she said nothing, only nodded.

Together, they stepped forward, the gate flickering and pulsing with a strange, ethereal light. As they crossed the threshold, Nouri felt the weight of the afterlife pulling at them, but also the warmth of it—an energy that enveloped them, filled them with peace.

Notes:

*Translations:
Anubis netjer en duat, petah a’a-k → Anubis, god of the Duat, open your gate

Chapter 48: No Peace for the Dead

The afterlife was a cold, suffocating void that seemed to stretch endlessly, as though time had been frozen. Steve felt it in his bones, a deep chill that cut through every inch of him. The stillness was overwhelming—no rustling of wind, no distant cries, no heartbeat. Just a thick, consuming silence. The only thing breaking through it was Nouri’s glowing presence beside him. She radiated warmth, a gentle light that felt like the sun itself in a world plunged into shadow. Her hieroglyphs glowed across her skin, the ancient symbols of her power and lineage pulsing with life. It was as if she belonged here—like this was her realm, and she was at peace with it.

For Steve, it felt alien. The weight of eternity pressed on his chest, suffocating him, and yet, it was her light that offered him the strength to keep moving forward.

They approached the Stone Arch, its looming presence making the air grow heavier. Steve’s footsteps slowed as he neared it, feeling the undeniable pull of what was to come. The arch stood like a threshold between life and death, between the world he had known and the one he was about to enter. His heart raced, a mixture of fear and resolve.

He glanced at Nouri, her calm demeanour a stark contrast to his own turbulent thoughts. There was a softness in her eyes as she met his gaze, but a strength in her stance that grounded him.

For the first time, Steve allowed himself to voice the question that had been haunting him since they had begun this journey.

“Once I go through, that’s it, huh?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared saying the words out loud. His chest tightened, a knot of uncertainty forming in his gut.

Nouri smiled at him, that quiet, knowing smile that had always calmed his fears. Her hand reached out and rested lightly on his arm, the touch warm against the chill of the afterlife. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice a steady beacon. “Once you pass the Stone Arch, you leave your physical body behind. You walk the path of the soul. There is no turning back.”

Steve let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on her. There was something about her—something about the way she seemed so at ease here, as though she had walked this path a thousand times before. But as much as he wanted to feel the same, he couldn’t shake the heaviness in his chest. He had fought in wars, faced countless enemies, and even lost friends. But this... this was different. This wasn’t a fight for survival. This was about crossing over, about what came after. There was no mission, no enemy. Only this moment.

“You’ll be staying, right?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t mean to sound desperate, but the question spilled out of him. It was an old, familiar feeling—the need for reassurance. He had fought so many battles alone, even when surrounded by others. But here, in this vast, quiet place, he didn’t want to be alone. Not when the world had already taken so much from him.

Nouri’s expression softened, and she gave him a smile full of warmth and quiet strength. “For all of eternity,” she said, her voice gentle but filled with the certainty that had always been a part of her. There was no doubt in her words, no hesitation. She was resolute in her love for him, in her commitment to stay by his side, no matter the realm, no matter the time.

She reached out and touched his cheek, the light of her fingers warm against his cold skin. “I will always be with you, Steve,” she whispered, her words a quiet promise that sank deep into his soul.

The moment between them felt suspended in time, and for the first time since they had begun this journey, Steve allowed himself to fully absorb the depth of their bond. She had always been a guiding light in his life, a beacon that had led him through his darkest moments. But now, as they stood on the precipice of the afterlife, she was not just his guide—she was his equal. His partner. His love. And whatever came next, he knew they would face it together.

He nodded, his heart lighter despite the uncertainty ahead. With Nouri by his side, there was nothing to fear.

Together, they stepped through the arch, the world around them rippling with energy, as though the very fabric of the afterlife was parting before them. They walked along the path, bathed in the soft light of Nouri’s glow. As they neared the ship that awaited them, the veil of light parted, revealing a towering figure.

A god, tall and commanding, stood before them. His jackal-headed form loomed like a living monument, his robes trailing behind him like the passage of time itself. Anubis, the god of the afterlife, his presence undeniable and ancient.

Steve stiffened slightly, instinctively standing taller, though he felt small in the presence of the god. He had faced gods before—Loki, Thanos, and others—but Anubis was different. There was no malice in his gaze, no hatred. Just an ancient, fathomless understanding. Anubis saw everything. And Steve could feel it.

Anubis’s gaze shifted between them, studying Steve with an intensity that seemed to strip away every layer of his being. Then, the god’s voice, deep and resonant, broke the silence. “Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve straightened at the mention of his name, though he felt his breath catch in his chest. The weight of this moment, the recognition, settled over him like an eternal truth.

“The First Avenger. The Man Out of Time. The Sentinel of Liberty. Heart Without Corruption. Captain America.”

The weight of the titles filled the space, a silence falling between them. For a long moment, Anubis said nothing more. He simply regarded Steve with those ancient eyes, eyes that had seen the rise and fall of civilizations, the birth and death of countless stars.

Steve swallowed, trying to hold onto his composure. He had always been the symbol. The soldier. The hero. But here, in the afterlife, none of that mattered. Here, he was just a man—a man whose choices would now define his eternity.

"You came here of your own will," Anubis said, his voice softening slightly. "Not many mortals enter my gates willingly."

Steve’s chest tightened. He had made the choice, hadn't he? He had chosen to be here, to face whatever came next.

“And no mortal has entered my gates with a goddess by their side,” Anubis continued, his tone shifting. It was still reverent, but now there was something else in it—something like awe. He turned his gaze to Nouri, and Steve felt a strange sense of pride.

"Al Nouri Ra-Khonshu," he said, bowing his head ever so slightly. "Daughter of the Moon and Sun. Lady of the Sacred Land. Priestess of the Field of Reeds. Leader of the Medjai. Flame of Misr. Light of the Duat. Daughter of the Banished One. Goddess of the Eternal Path."

Steve glanced at Nouri; his mouth slightly open. The titles, the reverence in Anubis’s voice—it all struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. He had known Nouri was powerful, but hearing it spoken aloud, from the mouth of a god, made it feel real.

Nouri, ever graceful, acknowledged Anubis with a small, sideways smile. She did not need to say anything—her mere presence was enough to command respect. Nouri met Steve’s gaze, her eyes softening as she gave him a sideways smile. Her warmth wrapped around him like a protective shield, a silent reminder that she was with him, always. Her presence was all he needed.

Anubis stepped aside, his expression still grave, but there was an unspoken understanding between the god and Nouri. “You may pass,” he said, his voice filled with ancient authority. “Both of you.”

But Nouri hesitated, her gaze meeting Anubis’s with a quiet intensity. “But his heart must be weighed—”

“I know,” Anubis replied gently, his voice filled with a deep understanding. “But the path is open. Not by right. By choice.”

Nouri nodded, her hand slipping into Steve’s as she gave it a gentle squeeze, grounding him in this moment. “The path is yours to choose Steve. I’m with you, no matter what comes next,” she whispered.

Anubis led them toward Taweret’s ship, the ship that would carry them across the Duat—the river of the afterlife. As they boarded, the weight of what lay ahead settled on Steve’s shoulders. He had no idea what the weighing of his heart would bring. But he wasn’t afraid anymore. Not with Nouri by his side.

“From here, you must sail across the Du’at,” Anubis explained, his voice filled with a gravity that only a god could possess. “Let your heart be weighed. I wish you good luck, Steven Grant Rogers.” He bowed his head ever so slightly, and Steve returned the gesture, a final sign of respect before the journey truly began.

Nouri’s hand never left his, and as the ship set sail, Steve knew one thing with certainty—whatever came next, he wasn’t alone. He had Nouri. And that, in itself, was more than enough.

---

Once aboard the ship, the gentle hum of the vessel against the endless stretch of sand seemed surreal. Nouri gazed out at the vast, golden dunes as they drifted across the endless desert. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a soft glow that made the world feel almost dreamlike.

The ship sailed steadily through the sand, the vast horizon of the Du’at stretching out endlessly before them. Nouri stood at the edge, the warm breeze ruffling her dark curls, her eyes reflecting the shimmering glow of the afterlife around them. She glanced over at Steve, who was still trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

"It's beautiful," she said quietly, her voice soft as she watched the endless golden dunes of the Du’at stretching out before them.

Steve placed a comforting hand on her lower back, offering a soft smile. “Yeah, it is,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the surreal situation.

He was still trying to process that he was now aboard a magical ship sailing through the afterlife, but for Nouri, it was just another day in her endless existence. She was used to these wonders.

“What’s that?” Steve asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence as he pointed toward a figure half-buried in the sand ahead of them. A body, frozen in place as if time had stopped for it.

Nouri’s gaze followed his finger, and she nodded knowingly. “Remember when I told you about what happens if the heart is heavier than the feather?” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, a quiet seriousness settling over her.

Steve nodded, his stomach tightening as he took in the figure before them. It made him uneasy. “Yeah... but... is that—” He swallowed hard.

“That’s what happens,” Nouri replied, her tone just shy of grim as she pointed to the body, which seemed suspended in time, a warning of what lay beyond for those whose hearts were not light enough. Steve shivered but said nothing, just following Nouri’s gaze. His mind kept wandering back to her words, wondering how his own heart would weigh when the time came.

Before he could voice another question, a loud, booming voice interrupted them. "Oh! Hello, dear! How I've missed you!" Taweret's voice rang out, full of warmth and brightness. The hippo-headed goddess had appeared on the deck, a large, rounded form that somehow radiated both maternal comfort and infectious joy.

Nouri broke into a wide grin, her eyes lighting up with affection. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Taweret, embracing her as if they were old friends reunited after centuries. “I have missed you too, sister,” Nouri said, her voice warm and tender.

Taweret stepped back, beaming. She wiped a happy tear from her large eyes, clearly overwhelmed with joy. “Oh, this must be the Captain!” Taweret exclaimed, her head tilting to one side as she eyed Steve curiously. "He’s handsome, isn’t he?"

Steve froze, not sure how to respond. He'd been introduced to gods before, but this—this was different. A massive hippo-headed goddess, beaming at him like an old friend? He had no words for it.

Nouri smiled at Steve, her voice light and teasing. "Oh yes, this is Steve Rogers, Captain America." She placed a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s not used to seeing gods like us.”

Taweret’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh, I like him,” she said, her voice full of energy. “He’s so... serious! It’s refreshing!”

Steve’s smile was nervous, unsure if he should be frightened or amused. “Uh, hi,” he said, offering a tentative wave. He wasn’t sure how to interact with someone who clearly wasn’t human, but Taweret’s exuberance was contagious.

Nouri chuckled softly at Steve’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, Steve. She’s harmless—well, mostly harmless. She's just very enthusiastic.”

“Oh, I’m more than harmless, dear,” Taweret winked, winking with one of her large eyes. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t go wandering off. This is the afterlife, after all—can’t have you getting lost now, can we?”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at her light-heartedness, though he still wasn’t sure where he fit into this strange, divine world.

As the ship continued its journey through the Du'at, Nouri and Taweret began chatting, their voices light and full of warmth. Steve remained silent, overwhelmed by the vast desert landscape and the incomprehensible beauty of the realm. He tried to keep his focus, but it was difficult not to be distracted by the two goddesses’ animated conversation. It wasn’t long before their banter turned to a more familiar topic.

“...So, tell me,” Taweret said, her tone full of curiosity. “How is he holding up? You’ve been married to him for how long now? Two years?” Taweret’s voice practically sparkled with excitement, and she leaned toward Nouri, eager to hear all the details.

Nouri’s face softened, and she gave Taweret a sly look. “We’ve been married since 2018,” Nouri replied, a warm smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Taweret leaned in closer, clearly delighted by the gossip. “I can’t believe you never told me he was this cute! I thought all those stories about him being so noble and strong were just... you know, rumours. But look at him!” She gestured toward Steve, her massive hippo head bobbing with enthusiasm. “He’s adorable! Nono, you’ve done well.”

Nouri let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she glanced over at Steve, who was still processing everything around him. “He’s a good man,” Nouri said quietly. “And he's more than just what he appears to be. He's brave, kind... everything I could have asked for.”

Taweret placed her hands over her heart in mock shock. “Oh, stop! You’re making me blush! I knew you two would be perfect together. It’s always the quiet ones who turn out to be so... fascinating,” she said with a wink. “You know, I didn’t think you’d ever settle down. You always seemed so... untouchable before. But look at you now—married! So sweet.”

Nouri laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, Steve did most of the work. He’s... persistent,” she teased, a soft smile crossing her lips as she glanced at Steve, her heart full.

Steve, clearly trying to keep up with the conversation, let out a nervous laugh. “I just try to keep up,” he muttered, his face redder than usual. He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by Taweret’s boisterousness or by Nouri’s gentle teasing.

As the ship sailed across the endless desert, Nouri and Taweret continued to talk, their voices blending in a natural rhythm as they spoke about the old times. Taweret was as lively and talkative as always, her bubbly nature contrasting sharply with the solemnity of Steve's silent awe. They reminisced about old times—before Nouri had been imprisoned—sharing laughs and stories as the ship slowly approached Nouri’s gate.

“Darling, we’re approaching my gate,” Nouri announced, her voice full of warmth.

Taweret grinned and bounced excitedly. “This is it! The big moment, Steve!” she said cheerfully, hopping over to him. “Are you ready for the judgment?”

Steve swallowed hard, his heart racing. “I am,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a gentle smile, Taweret reached into Steve’s chest and pulled out his heart, placing it delicately onto the scales in front of him. “The scales of Ma’at,” Nouri whispered to Steve, her voice quiet and reverent.

The feather balanced perfectly with Steve’s heart. Taweret's grin widened, and she looked at Nouri, her excitement barely contained. “You are lighter than the feather, Captain Rogers,” she announced proudly. “You may enter the Field of Reeds.” She nodded solemnly at Steve. “Your heart is pure, Captain. You’ve earned it.”

Steve blinked, not sure what to say. His heart was light, he felt lighter than he had in years, but the enormity of this place—the afterlife, the gods, the peace that awaited him—was overwhelming.

Taweret’s large eyes softened. “You may enter, Steve Grant Rogers,” she said kindly.

The ship came to a gentle halt before Nouri’s gate. The golden sand gave way to lush, green reeds that swayed softly in the breeze, the scene before them serene and peaceful. Taweret stepped aside, bowing slightly.

As Steve and Nouri stepped off the ship, the golden sands gave way to lush green reeds that swayed in a soft breeze. The world felt alive in ways Steve had never experienced before, though everything seemed to hum with a quiet, eternal peace.

Steve looked around, unsure of what to say. He was still in awe, the enormity of the afterlife sinking in, but a sense of calm had settled over him.

“Welcome to your final rest my love,” Nouri whispered softly, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Steve smiled softly, though the weight of everything still lingered. "I didn’t think I’d ever make it here," he admitted quietly.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve,” Nouri said, her tone comforting. “This is where you belong now. The journey ahead is peaceful, and you have earned your place in the Field of Reeds.”

Taweret beamed from behind them, her excitement undimmed. "You’ll be very happy here, I’m sure of it!" she said eagerly. "You’re going to love it!"

Steve’s heart, though heavy with the memories of his life, felt lighter than it had in a long time. He stepped forward, guided by Nouri, feeling a sense of peace begin to settle in his soul.

The afterlife, with all its strangeness, was becoming more familiar to him by the second.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Steve felt like he was truly at rest.

---

It didn’t take long for Nouri and Steve to find their rhythm in the Field of Reeds, a place where time seemed to lose its meaning. The world they had once known, filled with chaos and loss, was now a distant memory, replaced by the serenity of this peaceful sanctuary. They had found their haven, and every day felt like a gift.

Their home was a modest farmhouse, nestled by the side of the Nile, the river’s gentle flow whispering stories of the past. The sound of the water became their lullaby at night, and in the mornings, it greeted them with a soft caress of mist rising off the surface. For Steve, the farmhouse was a symbol of something simpler—a life he’d never thought he’d have. For Nouri, it was a place of reflection and peace, where the weight of her existence could rest in the stillness of the land.

The routine was simple, but it brought them both a sense of belonging they’d never imagined. Each morning, they awoke with the sun—its warm light flooding their room, filling them with a gentle energy that carried them through the day. Nouri would smile softly as she watched Steve stir beside her, his presence grounding her in ways she hadn’t known she needed.

“Good morning,” Steve would murmur, his voice husky with sleep as he brushed his lips against her forehead, his arms pulling her closer.

“Good morning, my love,” Nouri would reply, her eyes still heavy with the remnants of sleep, yet there was a tenderness in them that spoke of the love that had flourished between them.

They would rise together, their bare feet meeting the cool earth as they stepped out into the world. The golden light of the sun would stretch across the horizon, casting a warm glow on the fields that surrounded them. They often walked along the banks of the Nile, the air thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant sound of birds singing their morning songs.

As they walked, their hands brushed occasionally, fingers intertwining, a small but constant reminder of the bond that had grown between them. The conversations flowed effortlessly, sometimes light and playful, sometimes deep and reflective. They spoke of the past, of their memories, but most often they spoke of the future—a future they could now dream of without fear.

“I never thought I’d find a place like this,” Steve said one day, his voice full of wonder as he gazed out over the vast fields that stretched before them. “I’ve fought so many battles, been to so many places... but nothing ever felt like home until now.”

Nouri smiled, her gaze softening as she looked at him. “The Field of Reeds is where we belong, Steve. It’s a place of peace, where all things are in balance. I’ve watched over this land for eons, but now, it feels like it’s finally ours.”

As they wandered further, they’d often find themselves lying together in the tall grass, the soft hum of the world around them filling the air. They’d watch the clouds drift by, the sun warming their skin as the breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees. It was in these moments, with the world at peace and nothing but each other to focus on, that their love grew stronger—like the roots of an ancient tree, entwining deeper with each passing day.

Their conversations would often turn playful, teasing each other with light-hearted remarks, but there was always an undercurrent of desire. Their connection, both emotional and physical, had become something timeless. The passion between them was boundless, a flame that burned as brightly as the sun above. In the quiet of the fields, their love was a fire that neither could extinguish.

“I think the stars are jealous of us,” Steve teased one night, as they lay on a blanket beneath the vast, open sky. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over them as the night air wrapped around their bodies.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because” Steve said, his hand gently cupping her cheek, “no matter how many stars there are, none of them can compare to the light you bring into my life.”

Nouri’s heart fluttered at his words, her love for him deepening with each passing moment.

Their kisses were slow, drawn out, full of the tenderness that had become their language. It was a love that didn’t rush, a love that lingered in the spaces between their words and actions. It was a love that didn’t need anything but the other to thrive.

As the days passed, Anubis, ever kind and considerate, had graciously gifted them several beautiful dogs—strong, loyal creatures with fur as golden as the sun. They roamed the fields around them, their barking and playfulness adding to the peaceful soundtrack of their lives. The dogs were a constant presence, their companionship a reminder that Nouri and Steve were never truly alone.

One evening, as the sky shifted to hues of pink and orange, Nouri and Steve sat on the porch, watching the sunset together. The air was cool, the scent of the river mingling with the soft fragrance of blooming flowers. They sat in silence, their shoulders touching, the peacefulness of the world settling into their hearts.

“I never imagined this,” Steve said quietly, breaking the silence. “A life like this. It’s everything I never knew I needed.”

Nouri turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with love and a hint of sadness. “This is what we’ve earned, Steve. After all the pain, all the loss... this is what we were meant for.”

He nodded, his hand finding hers, and together they sat in the quiet, content in the knowledge that, no matter what the future held, they had each other. Their love was a sanctuary, a place of refuge in a world that had once been full of chaos. And in that moment, surrounded by the vastness of the land and the river, Nouri knew that no matter what happened, they were home.

---

The golden light of the setting sun bathed the Field of Reeds in a warm, ethereal glow. Nouri walked beside Steve, their fingers brushing occasionally as they strolled through the lush green plains. Around them, the pack of dogs, ran freely, their joyous barks carrying through the air as they frolicked with abandon. Nouri’s heart lightened at the sight, the peace of the Field of Reeds wrapping around her like a soft, comforting blanket.

Steve looked over at her, a small, affectionate smile pulling at his lips. “I have to say, this place really grows on you. I’ve never felt so... at home.”

Nouri chuckled softly, her gaze following the dogs, her heart full. “The Field of Reeds does have that effect on those who belong here.” She paused, then nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “It’s like... the afterlife, but with a better view.”

Steve laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I think I’ll take this version of the afterlife any day.”

Just as they continued their walk, the peaceful sounds of nature were interrupted by a familiar voice—a voice that sent a wave of warmth through Nouri’s chest.

“Is that... is that who I think it is?”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat. She turned her head toward the sound of laughter and spotted two figures near the banks of the Nile. Standing in the soft light of dusk were none other than Natasha and Tony.

A slow, fond smile tugged at Nouri’s lips as she saw them—Natasha, with her signature red hair flowing freely, and Tony, his dark hair ruffled as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Tony was talking animatedly, gesturing with his hands as Natasha crossed her arms, a smirk on her face. Despite the distance between them, Nouri could feel the bond they shared. The quiet, strong friendship. The undeniable love.

“They... they’re here?” Nouri asked, her voice full of disbelief, yet tinged with joy.

Steve, who was equally surprised, raised an eyebrow. “How? I thought—”

“Remember in the Field of Reeds, you’re reunited with your loved ones,” Nouri cut him off with a wink.

With a quick smile to Steve, Nouri began walking toward the two figures, the dogs trailing happily behind her. Steve followed, grinning like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

When they reached the pair, Nouri’s smile widened, her heart full of a thousand emotions. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you two again,” she said, her voice soft but full of affection.

Tony turned around, his face lighting up in an instant. His trademark grin spread across his face as he stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the goddess herself. Did I miss something, or is this a ‘weirdly happy afterlife reunion’ party?”

Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. “Of course, it had to be Tony to turn this into some kind of comedy show,” she said, walking toward Nouri with open arms. “But, hey, it’s good to see you, Nouri.”

Nouri chuckled and stepped into Natasha’s embrace. “It’s good to see you both. But really, I thought the Field of Reeds was reserved for... well, for souls who had crossed over.”

Tony crossed his arms, leaning back casually. “Turns out the afterlife’s a lot more flexible than we thought. Just took a little miracle to get us here.”

Nouri couldn’t stop laughing, the sound light and carefree. “A miracle, huh? Well, I’m glad you two made it here. It’s been... far too long.”

“Not as long as you think,” Tony added with a wink, looking at Steve with a playful smirk. “Hey, Cap. I bet you never thought you'd be standing here with the two of us again, huh? Kinda... poetic, don’t you think?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I think I’d prefer it to be a bit less... out of left field.”

“Eh, where’s the fun in that?” Tony grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “Besides, it’s not like we have to worry about Thanos anymore, right?”

“Don’t jinx it,” Natasha warned with a raised eyebrow, though her lips quirked in a knowing smile. “I’m just glad we’re not stuck in some soul-crushing void. This place? Beautiful.”

Nouri glanced around at the endless fields, the golden hues of the sun casting long shadows across the land. “It’s... perfect here. Peaceful. It’s a place for healing, and for those who’ve done their part.” She met Tony’s gaze, her smile softening. “And you’ve both earned your rest.”

“Not yet, though,” Tony shot back, his voice teasing but also full of fondness. “I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He raised his eyebrows, looking at Nouri with an exaggerated expression. “But I’m guessing you’ll have to handle all the ‘goddess’ stuff, right?”

Nouri couldn’t hold back her laughter. “I’m not the only one with divine power here, Stark. You’re still the genius who saved the universe.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Tony said with a wink, clapping Steve on the back. “I know how much you appreciate my brilliance.”

“I’m just glad you’re here, both of you,” Steve said sincerely, glancing between Natasha and Tony. “It feels... right.”

Nouri turned her gaze to the shimmering waters of the Nile, watching as the dogs played by the banks. There was a deep, serene joy in her heart. Reuniting with the people she had once thought lost felt like the kind of miracle she hadn’t even dared to hope for.

The sky above them seemed to shimmer in response, as if the universe itself was acknowledging their reunion. And as the last light of the day slipped beneath the horizon, Nouri’s heart felt full once more, surrounded by the love of those she had once fought beside, the people who had become her family.

“I think,” Nouri said softly, taking Tony’s arm and pulling him into the group, “we’re ready for whatever’s next. Together.”

Tony raised a brow. “A hero team... in the afterlife? You sure know how to make things interesting, Nouri.”

Nouri laughed, a soft, melodic sound that drifted over the river’s waters. “What can I say? I like to keep things lively.”

With a shared look, the four of them—Nouri, Steve, Natasha, and Tony—stood together, united once more under the vast sky, their hearts full of laughter, love, and the promise of adventures yet to come.

---

Time passed, and each day felt like a precious gift. Nouri had found peace in the simplicity of it, watching Steve smile more easily, his heart light after all the pain he'd endured. To see him at peace, happy in the company of Natasha and Tony once more, was a balm to Nouri’s own soul.

They walked side by side along the Nile, the golden fields of Egypt swaying gently in the breeze. The land seemed to breathe with life, its energy vibrant, its silence profound. Steve’s hand brushed hers, a quiet reaffirmation of the eternity they now shared. His presence was a constant comfort to her, a love she’d never imagined she’d deserve, and yet, here they were, bound by it.

She let out a soft sigh, content in their shared moment. Peace had settled in her heart, and in Steve’s eyes, there was an acceptance, a tranquillity Nouri had longed for him to find.

But, as Nouri well knew, peace and quiet rarely played well together.

The air around them shifted. The breeze picked up unnaturally, swirling with a disquieting chill. The once serene sky darkened, the clouds swirling in ominous patterns.

“The goddess walks no more... but her fire is not yet gone.” The wind whispered, a voice that seemed to come from the very earth beneath their feet, sliding into their skin like a shiver.

A shadow loomed over them, heavy and thick, as if the very air had been swallowed by it. The wind turned sharper, colder. Nouri paused mid-step, her eyes narrowing.

“Not today,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Steve could even ask, the figure appeared before them, a presence that rippled through the space like a wave of dread.

A towering, ancient figure, draped in dark Egyptian robes, stood at the edge of their path. His bird skull head glowed eerily, pale eyes burning with divine fire. The body beneath the robes was muscled and wrapped in gold-accented bandages, the moon crescent symbol marked prominently across his chest. His imposing, commanding form radiated both power and a cold, distant authority that made the air itself feel like it was pressing in on them.

Khonshu.

Steve’s entire body tensed in an instant. His hand instinctively moved in front of Nouri; a protective reflex born from years of keeping others safe. He knew of Khonshu, of course—Nouri had spoken of him before—but seeing him in person, towering above them with that haunting bird skull head, was something else entirely.

He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. The first thing that crossed his mind: “What the hell is THAT?”

The second thought, one much less rational: “Birdman. Why is there a birdman.”

Nouri sighed deeply, the sound a mix of exasperation and something else—something older, something far more familiar to her than this mortal world. “Please tell me that’s not Death,” Steve muttered, his voice still tinged with disbelief.

“No,” Nouri answered, deadpan, “Just Khonshu.”

“…And that’s better?” Steve asked, an eyebrow raised, still trying to wrap his mind around the being before them.

Khonshu, as though sensing the slight, paid no attention to Nouri’s words. Instead, his eyes focused on Steve, and a deep, low chuckle rumbled from his throat. He tilted his skull, the eerie sound of bone scraping against bone making the wind howl even louder.

“Ah. The soldier.” Khonshu’s voice was deep, resonant, like distant thunder. “The one who battles for justice. Tell me, Captain Rogers, do you understand what true justice is?”

“Great. He talks,” Steve muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling to the surface, though his voice still carried that undercurrent of unease. He was used to gods like Nouri, or even Thor, whose power was visible but human in form. This? This was different. This god had no flesh, no human form—just shadow, bone, and an overwhelming sense of divine detachment.

Khonshu’s eyes narrowed; his expression unreadable. “You should be honoured, Captain Rogers,” he sneered, “Not many mortals earn eternity. You stand before me because of the choices you’ve made. But I wonder… do you fear me?”

Steve held his ground, standing as tall as he could, fists clenching at his sides. The words hung in the air, heavy with threat. He lied, trying to mask the sudden pulse of fear that hit his chest. “No,” he said, his voice steady but betraying the lie behind it.

Khonshu’s laugh was cold, cruel. “Ha! He does,” Nouri’s voice rang out, her laughter unexpectedly sharp as she crossed her arms. “I can feel it too. Your heart’s racing, Rogers.”

Steve shot her a glare, one filled with annoyance, but it couldn’t mask the unease that gnawed at his insides. This… this was not just some god of myths. This being had power. The kind that felt real. The kind that didn’t care about anything or anyone but itself.

Khonshu turned sharply to address Nouri. “You have lingered in peace long enough, daughter,” he said, his tone dripping with disdain. “The world is shifting once more. The mortals need you, whether you wish it or not.”

Nouri leaned back against the pillar, eyes narrowing as she casually rolled her eyes. “Not my problem,” she drawled. “I’m retired.”

Khonshu's gaze hardened, the dark energy around him flickering as his staff slammed against the ground with a force that vibrated through the air. “Harrow seeks Ammit. You cannot ignore this.” His voice was heavy with command, his words deliberately cutting.

At the mention of Ammit, Nouri stiffened, her posture shifting. It wasn’t fear—no, it was something far more dangerous. Ammit was a being she did not take lightly. Not by a long shot. Her jaw tightened.

“I can, actually.” Nouri’s voice was colder now, her arms folding across her chest in a clear gesture of defiance.

Khonshu’s patience was already wearing thin, but he pressed on, his tone darkening further. “As the leader of the Ennead, it is your duty—”

Nouri stood her ground, her arms still crossed. “Not my business, Birdman. Go away,” she said, a playful but dangerous lilt to her words as she tried to wave him off like an annoying fly.

Khonshu’s hollow eyes glinted as he took a step forward, his skull tilting slightly, studying her with an intensity that made the air between them crackle. He was testing her, pushing her.

“No?” Khonshu’s voice dipped lower, almost curious, as he stepped closer, his skull-like face tilted slightly, studying her. A small smile curling at the edge of his voice, but it was anything but friendly.

Steve stood nearby, eyes flickering between the two. He didn’t know much about Egyptian gods, but he knew when Nouri was genuinely concerned, and right now? She wasn’t.

“You’re not even curious, are you?” His words dripped with something far darker. “Very well, then. If you refuse me, I shall take him instead.”

Khonshu paused, the tension between them thickening, before his hollow gaze swung towards Steve. The air seemed to freeze as Khonshu took a deliberate step closer, his presence towering, suffocating the space between them.

“A soldier. A warrior. A leader. A man out of time,” Khonshu's voice slipped from his skull like dark silk, smooth and calculated. “Your husband has all the makings of a fine avatar... Tell me, Steven Rogers… would you like a purpose once more?” The words seemed to twist and curl into Steve’s mind, almost hypnotic in their cadence.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. His heartbeat hammered in his chest, each thump louder than the last. He wasn’t afraid of gods. Hell, he wasn’t even afraid of death. But this… this felt different. This was a god with a manipulative gleam in his eyes, pulling at his vulnerabilities like strings. It was an insidious kind of power.

Khonshu’s voice slipped deeper into Steve’s mind, almost like it was seeping into his very soul. Memories flashed before his eyes: the horrors of war. The screams. The explosions. The blood. His own hands stained. His breath catching as he saw Bucky, falling from the train, lost in the snow. He saw ice. The coldness of it. The silence of death.

The ice. The world fading away. Falling back into the frozen darkness.

The unbearable silence of dying alone.

And then, Khonshu’s voice pressed deeper, coaxing out the grief Steve had buried so carefully. His words dripped like poison.

“You fought. You bled. You died.” Khonshu's voice was slow, methodical, like fingers dragging through raw wounds. "And yet, here you are… while so many others were left behind.”

Steve’s breath faltered. His stomach clenched with a sharp twist of guilt, regret, and a deep, gnawing doubt that had no place in the soldier he used to be.

Bucky, who had been forced to fight for decades without a choice. Sam, carrying a legacy Steve had abandoned. Tony, who had given everything, only to see Steve walk away from the war.

The words sat heavy in his chest. Like chains. He could almost feel them constricting around him.

"Tell me, Steven Rogers... why do you deserve peace?" Khonshu's voice thundered now, low and mocking, like an unstoppable force breaking through Steve’s defences.

Steve’s blood ran cold, his throat tightened, his body tensed. His mind reeled. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why do I deserve peace? The thought echoed like a curse, and for a moment, his resolve wavered.

And then, for a split second—a single, awful second—he wondered.

Maybe I don’t deserve it.

Maybe I should still be fighting.

Maybe this wasn’t meant for me.

Khonshu saw it. His sharp, knowing gaze flickered with something that bordered on satisfaction.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Khonshu’s voice softened now, almost soothing, as if he were coaxing out a hidden truth. “The battle... The war... The fight... You were created for it... You were made for it, soldier.”

Steve’s breath shuddered, his body swaying slightly. He hadn’t even realized it, but doubt had slipped into his bones. A flicker of something inside him cracked, fragile like glass, and it terrified him.

He could feel it. His mind had started to doubt. The years of fighting, of doing had defined him for so long. But this... this new life? The quiet, the peace? It felt foreign, like he wasn’t made for it.

Steve’s body swayed slightly, his thoughts spiralling. He didn’t even realize he was nodding. Not much. Just a small, involuntary twitch. But it was enough.

Khonshu saw it, and his grin widened, cruel and triumphant. He’d found the weak spot. The crack in Steve’s armour. And he wasn’t going to let go.

Khonshu smiled, the god’s expression widening with cruel satisfaction. “Yes, Steven Rogers. You were made for war. You were made to be a weapon. A tool for justice.” His voice dropped lower, but there was something dangerous in it now. “And you still long for that purpose. Don’t you?”

Steve stood frozen, a battle waging inside him. He wasn’t sure what scared him more—the fact that Khonshu had seen that crack—or that, for the briefest moment, he had considered it.

“You were created for a reason,” Khonshu purred. “And if you accept me… you will finally have a true purpose. No more hiding. No more running. Just the fight.”

Steve’s heart thundered in his chest, but his mind—his mind was still tangled in that dark promise.

Khonshu stood tall, his hollow eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction, waiting for Steve to fall into line, waiting for him to say the words.

The air crackled with tension, the heat of Nouri's fire painting the golden sands in shades of molten orange and black. The ground beneath them trembled, as if the earth itself could feel the weight of the power rising from Nouri. Her hands were engulfed in flames, radiating a raw intensity that caused the very air around them to shimmer.

“That’s enough,” Nouri’s voice rang out, sharp as the crack of thunder, her fists glowing with the pure, white heat of her power.

Khonshu barely flinched; his stoic bird-head tilted in that way that was almost dismissive. He was unbothered by the sheer force Nouri was exerting, as though her fury was no more than a faint breeze in the desert.

But Steve…

Steve gasped. His breath came in ragged pulls, like he had just broken through a thick, frozen surface. His knees buckled, and for a moment, he swayed on the spot, almost as though he were going to collapse.

Nouri moved, closing the distance between them in a flash. She stepped in front of Steve, her presence a shield of fire and resolve.

"You do not touch him. You do not speak to him. You do not so much as breathe in his direction," her voice was like a blade, cutting through the thick tension in the air.

Khonshu tilted his skull, his unsettling gaze never leaving Steve. There was mockery in his eyes, but a dark calculation as well. The silence between them grew heavy, suffocating. It was like the god was waiting—waiting for something. For Steve to break? For Nouri to falter? It was impossible to tell.

Amused. Unbothered. He knew.

He almost had him.

His voice was cold, dripping with venom and mockery. “Sensitive, are we?” Khonshu sneered, turning his words not just on Nouri, but on Steve as well, as if to further punctuate his manipulation.

Nouri’s flames flared hotter, brighter, as though the air itself were about to combust. “Leave. Now,” she commanded, her voice a low growl, filled with an authority that cut through the god’s mockery.

Khonshu hummed in consideration, as if toying with the idea. His presence was like a shadow over them, suffocating. It felt like the very weight of the moon was pressing down on them.

"Find Marc Spector," Khonshu finally commanded, his voice still impassive. “Or next time, Nouri, I will return, and I will take your precious husband.”

Nouri's eyes narrowed to slits, the fire around her flickering, wild but controlled. She knew exactly what he meant. The implications of his words hit her like a blow to the chest. He wasn’t threatening them; he was issuing a chilling ultimatum.

This wasn’t a request.

This was a hostage situation.

Steve, still reeling from Khonshu’s oppressive presence, shook his head, trying to ground himself, but his hands were still trembling. He was trying to regain control, but the god’s manipulation had already carved deep into his mind.

Nouri glanced at Khonshu; her voice low but laced with the sting of her unyielding resolve. “Isn’t he already your avatar?” she asked, her words dripping with defiance.

“There is a parasite inside him,” Khonshu snapped, his voice a venomous hiss. “Find him.”

Nouri closed her eyes for a moment, the weight of the situation settling on her like the crushing force of a storm cloud. She knew the stakes. She could feel the heaviness in her bones, the dread creeping in. But her resolve didn't waver.

“…Fine. I’ll find him,” Nouri sighed, the flames surrounding her momentarily dying down as her shoulders slumped in resignation.

Khonshu’s laughter rang through the air—cold, mocking, as if the very fabric of reality itself was being pulled apart. The sound was cruel, echoing into the vastness of the space, so sharp it made the ground tremble beneath their feet. It was a laughter that made the air itself feel thick, like it might collapse at any moment.

Then, just as suddenly, it vanished. Silence flooded the space, leaving an eerie stillness that hung heavy between them.

Steve stood there, rooted to the spot, the weight of Khonshu’s dark presence still lingering like a shadow over him. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and his hands trembled despite his best efforts to steady them. The weight of Khonshu’s influence was still pressing on his mind, clawing at the edges of his thoughts, even though the god had disappeared without a trace.

Nouri’s gaze softened as she took in the visible signs of distress on Steve’s face. She took a step closer to him, her presence a grounding force in the midst of the storm that still raged inside him. The fire around her, once wild and furious, flickered softly, dimming into a calm, almost ethereal glow that mirrored the stillness in her eyes. She reached out, her fingers brushing gently against his cheek, as though she could erase the lingering remnants of Khonshu’s touch.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but full of concern. Her hand lingered on his face, the warmth of her touch spreading through him.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, letting her warmth seep into his bones, trying to steady the chaos inside. He exhaled slowly, trying to push the remnants of fear and confusion away. His body still felt wrong—hollow, like something had tried to take root inside him.

He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, a soft chuckle escaping him despite the tension in his chest. “He’s very interesting, your father,” Steve muttered, shaking his head as if the weight of the encounter wasn’t enough to stop him from finding humour in the absurdity of it all.

Nouri’s lips quirked, a fleeting smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but it never reached her eyes. She could feel the unease still clinging to him, like a storm cloud just waiting to burst.

She gently cupped his face, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone in a silent attempt to soothe him. “You’re not okay,” she murmured, her voice a whisper of understanding.

“I’m fine,” Steve lied, but his hands, still shaking slightly, betrayed him. He couldn’t hide from her. He never could. Not when it came to her.

Nouri’s expression softened, a quiet determination settling in her eyes. She knew this battle wasn’t over, that the darkness would keep trying to pull at him. She stepped closer, the heat of her presence offering a comfort that he didn’t even know he needed.

“Steve…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotions that neither of them wanted to name just yet. “I have to go. But hopefully only for a little while.”

Steve took her hands in his, holding them tightly, as though if he let go, she would vanish. His voice was low and strained, but there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he spoke. “You don’t have to go… do you?” he asked, the words coming out more as a plea than a question. “I can’t lose you, Nouri. Not like this.”

Her eyes softened, and her heart ached with the intensity of the love that radiated from him. She could feel it in the way his hands held hers—so desperately, so completely—as though he was afraid that if he let go, everything they had would slip through his fingers.

“I’ll come back to you,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “Always.”

She leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, a lingering gesture full of warmth and reassurance. She wanted to stay. Wanted to lose herself in him and forget about everything else. But duty called, and she couldn’t ignore it. Not again.

Steve didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to. He tilted her chin up, his lips brushing hers in a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of everything they couldn’t say. A promise, a wish, a prayer that he could hold onto her just a little longer. His hands cradled her face, as though he was afraid if he let her slip away, he’d lose her for good.

When they finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing heavily, hearts racing with emotions too complicated to untangle. He could still feel the softness of her lips on his, the warmth of her skin against his own, the comfort she brought him in the midst of chaos.

“Come back to me,” he said, his voice thick with yearning, his hands sliding down to her shoulders, as if to anchor her to him for just a moment longer.

Nouri smiled gently, her eyes filled with the same quiet determination, but also a depth of love that she couldn’t hide. She reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again, a silent promise, before pulling away.

“I will,” she whispered against his lips, her voice barely audible, “I always will.”

And with that, she stepped back. Golden light began to surround her, wrapping her in a brilliant, divine glow that seemed to pulsate with power. Her form shimmered for a moment, her presence overwhelming and yet soft, like the sun meeting the moon in the quiet of twilight.

She took one last, lingering glance at him, her heart heavy with the weight of everything they had shared, and with a final breath, she vanished. Her light faded into the mortal realm, leaving Steve standing there, his heart pounding, his hands still outstretched as if he could somehow pull her back.

But the silence that followed was all-consuming. And though Nouri was gone, Steve knew one thing for sure—she would always return to him. Always.

And that was enough to keep him going.

Notes:

Enter Moon knight hihihihihih

Chapter 49: An Old Friend and A New Friend

February 25th, 2025

 

Being back in the mortal realm was a strange kind of disorientation for Nouri. The city sprawled before her—an intricate labyrinth of glass and steel, pulsating with life. It was a constant hum that seemed to echo in her chest, yet for all its energy, she felt adrift.

Two years. Two years of silence of watching the world continue without her, of learning the ways of this strange new age, while humanity continued its eternal march. It felt like the weight of time itself was pressing down on her shoulders, and yet, despite the world’s transformation, something felt oddly familiar. The people had moved on, but she remained rooted, a spectre from an age long gone. A ghost among the living.

Chicago wasn’t a city she had ever visited in her divine wanderings. She had spent her years watching from the shadows, feeling the pulse of human struggles from far above. But now, it was different. Khonshu, ever present in the back of her mind, had promised her that this city would be her place of reckoning. Here, he said, you will find Marc Spector.

As she rounded the corner, her heart seemed to do a strange flip in her chest. There, beneath the soft glow of a dim streetlamp, stood Marc Spector, a flask loosely held in his hand. His posture was slumped, the weight of his existence too much for him to bear. His eyes, bloodshot and weary, focused intently on the flask, as though it held the answers he so desperately sought.

There was something about him. The way his energy flickered and cracked, like the fragile flame of a candle. He was broken.

And Nouri could feel it, the fractured mind, the tormented soul. It pulled at her—compelling her to step closer, to observe, to understand.

She saw the moment—the one that seemed to shift everything. A soft, almost imperceptible tremor in his shoulders, the grief too much to hold in anymore. The raw agony in his chest bled through as he collapsed, his knees buckling beneath him. Nouri’s heart twisted in sympathy as she watched him crumble under the weight of memories, of guilt.

Marc was broken in ways even the gods couldn’t fully understand.

For a moment, Nouri stood frozen, her heart aching. His soul flickered like a dying ember, caught between life and death, sanity and madness. It was in that instant she felt it—the fracture within him. The two souls, intertwined, pulling in opposite directions. A strange, painful tug-of-war that Nouri couldn’t fully comprehend but could feel deep in her bones.

And then, as if the very air shifted, Nouri saw it. A change. Subtle, yet undeniable. Marc’s trembling stilled, his posture straightened, and there—there was someone else standing in his place. The aura was different. The energy—lighter, yet equally fractured. This wasn’t Marc anymore. This was someone else.

Steven Grant.

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest as she watched him—this man who had taken over, who wore Marc’s face but not his soul. The tension, the push and pull between them, was palpable. She could almost feel their conflict, their pain, as if it was her own.

"Fascinating..." she whispered softly, though the weight of her understanding weighed heavily on her chest.

This wasn’t just a mortal, this was a man fractured by forces beyond him, trapped between two identities. Yet, despite everything, he clung to life—holding onto a thread of hope, as if simply surviving was his greatest act of defiance.

---

Nouri stayed hidden in the shadows; her sharp gaze fixed on Steven Grant as he moved through the crowded streets. His demeanour was almost painfully innocent, a stark contrast to the chaos that always seemed to surround her. She observed him carefully, noting how he shifted uncomfortably in his coat, his movements always a bit unsure. As he adjusted his glasses and glanced around, she saw that his eyes were wide, his posture awkward and tense. There was something almost tragic about how he moved through the world—like someone who had never quite figured out how to belong in it.

"Who are we spying on?" A soft, familiar voice whispered in her ear, and Nouri startled, her breath catching in her chest. She spun around quickly, her hand reaching instinctively for the hilt of the knife at her side.

"Ardeth," she breathed, her heartbeat still a little too fast. "What are you doing here?"

Ardeth stood relaxed in the dimly lit alley, his posture casual yet alert. "Khonshu sent me to keep an eye on Spector. What’s your excuse?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the street for any other potential threats.

Nouri rolled her eyes, shaking her head in frustration. "That lying crow," she muttered, turning her attention back to Steven. Her fingers flexed at her sides, a mixture of frustration and guilt coursing through her veins. "He said Harrow is after Ammit. I’m here to make sure they don’t find her."

"Khonshu did mention Arthur Harrow," Ardeth continued, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. "If Harrow’s looking for Ammit’s ushabti, we can't let them find it. You know what that could mean."

Nouri's jaw tightened at the thought. She turned sharply to face him. "I know!" she hissed, more sharply than she intended.

Ardeth frowned as his gaze flicked to Steven. “But that man—he’s just a normal... well, he’s hardly a threat. Spector’s the one we need.”

Nouri sighed; her eyes still locked on Steven. “Steven Grant is hardly what he seems. I’m well aware of who he really is.” Her gaze flicked to the shadowed alley where Marc Spector, the true protector, resided. “Spector’s mind is fragmented, but all the pieces are connected. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Her voice softened slightly; her thoughts focused. “But I think I can help him realize it.”

Ardeth raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You think Steven Grant will help us get to Spector?”

Nouri turned to look at him with a knowing smile. “Steven Grant is Marc Spector. He just doesn’t know how much yet.”

Her voice softened as she glanced back at Steven, who had begun walking in the opposite direction, his attention still focused on his phone. "Stay here, I have a plan."

Ardeth raised an eyebrow but said nothing, disappearing into the shadows as Nouri made her way toward Steven.

Nouri merely nodded, her eyes hardening with resolve. She started walking toward Steven with a slow, deliberate pace, her mind already racing through the best course of action. As she neared him, her pulse quickened. She had to make sure her movements were subtle but effective.

With a calculated bump of her shoulder, she knocked into him just enough to make his phone tumble from his hand. It clattered to the ground, and Steven flinched as the device hit the pavement, followed by a quick apology from Nouri.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she said, a charming British accent lacing her voice as she bent down to help pick up the phone. “How clumsy of me.”

Steven blinked in shock, then awkwardly knelt to help, his hands shaking slightly as he grabbed his phone. "Oh—bollocks!" he muttered under his breath, his face flushed with embarrassment. "It's alright, really. No harm done. Just a phone, innit?"

Nouri couldn't help but smile at how flustered he was. She reached down to gather the scattered items and gently handed them back to him. "No, no. I insist. I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive me," she said, her voice sincere, yet laced with a playful hint of mischief.

"It's alright," Steven mumbled, his voice higher than normal, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. "It’s just a phone. I—I should’ve been paying more attention anyway." He laughed awkwardly, brushing the hair from his forehead.

Nouri let out a soft chuckle, maintaining her composure. "Actually, I was hoping you could help me. I'm a bit lost, you see." Her tone shifted, adopting a tone of light-hearted innocence. "I’m new here, and, well, I’m not quite sure which way to go."

Steven’s eyes brightened a little, a flicker of hope in his nervous energy. "Oh! You’re lost? Yeah, no, that happens to me all the time. Cars drive on the left where I’m from. Bit confusing, yeah?" He laughed nervously, rubbing his neck and avoiding eye contact.

"Ah, so you’re from England?" Nouri asked, her curiosity piqued as she watched him. It felt like the right time to push a little further.

"Yeah. London," Steven replied, his voice becoming a little more animated, his nerves momentarily forgotten. "I’m originally from there, y’know? Can’t quite get the hang of the streets here yet. But, you know, getting lost is half the fun, innit?" His voice was eager, but there was a trace of the anxious, jumpy energy she had noticed before. Despite his words, he seemed a bit disoriented.

"London!" Nouri repeated, her smile widening. "What a small world. I live there, too, you know. It’s such a lovely place, though quite different from here." Her voice was warm, sincere.

Steven’s face brightened even more, and for a second, his nervousness seemed to fade. "Oh! Really? That’s mad! It’s nice to find someone from home. I don’t... I don’t meet many people from London here."

"Small world indeed," Nouri replied with a laugh, her eyes glinting with intrigue. She decided to let her true persona come through a little more—she had to be careful, but she didn’t mind making a little more of an impression. “I’m Dr. Nura R. Khonshari,” Nouri said smoothly, offering her hand with a small, pleasant smile. “And you are?”

Steven blinked, clearly surprised. “Uh—Steven. Steven Grant.” He hesitated before shaking her hand, his grip a little unsure but genuine. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Khonshari.”

Nouri smiled warmly at him, her eyes studying him carefully. "It’s a pleasure, Steven. I’m actually quite fond of London myself. Maybe I’ll see you there again sometime?"

Steven’s eyes widened slightly, as if the idea of running into her again hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh—yeah, totally. Yeah! That’d be great.” His voice was a little too eager, his face flushing a deeper shade of red. “It was really nice to meet you, Dr. Khonshari. I, uh, better get going.”

Nouri gave him a playful smile, watching as he scrambled to gather his things, clearly flustered. “Of course. Take care, Steven. Perhaps I’ll see you in London soon.”

As she turned to leave, Steven’s eyes lingered on her retreating form, still processing the encounter. He watched her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to adjust his glasses once more.

When Nouri rounded the corner and met up with Ardeth, she couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

"So?" he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“We need to get to London,” Nouri replied, a sly smile playing on her lips.

With that, they both melted back into the shadows, leaving the street behind them and disappearing into the night, their mission only beginning.

---

As Nouri and Ardeth moved through the busy streets of Chicago, the city lights flickered like a thousand distant stars, casting a golden glow over everything. Without a word between them, they veered off into a quiet alley, where an unattended sleek sedan sat, waiting as though it had been placed there just for them.

Ardeth raised an eyebrow as Nouri swiftly approached the car, opening the door with an effortless flick of her hand before sliding into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life almost immediately, humming with the power of something ancient—something far from mundane.

"Really? We're stealing cars now?" Ardeth’s voice was teasing, but there was an edge of amusement in his tone as he climbed into the passenger seat.

"Borrowing," Nouri corrected with a glint of mischief in her eyes as she smoothly shifted into gear. "Besides, I don’t think anyone will miss it much."

Ardeth let out an exaggerated sigh, settling into his seat as Nouri expertly navigated the streets, the hum of the engine accompanying their journey. It was only a matter of minutes before the sprawling city skyline was swallowed by the night, replaced by dark stretches of highway and the soft hum of passing lights.

Finally, Ardeth couldn’t keep his curiosity in check. “Where exactly are we headed?”

Nouri's gaze softened for a moment; her eyes distant yet filled with warmth. "To see an old friend."

The drive stretched on, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding. They exchanged a few quiet words, memories of battles fought, and old haunts shared, before the urban sprawl gave way to rolling farmland, vast fields stretching to the horizon. Hours passed as the landscape changed, until they finally arrived at a picturesque homestead, nestled like a quiet secret among lush, green pastures. It was the kind of home that exuded peace, a refuge from the chaos of the world they often found themselves in.

As Nouri stepped out of the car, Ardeth followed closely, his posture ever-protective. Nouri paused for a moment, inhaling the crisp country air, before her gaze shifted toward a man standing in the driveway, his back to them as he watched a young boy toss a baseball high into the air.

"Dad?" the boy asked, his voice the first to break the quiet.

The man turned slowly, his face initially guarded, but the moment he laid eyes on Nouri, his expression softened, disbelief flashing across his features before quickly morphing into stunned recognition.

"Go inside, Nate," Clint said quietly, his voice warm but firm, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. The boy hesitated, curiosity dancing in his eyes, but after a moment, he obeyed, heading toward the house with the wide-eyed wonder of youth.

Once alone, Clint’s gaze never left Nouri as he took a step toward her. “Thought you were dead,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and the beginnings of relief, his lips tugging into a hesitant, yet genuine, smile.

"I am," Nouri replied with a hint of playful sarcasm, her voice carrying a lightness that belied the weight of her long years. She stepped forward, embracing Clint tightly, the familiarity of the gesture erasing any remnants of tension between them. Clint returned the hug with fierce intensity, the quiet sigh of relief escaping his lips a sound Nouri hadn’t realized she was waiting to hear.

“It’s good to see you, Clint,” she whispered, her voice soft, the years of separation melting away in that simple moment.

"Yeah," Clint replied, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. "You too."

They both sat down together on the wide porch steps, the warmth of the sun mingling with the faint hum of crickets in the background. The quiet was comfortable, the sort of silence shared between those who knew one another too well for words to always be necessary. Ardeth, ever the sentinel, kept his distance, leaning against the car, vigilant as always.

“So,” Clint began, breaking the silence as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “Care to tell me what you’re really doing here? Pretty sure it wasn’t just to catch up.”

Nouri let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I do miss the good old days, Barton. But I need your help.”

Clint groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Oh no. Nouri, I’m retired,” he said, his tone playfully sarcastic. “Have you noticed my very quiet farm life? It’s nice.”

Nouri grinned knowingly, nudging him with her shoulder. “All I need is a place in London. Somewhere discreet. I figured you might still have some connections floating around.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “London? You’ve got my attention now,” he admitted, the playful gleam in his eye turning serious for a moment. “And why exactly are you going to London? Sounds serious.”

"Someone is threatening to disrupt the balance," Nouri explained, her tone lowering, her expression growing sombre. "I’ve been asked to intervene. Again."

“Ah,” Clint nodded knowingly, a half-chuckle escaping him. "God stuff. Should’ve known. Who’s stirring trouble this time?"

"Someone named Arthur Harrow," she said softly, the name causing a shadow to pass over her face.

Clint’s face darkened, but he nodded. “I’ll reach out to some of my old SHIELD contacts. There’s someone I trust who can help you find exactly what you need.” His eyes flickered briefly toward the house; his gaze heavy with the weight of his family. He turned back to Nouri, the mood shifting to something more serious. “But be careful, Nouri,” he added, his voice low.

Nouri smiled gently, standing and pulling him into another brief embrace. "Always am."

She turned back toward the car, but Clint’s voice stopped her. “Wait—before you go…”

Nouri paused, turning back to him, her heart tight with understanding.

“How is she?” Clint’s voice was quiet, laden with more unspoken emotions than Nouri had expected.

Her expression softened instantly, the gentleness in her eyes speaking volumes. "Natasha is happy, Clint," she answered quietly. "She found peace."

Clint swallowed hard, his shoulders relaxing as the relief swept over him. “Good… that’s good to hear.”

With a final, reassuring smile, Nouri returned to the car. As she slid behind the wheel, Ardeth climbed in beside her, watching as Clint raised a hand in silent farewell.

“You trust him,” Ardeth noted, his voice calm but observant.

Nouri nodded thoughtfully; her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Clint and I have history. Good history.”

Ardeth’s lips curled into a smirk. “Then let’s hope your friend can deliver.”

Nouri’s gaze sharpened with quiet confidence as she pulled out onto the road. “He always has,” she said softly. “Now, let’s catch our flight—London is waiting.”

As they made their way toward the airport, a comfortable silence enveloped the car. Both of them knew the storm ahead was brewing, but for the first time in a long while, they felt ready.

---

The flight to London was uneventful, the hours slipping by in an almost surreal haze. For Nouri, the soft hum of the plane felt like a strange comfort—a moment of peace before the chaos that awaited them on the ground. Beside her, Ardeth was unusually quiet, his gaze drifting out the small window, as if he’d forgotten they weren’t on a camel in the desert anymore.

As the plane descended, the city of London came into view, sprawling beneath them like a never-ending sea of grey buildings and green parks. It was far from the heat of Egypt, and Nouri could feel a slight tension in the air. Not from the unfamiliar city itself, but from the knowledge that they were about to step into a place that was a far cry from their usual comfort zones.

They touched down, and Clint had worked his magic, securing them an apartment just steps away from the National Art Gallery in Trafalgar Square. It was quiet, almost too quiet, in a neighbourhood where the bustle of London seemed to fade into the background. But even in its stillness, Nouri couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no place to remain hidden forever.

As the cab pulled up, she stepped out and took a deep breath. “Ah, the smell of real civilization,” Nouri teased, casting a grin toward Ardeth. “Too bad it’s got nothing on the desert winds.”

Ardeth shot her a look that could only be described as a ‘don’t tempt me’ expression. “You’ll be fine,” he said, locking eyes with her. “And if not, I’ll just start a dust storm for you.”

Nouri raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s what I call service.”

“Do you have a plan for finding Steven Grant?” Ardeth asked, his tone shifting back to serious as they crossed the street, heading toward the gallery.

“Plan?” Nouri scoffed lightly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve watched the world for millennia. I’m practically a professional at finding people.” She grinned at him. “Except when it’s not so easy. Steven Grant? He's like... a puzzle wrapped in a mystery, surrounded by confusion.”

Ardeth’s brows furrowed in mock concern. “You mean, ‘fractured soul’ mystery, don’t you?”

“Yeah, that,” Nouri sighed, her tone softening as she glanced around. “I can usually feel their hearts, their desires, their... quirks. With Steven or Marc, it’s like I’m trying to connect through a wall of fog. It’s like... the guy's got twobrains fighting for real estate.”

“Two?” Ardeth asked, a hint of genuine confusion in his voice. “What do you mean, two?”

Nouri paused, feeling a bit of frustration bubbling up. “like his soul’s on two different frequencies. I can't even reach it the way I normally do. It’s... like there’s a hole in the connection. A fractured, fragmented thing that makes it hard to even see where he’s hiding.”

Ardeth placed a hand on her shoulder, steady and calm. “Then we’ll find him the old-fashioned way,” he said, a half-smile playing on his lips. “One step at a time. Or... one bad joke at a time, as you prefer.”

Nouri snorted. “Oh, trust me, there will be plenty of jokes. Especially when I finally get him to talk.”

The weight of their unspoken thoughts hung in the air, but Nouri refused to let it settle too heavily on her shoulders. “I’ll find him. I always do.”

As they approached the National Art Gallery, the grand building loomed before them like something out of history, its stone pillars and intricate carvings seemingly mocking her uncertainty. But she pushed aside her doubts. If fate had drawn her here, there was no turning back.

“Let’s begin.” His eyes scanned the area, and he gave a firm nod, his military discipline making its usual appearance

They walked toward the entrance, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the early morning. Nouri could feel the pull of fate drawing them in, but as they neared the doors, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this search was going to be much more complicated than she had ever anticipated.

---

April 24th, 2025

 

Nouri sat at a small table near the window of a quiet café, watching the steady stream of visitors pass by the National Gallery. The soft hum of conversation around her seemed distant, and her mind wandered through the task ahead—tracking down Steven Grant. It had been weeks of fruitless searching, hours spent poring over leads that turned out to be dead ends. But today, something felt different.

She sipped her coffee, eyes scanning the street outside, and then—a flicker of recognition. She saw him. Steven Grant, walking briskly by the café. His dishevelled hair and slightly hunched shoulders were unmistakable. He was wearing a grey jacket and blue trousers, looking just as out of place as he always did.

Found him, National Art Gallery, Nouri quickly texted to Ardeth, her heart thudding in her chest. She was so close now. She stood up, slipping her phone back into her pocket, and followed him at a careful distance, her footsteps light and unhurried.

She watched as Steven entered the museum; the door swinging shut behind him. Nouri’s curiosity piqued, she moved swiftly toward the entrance and followed him in. The gallery was quiet, the scent of old paper and dust filling the air as she walked through the halls, her eyes on Steven’s figure ahead. He moved purposefully, and before long, he vanished into an employee-only area, disappearing behind a restricted door.

Nouri paused for a moment, weighing her options. She couldn't risk being seen following him into a private space, but something told her she needed to stay in the vicinity. She glanced around, spotting an exhibit room that looked like it could give her a few minutes of peace. The exhibit was on Ancient Egypt—an unexpected but welcome twist.

Nouri's eyes widened as she stepped into the exhibit. Her gaze fell upon the relics of her past: statues, urns, and hieroglyphics, some of which were intimately familiar. The sight of them stirred memories in her, memories of a time when she had walked freely among mortals, of the days when she was revered, not forgotten. The memories began to play in her mind like a silent film—days spent in the temple, watching over her people, guiding souls in the afterlife.

Her heart ached as she ran her fingers over the glass case housing an ancient scarab. The memories were painful, but they were also a reminder of who she was. She had once been more than this—more than a figure in a museum, a relic of the past.

“Dr. Khonshari?”

The voice startled Nouri, pulling her out of her thoughts. She spun around quickly, eyes wide, and found herself face to face with none other than Steven Grant. He looked equally surprised to see her.

“Oh, Steven!” Nouri smiled, her face lighting up with warmth. She quickly masked the flurry of emotions that had risen in her chest. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Steven blinked, adjusting his glasses nervously, and his smile was almost apologetic. “Oh! Uh, fancy that,” he said, awkwardly glancing around before his eyes met hers again. “I, uh, work here.”

“Work here?” Nouri raised an eyebrow, stepping toward him. “As a guide?”

Steven flinched slightly, a nervous laugh escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, no, no. I work in the, uh... you know, in the, uh... gift shop... and also, uh, as a... well, I’m a... employee here.” His words tripped over each other; his discomfort palpable.

Nouri couldn’t help but smile wider at his awkwardness. “Ah, I see,” she said, leaning in slightly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “So, tell me, Steven, what exactly is your favourite exhibit? Surely, you’ve seen some of the most amazing things here?”

Steven’s face flushed slightly. “Well... uh... I guess I’ve always been, you know, kind of into history. Ancient history, especially. Egypt’s... Egypt’s been a big part of that. I, uh... I read a lot about it.”

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat. He’s been reading about Egypt? This was... unexpected. She had assumed Steven was just another visitor, a random person walking through, but now? She was intrigued.

“Really?” Nouri tilted her head, a playful curiosity in her voice. “What exactly have you been reading about, Steven? Egypt’s history is quite a topic to dive into. I’d be curious to hear your take on it.”

“Well...” Steven seemed to gain more confidence at the mention of Egypt. “I mean, the gods of Egypt, for one. The whole... you know, pantheon. Ra, Khonshu, Isis... the whole lot of them.” He paused, clearly passionate as he continued. “But, uh... the Ennead. I find that especially fascinating.”

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest. The Ennead? She had not expected him to know about that, not to this extent. Her mind raced, but she quickly masked her surprise with a gentle smile. “Ah, yes, the Ennead. The divine council of Egypt, right? Ra, Khonshu, Osiris, Horus... A fascinating group, indeed. They were not just rulers, but the very forces that governed the universe. They ruled the heavens, the earth... and the afterlife too. Did you know the Ennead were thought to embody both order and chaos?”

Steven’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by her depth of knowledge. “Wait, you really know all about them? I mean... you really know about them?”

Nouri’s smile deepened, pleased by his interest. “Of course. The Ennead were central to ancient Egyptian religion. They were seen as the gods who represented everything in life—the sun, the moon, life, death, order, chaos. They brought balance to the world.” She paused for a moment, her voice shifting to a more contemplative tone. “But their relationships were complex. Khonshu, for example, is often viewed as a god of vengeance, but also as a protector, a figure of justice—much like Ra, who governed the world with power but was also a symbol of creation.”

Steven blinked, clearly processing what she was saying. “I didn’t think I’d meet someone who actually knew this much about them. It’s... incredible. It’s almost like you’ve lived it, y’know? Lived it, like you were there.”

Nouri fought the urge to let her true feelings show, keeping her tone casual, yet a tiny bit teasing. “Well, I’ve studied it for a long time,” she said, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’m a historian with a doctorate in Egyptology. My focus is on ancient civilizations, particularly Egypt. The gods, the pharaohs, the rituals—they’ve all been the subject of my life’s work.”

Steven blinked; his mouth slightly agape. “That’s incredible. You’re... you’re like the real deal. You’ve actually studied all of this, and you can just rattle off names and... and gods like it’s nothing!”

Nouri chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Well, it’s my area of expertise after all,” she said casually, brushing a loose curl from her face. “But what’s truly fascinating is how much you know, Steven. I’m impressed. You’ve obviously done a lot of research for someone working in a gift shop.”

Steven’s cheeks flushed, a small shy smile creeping up. “Well, uh... yeah, I’ve read a lot. I mean, it’s... it’s kinda an obsession at this point.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve just... I’ve always found it, uh, kinda fascinating, y’know? The stories, the gods... I dunno. They all feel so real to me. Like, I was meant to understand it.”

Nouri’s gaze softened, sensing the sincerity in his words. “Perhaps you were meant to, Steven,” she said gently, her voice taking on a quiet but serious note. “After all, there’s always more to history than what we can see on the surface. The gods, the legends, they are part of something much greater than us. But sometimes, people like you—people who are curious and open—are drawn to them for a reason.”

Steven blinked, as if the weight of her words had just hit him. “Yeah... yeah, I guess so. I’ve always felt like something’s missing. Like I’ve... missed something big, something important. And, uh, maybe... maybe the gods have something to do with it?”

Nouri smiled warmly at him; her eyes gleaming with understanding. “That’s a possibility. The gods of Egypt were said to weave themselves into the very fabric of existence. Perhaps, in your search for knowledge, you’re tapping into something deeper.”

The conversation drifted deeper into the realm of Egyptian mythology, with Steven growing more animated, gesturing as he spoke. Nouri couldn’t help but admire his passion. The way he talked about Egypt, the gods, and the ancient world made it clear that Steven had a spark for history, a deep curiosity that had only been nurtured by years of reading and research. And though he may have been shy, there was an undeniable excitement in his eyes now—he had found someone who truly understood what he was saying.

But before Nouri could dive even deeper into their conversation, a voice suddenly broke through, sharp and demanding.

“Stevie!” The voice came from behind them, and Nouri turned to see a woman storming toward them. Her arms were crossed, her face a mask of irritation.

Steven’s face instantly changed, and he quickly shifted his stance, looking embarrassed. “Oh, uh, Donna! Hi—”

“Stevie, I’ve been calling you for ages. You’ve got work to do, don’t you?” Donna snapped, her tone dripping with annoyance. “You can’t just stand around all day chatting. Get back to the gift shop. You know, where you’re supposed to be.”

Steven’s shoulders slumped, and he shot Nouri an apologetic look. “Sorry, I—I’ll be right there, Donna,” he muttered, his voice small. “Just... just a sec.”

Donna gave a huff of impatience and turned to walk away. “You better be there before I have to drag you, Stevie.”

Steven quickly turned back to Nouri, a sheepish expression on his face. “I—uh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to keep you, I really—uh, well, I’d love to chat more, but... my shift, right?” He nervously cleared his throat. “But hey, um, maybe after my shift ends at seven? I can, uh, meet you? We could grab a coffee... or I dunno, talk about Egypt some more? You know, if you want.”

Nouri’s smile softened as she watched Steven, his nerves palpable in the way his hands twitched, and his eyes darted around. “I’d love that, Steven,” she replied warmly, her voice carrying the kindness that always seemed to flow naturally when she was near him. “Seven o’clock it is.”

Steven’s face lit up, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Great! I’ll, uh, I’ll meet you outside, yeah? Promise I won’t be late.” He hesitated for a second before adding, “No, no, absolutely no way I’m gonna be late. Uh, I’ll definitely be there.”

He quickly shuffled off, looking a bit like a puppy trying to rush but getting tangled in his own feet, his excitement infectious. Nouri’s heart fluttered slightly as she watched him disappear into the gift shop, the energy he radiated, even in his awkwardness, a little more than what she had expected. She hadn’t felt this drawn to someone in a long time—not just because of his passion for Egypt, but because of something deeper. There was a sincerity in him that made her want to know more.

“You know you have a husband, right?” a voice teased from behind Nouri.

“A fine and very handsome husband, too,” Nouri chuckled, lacing her arm through Ardeth’s as they walked out of the museum.

“Ah, yes. Steve Rogers is quite fine. But tell me, what did you find?” Ardeth asked with a raised brow, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Nouri grinned, tilting her head. “Well, he works at the gift shop—an unlikely place for someone like him,” she said, with a playful wink. “And get this: he’s obsessed with Ancient Egypt. I think he spends more time reading about it than actually selling souvenirs."

Ardeth smirked. “Is that so? I suppose the poor man is just as lost in history as you are, then?”

“Oh, definitely. He probably spends more time reading the hieroglyphs than working. It’s quite charming, actually,” Nouri replied, smiling fondly at the thought of Steven’s enthusiasm for their shared passion.

“Anything on Harrow?” Ardeth asked, his tone shifting to a more serious one.

“Nope,” Nouri sighed, her smile fading slightly. “But Steven wants me to meet him after his shift is done. We’re going to chat more about Egypt. No harm in that, right?”

Ardeth gave her a long look. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Nouri waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. He’s harmless. Sweet, even. The worst thing he’ll do is tell me about how much he loves his mummy collection.”

Ardeth raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like people who collect mummies?”

“I make an exception for Steven,” she said with a soft laugh, “Besides, he’s absolutely adorable in a bumbling, lost-in-time kind of way.”

Ardeth shook his head, chuckling softly as they walked down the street. “How is your husband, by the way?” he asked smugly, as if trying to rile her up.

“Oh, you know, Steve’s at peace,” Nouri said, her tone turning warmer as she thought about him. “He loves the Field of Reeds. Honestly, I think he’d be perfectly happy staying there for eternity if it meant not having to deal with... well, this." She waved around them dramatically, indicating the chaos of the modern world.

Ardeth raised an eyebrow. “He truly finds peace in such a place?”

“Absolutely. But I think he misses the action. You know, saving the world, fighting bad guys. The usual.” Nouri grinned. “That’s probably why he so adores the idea of this ‘superhero’ life. Just... without all the fighting. Mostly.”

The hours flew by, and it was soon time for Nouri to leave. She stood up, adjusting her clothes. “I’m leaving!” she called out as she threw a jacket over her shoulders. “And if Khonshu asks, tell him I’m keeping his precious avatar safe.”

Ardeth didn’t even glance up from the book he was reading. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Nouri just shook her head, a chuckle escaping her lips as she exited the apartment, the cool London air hitting her face.

---

The museum was eerily quiet when she arrived at exactly 7 p.m.

Five minutes passed.

No one.

Ten minutes.

Still no one.

Thirty minutes.

Nothing.

An hour later, she crossed her arms, a frown tugging at her lips. “Where is he?” Nouri whispered to herself, her patience thinning as she stepped into the museum.

A man behind the desk looked up, giving her a half-smile. “Sorry, love. Museum’s closed.”

Nouri’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sorry, I was waiting for a friend... Steven Grant?” she asked, trying to keep the frustration from creeping into her voice.

“Ah, ol’ Stevie?” The man chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, he left two hours ago. Wasn’t his shift ‘til six, though.”

Nouri blinked, feeling a wave of disbelief hit her. “He—he left at six?” She let out a breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “Thanks,” she muttered, turning to leave.

---

Back at the apartment, Ardeth was still reading, not looking up from his book. “Finished so quickly?” he asked casually.

“That jerk!” Nouri huffed, dropping her bag with a dramatic sigh. “He said he’d finish at seven, but I asked the man at the desk, and they said Steven finished two hours ago!”

Ardeth didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “He probably got cold feet,” he said.

“Oh, I bet he did,” Nouri said with a half-laugh, half-grumble. She plopped down on the couch beside him, crossing her arms. “I just don’t get it. He seemed so eager earlier, and now he’s... gone? What is he, a ghost?”

“Maybe he’s just a little... intimidated?” Ardeth suggested, teasingly. “You are a goddess.”

Nouri rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.” She leaned back on the couch, staring out the window into the dark, sprawling city of London.

Ardeth paused, his voice becoming more serious. “You know, Nouri, not everyone knows what to do with someone like you. They can’t even fathom what it must be like to be... you.”

She gave him a small, thoughtful smile. “Maybe. But that’s their loss.” She leaned back in the chair, stretching her arms and letting out a yawn. “Besides, if Steven wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me.”

Ardeth smirked at her, “Maybe he’s just not ready for this much goddess.”

Nouri laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

And as the city lights twinkled in the distance, Nouri couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right—Steven was hiding something, and it wasn’t just fear. He was hiding something much deeper.

Chapter 50: The Moon Knight

Notes:

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April 28th, 2025

 

The last four days had felt like a game of waiting and watching. Nouri had sat in the same spot at the café, watching the museum entrance as she waited for Steven Grant to show up. She had come at the usual time, expecting him to emerge from the museum after his shift. But each day passed without a sign of him.

Today, however, was different. Today, Steven was rushing past her, his footsteps hurried, his eyes wide as if he was running from something. She didn't hesitate. Nouri sprang up and, without thinking, grabbed his arm, pulling him into the alley next to the museum.

“Oi! Steven Grant! You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp.

Steven stumbled, almost falling over his own feet, looking at her in confusion. “Wh—wh—what?!” He stuttered, his eyes scanning the area around them, his breath coming in fast, nervous bursts.

“You asked me to meet you after your shift ended, but you never showed up!” Nouri’s voice was laced with frustration, though her tone softened when she saw the look of panic on his face.

“I’m sorry! I swear! I—something weirds been happening,” Steven sputtered, his voice shaky. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost, his eyes darting around nervously. “I... I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, Nouri. I’ve been seeing this... this tall, bird thing everywhere. And I keep blacking out. I—I was in bed one minute, and the next, I woke up in Austria, being followed by this guy, and I... I think I killed people, Nura. I—” His voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes widened in fear. “I think I killed people.”

Nouri’s hand tightened on his arm, a mix of concern and disbelief flashing across her face. “Wait, a tall bird thing? What are you talking about, Steven?”

His eyes darted nervously to the museum door, and without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her hand and dragged her inside.

"Hey, J.B., how you doin’, mate?" Steven said, waving at the man behind the front desk.

J.B. barely looked up from his computer, his eyes squinting as if the effort of acknowledging Steven was more trouble than it was worth. “How’s it going, Scotty? All right, mate?” he muttered lazily.

“It's Steven,” Steven corrected, almost immediately growing annoyed. “You watching otter videos again?” he asked, trying to hide his frustration with a forced laugh.

“They’re adorable, mate,” J.B. said, completely unfazed.

“Great. Yeah. Cool, cool, cool,” Steven responded, dragging Nouri with him toward the back. “Listen, mate, I need you to keep an eye out for me, alright? I'm being followed.”

J.B. looked at him, unimpressed. “Really, mate?”

“Yeah, really,” Steven said, his voice quieter now, laced with urgency. “Look, just don’t let anyone in, yeah? Anyone who looks dodgy. Just keep 'em out.”

J.B. sighed, rolling his eyes. “It’s a museum, mate. That’s gonna be a bit hard, innit?”

“Obviously, I know that” Steven said, starting to sound more frustrated. “But like, just trust me. I’ve got... I’ve got a bad feeling about it, alright?”

J.B. shrugged. “Anyone who wants to come in can, it’s free.” He said the words like they meant nothing, like it was all just part of the same routine.

"Great, thanks." Steven ran a hand through his hair, then looked at Nouri, his voice low. "Just... just... stay with me for a minute, yeah?"

Nouri nodded, but before she could respond, Donna, one of the museum staff, walked over, arms full of documents.

“Can you take these downstairs?” she said curtly.

“Take ‘em downstairs now,” she repeated, impatience creeping into her tone.

Steven looked at her, then back at Nouri, his face filled with pleading frustration. “Will you just give me a minute? I—I need to talk to you about this, okay?”

Donna’s face was hard as stone. “Take it downstairs now,” she repeated, cutting him off.

Steven cursed under his breath, dragging Nouri further into the museum, away from the increasingly tense atmosphere at the front desk. “Look, Nura, that man—the one at the statue—I swear, he was on the bus with me. He was following me, and... and I’m not making this up!” he said, his voice growing more panicked.

Nouri followed his hurried steps, trying to keep her voice calm and soothing, though a growing sense of unease filled her chest. “Alright, Steven, just breathe. Let’s take a second. You’re not making sense. A bird? A man following you? What is happening here?”

She could see the stress written all over his face, the panic slowly building as he rambled on. Steven wasn’t just frightened—he was scared of something he couldn’t control. 

They slipped into one of the exhibits, but before Steven could start explaining again, Donna’s voice cut through the air. “You’re still on inventory tonight, Steven.”

---

Steven dragged Nouri through the dim corridors of the Museum, his pace quickening as he glanced nervously over his shoulder. The weight of his own voice echoed too loudly in his head, and every unfamiliar sound felt like a threat. “No, no, no—this is definitely not how I imagined my Tuesday,” he muttered, gripping her wrist a little tighter as he moved faster. Nouri, in contrast, walked calmly beside him, her steps light but purposeful, her gaze scanning every shadow with practiced ease. She didn’t speak, but the tension in her body was palpable. There was something off about all of this. She could feel it.

Steven, looking back at her, swallowed nervously. “I swear, I’m not a bad guy. I’m just... I just work here, okay?” His voice was strained, too much on edge. His heart was hammering, and his breathing was shallow as if he were about to run.

Before Nouri could respond, a voice cut through the thick silence that had settled over them like a blanket.

“So, you really do work here.” The voice was smooth, calm—and chilling. It carried an unsettling confidence that made Steven freeze. His eyes widened in recognition as the figure stepped from behind one of the exhibits, cutting off their retreat. The man was tall, his face shrouded in a shadowy calmness that made the air around him feel colder.

“Oh, God,” Steven whispered under his breath, nearly stumbling backward in fear. His grip on Nouri’s hand tightened, his knuckles white. She could feel his pulse racing through his veins.

Nouri's own heart picked up pace, though she didn’t show it. The man’s presence was unnerving, his very being sending a ripple of warning through her. This wasn’t just any man. His air of arrogance, of knowing something she didn’t, made her cautious. She turned her head slowly toward Steven. Not yet, Steven. Not yet.

The man smiled—an unsettling, almost predatory grin—and stepped closer, eyes locked on Steven. “I'd assumed Steven Grant was an alias. Imagine my surprise to find you here.” He took another step forward, his eyes now flicking over to Nouri, who stood stiffly by Steven’s side, her presence more intimidating than she meant to let on.

“Excuse me, Ronnie,” Steven blurted, his voice desperate as he made a beeline for the security guard standing by the door. “This man right here’s been following me.”

The guard, Ronnie, looked up lazily, his face blank, as if he’d seen a million situations like this one. Then his gaze shifted to the man in front of them, and suddenly the room seemed to shift with a new weight.

The man kept his eyes on Steven, not in anger, but in cold amusement. “And to my surprise…” He tilted his head, as if enjoying the moment. “You have a goddess with you.”

Nouri tensed. Her eyes locked with Arthur’s, and she didn’t flinch. She didn’t want to reveal anything, not yet, but his words stung—cutting straight to the heart of her concealed identity. The air around them felt thick with tension, and her senses were on high alert.

“Arthur Harrow?” Her eyes were fixed on him, narrowing slightly as she spoke, a mix of curiosity and suspicion rising within her.

Arthur's lips curled into a tight smile, almost as if he’d been expecting her to ask. “So, you’ve heard of me,” he said softly, stepping closer with an almost predatory grace. “I’m flattered.”

Nouri’s chest tightened, but she kept her face impassive. Her mind raced. So, it is him. 

Ronnie raised his wrist casually, and Nouri’s gaze snapped to it: a tattoo of scales—Ammit’s symbol. No. Her gut twisted in recognition, and it took every ounce of her control not to react. 

“Praise Ammit,” Ronnie murmured, his voice low, reverent.

Nouri’s eyes flared with silent fury. Of course, she thought bitterly, though her voice stayed controlled. "Thank you," Arthur said, not taking his eyes off Nouri, as if testing her.

“Ronnie, you’re part of this?” Steven’s voice shook, his confusion evident, his fingers twitching like he might bolt. “Mate, I swear I don’t have your bloody beetle. I—I swear! I... wait. Did you just say goddess?” His words were tripping over themselves, clearly panicking.

Arthur chuckled softly at Steven’s disarray, but his gaze sharpened as he shifted his attention to a drawing of Ammit on one of the pillars. “Oh no, the scarab doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to her. Do you know Ammit?”

Nouri’s heart pounded louder now. She wasn’t sure whether to play along or step forward, but something in her gut told her it was too late for subtlety. 

“Do I know Ammit... No, not personally. Egyptian deity, right?” Steven said, his voice still tinged with uncertainty as he shifted on his feet, his hands nervously wringing in front of him. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten into this situation, but his gut told him things were about to spiral.

Nouri’s gaze pierced through him with a sharp, knowing intensity. “World's first bogeyman,” she replied, her voice carrying an ancient weight, full of wisdom and fire. Her words were calm, but they held a fury beneath the surface, the kind of fury that could scorch the earth.

Arthur Harrow’s lips curled into a smile, a strange glimmer in his eyes. He laughed lightly, a sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “She was only the bogeyman for evildoers.”

Steven, still trying to grasp the situation, shook his head. “Not exactly my idea of justice, but... okay. This is a lot to unpack.” He turned to Nouri, his face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “You, a goddess?” he whispered. “What is happening?”

Nouri ignored him.

"She grew weary of having to wait for sinners to commit their crimes before punishing them," Arthur continued, his voice rising with the satisfaction of someone who knew exactly what buttons to push. “Would you wait to weed a garden till after the roses were dead?”

"I wouldn’t do that," Steven muttered, instinctively taking a step back, his mind whirling as he searched for some way out of this conversation—or out of the room entirely.

The air around them thickened as Arthur’s words settled in. Nouri’s chest tightened, and she stood a little straighter. “The justice of Ammit surveys the whole of our lives—past, present, future. She knows what we’ve done and what we will do,” Arthur explained, his eyes shining with conviction as if he truly believed he was unveiling some profound truth.

Nouri’s lips parted slightly, her gaze shifting to Arthur like a hunter zeroing in on prey. “That’s why the gods had her imprisoned,” she hissed, the words like a blade, her voice trembling with anger. The very thought of Ammit’s ideology, of judging humanity before it even had the chance to make its mistakes, made Nouri’s blood boil.

Arthur’s grin only deepened, and the smile that spread across his face was nothing short of evil. "Consider this..." he said, circling them like a predator stalking its prey. "Had Ammit been free, she would have prevented Hitler and the destruction he brought. Nero, the Armenian genocide, Pol Pot."

“Not nice people,” Steven replied, his voice cracking slightly as he glanced nervously between Nouri and Arthur. His whole body tensed as if he were preparing to bolt at any second.

"But she was betrayed," Arthur said, walking closer now, the space between them closing quickly. The smirk was gone, replaced by an expression that suggested a deeper, almost painful conviction.

“Was she?” Steven asked, his voice laced with scepticism, his brows furrowing. He didn’t understand. Was Ammit’s imprisonment really about preventing evil, or was it more about control?

"By indolent fellow gods," Arthur continued, leaning closer, his voice low and almost conspiratorial..

Nouri’s chest rose and fell with barely contained fury, her fingers clenching so tightly her knuckles turned white. “She was rightfully imprisoned!” Nouri’s voice rang out, clear and unshakable. Every part of her screamed that this madness couldn’t continue. 

"By even her own Avatar." Arthur said and reached a hand out as if to caress the air, drawing them in further with every word

Steven cast a quick glance at Nouri before muttering, “Avatars. Blue people. Love that film,” trying to break the tension with his usual quirkiness, though even he wasn’t convinced by his own words.

Arthur’s smile faltered, but only for a moment, before he chuckled in a low, amused tone. "Steven. Stop it." His gaze shifted from Steven back to Nouri, his voice thick with dark amusement. 

The lights in the room flickered ominously as the air grew heavier with tension. The atmosphere turned suffocating, and Nouri could feel the ancient power inside her stir, urging her to act. But she held herself back, choosing to be patient. For now.

“Are you going to kill us?” Steven asked, his voice trembling as the reality of their situation hit him. His wide eyes flicked between Arthur and Nouri, but it was clear he was no longer sure who or what to trust.

Arthur’s smile returned, but now it was predatory, all teeth and malice. "It’s maddening, isn’t it?" Arthur said softly, his voice thick with a twisted kind of empathy. "The voice in your head. Relentless, forever unsatisfied. No matter how hard you try to please, it devours you until there's nothing left but a hollow shell. And the more you ask for help, the more you begin to sound like the boy who cried wolf.”

Arthur raised his sleeve slowly, revealing the Ammit tattoo etched into his skin like a mark of pride. He took Steven’s hands, positioning them just right to weigh his heart. Nouri was ready to explode. The injustice, the defiance—she could feel it in her bones.

“No! This is forbidden!” Nouri’s voice cracked like a whip, As Arthur’s follows grabbed her, she struggled against their tight grip. Her chest heaved with fury, her entire being trembling with the force of her emotions. “You cannot judge their hearts before they are dead!” She shouted, her voice booming like a thunderclap, shaking the very walls of the room.

Her eyes flared with an otherworldly light, her fury reverberating through the space like the wrath of the gods themselves. “This—this is a crime against the gods! A crime!” Her voice was raw with emotion, every word dripping with righteous anger. “You dare play with the very essence of life and death—of what is sacred! This is not your decision to make!”

Arthur’s followers stiffened, their hands tightening around her arms, but Nouri’s power seemed to push against them, refusing to be silenced. “You have no right to weigh their hearts—no right to steal their fate!” She snarled, her body straining to break free, but they held her firm. “You defile the ancient laws of the gods, and for that, you will pay!”

Nouri’s voice, full of divine rage, echoed off the walls, a warning that sent chills down the spine. “The gods have decreed this is forbidden! You— you—are nothing but an agent of chaos, trampling on the sacred order!” Her fists clenched tighter, the fire within her threatening to erupt. “This is not your realm to control, Arthur Harrow! You are no god!”

Steven’s breaths were shallow now, his face pale as he gasped, “I can’t help you.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Arthur whispered, his voice eerily calm as he began to weigh Steven’s heart, his fingers firm around Steven’s wrists, like he was slowly choking the life out of him with every second.

“I saw you kill that woman in the Alps,” Steven blurted out, his words sharp, panicked, cutting through the heavy silence. It was like a thread snapping—a moment of clarity in a sea of confusion.

Arthur’s smile faltered again, but only for a second, before it returned with renewed coldness. "I only told her what millions more will soon learn. Do you want to know the truth?" His voice dipped even lower, pulling Steven into his grasp as if the very words could bind him.

“There’s chaos in you,” Arthur said, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Steven’s scales, which couldn’t balance.

“There’s what?” Steven gasped, his eyes darting toward Nouri.

Before anyone could react, the doors behind them slammed open with a force that sent everyone into a scramble. Steven grabbed Nouri, pulling her away from Arthur’s followers and into the inventory room.

They ran.

Steven’s heart was pounding in his chest, but he kept moving, dragging Nouri behind him as he slammed the door shut.

Inside, the two of them were breathless, caught in the safety of the quiet room. Steven leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself, but Nouri’s mind was already elsewhere, her thoughts racing faster than she could control. 

---

For hours, Nouri watched Steven at his desk, the only sound in the room being the furious clacking of keys as he typed away. His brow was furrowed in frustration, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he tried to focus, but there was a definite tension in his body, a sense of unease that seemed to come from deep inside him.

Finally, breaking the silence, Nouri spoke up, her voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

Steven didn’t look up from his screen, but his shoulders tensed. “You lied,” he said, his voice flat, as if it was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

Nouri’s eyes dropped to the floor, her voice almost a whisper. “Yes. I did.”

Steven’s fingers froze over the keyboard, but he didn’t look at her. “Why?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration. He wasn’t angry, not really, but there was an undercurrent of hurt there.

“I…” Nouri hesitated, then sighed. “I’ve been asked to watch you.”

“By who?” Steven’s eyes flickered toward her briefly, his anxiety creeping into his words. It was clear he wasn’t sure if he even wanted the answer. His discomfort was palpable, and it was making Nouri feel just as out of place as he did.

“I… I can’t say,” she said, regret lining her voice.

Steven’s hands slammed against the desk, and he leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, right. Of course you can’t,” he muttered under his breath. Then, looking at her sideways, he added, “Let me guess… You’re not a historian at all, are you? You’re some kind of, I don’t know, goddess or something?”

Nouri gave him a small, sheepish smile, her eyes soft with a mix of apology and understanding. “Yes.”

Steven blinked. “A… A what? A goddess? Sorry, are you having me on?” His voice was filled with disbelief, but there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “You—goddess of what, exactly? Gimme a break.”

“I’m Al Nouri, goddess of the Eternal Path,” she said, her voice steady, but there was a faint edge of impatience creeping in. “You might’ve read about me.”

Steven blinked again, completely blank. “You what now? Read about you? You’re having a laugh. I—Nope, don’t ring a bell. Sorry.”

Nouri’s heart sank a little, but she tried to mask it with a small, understanding sigh. “I fought alongside the Avengers,” she said, trying to sound hopeful. “Maybe you’ve seen me?”

Steven looked at her as though she were speaking a foreign language. “The Avengers?” he said slowly, as if he was trying to process the words. “I—What? No. Never heard of you.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry, but this is all a bit much, innit?”

“Nonetheless,” Nouri continued, a bit more firmly now, “I am the leader of the Ennead, and I’ve been asked by a god to make sure Harrow doesn’t find Ammit.”

“I—Harrow? Ammit?! I don’t see how that’s got anything to do with me!” Steven raised his hands as if he were trying to push the words away.

“I’m not sure either,” Nouri admitted, crossing her arms. “But it seems you are part of the equation, whether you like it or not.”

Steven gave an exaggerated, comical laugh, though it was tinged with real anxiety. “Oh, yeah, of course. Me? Part of some godly business. Perfect. Just—just perfect.” He rubbed his temples, as though trying to make sense of it all, his nerves starting to get the better of him. “Right. So, let me get this straight,” he muttered, his hands fiddling with a pen. “You’re not a historian, you’re a goddess, and now you’re here to stop some... guy from finding a giant crocodile god? I’m supposed to be the chosen one now, am I? Some bloke who can’t even talk to anyone without looking like a total idiot.”

“Ammit,” Nouri corrected again, her voice growing a little firmer.

“Yeah, whatever,” Steven huffed, rubbing his face in disbelief. 

Nouri watched him carefully, feeling the weight of his words, and was about to speak when Steven’s voice cracked through the air again. “How come I’ve never heard about you, huh?” he asked, more to himself than her. “I mean, yeah, I know ancient Egypt, but... this doesn’t make sense.”

“I was imprisoned in 1809,” Nouri said softly, her voice much quieter now, almost like she was speaking to herself. “Sealed in an ushabti for rebellion against the gods. I meddled in human affairs. It’s considered a crime for the gods.”

Steven’s eyebrows shot up, but he stayed silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of what she was saying. "Wait—so you got trapped in a... thing? A vase? For two hundred years?" His voice cracked in disbelief. "That’s... that's mad. Completely mad.”

Nouri nodded, her gaze growing distant as she recalled her past. “Yes, I was trapped... until 2011. Since then, I’ve worked as an Avenger.”

“Right. And—what? You’ve been in hiding all this time?” Steven asked, trying to piece it all together. “What, like, just chilling? Hiding in plain sight as... a historian?”

“No,” Nouri replied, her voice tinged with bitterness. “I’ve been gone for the last two years, resting in the Field of Reeds.” She faltered slightly, her gaze distant, as if the weight of her past was still heavy on her shoulders. “It’s... where I went to rest after everything. The afterlife.” She hesitated, her lips parting as she carefully chose her words. “I spent time there with my husband.”

Steven blinked, processing the information. His eyes widened, and for a split second, the mystified look he wore shifted to one of fascination. “Wait, wait, hold on,” he stammered, his voice cracking with excitement. “The Field of Reeds? As in... the Egyptian afterlife? Like, the place where you... well, where you go to rest in peace and all that?”

Nouri gave a small, knowing smile. “Exactly. It’s not like the world you know. It’s peaceful there. I stayed for a while... with him.” Her voice softened at the mention of her husband. “But then... this god asked me to return.”

Steven’s eyes sparkled with curiosity now, a mix of awe and disbelief. He had been obsessed with Ancient Egypt for as long as he could remember, so hearing her speak so casually about the Field of Reeds was like a dream come true, despite the circumstances. “So, you’ve been retired, chillin in paradise with your husband... and now you’ve gotta come back? All because some god asked you to stop Harrow and save the world?” He blinked rapidly, his voice rising in disbelief. “I—I mean, that sounds... I don’t know, a bit mental.”

Nouri’s expression turned solemn, and she nodded slowly. “Yes, that's the reality. It’s not easy, Steven. I didn’t ask for this. But the gods do not always give us a choice.”

Steven let out a long, shaky breath, trying to make sense of what she’d just said. He had read about the ancient afterlife, about the gods, but hearing it come from someone who had actually been there was something else entirely. “I—I can’t even imagine... The Field of Reeds, the afterlife with, like, gods and all that... I’ve read about it, sure, but...” His voice trailed off as he shook his head. “It’s... surreal, innit?”

Nouri’s gaze softened as she studied him. She could see the raw wonder and anxiety in his eyes, and for a brief moment, she understood his overwhelming confusion. “It is surreal,” she said, almost to herself. “But I was called back to this world for a reason, Steven. To stop Harrow, to protect the balance.” She paused, the weight of her duty pressing down on her chest. “I cannot ignore the gods' request. Not when the fate of the world is at stake.”

Steven nodded, his mind still struggling to process everything. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “I just... I don’t even know what to say, love.”

Nouri smiled softly at his apology, the tenderness in her expression evident. “There’s no need to apologize, Steven,” she said kindly. “It’s a lot to take in. Trust me, I know.”

Steven sighed again, clearly overwhelmed but now more open than he had been before. “Yeah, well, it’s like someone just slapped me in the face with a book I can’t read,” he muttered under his breath. “But... okay. Thanks, I guess.” He rubbed his neck nervously, a small chuckle escaping him. “This is proper bananas. Like... proper mental, this whole thing.”

“I know,” Nouri agreed, her voice soft and understanding. “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

Steven let out a long exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Blimey, I didn’t think my life would be like this, did I? One minute I’m just doing my thing, and then next, I’m involved in... well, all this.” He looked down at his lap, avoiding her gaze for a second. “Not exactly how I planned it, you know?”

Nouri smiled warmly, “None of us plan for these things. But here we are.”

Steven gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of it all. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly built for this kinda thing,” he said, looking up at her again. “I’m more of a... ‘read about gods and history from the safety of my flat’ kinda guy. I’m not meant to be... in the middle of this. Not at all.”

“I understand,” Nouri said with a gentle nod

Steven nodded, visibly more at ease now, though still processing everything. “Right, well... thanks, Nouri. I guess it’s... nice to know someone’s got my back, yeah?”

Nouri’s heart warmed at his words, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Always.”

As Steven returned to his work, more distracted than before, Nouri felt a soft warmth spread through her chest. 

---

As Steven finished working, his curiosity got the better of him. He paused, glancing at Nouri, who was still calmly studying the artifacts beside him.

"Hold on a second," Steven said, his voice hesitant but filled with genuine curiosity. "Are there more like you? Like, uh—gods, I mean?"

Nouri raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes twinkled with a knowing look, but her response was measured, as if carefully considering how best to share such personal details. "No, most gods look like they do in the drawings or the old sculptures. They have their... grand appearances. But since I was born of the moon and the sun, I ended up looking more... human." She shrugged as if it was a simple thing, though the weight of her divine origins could not be hidden.

Steven blinked, his eyes widening in fascination. "Bloody cool," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wait... so you're like... a god, but also... not a god? Or wait, are you—like, a demigod? What's the deal with that?" He leaned in, his hands animated as he spoke, gesturing to Nouri as if she might drop a bombshell of cosmic proportions.

Nouri chuckled softly at his eagerness. “No—no I am a god, but I am also a bridge,” she explained, her voice full of warmth. “Between the sun and the moon. Between light and darkness. I have the power of both, but I was born to walk among mortals, not to dwell in the heavens like others of my kind.”

"Right..." Steven nodded, processing it all. "So, like, you’ve got cool powers, then?"

"Indeed," Nouri smiled, her eyes lighting up with an unspoken promise of something awe-inspiring. "I do."

In an instant, her hand flicked toward the air, and flames began to swirl from her fingers. They weren’t the destructive kind, but a warm, steady glow that seemed almost alive with purpose.

"Oh YEAH!" Steven shouted, his voice laced with excitement, eyes wide as the fire danced before him. "That’s... That’s proper bloody brilliant! Can you do more? Like, throw fireballs or...?"

“Yes,” Nouri said, her voice steady as she effortlessly made the flames shift, a gentle flick of her wrist sending them swirling in mesmerizing patterns. “But it is not for destruction. It’s for protection, for healing, and sometimes, for guidance.”

"Right, right," Steven muttered, clearly fascinated, but his face now full of thought. "I mean, I get it, yeah, you're like... a goddess and all, so I suppose you're all about balance and stuff, right?" He let out a soft chuckle before looking back at her. 

Nouri smiled knowingly. "Exactly. Balance is everything. Without it, the world cannot function as it should."

As the museum’s closing time approached, Nouri and Steven continued walking the halls, exchanging stories. They ventured into tales of the Medjai, the sacred warriors who once protected her temple, and stories of the ancient land of Egypt—tales full of mystery, danger, and honour.

Nouri’s voice was rich with emotion as she spoke about the Medjai, her words carrying the weight of centuries. “They were more than warriors to me. They were my brothers. The bond between us transcended time.”

Steven couldn’t help but be drawn in, his nervous energy suddenly stilled by her words. “Sounds like they were, like... family. I mean, that’s... that’s amazing, Nouri.”

“They were,” Nouri agreed quietly. “And one, in particular, stood by my side through it all—Ardeth.” Her voice softened; her gaze distant as if lost in a memory. “He was my closest friend. Loyal. Brave. We fought side by side.”

Steven, his mind still buzzing with the imagery of warriors and gods, nodded slowly, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Right. And... what happened to them, to the Medjai? I mean, they were, like, immortals, right?"

"Yes," Nouri said softly, her voice tinged with sorrow. "But after I was imprisoned, they... died. Their immortality faded, and with it, a part of me was lost."

Steven winced, not quite sure how to respond, but understanding the gravity of her words. "That's... that's bloody heartbreaking, Nouri. I'm sorry."

“Thank you, Steven,” she said, her voice soft but grateful. “But when I need them, I can bring them back, which I have done a couple of times.”

A moment of silence passed between them as they walked, the hum of the museum’s empty halls growing louder. It was closing time now, the lights flickering off one by one as they made their way toward the exit, the echoes of their footsteps stretching into the quiet. Nouri’s mind was preoccupied—her thoughts drifting back to the world she’d once known.

Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal cut through the stillness, so shrill and painful that it made the hairs on the back of Nouri’s neck stand up. The sound was sharp—a dog, in distress. Nouri’s head snapped toward the noise, her body instinctively tensing as her senses heightened.

“Oh, bloody hell...” Steven said, his voice unsteady, clearly shaken by the sudden sound. He shifted nervously, looking around as if the museum itself had suddenly become a place of danger, each corner now filled with threat. “What on earth…?”

The sound came again, unmistakably—a dog, squealing in pain.

“Not good,” Nouri murmured, her tone turning serious, her eyes narrowing. She immediately tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. 

Steven’s heart raced in his chest, his pulse pounding as he glanced toward the exit, then back at Nouri, who was already focused on the sound. His fingers twitched at his side, unsure whether to stay put or move. “Hello? Donna?” he called out nervously, stepping forward cautiously as he walked toward one of the corridors. The echo of the dog’s cries grew louder.

"Hello? Where are you?" He called again, his voice tentative, but growing more desperate. "Pets allowed in the museum? What is—?" He turned back to Nouri, his face pale. 

“Steven! Get back here!” Nouri hissed, her voice filled with urgency, but she was too late.

"Here, boy," Steven whistled as he continued down the hall, his voice shaky but attempting to stay composed. He wasn’t listening to Nouri anymore, distracted by the sound. His curiosity had overtaken his better judgment.

"Steven! Get back!" Nouri called out again, her voice rising, but Steven, wrapped up in his own world, didn’t stop.

"Where are you, you little bugger?" Steven muttered under his breath, his hands waving in the air as if calling the dog. But as his steps carried him farther into the dark corridor, Nouri lost sight of him.

"Nouri?" Steven's voice wavered as he turned a corner.

A chill swept through Nouri’s spine as she turned, running to catch up with him. She darted through the corridor, quickly slipping past exhibits and statues. She stopped short when she spotted him—hiding behind a large display case, his eyes wide with panic.

The noise. It was close now. And then she saw it—an unsettling sight that made her stomach drop. The dark, hunched figure of a jackal moved slowly from the shadows, stalking Steven with a predator's grace.

"Steven Grant of the gift shop," Arthur’s voice came overhead, echoing through the museum’s intercom system. It was calm, but dripping with menace. "Give me the scarab, and you won’t be torn apart."

The jackal growled, its sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. It moved closer, its hungry eyes locked on Steven. With a jolt of panic, Steven threw his satchel, the bag flying through the air as a desperate distraction. The creature lunged immediately, its claws raking through the air, but it was fixated on the satchel.

Nouri wasn’t going to let him face this alone. She dashed forward, but as Steven attempted to sneak away, he bumped into a nearby vase.

The vase teetered dangerously.

"No, no, no!" Steven gasped, catching it before it fell, but the sound echoed throughout the hall.

The jackal whipped its head toward the noise, its focus shifting. Its eyes gleamed as it locked onto Steven again. Without hesitation, the creature charged.

"Steven!" Nouri yelled, rushing toward him. She grabbed his hand, pulling him along as they sprinted through the halls, terror clawing at their heels. The echo of the jackal’s pursuit reverberated behind them, growing louder and louder.

They burst through a side hall, and Steven, panicked, knocked over a shelf to try and slow the creature’s pursuit. But the jackal was faster. It leapt over the wreckage with terrifying agility.

“What the hell is that thing?” Steven yelled, his voice high with fear as they ran, his breaths ragged.

“A jackal! It’s hunting you!” Nouri shouted, not slowing her pace. “It’s not just a dog! It’s a monster!”

“Make it stop!” Steven begged; his eyes wide with terror. 

“I can’t!” she shouted back, looking behind them, seeing the creature hot on their trail.

They slammed into a side door, an employee-only hall, and Steven frantically used his badge to unlock a nearby bathroom. His hands fumbled with the lock, his panic only growing.

“Come on! Open, open!” he grumbled under his breath, but when the lock didn’t give, he moved to the next door, slamming it open and darting inside.

The sound of the door closing echoed, but Nouri’s heart sank as she realized Steven wasn’t alone in the bathroom. She had stayed outside, her instincts pulling her to face the jackal.

A dark shape loomed before her—the jackal, relentless.

Nouri stood firm, her hands held out, her voice suddenly low and commanding. “Djehuty imy m.”*

She said, the words heavy and ancient. The jackal’s movements paused, recognizing her words, its glowing eyes narrowing.

But still, it scratched, clawing at the door with a maddening hunger.

“Wepwawet!”* Nouri hissed, stepping closer to the door. The jackal continued its assault, the creature’s growl vibrating the air. But before Nouri could act, she heard the door break open with a deafening crash.

The jackal lunged, its claws reaching for Steven inside.

But what Nouri didn’t see—what she couldn't have known—was that Steven had already given himself over to Marc.

He had surrendered to the power, and in an instant, the suit of the Moon Knight had manifested, the transformation swift and brutal.

Nouri froze, watching in stunned silence as the new figure—Marc, she presumed—began to ruthlessly beat the jackal back into submission. His fists moved with precision, each blow landing with a sickening thud, his body driven by rage and purpose.

The jackal struggled, trying to flee, but Marc was relentless. He dragged the creature by the neck, forcing it back into the bathroom.

The sound of pummelling was brutal, a cacophony of fists against flesh.

Finally, the jackal stopped moving. Marc stood victorious over its broken body, his chest heaving. His pale eyes locked onto Nouri’s for the first time, his gaze cold, calculating.

Without a word, Marc turned and walked past her, his footsteps heavy in the silence that followed.

Nouri didn’t know what to feel. She had witnessed the violence, the shift in Steven, and though she wasn’t familiar with Marc, she could feel the tension in the air. The entire moment had been raw, too raw for her to process in one breath.

One thing was clear: whatever happened next, things had just changed. And the danger was far from over.

---

Nouri ran into the apartment, her breath ragged as though she had sprinted through every alley and shadow in Cairo. The door slammed shut behind her with a force that echoed throughout the room. Her chest heaved as she leaned against it, trying to steady her breath, her mind racing.

Ardeth was sitting at the small kitchen table, a cup of tea in hand, his eyes flicking up just in time to see her enter in a dishevelled state. His brows furrowed with concern, though he was clearly trying to remain calm.

"What happened?" he asked, setting his cup down with a soft clink.

Nouri waved her hand in dismissal, still too winded to respond immediately. “I— I found Harrow.”

Ardeth stood up from his seat in an instant, his sharp eyes scanning her, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, the sweat clinging to her skin. “And?”

Nouri collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, her body sagging in exhaustion. She spoke between breaths. “It’s worse than we thought. Harrow... he’s completely committed to releasing Ammit. Somehow, he’s become her avatar.”

Ardeth’s face hardened. His posture remained calm, but the slight narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. “How can she have chosen him if she’s locked away in an ushabti?”

“I don’t know,” Nouri muttered, frustration bubbling under her words. “I feel it though. He’s twisted things, manipulated something in the balance. He’s not just trying to release her—he’s become her.”

Ardeth leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving her. “And what about Steven Grant?”

Nouri’s jaw tightened. “Hopeless. Completely lost. Harrow’s grip is suffocating him, but…” She hesitated, the weight of the revelation sinking in. “Something did happen. Harrow summoned a jackal to hunt him down. Steven—he hid in a bathroom. When the jackal broke through, that’s when I saw him…”

“The Moon Knight,” Ardeth finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nouri nodded slowly; her gaze distant. “I think... Marc Spector’s personality, took control. Marc is the Moon Knight.” She ran a hand through her hair, confusion still lacing her words. “But I’m not sure if he’s fully aware of it. It’s like Marc’s mind is shattered, and Steven is... the wall he’s built to survive… I think.”

Ardeth’s eyebrows shot up. “So, Marc Spector is Khonshu’s fist of vengeance?”

“Apparently,” Nouri said dryly, 

Before Ardeth could comment further, the apartment’s lights flickered, and a cold, almost suffocating chill filled the room. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, dense with an ancient presence. There was no mistaking it.

Khonshu appeared.

Ardeth rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be?”

Khonshu’s towering figure filled the room, casting an ominous shadow over them both. His bird-like face twisted into a smile that was more a sneer than anything resembling humour. “Ah, so you’ve met the parasite, have you?” His voice rang with mocking amusement.

Ardeth stared blankly, not even bothering to hide his disbelief. “Grant? A parasite?”

Khonshu chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the space. “Marc Spector is the true avatar. His mind? Fractured. Steven Grant? A mere... parasite, a shadow of what Spector truly is. A creation of weakness and delusion.” He scoffed, as though disgusted by the mere thought of Steven. “This is the mess I’m dealing with now.”

Nouri blinked, trying to process the sudden shift. “Wait, you mean Steven isn’t the avatar?”

“No,” Khonshu said sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Spector’s mind is the real foundation of the Moon Knight. But Steven... Steven is his crutch. His poor confused crutch. It’s pathetic.” He practically spat the last word. “The avatar is fractured. Weak. I’d expect more from someone I’ve chosen.”

Nouri exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This just keeps getting worse.”

Ardeth raised a brow. “And you’re just letting this happen? You’re okay with playing the observer in all this?”

“Don’t mistake my patience for weakness, Ardeth.” Khonshu’s voice was cold, cutting through the room like a whip. “I am enforcing the true justice of the gods. That means you don’t get to question my methods.” His sharp eyes flicked to Nouri, making her shift uncomfortably. “You, however, have a task to fulfil. Find the man. Find the scarab.”

Nouri’s eyes locked with his, the command in his voice making her skin crawl. “So, now you care about the scarab? After all this time?”

Khonshu smiled, a glint of cold amusement in his eyes. “It’s necessary, Nouri. Just like you’re necessary. You have no choice in the matter. You will find them. You will serve my purpose.”

Before either of them could respond, Khonshu vanished as abruptly as he had appeared, leaving the room eerily quiet once again.

Ardeth let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Lovely. Another charming visit from the Moon God himself.” He looked over at Nouri, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “At least he didn’t bring a fruit basket this time.”

Nouri, feeling the weight of everything, slumped back into the couch, eyes closing for a moment. “I swear, if I had a nickel for every time Khonshu’s interrupted my life...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I’d be rich. And annoyed.”

Ardeth chuckled, but there was no lightness in it. “You know,” he said, his tone becoming more thoughtful, “we’ve dealt with worse. Gods meddling, fractured mortals, and that god’s insufferable commands—nothing new. But you know what really irritates me?” He leaned in, a mock-serious expression on his face. “I never get any credit for keeping you out of trouble.”

Nouri shot him a playful side-eye. “You mean you’ve kept me in trouble. You’re like the god of bad advice.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to mess with Khonshu’s precious avatar,” Ardeth shot back, his smirk widening. “That’s all on you, ‘little goddess.’”

Nouri laughed; the sound strange but welcome given the gravity of their situation. “I really should have taken that vacation to the Afterlife when I had the chance,” she said with a weary sigh.

Ardeth stretched out, clearly unbothered by the looming threats. “Right. Because that would have solved everything.”

“Shut up,” Nouri said with a tired laugh. It was more out of exhaustion than irritation, but it lightened the mood just enough.

They both fell into a companionable silence, the weight of the gods’ expectations pressing down on them. Finally, Ardeth stood, brushing off his pants. “Get some rest. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

"Ugh, you’re right," Nouri groaned, standing up slowly. "Tomorrow’s going to be awful. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll have some time to punch something that isn’t a god."

Ardeth grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Take it easy, little goddess. Not every day is a good day for a fight.”

“Then tomorrow will be a great day for one,” she said with a sly grin, heading toward her bedroom.

Ardeth watched her leave, shaking his head with a small smile. “Good night, Nouri. Try not to destroy anything in your sleep.”

“I make no promises,” she called back, slamming the door behind her.

Notes:

*Translations:
Djehuty imy m → You cannot harm me
Wepwawet! → Stop!

Chapter 51: Layla Abdallah El-Faouly

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I would love to hear any feedback
Also I decided to make this chapter a tiny bit shorter <3

April 29th, 2025

 

The sun’s gentle rays filtered through the windows, waking Nouri from a restless sleep. Her mind lingered on the strange unease that had settled in her chest after the previous night. The Moon Knight suit had haunted her thoughts. It was as if the very presence of it stirred something deep within her—something she didn’t fully understand.

Shaking it off, she quickly dressed and left the bedroom, stepping lightly over the clutter of papers strewn about the living room. Ardeth was sprawled on the couch, papers about Ammit scattered everywhere. Nouri sighed; her heart heavy with the weight of the task at hand. She jotted down a quick note to him and left it on the coffee table:

Going to the museum to find Grant. Text me if anything happens. - Nono.

With one last glance at the scene of controlled chaos, Nouri quietly slipped out of the apartment and crossed the street toward the National Art Gallery. She entered and immediately saw Steven, deep in conversation with J.B. Steven looked a bit tense, his hands fidgeting as he muttered something in response to J.B.’s words.

Nouri waved from across the room, catching his attention. He glanced up, his face softening when he saw her, but there was still an underlying restlessness in his eyes. He excused himself from J.B. and walked over.

“You alright?” Nouri asked, her voice calm, but she could see the nervous energy radiating off of him. He was always a bit jumpy, but today it seemed worse.

Steven shifted uncomfortably, his hands wringing the sleeves of his shirt as he looked around, trying to avoid her gaze. “Oh, uh—no. No, I’m not okay,” he admitted, his voice a bit higher than usual, the words coming out fast like he couldn’t hold them back. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his foot tapping on the floor. “Not at all, actually.”

Before Nouri could respond, J.B. called from across the room, and Steven flinched slightly, turning to face him with an apologetic glance.

“I’ll wait for you,” Nouri reassured him, her tone soft, as she gave him a small, steady smile. She could tell he needed the space to sort through whatever was making him feel so uneasy. Steven nodded in acknowledgment, then walked off, leaving Nouri to stand there, her heart heavy for him.

She waited, allowing time to pass in the quiet of the museum, but her mind never strayed too far from Steven. When an hour passed, she saw him again, exiting through the back with his shoulders slumped and his expression one of defeat.

“I got sacked,” Steven said, the words coming out in a rush, his eyes downcast. There was a small, humourless chuckle in his voice, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Nouri’s heart ached, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him comfort. “I’m sorry to hear that, Steven,” she said sincerely.

He let out a small sigh, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. “I don't blame 'em. I'm a vandal. I should've been arrested. I did find things hidden in my flat.” He laughed nervously, clearly not comfortable with how the words sounded coming out of his mouth. “Mad, right?”

Nouri raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Steven pulled out a small, antique-looking key and a phone from his coat pocket. He held them up in front of her, a little too eagerly, his eyes wide with the kind of hope only someone on the edge of madness can have. “That’s worth exploring, innit?” He chuckled awkwardly; his smile nervous but hopeful at the same time.

Nouri took the key gently, turning it over in her fingers, her mind already piecing the puzzle together. “Looks like the key goes to a storage locker,” she said thoughtfully, glancing back at him.

Steven’s eyes sparkled with that same nervous excitement. “If I could find that storage locker... maybe that’s my one chance to prove to myself that I’m not mad, you know?” His voice wavered between hope and self-doubt, as if he was trying to convince both himself and her.

Nouri placed a reassuring hand on his arm, her smile warm and steady. “I don’t think you’re mad, Steven. But yes, I think it’s worth exploring.”

Steven nodded eagerly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “Right! Yeah. Yeah, it’s worth exploring. Let’s, uh, let’s go find it. Could be... could be something important, yeah?” His voice trailed off as he started to walk, trying to act confident but still fumbling over his words.

Nouri followed beside him, her presence calm and steady as she watched Steven, his thoughts clearly racing. She could see his nerves and confusion, but she could also see his determination to find some clarity.

As they left the museum and made their way toward the storage locker, Nouri couldn’t shake the feeling that they were stepping into something bigger than just a simple search—it was as if the answers Steven sought were tied to something ancient, something that had been waiting for him to uncover.

---

The pair entered the sixth storage location after having been to five others, and the sense of frustration was starting to get to Nouri. The growing weight of hopelessness in the air was palpable as Steven walked up to the desk.

"Hiya," Steven said with a forced cheerfulness, addressing the man at the counter. His voice faltered slightly.

"Hey." The man glanced up from his work, his face lighting up when he recognized Steven. "You again? You’ve been to the others, huh?"

Steven let out a strained laugh. "Yeah. Um, look, man, this is, like, the fifth branch we’ve been to. I'm looking for my storage locker. It's under 'Steven Grant.' If it's not under Steven Grant, it might be under 'Marc.' I don't have a surname, just Marc. Would you have a look for me, if that's all right? I know it sounds..." He trailed off, clearly feeling awkward.

The man at the desk gave him a knowing look. "Of course, mate. I know you. #43, right?" He smiled, getting up and walking to the back. "Never forget a face."

As they followed him to the storage area, Nouri couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. When the man opened the door to the locker, she was hit with the smell of dust and old leather. The room was packed with military gear and weapons, stacked in neat but intimidating piles.

"This must be Marc's place," Nouri murmured under her breath, her eyes scanning the equipment. She remembered that Marc was a former marine and the pieces of his life began to click into place.

Steven walked into the room and froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh my God," he muttered as he opened a bag, pulling out a gun. His hands shook slightly, and Nouri approached him cautiously, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Steven..." Nouri whispered, stepping closer as Steven emptied the bag in front of him.

"‘Marc Spector.’" Nouri’s voice dropped, recognizing the name on a passport Steven had pulled out. Her heart sank a little deeper.

"No way. It’s real. It’s totally real," Steven murmured, his voice awed, still holding the passport like a lifeline. Then, he pulled out a small golden object, a scarab—shiny and menacing.

"Steven… that’s the Scarab of Ammit," Nouri said, her voice filled with unease.

"Whoa." Steven held the scarab in his hand, watching it float as though it had a life of its own.

Nouri stepped back; eyes wide with alarm. "It points to Ammit’s ushabti," she warned him, her heart pounding. As the scarab began to shimmer, she noticed Steven turning to the wall. His expression shifted into something a little too familiar, like someone lost in their own mind.

"There he is. Here he comes. Hello, man in the mirror. I was wondering if you’d pop up again." Steven spoke to the wall, a weird calmness settling over his face, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

"Steven? Who are you speaking to?" Nouri asked, confusion threading her tone. She took a step toward him, but Steven didn’t seem to hear her, or maybe he just wasn’t listening.

"No? Well, bit late for that, innit?" Steven muttered, talking to the wall as if it were a conversation he was used to. "So, what? Am I, like, meant to be some sort of mad secret agent or something?"

He started pacing, shaking his head in disbelief. "More complicated? What? Am I possessed? Are you, like, a demon? Or..." Steven stammered, his voice growing higher, panicked.

Nouri just watched in complete confusion, her gaze flicking from Steven to the empty space around him. What’s happening to him?

“Steven!” Nouri called again, her voice firmer now, trying to snap him out of it.

He whipped his head around sharply at the sound of his name, frustration spilling over. “Are you joking?” he shouted, pacing away from her and pointing at the wall. 

"Sleep... I’m never gonna go to sleep again. You hear me?" Steven began to ramble, growing agitated. He was pacing back and forth, his anxiety spilling over. "Look, I don’t care how bloody handsome you are,” Steven muttered, “Tell me what it is you are. What are you?!” His voice was now filled with an edge of desperation as he stood right up against the wall, almost pleading with it.

Nouri stood frozen for a moment, unsure what to do as she watched him unravel. She could feel something—someone—was there, but only Steven seemed to know it. She bit her lip and took a tentative step forward. “Steven,” she said, her voice a mix of concern and confusion, “What is going on? What’s happening to you?”

"Yes, bloody... Yes." Steven’s voice came out low, almost robotic. He was clearly speaking to someone—or something—else in the room. He wasn’t hearing her.

“Steven, listen to me!” Nouri insisted, trying to catch his attention, but he barely seemed to register her.

“Oh, my God,” Steven started muttering again, his voice growing higher in pitch, his hands running through his hair. "Khonshu? The Egyptian god of the moon? Listen to Al Nouri? Oh, my god, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I eat one piece of steak, and then, bam, I go bonkers. Oh, God. I'm having a panic attack!” Steven staggered backward, and Nouri rushed to steady him, but he pulled away in his panic. His chest heaved as he breathed unevenly, eyes wide with terror.

"Steven, what the hell is going on?" Nouri said, her voice laced with concern.

"I need to go to hospital, I think," Steven muttered to himself, ignoring Nouri's question entirely.

Nouri could feel the overwhelming weight of the moment pressing down on her. She wasn’t used to seeing someone in this much pain, not this helpless, especially not someone she had come to trust. "Steven," she said softly, reaching out again.

But Steven was already moving again, his face flushed with fear. “You want my body? Right, yeah? Marc, how about this for a deal, yeah? I’m gonna take this bag full of illegal shit, alright? And I’m gonna go straight to the authorities! And they're gonna put me away so I don't hurt anyone else. And hopefully, NHS will fill me with enough pills that you—you get out of my head!” Steven’s voice had a manic edge as he grabbed the bag and stormed toward the door.

Nouri watched in stunned silence as Steven walked out of the locker, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, still unsure of what was truly happening. She felt her heart race, but she didn’t follow him right away. The pieces didn’t fit together.

Nouri heard Steven's scream and immediately sprinted out of the locker room, her heart pounding. The sound had been raw, filled with pure terror. She spotted him in the distance—running like a man pursued by ghosts. His footsteps were desperate, frantic, like someone running for their life.

"Steven!" Nouri shouted, trying to catch up, but he was fast, faster than she had expected. When she finally reached him, he was on the ground, curled up in a fetal position, trembling.

"Steven?" She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering as if unsure how to touch him, not knowing if he was in pain or fear. "Steven, are you alright?"

His eyes snapped open, wide and frantic. For a moment, his gaze seemed to be focused on something behind her, but then they shifted to meet hers. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and he trembled, his body still recoiling from whatever terror had gripped him.

Before Steven could respond, a voice called out from behind her, cutting through the tension.

“Marc? Where have you been?”

Nouri's eyes darted over to see a woman on a motorcycle pulling up, the engine purring softly as she dismounted with practiced ease. The woman’s eyes shifted from Steven to Nouri, narrowing in quick recognition.

“Layla?” Steven whispered, his voice trembling as he slowly, cautiously, started to lift himself off the ground. His hand remained on his forehead, as if to steady himself. His face was pale, and there was a certain disorientation in his expression.

Steven blinked, completely lost, trying to process everything happening around him. "Uh... uh-uh… I don’t… What?" His voice cracked slightly; his brow furrowed as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

Laylas eyes flicked to Nouri. "Marc, do you know who that is?!”

Layla’s gaze snapped toward Nouri, her eyes narrowing. “You’re Al Nouri,” she said, a bit of awe in her voice.

Steven blinked, his confusion deepening. “Uh, I—I... What? Who? What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” Nouri stammered, glancing from Steven to Layla, genuinely baffled by the whole situation.

Layla’s expression softened, but there was still a hint of disbelief. “You knew my father, Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly,” she explained, stepping closer.

“Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly? Of course, I knew him—great man, great mind,” Nouri smiled, her eyes softening as she spoke of the late professor.

Layla, standing in front of her, seemed a little less certain. She hesitated for a moment before responding, her voice warm but carrying a hint of sadness. “I’m his daughter, Layla. It’s an honour to meet you, Your Highness.” She bowed her head slightly and extended her hand.

Nouri shook it firmly, her expression kind. “Your father was a man of wisdom. I have always admired his work.”

“My father... he always said his greatest achievement was working with you,” Layla said, her voice faltering for a moment. Her eyes lowered as she seemed to recall something painful.

Nouri watched her carefully, her heart aching at the young woman’s grief. “How is your father?” she asked gently, her tone soft and concerned.

Layla looked away, her expression darkening. “He... my father passed away in 2022,” she said quietly. “He died.”

Nouri’s face fell, her hands instinctively reaching out to Layla. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” She enveloped the younger woman in a warm embrace, as if trying to offer some comfort to the pain she felt.

For a moment, Layla stood frozen, the tears in her eyes almost spilling over, but she quickly pulled back, blinking away the emotion.

As the two women stood there, comforting each other, Steven awkwardly shifted on the ground, still trying to process what was happening. "Um... excuse me?" he said in his usual flustered way, looking up at them both, a hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, if you two are done, could we—?"

Layla gave him a bemused look before she spoke, trying to contain her frustration. “Sorry.” She threw her leg over her bike and quickly hopped on. Steven followed suit, not really knowing what else to do but mimic her actions. It was clear he still wasn’t sure what was going on, but being part of the equation felt like a safer bet than standing around looking lost.

“Meet us at my flat,” Steven called out to Nouri, scribbling down the address and handing it over to her as she stood there, watching. Layla revved her bike, eager to get moving. Steven hesitated but quickly followed her, as he knew they weren’t going to wait for him to get his bearings.

---

Nouri, however, didn’t seem to need directions. Before either of them could reach the flat, she was already there, standing at the doorstep, her presence almost ethereal in the dim lighting. Steven looked at her in surprise as he unlocked the door.

“Uh, well... I guess you beat us here,” Steven mumbled, stepping aside to let her in.

The apartment was a chaotic mix of books, old paper clippings, and maps. Nouri’s eyes scanned the walls, her mind absorbing every detail. Ancient Egypt, history, hieroglyphs—they were all around her. But something in the room felt disconnected from her presence. The time she had once known felt distant. Yet, the burning curiosity still remained. She stepped into the room, her gaze lingering on the walls for a moment longer, as though trying to trace her past in these scattered remnants of the present.

Layla walked straight to the fish tank, glancing at the small, colourful fish as they swam in slow, peaceful circles. Nouri’s gaze drifted to the map pinned to the wall, tracing the familiar landmarks that connected her to the past. She had seen these places before. Had walked among them, alive and vibrant, not so long ago. Her fingers brushed over the symbols on the map, as if seeking the energy, they once held.

“I just want my life back,” Steven mumbled, his voice barely a whisper, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Layla’s voice cut through the tension. “Yeah, I’m getting that.” She was less concerned with him and more absorbed in her surroundings. She noticed how Nouri seemed distant, her focus unshakable, as if she were floating just outside of time.

“No. Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you, just talking to myself. Sort of,” Steven explained, stumbling over his words.

"Uh, this is your flat, Marc?" Layla asked, glancing at Steven with a furrowed brow, a hint of confusion in her voice.

"Um, I'm Steven," Steven quickly corrected her, his hand shaking slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Layla raised an eyebrow. “Are you living here with someone else?”

"No! No, no," Steven exclaimed, holding his hands up as if to deflect any further misinterpretation. "No, this is my mum's place."

Layla eyed him sceptically. “Okay, so you guys are talking again?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Mmm-hmm,” Steven hummed, though it wasn’t exactly confirmation. He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but things felt slightly off, as if some pieces didn’t quite fit. His gaze flickered to Nouri, hoping she could offer some clarity.

Nouri, meanwhile, was deeply immersed in Steven’s paper cut-outs. She leaned over a table, her fingers lightly brushing against the edges of the crumpled maps and symbols. The hieroglyphs on the pages seemed to whisper to her, and she allowed herself to be drawn in, momentarily lost in the flood of memories they evoked. She murmured softly, her voice barely audible, “This is not your fault, Steven.” She spoke with quiet compassion, as though trying to offer him some comfort, though he didn’t hear her.

"So, you're learning French and hieroglyphics?" Layla asked, flipping through one of Steven’s books, putting it down to examine the rest.

"Yeah, well... it's not that impressive, really. It's not like hieroglyphs are a whole language or anything—" Steven was cut off before he could finish his thought.

"It's more like an... alphabet," Layla interjected, her tone casual but matter-of-fact.

“Some would argue that” Nouri said from behind them, her voice soft yet carrying the weight of someone who had lived through millennia of language and history. She was standing now, having walked over without them even realizing. Her presence seemed to fill the room, the energy shifting slightly as she spoke.

Steven turned quickly, startled. "Oh, uh... did I say something wrong?" he stammered, adjusting his glasses and looking flustered.

Nouri smiled gently, her eyes meeting his with a knowing gaze. "It’s not wrong, Steven. Just... incomplete. The language of the gods is not as simple as an alphabet. It’s a bridge to understanding the soul.” Her words were calm and patient, yet carried an undertone of ancient wisdom that Steven wasn’t quite sure how to process.

"Yeah, and... Well, you still have to know ancient Egyptian to read it…” Steven remarked, trying to recover from his earlier slip-up, his awkwardness only increasing the more Nouri spoke.

"For example, like this one here, right?” Steven said, pointing to a hieroglyph on a piece of paper.

“Funeral rites," Layla cut in, showing she had some knowledge of the subject herself.

“Well, someone knows their unilaterals. You. That's amazing.” Steven chuckled awkwardly, realizing that Layla wasn’t just reading the symbols off a page, but truly understanding them.

“Sorry, I don’t mean that in a creepy way," Steven added quickly, suddenly aware of how odd he must have sounded.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not buying this, Marc. Use whatever accent you want. Yeah, let’s just get this over with. You sent these papers, but you never signed them.” Layla’s tone shifted, frustration creeping in as she pulled out a stack of papers from her bag.

"Did I? Uh..." Steven mumbled, his face a mix of confusion and embarrassment. He knew something was off, but he just couldn’t connect all the dots.

"This is what you wanted," Layla said, her voice firm as she handed the papers to him.

"Have a look here," Steven said, quickly putting on his glasses, trying to shift the conversation back to something familiar.

"After everything, you told me that we needed to move on," Layla said, a sense of hurt creeping into her voice.

“All right. Divo... Divorce?” Steven stammered, glancing at the papers, still unsure of what was happening.

“Yeah, we doing this or not?” Layla asked, her frustration growing.

"I would never divorce you." Steven’s voice was sincere, though his words felt strangely disconnected from the situation at hand.

"What are you doing?" Layla demanded, her frustration rising. She wasn’t getting any clear answers.

"Look, you seem absolutely lovely. This Marc, on the other hand, is a right twit, yeah?" Steven tried to explain, his awkwardness making the situation even more complicated. "I don't know how to explain what's been happening."

"Layla, he’s right... he’s not himself," Nouri interjected, her voice calm yet filled with a quiet understanding, as though she had seen this kind of inner conflict before. She placed a hand on Layla’s shoulder, offering comfort but also drawing her attention to Steven.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Steven continued, his words becoming more frantic as he dug through his bag. “I honestly don’t really believe myself. All I can do is try to show you what I found.”

He stopped, frozen for a moment, staring at the object he had found, before slowly pulling it out of the bag. "I found this bag in the storage locker. Inside of it are all sorts of things. Most interestingly..." His hand paused over the item, his voice faltering.

“Most interestingly is what?” Layla asked, her suspicion growing.

“Nothing,” Steven mumbled quickly, trying to hide the scarab inside his hand, but Layla wasn’t having it.

"Nothing?" Layla’s tone hardened, and she pushed him out of the way. "What’s in there?"

“The scarab pointing to Ammit's ushabti? What we fought side by side for?” Layla asked in disbelief, her eyes widening as the scarab sat in Steven’s hand. It was too much for her to ignore, the weight of everything that had transpired finally dawning on her.

“Layla...” Nouri said softly, her presence offering a sense of calm amidst the rising storm. Her hand rested lightly on the armrest of the chair; eyes fixed on Steven.

"No..." Steven muttered, as if trying to deny what was right in front of him.

"This whole one-man show is just... what? So, you can keep it for yourself?" Layla’s voice was louder now, hurt and disbelief mingling. "After everything we’ve been through... Just stop!" Her anger was palpable. “I’m supposed to believe anything you say with this shoved in what, a gym bag?”

“Take it. Take it, you can have it.” Steven scrambled, practically throwing the scarab at her. "Take it. I don’t want it. I swear. Have it." His voice cracked, a desperate plea. “I’m not Marc Spector. I’m Steven Grant. I work in a gift shop. Well... I used to work in a gift shop. And I think I’m in real danger. I think maybe you two are the only people who can help me. Please.”

"You really don’t remember why we’ve been looking for this?" Layla asked, her confusion written all over her face as Steven shook his head.

“Our adventures? Or our life together?” Layla asked, her voice trembling.

“Oh, God, I wish I could,” Steven said, his voice soft, tinged with sorrow.

Before Layla could reply, there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Steven Grant, can we have a word?" The voice behind the door was authoritative, urgent.

“See? Oh, God, they’ve come for me.” Steven’s voice cracked, his usual bravado crumbling under pressure. His face turned pale as his hands started to shake.

"Why?" Layla asked, her brow furrowed in concern, her mind still trying to process what Steven was so worried about.

"I vandalized the toilet," Steven answered, still trying to make light of it. But it came out sounding more like a desperate attempt at a joke. His eyes darted nervously from one corner of the room to the other.

Another knock came, louder this time, cutting through the tension.

"Yeah, just a minute!" Steven called out, the panic making his voice crack as he rushed toward the door.

"Steven Grant?" The voice from the other side was calm but firm.

“Yeah?” Steven answered, voice small and strained. His hands were twisting around his shirt now, trying to control his nerves.

"DC Fitzgerald and DC Kennedy here," the officer’s voice carried with authority.

“Yeah, yeah, one second!” Steven scrambled to compose himself, voice cracking again. He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously as if hoping to calm his frantic mind.

Nouri, who had been quietly observing the entire situation, exchanged a glance with Layla. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a storm brewing behind her eyes. Something wasn’t right.

“Steven! Don’t!” Nouri’s warning came just too late, her voice echoing from across the room.

But Steven, not thinking clearly, opened the door to reveal two officers standing there, arms crossed with authority.

"Hello, officers." Steven said, his voice now cracking with nervous energy, his hands nervously adjusting his glasses as if they could give him some comfort. “I mean... yeah, that's me, Steven Grant. 100%... sorry, I was just havin' a bit of a... day.”

Nouri exchanged a quick look with Layla, her brows furrowing in concern.

At that very moment, she grabbed Layla by the arm, pulling her toward the back window. “Come on,” Nouri said, her tone sharp but calm as she led Layla up to the roof, her senses tingling with unease.

"What’s going on?" Layla asked, still utterly puzzled.

“I don’t know," Nouri muttered, scanning the area with hawk-like focus, her eyes narrowing slightly as she listened to the officers' muffled conversation. “But something’s wrong.” The weight of her words was enough to make Layla’s stomach tighten with unease. Nouri could feel it in her very bones—the shift in energy, the tinge of something malevolent lurking nearby.

They heard the door click shut, followed by the soft footsteps of someone retreating down the hallway. Nouri’s hand tightened on Layla’s arm as she moved toward the edge of the roof. Without a word, she took a breath and swiftly slid back into the apartment through the window, her movement as fluid as water.

Layla barely had time to blink before she found herself back inside. She immediately spun around, eyes searching the room. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice tight with concern and frustration.

Nouri didn’t answer immediately. She could feel Steven’s confusion from across the room. His emotions—a chaotic whirl of anxiety, fear, and something deeper—pushed against her senses, so strong that it almost overwhelmed her.

She took a deep breath, grounding herself. Her palms lifted, glowing faintly as she recited the incantation, calling upon the power of the divine.

“Horus... ḫr nfr ḥsbk, ḥr nfrw mwtk, sḏm nfrw Steven Grant.”*

Her voice resonated in the room, soft yet powerful, like the distant echo of a prayer. The air hummed with energy, as if the universe itself was listening. Her eyes glowed white, the power coursing through her, allowing her to see beyond the veil of the mortal world.

In that moment, she connected with Steven’s soul, her consciousness slipping into his, feeling his deepest emotions as if they were her own. His pain, confusion, and loneliness flooded her senses, the weight of his fractured mind pressing in on her like a storm.

“He’s in East End,” Nouri said, her voice steady as the light returned to her eyes. Her gaze shifted back to Layla, the profound connection to Steven lingering in the air.

Layla blinked, stunned and slightly breathless. “How... how did you do that?” Her voice was thick with awe, her mind struggling to wrap around what she had just witnessed.

Nouri smiled softly, a small, knowing smile that carried the weight of millennia. She waved her hand across her eyes, a flash of the Eye of Horus hieroglyph glowing faintly on her skin.

“My hieroglyphs represent my powers,” Nouri explained, her voice calm and measured, like a teacher explaining something as ancient as time itself. “Horus was kind enough to grant me one of his eyes—his sight. But it seems I need both to see deeply into someone’s soul.” She paused, eyes glinting mischievously as she looked at Layla. “I suppose you could say I borrowed a little bit of divine vision to find him.”

Layla’s eyes widened as she looked at Nouri’s eye, the glowing hieroglyph still fading. “Wait— that’s what that is? How does that even—”

Nouri rolled her shoulders, brushing off the heavy moment, her usual smirk returning. “Come on, let’s go.”

Layla hesitated for only a second before nodding, determination setting in. They quickly made their way to the door, and Nouri followed Layla down the stairs to the motorbike.

“Wait, wait—" Layla asked, raising a brow as Nouri hopped onto the back of the bike with surprising ease. "You’re telling me that you can see inside his soul... with your eyes?"

Nouri chuckled softly, her voice teasing. "More like I borrowed the eyes of a god," she said with a wink. "But, yeah, pretty much. Hold on tight."

The roar of the motorbike engine echoed through the quiet night air as Nouri and Layla sped down the road toward East End. The cool wind whipped through their hair, and despite the urgency of the situation, Nouri couldn’t help but feel a strange pull to Steven, a sensation like the unravelling of a story she was meant to witness, like a string she was always meant to follow.

Notes:

*Translations:
Horus... ḫr nfr ḥsbk, ḥr nfrw mwtk, sḏm nfrw Steven Grant. → Horus... I call upon your gaze, let your divine sight pierce the soul of Steven Grant.

Chapter 52: Summon the Suit!

Notes:

Hope you enjoy <3 I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

The city blurred around them, the bright lights of London cutting through the darkness, as Layla leaned in closer, clearly eager to get answers.

"So, tell me everything about your powers!" Layla asked with that same infectious enthusiasm that always seemed to fill the space around her.

Nouri chuckled; her eyes focused on the road ahead as she spoke. “Well, I manipulate fire. It's in my blood, really. I can infuse my weapons with it too, though I prefer to be strategic. Then there’s this thing some might call a sight beyond sight... basically, I can look into a mortal’s soul. See their deepest fears, their desires, their pain.”

Layla's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Like you did earlier?"

Nouri smiled, glancing at her briefly. “Exactly. But there’s a catch... if a soul’s in pain or fractured, it’s harder for me to get a clear reading. I’ve learned to be cautious with it. And lastly...” she said with a more nonchalant tone, “I can raise the dead.”

Layla blinked, momentarily speechless. “Sorry, what?” she finally blurted out, her voice full of shock.

Nouri couldn't help but laugh. “Oh, not like that. I don’t go around raising armies of the undead. Just a few Medjai warriors here and there when I need them for battle... or to protect me when things get a little too complicated.”

Layla let out a sigh of relief. “Oh okay, yep totally normal.”

The rest of the ride to East End passed quickly, filled with more questions from Layla, which Nouri was more than happy to entertain. There was something deeply heartwarming about the way Layla was so eager to learn—so full of curiosity for something so old and ancient. It made Nouri feel... connected. In a world that had shifted so much, it was comforting to see a young soul still fascinated by the stories of the past.

“We’re coming up on where I last felt Steven’s soul,” Nouri said, her voice tinged with both urgency and determination as they approached a black van parked near a run-down building. She slowed the motorbike to a stop, reaching for her phone.

She quickly typed out a message to Ardeth: 

Call Barton. Ask if he can arrange a jet from London to Cairo, also, meet me in East End ASAP.

Layla dug into her bag, pulling out a few hats and jackets. “Here put this on, so we’re not too obvious.”

Nouri nodded and gave a small smile. “Good idea. Let’s move.”

They climbed off the motorbike, and with a quick glance around, Nouri grabbed Layla’s hand and led the way, scaling the nearby wall with the ease of someone who had lived for millennia. They found a perfect vantage point—hidden, but able to see Steven and Arthur sitting at a table nearby, surrounded by Ammit’s disciples.

As they crouched, watching, Nouri’s eyes narrowed, her heart heavy with the realization of what was happening here. The stakes were so much higher than even she had expected.

“May I speak with Marc?” Arthur’s voice rang out, his words deliberate, his tone persuasive.

Steven fumbled, looking uncomfortable. “Um, uh...” he mumbled, unsure.

“Marc, what has Khonshu promised you?” Arthur continued. “That this is your last mission? Then you'll be free? Trust me when I tell you, Khonshu is a liar. There's always one last thing.”

Nouri watched, her heart aching for Steven, but she leaned over to Layla, whispering softly, “It’s a lie. Harrow’s manipulating Steven, trying to break him down to get to Marc.”

Layla’s eyes widened. “How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me, I’ve seen his kind before. He plays with people’s fears to control them,” Nouri said, her voice a whisper, but full of conviction.

Layla furrowed her brows, clearly processing. “But you’ve known Khonshu for so long, Nouri... How can you say Harrow’s manipulating Steven when—”

Nouri’s voice softened, and she looked directly at Layla, her gaze steady. “Look, I get it. Khonshu isn’t perfect. He’s harsh, brutal, even manipulative. But there’s more to him than what you see. Khonshu... loves humanity. In his own twisted way, he wants to protect it. He won’t just stand by and watch people suffer.”

Layla looked unconvinced. “You’re telling me Khonshu loves humanity?”

Nouri nodded; her expression serious. “Despite his actions, Khonshu has admirable traits. He’s a god with his own clear set of ideologies that he follows under any circumstance. Unlike the other gods, Khonshu refuses to abandon humanity. He charges his avatars to protect the innocent and punish those who prey on them. For all his brutality against the guilty, he refuses to harm the innocent.”

Layla listened intently, clearly caught by Nouri’s words.

“Khonshu respects choices, Layla. He won’t act unless someone has truly committed evil. Unlike Ammit, who judges pre-emptively, Khonshu waits for people to make their choices—their mistakes. He believes in free will, even if his methods are extreme.”

Layla's eyes softened slightly, the edge of her scepticism melting away just a little. “I guess... I never thought about it like that. He’s still a manipulator though.”

Nouri smiled faintly. “He is. But underneath all of that, he’s a protector. It’s just... his way is radical. He chooses to stand by humanity’s side—through all of its flaws, through all of its darkness. Unlike the rest of the gods, who abandoned humanity when things got tough, Khonshu fought for justice. It cost him his place on the Council, but he’s willing to risk everything to protect humanity.”

There was a pause between them. Layla took it in, her mind clearly whirling.

“Beneath the manipulations, Khonshu is heroic. He’s courageous. He stands alone, sometimes in ways that don’t make sense to others, but he stands by his cause even when it risks everything—like his eternal imprisonment.”

Nouri’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “And that’s something I’ve inherited from him. A devotion to protect, no matter the cost.”

Layla, now quiet and contemplative, nodded slowly. “Okay. I... I get it now. I’ve only seen the side of him that’s controlled Marc, manipulated him... but there’s more to him. And to you.”

Nouri looked at Layla, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “Exactly.”

As the conversation ended, Nouri’s attention snapped back to the scene below. Arthur was leaning closer to Steven, and the tension was escalating quickly. Steven hesitated, his hands nervously fumbling with the edges of the table. “Sorry, but—if Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then, isn’t she judging an innocent person? I mean, a thought can’t be evil, can it? I think about killing my boss all the time, but I wouldn’t actually do it.”

Arthur’s face flickered with tension as he spoke, trying to maintain control. “Steven..."

"What about a child?" Steven interjected, his voice rising in disbelief. "Would she kill a child for something they might do in 30 years?"

Arthur’s eyes flashed, a hint of approval in his expression. "I'm glad you mentioned that. Sometimes, the cure is a little taste of the disease. The difference between medicine and poison sometimes is only dosage. Consider a diseased limb. Amputation—horrific and grotesque—is necessary for the larger health.”

Steven recoiled. “But the child isn’t a diseased limb. Sorry, is that... Is that what... you’re all into that, like, killing children and that? Maybe that’s just me, but that’s... I kind of draw a line there at child murder.”

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, and she hissed softly under her breath to Layla, her voice dripping with disdain. “That’s why the gods imprisoned Ammit,” she spat. Her words were sharp, the disgust in her tone simmering beneath the surface, only growing stronger as she listened to Arthur’s twisted rationale. It was beyond comprehension, the way he justified such horrors.

Layla, clearly unable to contain her frustration, suddenly dropped down from their hiding spot, her movement swift and bold. “Layla!” Nouri’s voice snapped, a hint of panic creeping into her usually calm demeanour. “Layla, don’t—”

But it was too late. Layla had already stepped forward, her resolve unwavering as she held the scarab up in her hand. “I have it,” she said firmly, her voice steady, almost too steady for Nouri’s comfort. The scarab gleamed in the dim light, its significance weighing heavily in the air.

Nouri’s stomach dropped, her eyes widening in panic. What are you doing?! She felt a surge of fear ripple through her. This was a mistake. A reckless mistake.

Arthur's gaze locked onto the scarab immediately, his face hardening into something colder and more dangerous. “You couldn’t possibly understand the value of what you’re holding,” he said, his voice dark, almost a growl, as his hand stretched out toward the scarab. The air around them felt heavy, thick with an impending threat.

Nouri’s pulse hammered in her ears. She took a step forward, her body moving on instinct as she reached for Layla, trying to pull her back. “Layla, come on, you’re not thinking clearly—” she urged, her voice tight with desperation. She tugged at Layla’s arm, but the pull was weak compared to the growing pressure around them.

The air grew even more oppressive as Ammit's disciples began to close in, their eyes trained on them with malicious intent. Nouri could feel the room tightening around them, their every movement watched and calculated.

Layla didn’t pull away, her gaze never leaving Arthur as she stood firm, as if her decision had already been made. But Nouri could feel the shift—every person in the room now focused on them. The tension snapped, and there was no turning back.

Nouri’s heart raced. Damn it. Her mind screamed at her to think—this wasn’t the time for heroics, but it was too late. They had walked right into the centre of the storm.

She tried to take another step forward, her body nearly brushing against Layla’s, but the circle around them was tightening, the disciples closing the distance like a tightening noose. Her heart skipped a beat. This was escalating fast, and she wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep control.

Arthur’s hand was still outstretched, his eyes locked on the scarab, and Nouri knew that things were about to spiral completely out of their hands.

She caught Layla’s gaze, silently pleading with her to move, but Layla’s stubbornness matched her own. They were caught now, surrounded by enemies and with nowhere to go.

Damn it. The curse barely left her lips as she braced herself for what came next.

"Let me have that, I'll keep it safe," Arthur’s voice rang out, smooth as ever, but there was a cold edge to it as Layla moved closer.

"There is no deal in this, Marc. Fix this. Fix this!" Khonshu’s voice echoed from behind Steven, his tone sharp and demanding. "Nouri!"

Nouri’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with urgency as she saw Steven's hesitation.

“Summon the suit!” Layla voice rang out, though it was mixed with frustration.

"Sorry, what?" Steven asked, looking confused, his brows furrowed.

“Summon the suit, Steven!” Layla repeated, her voice full of desperation. Nouri rolled her eyes, but her heart sank at the tension rising in the air.

Nouri couldn’t help herself; she sighed and facepalmed. Seriously?

"Summon the soup? What are you saying?" Steven asked, his voice high with confusion.

“The suit. Summon the suit, and keep the scarab safe!” Layla commanded again, this time thrusting the scarab into Steven’s hands.

"Suit?!" Steven’s voice cracked as he glanced between Layla and the encroaching disciples. He still looked lost, but there was a spark of determination beginning to show.

Nouri had had enough. She couldn't wait any longer. She slammed her foot into the ground with such force that the earth beneath her trembled. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, cracking the floor as if she were a force of nature itself. Her eyes flashed with divine fire, her voice booming, filled with the power of the gods. “DAMN IT! SUIT!” she screamed, her voice shaking the air itself.

Time seemed to slow. The ground beneath her feet cracked with energy as flames surged from her body, crackling with power. The fire wrapped around her like tendrils, spiralling from her feet, coiling up her legs, and climbing her body in a violent, twisting surge. Each flicker of flame burned hotter, its glow increasing with every moment as it enveloped her entirely.

The transformation was as much a spectacle as it was a display of power. Her upper body was wrapped in cloth, the bandeau top tightly fastening around her chest, leaving her arms bare. Her forearms were encased in bandages that glowed with golden energy, the elegant bindings a symbol of both protection and strength. The sleek cloth of her skirt flowed from her navel, elegantly cut on either side, the slits reaching from her thighs down to allow for unrestricted movement. It was a warrior’s attire, designed for both grace and ferocity.

Her eyes burned with the intensity of Ra's sun, and her flaming swords appeared in her hands, the fire crackling and dancing with life.

The disciples faltered at the sight, their eyes wide with fear and awe. Nouri stood tall, unwavering, her presence commanding the space. She was a warrior once more, not a mere observer, but the force of nature she had always been.

“So be it," Arthur’s cold voice sliced through the moment of silence, his hand still outstretched, a command for his disciples to attack.

The circle closed in. The disciples rushed toward them, but Nouri was already moving, a blur of flame and steel. She didn’t hesitate. Her swords whirled through the air, each swing slicing through the air with divine precision. Every strike was like a perfect arc of destruction, fire erupting at the edges of her weapons, illuminating the space with each lethal movement. She cleaved through them with terrifying grace, each disciple falling before her in a wave of flame.

But then, as if summoned by the dark magic of Arthur’s will, a sudden, eerie growl echoed from the shadows.

A massive jackal, its form shifting between the material and the ethereal, appeared before Nouri and Steven. It was a beast of darkness, its eyes glowing with a fierce, malevolent red light. Its claws scraped against the stone floor, leaving deep gouges as it sniffed the air, homing in on its prey.

Nouri’s eyes widened for a split second, recognizing the creature for what it was—an ancient guardian of the underworld, a spirit tied to the forces of chaos. It was visible only to her and Steven, but its presence was undeniable.

The jackal growled low, its form flickering like a shadow, before charging straight at Steven, its glowing eyes locking onto him with deadly intent. Nouri barely had a moment to react before it lunged, its jaws snapping with vicious speed.

"Move!" Nouri shouted to Steven, her voice cracking through the chaos. She spun, cutting through another disciple before dashing toward him, her flaming swords at the ready.

But the jackal was faster. It was like a blur of shadow and smoke, leaping toward Steven with unnatural speed. Nouri raised her sword, flaring a wall of fire in an attempt to block the beast’s path, but the jackal tore through the flames like they were nothing, its body phasing through the fire as though it were made of smoke.

“DAMN IT!” Nouri screamed, her heart racing. This was no normal beast; it was fuelled by Arthur’s magic, an extension of his will to hunt and destroy.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Layla shouted, grabbing Steven’s arm and pulling him toward the stairs, but the jackal wasn’t backing down. It snapped its teeth at Nouri’s heels, moving with terrifying precision.

"Nouri!" Layla screamed, dragging Steven behind her, her urgency ringing through the chaos. The jackal was relentless, and she knew they had to move, but it was just inches away from them.

“I’m right behind you!” Nouri yelled, her voice a force of nature as she darted forward, cutting through another disciple’s defence with a blaze of light. She moved like a shadow, a flash of divine fury. Every swipe of her blades sent disciples flying, their bodies crashing into walls, her fire too much for them to handle. But the jackal was getting closer, its growls mixing with the battle cries of the disciples as it chased after them, determined to strike.

Her feet barely touched the ground as she flew across the space, her movements a fluid, fiery blur. She was a hurricane of fire, fury, and grace, leaving only scorched earth in her wake. But the jackal was faster than any disciple—more lethal. Its claws dug into the stone floor, its snarl growing louder, as it closed the gap.

"In here! Bolt the door!" Layla cried out as she reached the door, turning to Nouri.

Without hesitation, Nouri dashed to the door, her eyes narrowed and focused on the jackal now closing in on them. She could feel its growls vibrating through the floorboards, each step getting closer. Her heart pounded, but she wasn’t about to let anything happen to Layla or Steven—not on her watch.

Together, Layla and Nouri slammed the door shut just in time to hear the jackal's furious snarls echo from the other side. It was pounding on the door with terrifying force.

“Oh, my God, I’m going to die in an evil magician’s man cave!” Steven said, his voice shrill, panic seeping through every word as he backed himself into a corner, eyes darting to the door.

“No. Hey. Listen to me, Steven. Listen to me,” Layla said, grabbing his shoulders firmly to keep him from spiralling further. “Your name is Marc. There's a suit. I’ve seen you use it. You’ve got to bring it out.”

“No!” Steven mumbled, his hands shaking. He couldn’t seem to focus. His breathing was erratic, as though the walls themselves were closing in on him. “I can't—no—”

“Where are you? We need you to fight!” Layla’s voice trembled, cracking slightly under the pressure as she shook him.

“Steven! Give the body to Marc!” Nouri shouted from behind them, urgency thick in her tone, as the jackal continued battering at the door, each strike louder, closer, more violent.

“No. I can’t. Stop, please, both of you. Please... stop.” Steven’s voice broke, his head in his hands, trembling from the stress. His eyes squeezed shut like he could will the situation to disappear. The jackal’s growls echoed louder now, reverberating through the room, making Steven flinch with every sound.

“Listen to me, Steven!” Layla yelled, kneeling down to his level, her hands gripping his arms tightly. “Your name is Marc! Bring it out!”

“Where the hell are you? You need to fight!” Layla shouted, panic rising in her chest. Her voice was harsh now, desperate, trying to pull him from the spiral of terror he was trapped in.

“Layla, it’s useless!” Nouri’s voice cut through the chaos. She grabbed Layla by the arm, pulling her toward the ladder. “We need to move, now.”

“But—!” Layla started to protest, but Nouri’s strength was enough to silence her. The urgency of the situation was too real. Layla glanced back at Steven as he continued to crouch on the floor, his hands clutching his head, the sound of the jackal’s claws scrabbling against the door growing louder.

“Please stop. Leave me alone, both of you!” Steven cried, sinking lower, his knees hitting the floor as he rocked back and forth. His voice was nearly a whisper now, panic overwhelming him. “I can’t—I can’t do it. I can’t…”

Nouri’s eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and concern. She couldn’t let him break. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and knelt beside him. “Alright,” she said with a touch of steel in her voice, “Both of you find a way out, now,” she commanded, her tone unwavering as she stood tall, ready to fight.

The door splintered as the jackal broke through, snarling with vicious intent. It loomed over them, eyes glowing with hunger. Steven’s wide eyes locked onto the beast, paralyzed in fear.

“Jackal. Jackal...!” Steven screamed in a high-pitched voice, his heart racing.

“What jackal?” Layla asked frantically, looking around, her confusion increasing as she couldn’t see the creature.

“Jackal... Jackal...” Steven muttered, his eyes shifting around wildly, trying to follow the creature’s movement, but the more he looked, the less he could grasp onto reality. He began to back away, stumbling behind Nouri, who stood resolutely in front of them, trying to keep them both safe.

The jackal leapt at them, its claws slashing through the air as it sent both Nouri and Steven tumbling backward through the window.

"Summon the suit!” Nouri and Khonshu bellowed at Steven in unison, both of their voices piercing through the panic of the moment.

“SUIT!” Steven finally yelled, his voice cracking, as the transformation washed over him.

The two of them landed heavily on the ground with a sickening thud, dust rising around them like a storm as the impact shook the earth beneath their feet. Nouri’s body slammed into the ground, but she was quick to push herself up, her muscles burning with the effort. Her heart hammered in her chest, blood rushing to her ears. The air around them felt charged, like the remnants of a battle not yet fought. She glanced at Steven, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the transformation he’d undergone.

The suit wasn’t what she expected at all. Rather than the ceremonial armour she’d imagined, the Moon Knight armour had manifested in a much more... civilian form. It was almost as if the universe had made a mockery of the godly armour she knew—this wasn’t the regal, shining vestments of an ancient warrior. This was... Mr. Knight?

“Nice suit?” Nouri said, her voice dripping with a mix of confusion and dry amusement, eyebrow raised as she eyed the sleek, albeit somewhat awkward, appearance. Her hand twitched instinctively, a spark of magic almost crackling in the air as she kept her focus sharp, ready for anything.

"That should’ve been much worse," Steven panted, his chest rising and falling with every frantic breath. His hands trembled as he slowly turned his head to talk to the wall… again. "I don’t know... She said I needed a suit," Steven muttered, a dazed expression on his face as if he was still processing the surreal situation. His mind was scrambled, and the suit’s appearance was only adding to his confusion.

“Well, I don’t know how any of this shit works, man. I... Well, think I do look sharp, though,” he said with a nervous laugh, though his hands were fumbling with the unfamiliar poles and items attached to the suit. His fingers brushed over them curiously. “Scarab... Oh, um... What's this? What are these little poles for? Pretty cool, actually. Ha. I like this."

“Steven, watch out!” Nouri’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with urgency, her eyes narrowing as the jackal landed with a sickening thud right on top of Steven. Its massive, clawed feet dug into the suit, its feral snarl echoing through the alley as it poised to strike.

“Pat mak, iwa wah em pat!”* Nouri yelled; her voice full of fury as she faced the monstrous jackal. But the creature only snickered, its glowing yellow eyes narrowing as it lunged forward, slamming both Nouri and Steven into a nearby wooden wall with a deafening crash. The wood splintered, sending shards flying across the alley, and Nouri groaned as the impact rattled her bones.

She struggled to her feet, her gaze snapping to the jackal as it stood above them, an intimidating shadow of fangs and claws.

Looking up, Nouri saw Layla, her face twisted in shock as she watched the chaos unfold. Layla’s eyes flickered to Steven, who was now being grabbed by the jackal, thrown into a parked car with a sickening crunch as the jackal’s claws dug into his suit.

"You look different," Layla remarked in disbelief, her eyes widening as she noticed Steven's new suit—a sharp contrast to the earlier, more fragile version of him. But there was no time to ask more. The jackal's claws dug into Steven's body, lifting him high before slamming him into the side of a car with bone-cracking force.

“Stay away from me!” Steven screamed, his voice cracking with panic as he struggled against the jackal’s vice-like grip. Layla moved to approach, but before she could reach him, the jackal spun and kicked her to the ground, sending her skidding across the pavement with a loud grunt.

“Layla!” Nouri shouted, rushing to her side, but the chaos around them kept her feet rooted for a moment longer. The jackal had a feral intensity in its eyes as it snarled, its claws digging into Steven’s throat, squeezing with unnatural strength.

“Why aren’t you helping him?!” Layla yelled, struggling to sit up and catch her breath, her voice panicked.

“I can’t harm it,” Nouri explained, her eyes filled with frustration. She felt every instinct screaming at her to intervene, but the power to hurt the jackal wasn’t in her grasp—not without consequences. She couldn’t break the divine laws she was bound by, and every fibre of her being ached at that fact.

The two women watched helplessly as the jackal continued to throw Steven around, slamming him into the ground, its claws tightening around his throat. He gasped for air, struggling but barely able to keep himself conscious.

Layla, desperate, grabbed a nearby bottle, throwing it at the jackal’s face. The bottle shattered, the liquid splashing over the jackal’s fur, leaving a trail of liquid that glistened in the dim streetlights. For a moment, the creature’s form shimmered, its outlines wavering just enough for Layla to catch a glimpse of it.

“Good job,” Nouri said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she watched the creature shake its head, growling, but not fast enough. The jackal’s golden eyes locked onto Layla, and with a swift, brutal motion, it grabbed both her and Steven by their throats, lifting them with one hand as if they were nothing more than ragdolls.

The next moment, the two were slammed together, crashing hard against a nearby wall, then tossed into a car like discarded toys. The sound of crushing metal echoed in the air as Steven screamed in pain, his body crumpling against the car’s hood.

“Now can you harm it?” Layla screamed, barely able to choke out the words as she gasped for air, her throat still in the jackal's deadly grip.

With a flash of frustration, Nouri summoned her flames, conjuring them with a sweeping motion of her hand, fire spiralling from her fingertips. The jackal hissed, stepping back, but it wasn’t enough to drive it away. Nouri’s power raked across the air, but the jackal didn’t seem to care, its fiery eyes fixated on the two women as it prepared for another attack.

Steven, weak and dizzy, reached for a nearby wheel and swung it at the jackal’s head with every ounce of strength he had left. The jackal barely flinched, shaking off the hit with terrifying ease. With a roar of frustration, it grabbed all three of them, throwing them once again, sending Nouri and Layla hurtling into the brick wall, while Steven was tossed like a ragdoll into a nearby car with a sickening crunch.

“Get away from her, you!” Steven shouted, growing more frantic. “Yeah, I see you, you plug-ugly coyote. You’re in the wrong ends, mate. You’re in my yard now. Yeah. Come on. Come on. That’s right. Come on. Ooh, lookie here. Lookie here. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, my name is Steven with a V."

His voice was barely louder than a growl as he cracked a grin, despite the terror running through his veins. Nouri couldn’t help but watch with a little amusement at Steven’s growing bravado.

"Oh, my God. Here you come, come on!" Steven yelled, suddenly full of reckless confidence. He charged forward; his fists raised. The jackal lunged at him, claws flashing like blades, but Steven, in his determined frenzy, landed a powerful punch to the jackal’s chest. The jackal staggered back, momentarily dazed.

"What? Wagaaaan! I did it! You got planted! Nouri! Layla! Did you see that?" Steven yelled; his voice full of self-congratulation.

But before he could bask in the victory, the jackal roared, turning on him with blinding speed. It kicked Steven so hard he flew backward, landing with a violent crash into the street just in front of an oncoming car.

The car screeched to a halt just inches from Steven, and Nouri gasped, her heart in her throat. She pushed herself up, determined to act, but before she could take another step, a familiar car screeched to a halt beside them.

Ardeth jumped out of the car, rushing toward Nouri and Layla with a look of fierce concern in his eyes. “Nouri? What’s going on?” he demanded, looking at the wreckage around them.

“Who is he?” Layla asked, still reeling from the shock of the attack.

Nouri, still panting, ignored her for a moment as she looked over at Steven, who was struggling to rise, groaning from the impact. Her face hardened with resolve; her voice sharp. “Harrow’s summoned the jackal,” Nouri explained quickly.

“And you can’t harm it,” Ardeth said with a knowing sigh, his eyes flickering to the flames still dancing around Nouri's fingertips.

“Who is he?” Layla asked again, her voice demanding an answer.

“Leader of the Medjai,” Nouri said curtly to Layla, her gaze never leaving the jackal. “Keep her safe,” Nouri instructed Ardeth, her tone commanding as she took a step back, the weight of the situation bearing down on her.

Before Ardeth could respond, Nouri turned, her heart pounding. She rushed toward Steven, her fire burning brighter as she charged through the chaos, her eyes locked on the jackal. She had to protect him. She had to stop this nightmare.

But as she neared Steven, the jackal was relentless. It picked him up, slamming him into the side of a bus with another crushing blow. Steven gasped for air, and that was when it happened.

"All right. Do it. Take control. For now." Steven's voice was strained as he spoke to himself, his words echoing with a quiet desperation.

And then, it happened. The shift was unmistakable. Steven’s form began to change. The suit around him twisted, transforming into the ceremonial armour of Moon Knight. The transformation was brutal and quick, a burst of energy and shifting fabric as Steven, now Marc Spector, took control of the body.

Nouri watched in awe as Marc’s confidence bloomed with his new identity. He turned to face the jackal, his gaze hardening, the sharp, reflective moon of his armour glowing in the night.

“Get it out of here,” Layla shouted, her voice full of urgency as she looked toward Nouri.

“Make sure he’s safe!” Layla pleaded with Nouri; her voice thick with worry.

“Stay with Ardeth, he’ll keep you safe!” Nouri yelled back, her voice cutting through the chaos. Without hesitation, she sprinted after Marc, who was already darting away, leading the jackal away from the civilian area.

The jackal, relentless as ever, followed, jumping across rooftops with the same hunger in its eyes. Nouri wasn’t far behind, leaping from building to building with the grace of a predator, her fire illuminating the darkness around her. She could feel the heat of the battle in the air, the raw power of Marc's newfound form driving him forward.

The jackal lunged again, its fangs bared and claws flashing through the air. But Marc was ready this time. He was faster, more focused, his training coming to the forefront. With one swift motion, he grabbed the creature mid-air, twisting his body with all his strength. He hurled the jackal toward a nearby steeple, where it impaled itself on the spire. The beast shrieked, its body disintegrating into dust as it was destroyed, leaving behind only the faint echo of its otherworldly growl.

---

Marc stood there, chest heaving, his mind racing with adrenaline. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but the momentary sense of victory over the jackal quickly dissolved into the weight of his reality. His eyes darted around the ruins of the church, desperate to find the scarab. He had lost it in the chaos. His frustration deepened, his fists clenching as he muttered under his breath.

"Shit!" His voice was tight with anxiety.

From the shadows, Nouri’s voice broke the tension, smooth and commanding, cutting through the night air like a blade. “So, Marc Spector... we finally meet.”

Marc froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His heart skipped a beat before his gaze hardened. He spun toward the voice, narrowing his eyes, scanning for the source.

Marc’s jaw clenched, and an icy rage settled over him like a heavy fog. “Who the hell are you?” he barked, his voice sharp with suspicion. He took a step toward her, his body tense, ready for anything.

Her gaze met his—unfazed. “I am Al Nouri, daughter of Khonshu.”

His eyes flared with anger. “Khonshu’s spawn, huh?” he spat, taking another step forward, his fists tightening. “Great. Just what I needed. Another manipulative god.” His voice trembled with barely controlled rage. “You gods just get to do whatever you want, don’t you? Always playing with human lives like they’re your toys. Never thinking about the consequences."

Nouri’s expression darkened in a split second, the power beneath her skin flickering like embers, a warning to anyone who dared to challenge her. “You do not want me as your enemy Spector,” she warned, her voice low and laced with an authority that could silence even the bravest warriors. “Khonshu may protect you, but he cannot protect you from me. I will take you life, if I deem it necessary.”

Marc scoffed, his anger surging again. He took a step closer, glaring at her. “I’m supposed to be scared of you? You think I’m some weak mortal?!” He was practically seething now, his voice hoarse with frustration. “You gods think you can just toy with people. All of you. You don’t know what it’s like to be stuck in a life like this.”

Nouri’s eyes flickered with something far deeper than mere anger. It was something older, something that could bring even the fiercest of mortals to their knees. “You’re not the only one Khonshu has tormented,” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “He has been plaguing me with your name, your fractured soul, for over a century.”

Marc’s anger faltered, confusion creeping into his mind. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, his voice more hushed now, still burning with frustration. His thoughts were racing, a mixture of disbelief and irritation.

Nouri's gaze softened ever so slightly, but there was no mistaking the heaviness in her voice. “Khonshu’s manipulations have haunted me for longer than you can imagine. His whispers in my ears, his insistence that your soul is broken, that you need saving.” She took a step closer, her presence like a weight pushing against him. “I’ve been forced to listen to it all, Spector. The lies, the torment, your fractured soul dragging me into this mess.”

Marc’s breath caught in his throat, his fists trembling. “You’re not the only one who’s had it rough,” he muttered, his voice strained, masking the pain with bitterness. But the crack in his armour was apparent.

But before Nouri could respond, something caught Marc attention. A mirror in the steeple. His reflection.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Nouri’s voice sliced through his thoughts, a quiet accusation.

Marc’s breath quickened, his pulse racing. He turned his head, staring at the reflection that seemed to mock him. His hands clenched into fists, frustration and confusion building up inside him. “Shut up! You shut up!” he screamed, his voice a primal roar. His emotions were spiralling out of control.

With a burst of anger, Marc kicked the mirror with all his strength. The glass shattered, sending shards flying across the room. He stood there, chest heaving, trembling from the release of his pent-up rage. His mind was a battlefield, each fragment of the mirror reflecting the chaos in his own soul.

Nouri watched him with a mix of disdain and something else—sympathy, perhaps, but it was buried deep beneath her icy exterior. “You think breaking things will make it go away?” she asked, her voice laced with a touch of bitterness, as if she could see right through his act.

Marc stood there, panting, his hands still shaking, eyes wide with fury and confusion. He couldn’t even tell if he was angry at her, at Khonshu, or at himself. But it didn’t matter. "You have no idea what it’s like to be controlled by him. You don’t know what it’s like to lose your mind piece by piece," he spat, his words dripping with frustration.

Nouri didn’t flinch, though the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. “You’re not the only one who has suffered under Khonshu’s control,” she said coldly, her eyes never leaving him. “I didn’t ask for his influence, and neither did you. But don’t act like you’re the only one suffering.”

The air was thick with tension. For a moment, there was silence. Marc stood there, still reeling, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. He wanted to scream, to let it all out, but the weight of everything—Khonshu’s manipulation, his fractured mind, Nouri’s cold presence—was suffocating.

“I’m not like him,” Nouri’s voice cut through the silence, her tone firm, almost dangerous. “You think I’m just another tool for Khonshu? I’m not. He may be my father, but I am my own force.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed, but this time, there was a glimmer of something else in them—something that might have been curiosity. “Then why are you here?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Nouri's lips curled into a small smirk, but it wasn’t a friendly one. “Because Khonshu’s name is tied to yours. And whether I like it or not, I’m involved.” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes glinting with an emotion Marc couldn’t quite place. “But if you think I’m going to take your side, you’re mistaken.” She stepped back, her figure fading into the shadows. “I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. We’re not allies. We’re just two individuals trying to survive Khonshu’s mess.”

Marc stood, fists still clenched, staring after her as she disappeared into the darkness. The adrenaline from the fight with the jackal had long since faded, leaving only a dull ache in his chest. He looked at the shattered mirror once more, his own reflection staring back at him like a stranger. What the hell was he even fighting for anymore?

---

A strong gust of wind swept across the rooftop, blowing over chairs with a crash, the sound like thunder under the weight of Khonshu’s words.

“You swore he would not interfere,” Khonshu’s voice boomed across the sky, his imposing form towering on the edge of the church roof, his wings unfurled like dark shadows.

Marc’s fists clenched, his body rigid with anger. “I know. I’ll handle it,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration.

Khonshu’s voice reverberated with scorn. “You have proven you cannot,” he taunted, his form flickering across the rooftops in an instant, a phantom in the night.

Marc’s chest rose and fell with every breath, his rage bubbling under the surface. “I will,” he growled, his voice a challenge, though it was more to himself than the god.

Khonshu’s laughter was harsh, mocking. “Ungrateful, Marc. Altering the terms of our agreement. You were nothing more than a corpse when I found you.” The god’s voice came from a new rooftop, the shadows bending around him like a cloak.

Marc’s jaw tightened as he spun, his eyes burning with defiance. “You think you own this body?” Khonshu shot, his voice seething. “It belongs to me.”

Marc’s eyes burned with frustration. "We'll find the scarab," he growled, trying to focus, even as Khonshu’s presence felt like a weight crushing him.

Khonshu’s laughter rang out once more, cruel and dismissive. "Too late. Harrow has it," he sneered, delighting in Marc’s growing frustration.

Marc’s jaw clenched harder, but his voice remained firm, even as the anger inside him surged. "Then we’ll find another way. We'll get to Ammit's tomb first," he promised, the words feeling like a fragile lifeline to hold onto.

Khonshu’s tone shifted, suddenly colder, as if he were trying to manipulate Marc’s every move. "You know I’ll protect you with everything I have. You are worth protecting," he said, as though he believed his words—though the hint of manipulation beneath them was undeniable.

Marc turned his head sharply, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "Will you protect me from her?" he demanded, his finger jabbing towards Nouri, who stood off to the side, a smirk tugging at her lips as she observed the exchange with an almost gleeful detachment.

Nouri’s eyes gleamed with a wicked glint, her voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. "The question is—will you protect yourself from the mess you’ve gotten yourself into?" She said, her tone sharp, almost dismissive and folded her arms and leaned casually against the rooftop, eyes flicking between Marc and Khonshu.

Khonshu’s response came in a low, mocking laugh. "Of course," he sneered, his voice dripping with false confidence. "I’ll protect you—like I always have."

Marc shot Nouri a quick look, his irritation palpable as the frustration boiled over. "I'll do whatever it takes then. Then you let me go," he demanded, his voice raw with the anger he couldn’t fully contain.

Khonshu’s response was as imperious as ever, a twisted blend of manipulation and false care. "I know you enjoy the work I have for you. We need each other," he said, almost condescendingly.

Marc’s hands curled into fists, the tension rippling through his frame as he shot back, "We have a deal," his voice low, but with a venomous edge.

Khonshu’s gaze darkened; his words laced with a cold threat. "Let me remind you," he said, his tone flat, "should we part, you may not like my next candidate. Near and dear as she is to you."

Marc stood still, feeling the weight of Khonshu’s threat sinking in. The words held a deep, twisted meaning. "Where are we going?" he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Khonshu’s eyes gleamed with malice, the darkness in his voice unmistakable. “Where the hell do you think? She will take you there.” His words were final, his form vanishing into the night with a speed that left Marc standing there, breathless, as the god’s presence disappeared like a shadow swallowed by the dark.

Notes:

*Translation:
Pat mak, iwa wah em pat! → He is under my protection, you cannot harm him!

Chapter 53: Family Reunion

Notes:

Hi loves <3 sorry for being gone for a while, I've been dealing with a lot of mental health issues, and I've had no motivation to write, but I wanted to write today, so here we are <3 let me know what you think, and also let me know what you think will happen next <3
I'd really love to hear what you thought of the chapter <3

Marc stood still for a moment, his jaw clenched, as he turned towards Nouri. His fists were tight, the tension in his body radiating from the layers of frustration, guilt, and trauma that plagued him constantly. His eyes narrowed.

Nouri didn’t respond immediately, watching him with a mix of pity and impatience. Khonshu’s puppet. The thought lingered at the back of her mind, but she didn't voice it.

"Come on," Nouri said, breaking the silence as she slid into the driver’s seat of a sleek black car, her voice like a calm breeze amidst a raging storm. "I’ve got a jet waiting."

Marc hesitated but climbed into the passenger seat. His gaze didn’t leave her for a moment. “You think I’m just gonna let you drag me around like some—"

"Like some... what?" Nouri interrupted, her voice sharp, filled with authority that could only come from a being whose eyes had seen eons pass. "You have no choice in the matter. Trust me, your anger isn’t a match for what’s about to happen. So, buckle up, Marc. We’re going to Cairo.”

Marc huffed, clearly irritated. His hands rested on his knees, fingers twitching. The weight of his internal war wasn’t lost on Nouri. She could see it, feel it. His soul was split, fractured, constantly at war with itself. She had been around long enough to recognize pain like his.

“You know, you’re not exactly the most pleasant company," Marc muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Are we going to argue the whole ride?"

“I wasn’t aware I asked for your approval," Nouri shot back, her eyes on the road, her tone unwavering, yet there was a spark of something deep in her gaze. "But I suppose if you want to fight, I can make it interesting.”

Marc stiffened, the tension in the car becoming palpable. His anger was rising, flickering just beneath the surface. “Interesting? You think this is all some game?” he growled, voice hardening, his words laced with bitterness. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose control. To have your mind constantly betraying you.”

"Don’t I?" Nouri’s eyes flickered with something akin to sorrow, though it was fleeting. Her tone softened, but only for a split second. "I’ve seen more than you could ever imagine. I’ve witnessed wars, betrayal, the cruelty of gods and men alike. I know what it's like to be trapped in your own mind."

Marc’s anger flared. "Then why the hell do you want to help me? Why should I trust you, huh? What’s in it for you?"

“Because unlike you, I am not driven by vengeance or a twisted sense of duty,” she replied coolly, her voice carrying an otherworldly weight. “I am bound to guide those who have lost their way. Whether you like it or not, you’re in my path now, as your soul is lost. And I will make sure you don’t destroy yourself before the gods make their move.”

Marc exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. “Gods... Don’t get me started on that. I’m done with them.”

Nouri's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Oh, I know you're tired of them," she said, her voice lowering. "Before I came here, I was at peace—resting in the Field of Reeds with my husband, far away from all this chaos. But then Khonshu begged me to return. He needed help. You needed help." Her gaze grew distant for a moment, as though she could still feel the peace of that place. "You think I want to be here, dragging you around? I was content, Marc. But duty calls."

Marc’s frown deepened, his fingers tapping nervously against the seat. "So, you're not just here for me. You're here because the moon god can't let go of his puppets."

Nouri’s gaze turned sharply to him, her divine presence settling into the car like a storm. “Khonshu doesn’t own me. My husband and I... we walked the journey of the afterlife together. We were bound by love and peace. But when begged me to help, I obliged. Because even in my rest, I knew the world would never be the same without guidance. So, I came back—reluctantly, yes. But I came.”

Marc, still distracted by his own thoughts, couldn’t help himself. "Your husband, huh?" He glanced at her with a flicker of curiosity despite himself. "Who is he? Some god too? One of those big-deal guys like Ra or Khonshu?"

Nouri’s lips curled into a small, amused smile. "Oh, no. He's not a god at all. He's mortal."

Marc raised an eyebrow. "A mortal?" He looked at her incredulously. "And you... a goddess... you’re married to a mortal? What, some ancient king or pharaoh?"

Nouri let out a soft chuckle, the kind that was almost teasing. "No, Marc. He’s not a pharaoh, not an ancient king. He’s much simpler than that."

Marc shot her a sideways glance, clearly intrigued. "Well, who is he then? Some lost lover of the gods or—"

“Captain America,” Nouri said casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Marc froze. The car seemed to slow down, though it was still moving at a steady pace. He blinked, his head snapping toward her. "Huh?!"

Nouri didn’t even flinch. “Steve Rogers. Captain America.”

Marc blinked again, clearly not able to process what she just said. “You’re married to him?” he asked, voice rising in disbelief. “The Steve Rogers? The Captain America? The guy who froze himself in ice for seventy years?”

Nouri finally allowed her eyes to flicker toward him, a soft smirk playing on her lips. “Yes, Marc. That Steve Rogers,quite the hero, wouldn’t you say?. You really thought a goddess like me would settle for anything less?” Her voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable warmth behind it, a fondness that could only come from someone deeply in love.

Marc just stared at her; mouth slightly agape. He shook his head in disbelief. “Captain America... of all people.” He let out a dry laugh, but there was a hint of something softer in his voice, maybe even a little admiration. “Well, I guess that explains why you’re so... special.”

“I like to think I’m more than just special,” Nouri said lightly, her voice returning to its usual calm strength. “But, yes. My husband is... unique in his own right. And so are you, Marc. You just need to stop fighting yourself long enough to see it.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Marc could feel the weight of them, a burden he couldn’t ignore. He turned his head slightly, avoiding her gaze. "And now you're stuck with me," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

"More like you’re stuck with us," Nouri retorted. "And don’t flatter yourself, Marc. I don’t care about fixing you. I’m here to ensure the world doesn’t crumble because you refuse to face your demons.”

Marc’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t retort. The truth stung too much.

The drive to the airport was filled with the hum of the car’s engine and the tension between them. Marc kept his focus on the window, but the words lingered in his mind. 

Peace... With her husband. Could she even remember what it was like to be truly free?

As they neared the airport, Nouri turned the car sharply into the parking lot. They were escorted to the tarmac, where Ardeth stood next to a sleek jet and in a sleek all black suit. He smiled when he saw them, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were sharp.

"Nice plane," Nouri called out, her tone light, despite the heaviness of the conversation just moments ago.

“Courtesy of Barton,” Ardeth yelled back, his voice booming across the open tarmac. He extended his hand to Marc, who shook it cautiously.

Marc glanced at Nouri as he took Ardeth's hand. The tension still buzzed between him and her, but he knew, that this mission, didn’t have room for petty squabbles. Not when it came to something bigger than either of them.

The three boarded the plane, the engine roaring to life as they taxied toward the runway. Marc sank into his seat, his mind still buzzing with everything Nouri had said. 

A husband... Resting in peace...

“Cairo awaits,” Nouri said, her voice low, as she fastened her seatbelt. She glanced out the window, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Let’s go home.”

Marc stared straight ahead, trying to block out the storm that brewed inside him. But as the plane soared into the sky, he couldn’t help but wonder if Nouri might just be right—if he was, in fact, more connected to this chaos than he’d ever realized. And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

---

April 30th, 2025

 

The plane ride began in a rare moment of quiet. Nouri stared out the window, her gaze drifting over the landscape as the first light of dawn spilled across the sky. The colours were soft at first—gentle strokes of orange, pink, and gold that melted into one another, painting the clouds with the promise of a new day. She could feel the stillness of the moment in her bones, a peace she rarely allowed herself to feel.

But, as always, that peace didn’t last long.

Marc was slouched in the seat across from her, broke the silence with his usual, unfiltered curiosity. "Who is he?" he asked, his voice casual but laced with the sharpness of his usual scepticism. He was staring at the aisle, his eyes fixed on Ardeth, who was standing near the plane’s small galley, lost in thought as he looked out the window.

Nouri didn’t look up from the magazine she was flipping through, her fingers tracing the glossy pages with practiced indifference. "Ancient Medjai warrior," she said, voice light, almost dismissive. "Recently risen from the dead."

Marc nearly choked on the water he was sipping, the liquid splashing onto his shirt. His eyebrows shot up; incredulity plastered across his face. "Risen from the dead?" he repeated, his voice pitched higher than usual.

Ardeth, clearly entertained, chuckled from across the aisle. "Most people have that reaction," he said, raising an eyebrow as Marc tried to regain his composure.

Marc sputtered, trying to get a grip on his thoughts. "Wait, wait, wait—the Medjai? You guys are supposed to protect Egypt, the pharaoh, and—what?—temples?" he stammered, looking between Nouri and Ardeth as if they were pulling his leg.

"Common misconception," Ardeth said smoothly, leaning back in his seat. "We’ve always been bound to Nouri by the gods’ law and decree. Nouri and I were raised together in Thebes." His voice carried an air of familiarity with the ancient city, as if it were a place steeped in more than just history for him.

Marc blinked. "So, you were... raised together?" He looked at Nouri like she might suddenly sprout wings and fly out of the plane. "Seriously?"

Nouri finally lowered her magazine, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Yes," she replied with a smirk. "Raised in a temple in Thebes, right beside the Medjai. I was basically their goddess little sister."

Marc let out a breath, still processing the information. He turned to Ardeth. "So, what, you’re a… what exactly? An immortal, soul-binding protector? A guardian of Egypt’s... whatever?"

Ardeth leaned back in his seat with a relaxed smile, his calm demeanour a stark contrast to Marc's wide-eyed astonishment. "Pretty much," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, clearly used to the questions. "We are bound by the gods’ will to serve Nouri. Our purpose is to protect her and, by extension, the land she watches over. It’s been that way for centuries." He paused for a moment, as though reminiscing about the past. "Although now, I no longer lead the Medjai. I teach Nouri’s class on Ancient Egyptian civilization at Columbia University."

Marc leaned back, raising an eyebrow trying to process everything. "You said you know what it’s like to be trapped?" he asked, his voice shifting, an edge of something softer in his tone.

Nouri’s eyes flickered with a deeper sadness as she looked out the window again. "Around 1809, I was imprisoned," she said quietly, her voice taking on a distant, almost haunted quality. "For meddling in human affairs. For loving them too much. The gods locked me away because of my desire to protect humanity."

Marc shifted in his seat, now listening more intently, his earlier sarcasm replaced with genuine curiosity. "You were locked away for loving humans?"

"Yes," Nouri replied, her voice low. "For centuries, I watched them. I saw their pain, their joy, and their endless potential. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. So, I intervened. I was punished for it, locked away in an ushabti for 200 years."

Marc’s eyes softened slightly, though the scepticism still lingered. "So… what happened? How’d you get out?"

"I was freed around 2011," Nouri said, the weight of the years still hanging heavy on her words. "After two hundred years of isolation, I was brought back to the mortal realm, only to discover that the world had changed in ways I never could have imagined."

There was a long pause as the two men absorbed her words. Finally, Marc cleared his throat, his tone shifting back to something more playful, though it was tinged with curiosity. "So, how did you meet your husband?"

Nouri’s lips curled into a teasing smile. "Through work," she said with an exaggerated shrug.

Marc raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "What kind of work?"

Nouri leaned in slightly, her gaze playful. "We were both Avengers, Earth's mightiest heroes," she said sarcastically, her voice dripping with mock drama. "He fell deeply in love with me."

Ardeth burst into laughter at that, the sound rich with affection. "Oh, the love story of you and the Captain. I’ve always loved that one," he said, shaking his head fondly.

Nouri smiled softly, a rare, vulnerable look crossing her features. "It’s a good story," she said quietly, though her thoughts clearly drifted to Steve, alone, in the Afterlife.

Marc, noticing the shift in Nouri’s mood, raised an eyebrow, his usual casual tone masking his growing curiosity. "Has Khonshu always been… you know?" He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly trying to keep things light.

Nouri arched an eyebrow, a hint of a wry smile playing on her lips. "What? Imperious, vengeful, manipulative?" She said the words with teasing mockery, but her voice carried no malice—only a quiet resignation, an understanding of how others might perceive him.

Ardeth chuckled softly from the other side of the aisle. "You forgot 'moody,'" he added with a grin.

Nouri's lips quirked upward, but she didn’t let the moment linger. "Yeah, I guess you could say that" she said dryly. "But if you want the truth, it’s not that simple."

Marc’s face hardened for a second, and he crossed his arms, suddenly serious. "Yeah, sounds about right. But how does he decide who’s guilty? Don’t the Egyptians weigh hearts?" His voice held a trace of scepticism, as if questioning the logic behind Khonshu’s supposed "justice."

The air between them thickened, the banter falling away as Nouri’s gaze turned distant. She stared out the window, her expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, in a quieter, more reflective tone, she spoke. "Khonshu is a protector of the innocent," she began, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "He’s a god of justice in a world addicted to sin. He punishes those who’ve committed evil. But it’s not just about smiting the guilty. He’s often misunderstood."

"He was created to protect the travellers of the night, those who wander in the dark, both literally and figuratively," she continued, her voice steady but filled with a kind of reverence that Marc wasn’t expecting. "Khonshu is often misunderstood. He wasn’t always like this... but he became what the world needed him to be. He fought against the gods when they tried to imprison me. He stood by me when they judged me. He hid my ushabti out of love for me."

Marc shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his jaw tightening, processing her words but still not quite ready to agree. "Love, huh?" He muttered, the words barely above a whisper.

The air between them turned cold, the weight of their silence heavy and palpable. Nouri could feel the pain behind his words, and it struck a chord deep within her. She turned to face him, her eyes softening. "He knows love," she said, her voice quieter now. "And he never makes a mistake. Remember, he chose you, Marc. He chose you because, even when the world broke you—when you thought there was nothing left of yourself—you still chose to be a protector. He saw that in you. You’re merciful in ways he cannot be."

The words hung in the air, heavy with understanding and unspoken truths. Marc opened his mouth to respond, but the tension in his expression softened just a little.

Ardeth, sensing the shift in the conversation, leaned forward slightly, adding his own voice to the growing weight of the moment. "Khonshu’s methods might seem harsh, but they come from a place of deep conviction. He does not act out of malice, but out of his unyielding desire to protect what is good in this world. He’s a god of justice. And sometimes, justice is not a soft hand—sometimes it’s a firm one."

Marc sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his arms crossed. "Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem like he cares who gets hurt along the way."

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head slowly. "You think he doesn’t care? You think he just acts without considering the consequences? Khonshu isn’t a god of vengeance; he’s a god of balance. And sometimes, that means doing things that no one else will do. He doesn’t protect humanity because they’re perfect—he protects them because they are fragile. He sees the darkness in them, but he also sees their potential."

Marc was about to speak again, but Nouri raised a hand, cutting him off. "He also chose you because he had been spying on your for 10 years before you were dying in his temple” Her tone was sharp, but there was an undertone of something else—something between pity and amusement.

Marc rolled his eyes, clearly wanting to argue, but he couldn’t quite come up with a response. Instead, he muttered something under his breath. Ardeth, unable to hold it in any longer, burst into laughter, which was contagious enough that Nouri couldn’t help but chuckle too.

The plane ride stretched on, the conversation ebbing and flowing in small bursts of humour and lingering tension. As the descent into Cairo began, Nouri couldn’t help but feel the weight of both the past and the future pressing down on her. This was more than just a simple mission; it was a chance to revisit a world she hadn’t known for centuries.

The familiar hum of the engines filled the air as the city appeared on the horizon, its skyline stretching out beneath the sun’s growing light.

"Here we go," Nouri murmured, her voice barely a whisper. 

---

Once the three disembarked from the plane, the sound of the desert wind greeted them, carrying with it the scent of ancient sand and the distant promise of the unknown. Standing before them was an imposing line of Medjai warriors, their forms tall and strong, their eyes sharp, ever watchful. As soon as they spotted Nouri, the warriors immediately dropped to one knee in unison, offering a salute that reverberated with centuries of tradition.

"Praise be, Al Nouri!" their voices echoed through the courtyard, a chorus of reverence as they bowed their heads.

Marc couldn’t help himself. His lips twisted into a grimace, his shoulders tensing. "Oh, God," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Nouri, sensing the discomfort that Marc was trying—and failing—to hide, shot him a small, knowing smile. But before she could tease him about it, Ardeth stepped forward. His eyes were filled with both command and a touch of exasperation.

"Okay, listen here, mortal," Ardeth said, his voice low but cutting through the air like a sharp blade. He turned to face Marc, his expression hardening with the weight of authority. "Shut up, and show respect. Nouri is not Khonshu. She is not a figure of wrath or chaos. She is a goddess in her own right, and she deserves the respect. Do not forget who you’re speaking to."

Marc huffed in response but stayed silent, glaring at the warriors as they continued to chant their praises. He crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable, but unwilling to show any further resistance.

"Sut em asru, Ardeth,"* Nouri said, her voice warm yet firm as she placed a hand on Ardeth's shoulder to pull him back. "Let’s just go home and start searching for the ushabti."

Her eyes flicked briefly to Marc, an almost apologetic look flickering in her gaze before she turned away. Ardeth offered a subtle nod and backed off, but not without a lingering glance at Marc, making sure the younger man knew he was being watched.

The long journey back to the house felt like a much-needed respite from the tension in the air. Once inside, Nouri began showing Marc around the house, that she lived in with Sam and Steve, while being on the run. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with scrolls and ancient texts, the very air in the house thick with history. The atmosphere was a far cry from the bustling city outside, quiet and almost reverent in its stillness.

"Home," Nouri murmured as they walked through the halls, her fingers grazing the edges of a large carved stone tablet that stood in the centre of the room. She paused for a moment, lost in thought. "These texts hold everything about the past. The gods, the mortals... everything that has been lost over the centuries."

Marc took in the room, his gaze flicking from one artifact to another. He was both impressed and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of history that seemed to pulse in the air around them. But they weren’t here to admire the decor.

Once they were settled in Ardeth’s study, they got to work. The large oak desk was piled high with scrolls, tomes, and maps—each page older than any piece of technology Marc had ever seen. Dust motes floated in the air, drifting lazily in the candlelight that flickered from the brass candelabras on the side.

Nouri rolled up her sleeves and immediately got to work, sifting through the texts with a methodical precision, while Marc, though reluctant, followed suit. Time passed in silence, the only sound in the room being the soft rustling of paper. For hours, they combed through everything—any clue, any scrap of information that might lead them to Ammit’s ushabti.

But after what seemed like an eternity, there was nothing. Just silence, frustration, and the weight of their task.

Ardeth, who had been quietly watching Nouri, finally spoke up. "Were you there when they imprisoned her?" he asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and caution.

Nouri, her fingers frozen mid-turn of a scroll, paused. Her eyes narrowed as she considered the question. The soft glow of the candles highlighted the faint sorrow in her expression. "Um..." she started hesitantly. "I was in Athens." The last words were almost a whisper, as if she was ashamed to admit them.

"Athens?" Marc asked, his voice thick with confusion. "Why the hell were you in Athens?" He couldn't help but feel a bit of disbelief. This wasn’t the Nouri he was used to—the all-knowing, fiery goddess. The woman who had been part of ancient history now seemed… small, vulnerable even.

Nouri glanced down, suddenly shy, and her fingers fidgeted with the scroll in her hands. "I... I was studying under Aristotle." The words left her mouth almost as a confession, and she quickly looked away, as if afraid of the judgment in their eyes.

Marc blinked, momentarily stunned. "Wait. Aristotle? The Aristotle?" He shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. "What the hell does a goddess need with a Greek philosopher?"

Nouri’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I was curious about philosophy. I needed to understand how they thought, why they were so… driven. So, determined. Aristotle seemed like a good place to start."

Marc raised an eyebrow, still processing. "Okay, okay. That’s… not what I expected.”

Before Nouri could respond, Ardeth, ever the wise mediator, interrupted. "Can you see Harrow’s soul?" he suggested, changing the subject quickly.

Nouri’s eyes flicked to Ardeth, a question in her gaze. She nodded slightly, clearly understanding what he was proposing. Her posture straightened, her eyes closing in concentration. Slowly, she let Horus' Eye come through—her pupils shifting as her abilities began to awaken.

Marc watched in silence, unsure of what to expect. But as the minutes stretched on, the room remained quiet. Nouri’s expression began to shift, confusion evident in her eyes as she opened them again.

"Wait… what's happening?" Marc asked, watching the change in her. "Your eyes... they’re—"

Ardeth, sensing Marc’s growing panic, gestured for him to remain still. "Watch," he whispered, his voice calm, like a teacher instructing a student. "She is attempting to see him."

Nouri focused harder, her hand moving instinctively to her temple, trying to connect to the ethereal essence of Harrow's soul. But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

"I can’t see him," she said, her voice filled with disbelief and frustration. "I can’t see his soul." Her gaze fell to the floor in disbelief as the eye of Horus faded from her pupils. "It’s blocked... Ammit’s power is shielding him."

Ardeth nodded grimly. "She’s protecting him. And the rest of the disciples." His tone was heavy, reflecting the difficulty of their situation. "It’s not going to be easy."

Marc, who had been growing increasingly restless, let out an exasperated groan. "Of course. Nothing is ever simple, is it?" With that, he stood up abruptly and stormed out of the study, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he exited the house.

Nouri stood still for a moment, watching him go, before she sighed deeply. "Give the body to Steven, at least he was kind," she muttered to herself, her hand gripping the back of the chair as she stared at the door Marc had just slammed shut behind him.

The study fell into an uneasy silence again, the only sound the faint crackling of the candles as they continued their search, hoping for a breakthrough. But Nouri knew, deep down, that the road ahead was far from simple—and Marc’s frustration was just the beginning.

---

May 2nd, 2025

 

For two long days, Nouri and Ardeth had scoured the vast libraries, crypts, and ancient ruins in search of any trace of Ammit’s ushabti. But despite their best efforts, every lead seemed to dissipate like smoke in the wind. The ancient relic remained elusive, taunting them with its invisibility.

Marc had been in and out of the house, his efforts driven by a sense of desperation. Nouri couldn’t say whether he was running from something, or searching for something, but she could feel the tension in his every step.

She wasn’t prepared for him to burst through the door, his hands stained with blood.

“Either you had pomegranate juice, or you found Ammit’s disciples,” Nouri said dryly, her voice laced with quiet amusement. She raised an eyebrow, closing the book she had been reading. The situation, at least, was still one she could handle with humour.

Marc, panting and clearly on edge, pointed towards the window. “How did you—”

Nouri followed his gaze, and the world outside seemed to shift. The sky, once clear and bright, suddenly darkened, the sun blotted out by an unnatural shadow.

“Its sunny?” Ardeth asked, furrowing his brow. “What’s happening?”

Before Nouri could respond, the moon—so bright and full—rose to dominate the sky. The darkness deepened, and a chill swept through the air.

“Khonshu is signaling for an audience with the Ennead,” Nouri said, her tone shifting into one of deep concern. Her eyes widened. "This isn't good. If he angers them enough, they’ll imprison him in stone."

Marc’s face tightened with worry. "Is that even possible?"

Nouri didn’t answer him directly. She grabbed his hand with swift urgency. “Come on!”

Marc barely had time to react before she was dragging him out the door. The air felt thick with tension, and the city around them seemed oblivious to the impending storm.

“Hurry!” Nouri’s voice rang out, her footfalls quick as she dashed down the street, pulling Marc with her. The moon seemed to grow larger with every passing second, as though it was watching them. Marc followed her closely, trying to keep up, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Where are we going?” he asked between breaths.

“In here,” Nouri said, pulling him into a narrow, shadowed alley. Her fingers pressed against the cool stone, and with a twist, a hidden panel in the wall slid open, revealing a passage into the earth. The smell of damp stone hit Marc’s senses as they descended into darkness.

---

The air grew colder as they made their way down a flight of stone stairs, the passage leading them deeper beneath the surface. Marc couldn’t help but feel the weight of history pressing in on him, the knowledge that this was a place older than anything he had ever seen, a place that still resonated with the power of gods long gone.

At the end of the tunnel, the passage opened into a vast chamber, lit by torches that flickered on the walls. Ancient statues of gods loomed overhead, their faces stern, as if watching over those who dared enter.

She stepped forward and gracefully lowered herself into the chair, her posture regal as always, though her eyes remained fixed on the entrance, where the avatars would soon arrive. Her gaze was unwavering, as if she were preparing herself for the conversation to come.

Marc stood beside her, uncertain. "What happens now?"

"We wait for the avatars," Nouri said, her voice calm yet filled with an undertone of something heavier. She was waiting for a storm to hit.

Not long after, the first avatar arrived. Yatzil, the Avatar of Hathor, stepped into the chamber, her golden eyes gleaming with a warmth that contrasted the cold air of the chamber. Her presence immediately commanded attention. She was dressed in flowing robes that shimmered, adorned with symbols of music and love.

“Praise be Al Nouri, Goddess of the Eternal Path, and leader for the Ennead,” Yatzil said, bowing deeply before Nouri, who acknowledged her with a small, respectful nod.

Yatzil’s gaze shifted to Marc, noting his stance, his bloodstained hands, and his general disarray. "Khonshu’s theatrics are unparalleled. You must be his Avatar," she remarked, a smile tugging at her lips, though there was a hint of surprise in her voice.

Marc blinked, caught off guard. “Hi. And who are you?”

“I’m Yatzil, Avatar of Hathor," she replied smoothly, a sense of charm in her voice. "Goddess of music and love."

“Cool,” Marc said, his voice hesitant, still trying to wrap his head around the situation. His eyes darted between Yatzil and Nouri, both of whom seemed to carry the weight of history on their shoulders.

Nouri turned away from Yatzil and Marc, addressing the other avatars as they arrived. As the last one entered, the room grew heavy with the presence of the gods. Their avatars, towering and filled with divine power, took their seats around the chamber, their faces serene but unreadable.

Yatzil’s smile faded, her gaze falling back on Marc as he still tried to grasp the magnitude of what was happening. “Has Khonshu told you how this works?” she asked, her voice becoming more serious.

“Not really,” Marc admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “Is there something I should know?”

Yatzil let out a soft sigh, her voice low. “I try not to fight it. It’s a sensation you’ll get used to." She explained, her eyes narrowing in thought.

“Great,” Marc muttered under his breath, the sarcasm evident in his tone. He wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea of being controlled by a god, or the uncertainty of it all.

The avatars settled in, taking their seats. Nouri stood quietly, watching with a calm but intense gaze. She knew what was coming. She had seen this before.

"Avatars in attendance: Al Nouri, Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor, to hear the account of Khonshu," Yatzil announced, and the air seemed to crackle with anticipation.

The room grew heavier as the avatars allowed the gods themselves to flow through them. Nouri sat still; her expression unwavering. For now, she was a witness, a listener, a mediator between the gods and the mortal realm.

“Al Nouri, as Khonshu has called for an audience, you are unable to vote or speak on this matter,” Yatzil said, glancing at Nouri as if apologizing. Nouri nodded in silent agreement, though the weight of the decision still pressed down on her shoulders.

"You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us, Khonshu. And you know we despise your garishness, your showy masks, and weapons, but manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone,” Selim, the avatar of Osiris, warned, his voice calm but laced with a warning.

Khonshu’s anger reverberated through the chamber; his words venomous. "Spare me your self-righteous threats! I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you!”

The tension in the room mounted as the gods’ avatars exchanged glances. Nouri remained still, her eyes narrowed slightly, absorbing every word, every shift in the room.

"We have not abandoned humanity, they abandoned us," Horus’ avatar spoke, his tone surprisingly calm and steady. “We simply trust our avatars to carry out our purposes without calling undue attention to ourselves. Not like some of us.”

Khonshu’s eyes glinted from within Marc. “Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods!” he screamed, the force of his words shaking the air around them. "Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm."

"For the last time, Khonshu... The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man. Only Al Nouri is allowed to meddle as she brings balance to Ma’at," Selim said, his voice now final, sealing Khonshu’s fate with his declaration.

Nouri’s hands remained clasped tightly, her heart a quiet storm as she reflected on the words. She remember what it was like to be the one on trial.

“We will decide our best course of action, speak your purpose,” Tefnut’s avatar spoke, her voice filled with authority.

Khonshu didn’t hesitate. “I call for judgment against Arthur Harrow!”

The room fell into a tense silence. The weight of the accusation hung heavily in the air, thick like the smoke of incense, curling around every soul present. The air was charged, as though an electric storm was brewing above them all.

"The charges?" Isis’ avatar asked, her tone measured, yet sceptical. Her voice cut through the silence like a blade. She was the embodiment of wisdom, her aura one of ancient judgment, and the way she spoke carried centuries of authority.

"Conspiracy to release Ammit!" Khonshu’s voice boomed, filled with unwavering conviction.

"That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu," Selim’s voice responded, his tone cautious but steady, like a calm breeze amidst the storm. The gravity of the situation weighed down on him as the avatars shifted uneasily, feeling the tension rise.

The avatars turned toward Nouri, sensing her involvement in the situation. Her steady gaze met theirs, and for a long moment, she said nothing. Her eyes, deep and knowing. A flash of fire burned within them—an ember of divine anger and guilt, coiled beneath the calm exterior. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly, her gaze flicking between the avatars, locking on each of them in turn. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"Let us summon the accused," Selim demanded, his voice holding a finality that was unmistakable. The room shifted as the avatars nodded in silent agreement.

And from one of the doorways, Arthur Harrow appeared, stepping into the chamber with a slow, deliberate stride. His presence was commanding, yet calculated, his eyes scanning the room, studying the gods and their avatars. Nouri’s gaze flicked to Marc, his face a study in tension and barely contained rage. His clenched fists betrayed the internal struggle within him.

"So, I see by the presence of Khonshu's current makeshift Avatar, the purposes of our meeting must be nefarious," Arthur said, his voice smooth, almost amused, as though he relished the tension. His words, though cool, carried an undercurrent of venom. He scanned the room, meeting each gaze with a smirk that only grew with each passing moment.

“Arthur Harrow, you will speak when spoken to,” Nouri hissed, her voice sharp like a serpent’s strike. Her words dripped with disdain, each syllable a carefully calculated command. "You forget yourself, Harrow. Do not mistake this chamber for one where your insolence will be tolerated."

"You know exactly why we are here!" Khonshu’s anger flared, his voice rising to a pitch that shook the air.

Arthur turned to face Khonshu, unflinching. "I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice, but speak, old master, to the point," Arthur responded coolly, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. He stood next to Marc, his posture relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp, almost cruel intelligence.

"Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?" Khonshu’s voice was thick with anger, the words like thunder clapping in the chamber.

"I was in the desert," Arthur replied with a calmness that seemed almost out of place given the circumstances. His voice remained unaffected by the rising storm. "But if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the Nile." Arthur’s voice dripped with mockery, his smirk widening. "Khonshu has searched for Ammit's tomb since he ensnared me to his service."

Nouri’s fingers tightened around the armrest of her chair; her patience rapidly thinning. Her pulse quickened, the flames of her divine wrath threatening to ignite. Arthur's mocking tone was wearing on her, twisting her thoughts. She could feel the energy crackling in the room—an undercurrent of power and rage that simmered dangerously close to erupting.

"His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia, and his..." Arthur continued, his words sharp and pointed, designed to wound.

"He is a deceiver!" Khonshu shouted, his fury now a roaring storm.

"Do not trust the word of a shamed god, no, Khonshu is unhinged and his servant unwell," Arthur added, his voice growing louder, more defiant. He stepped closer to Nouri, eyes cold, testing her resolve. "Khonshu has manipulated and used us both, has he not?"

Nouri’s body tensed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“How do you mean?” Yatzil asked, her voice filled with curiosity, a subtle note of caution in her tone.

“Be careful how you speak,” Nouri warned once more, her voice like a blade drawn from its scabbard, ready to strike. She stood from her seat, the air around her crackling with divine energy as she glared at Arthur. "This court will not be a vessel for your deceit."

"This is a man who literally does not know his own name," Arthur continued, his tone growing colder, mocking. "He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector..." His eyes gleamed, as if he knew how much the words would sting.

“Liar!” Khonshu screamed, his voice reverberating with divine fury.

"Employment records under the name Steven Grant," Arthur continued, his words dripping with malicious satisfaction.

"Stop!" Marc’s voice cracked like a whip, raw and filled with pain. He took a step forward, his hands trembling at his sides.

"I've seen him speak to himself..." Arthur’s voice was relentless, a twisted amusement in his tone. "Threaten himself. I have no idea how many personalities he must possess. The man is clearly insane."

"Shut up!" Marc roared; his voice filled with desperation. He took a step forward, his fists clenched, but the rage in his eyes betrayed his pain. But his restraint breaking as he lunged toward Arthur, fists raised in fury.

Before he could strike, Selim stood up, and used Osiris’ power, to hold Marc back.

"We will not tolerate violence in this Chamber," Selim warned, his voice low but filled with unwavering authority.

Nouri’s heart pounded as she watched Marc struggle, her eyes following his every move. She felt his pain—the weight of his mind, the burden of his existence. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but the moment was not hers to claim.

"It brings me no pleasure to tell you that this is a deeply troubled man," Arthur continued, his words dripping with false compassion. "Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way that he abused me, the way he aspires to abuse this court."

"Lies! Charlatan!" Nouri shouted, her voice filled with righteous fury as she stood up once more, her divine power surging through her like a wave crashing against the shore. "I will not let you defile this sacred chamber with your poisonous lies!”

"Take action now before it's too late." Arthur's voice rang out, filled with false urgency.

"Let us speak to Marc Spector." Horus’ avatar spoke with quiet authority. A flick of his wrist, and suddenly, Khonshu was gone from Marc’s body, his presence evaporating like mist. The room seemed to exhale, a collective sigh of tension as Marc was left kneeling, his body exhausted, his soul heavy with unspoken pain.

Nouri watched as Marc slowly, painfully, rose from his knees. She could see the struggle in his eyes—an inner war that he fought daily. He seemed smaller somehow, vulnerable in a way that made her heart ache.

"Are you unwell?" Horus’ avatar asked softly, his voice gentle, as though trying to reach the man beneath the turmoil.

"I am. I am unwell," Marc’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. His eyes met Nouri’s, filled with a depth of pain that she couldn’t ignore. "I need help," he whispered, his words breaking her heart. "But that doesn’t change the fact that this man is..." His words faltered, his hands shaking at his sides.

"This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu," Yatzil said gently, her voice full of compassion.

"This is not about my feelings!" Marc shouted, his voice filled with frustration and desperation. "I'm not the one on trial here! He is! This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second!"

The room fell into a deep silence, the weight of Marc’s words hanging heavy in the air. Nouri’s gaze flickered between Marc and Arthur, the anger in her chest rising again. She could feel the divide growing, the chasm between truth and deception widening.

"He has committed no offense. This matter is concluded," Selim announced, his voice final. The avatars turned, their movements almost synchronized, their decision made. Arthur followed, his smug expression never faltering, as the avatars began to leave the chamber.

Nouri sat back in her seat, the exhaustion of the entire confrontation weighing on her shoulders. Shame flooded her chest, its cold fingers wrapping around her heart as Marc remained on his knees, his head bowed in defeat.

“Forgive me, Khonshu,” Nouri whispered, her voice raw and filled with regret. The words escaped her lips like a prayer, but the emptiness in her chest left them hollow, meaningless. She looked at Marc, her heart aching with the knowledge that the divide between them had only deepened.

Yatzil got up to leave, but as she turned to walk away, she paused, glancing over her shoulder at Nouri and Marc. Her expression was serious, almost unreadable in the dim light of the chamber.

"Marc, there is another way," Yatzil whispered urgently, her voice barely audible. She motioned for Nouri and Marc to follow her, her footsteps light and purposeful as she led them down a narrow, winding path hidden within the depths of the chamber. The walls were covered with faded hieroglyphs, the ancient language telling stories of gods and mortals long forgotten. The air was thick with dust, and the only sound was the soft echo of their footsteps, punctuated by the occasional creak of old wood.

Nouri exchanged a look with Marc, silently acknowledging the gravity in Yatzil's tone. They followed her through the dark corridor, the shadows of the chamber swallowing them up as they moved further from the main hall.

Once they had ventured far enough, Yatzil stopped, turning to face them. Her eyes locked with Nouri’s, the weight of what she was about to say settling between them.

"You must listen to me carefully," Yatzil instructed, her voice laced with urgency.

Marc, ever the sceptic, raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. “Yes. Yes,” he muttered, his impatience bubbling just beneath the surface. He was tired, angry, and his frustration with the situation was starting to show.

Yatzil held her gaze steady, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow across her features as she continued. "Ammit was buried in secret," she began, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "The location hidden even from the gods. Ammit had many followers, many loyal to her cause. I didn’t know who to trust…"

“But someone had to know something,” Nouri asked softly, her voice full of concern and disbelief.

Yatzil nodded, her expression darkening. "One man," she said, her voice heavy with memory. "A Medjai named Senfu. He was tasked with recording the location of the tomb in case the gods ever changed their minds and decided to show mercy. Find Senfu's sarcophagus, and you'll find the tomb." She let her words settle, allowing the gravity of her statement to weigh on both Nouri and Marc.

Nouri’s heart skipped a beat as she processed the name. Senfu. The mention of his name brought with it a rush of memories. She had known him—knew him well. He was a loyal Medjai, one of the finest warriors she had ever had the privilege to fight beside. His commitment to Nouri had been unwavering, and his fierce protection of her temple was something she would never forget.

Nouri's voice caught in her throat as she responded, her tone soft and distant. "Senfu…" she whispered, almost to herself. The pain of his loss was still fresh, despite the millennia’s that had passed. She remembered his laughter, his deep, unwavering loyalty, and his fiery spirit. She remembered how he fell in battles, how he among the first to fall in the war against the invaders. And how he asked to be laid to rest in her temple. The memory of his funeral flashed through her mind. She remembered the mournful ceremony, the rituals performed as his body was prepared for the afterlife, the sounds of chanting echoing in the temple, and the flickering flames of the pyres. The grief of losing him had cut deep, but she had respected his wish to live on in the afterlife.

Marc watched her, his usual sarcasm softened by the weight of her words. "Okay. How are we supposed to do that?" he asked, his voice less dismissive and more serious now. He could see the depth of Nouri’s attachment to Senfu, and it was starting to change the way he viewed this entire mission.

Yatzil gave a sad, knowing smile. "His sarcophagus was stolen and sold on the black market. You might want to start there."

Nouri’s jaw clenched as she heard the words. Stolen. That was always how things went in the world—ancient treasures, sacred objects, all plundered and sold for profit. It was one of the reasons she had always found herself at odds with humanity—there was so much beauty, so much history, and yet it was treated like nothing more than commodities to be bought and sold. The gods had created something magnificent, and mortals had destroyed it all for their own gain.

Before either Nouri or Marc could say anything more, Yatzil vanished into the darkness, leaving only the lingering echo of her voice behind.

Marc, trying to bring the situation back to practicality, cast Nouri a quick glance. "You knew that Medjai?" he asked, his voice more incredulous than before, as though he had trouble comprehending that Nouri had such a personal connection to someone so integral to the task at hand.

"Of course I knew him," Nouri responded sharply, a mix of disbelief and irritation in her tone. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, the protective goddess inside of her waking up. "He was buried in my temple. He was one of my most trusted Medjai, Marc," she added, the words sharp and filled with a quiet intensity.

Marc looked taken aback by the intensity in her voice, but his mind quickly returned to the mission at hand. "Right. Yatzil mentioned he was sold on the black market," he said, reminding her of their next step.

"I will text Ardeth," Nouri replied, her voice clipped as she pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved with precision as she typed out a message. It was her only hope—if anyone knew where Senfu’s sarcophagus might be, it was Ardeth. And if Ardeth couldn’t find it, no one could.

As she finished sending the message, they both walked out of the chamber, emerging into the busy streets of Cairo. The chaos of the city greeted them—cars honking, the distant calls of street vendors, the hum of conversations filling the air. It was all so loud, so alive, and yet Nouri felt strangely detached. She had walked among the mortals for eons, but something about the rapid pace of life in the modern world made her feel like a stranger in her own land.

Nouri adjusted her scarf as they stepped into the thick crowds, her mind already racing through possibilities. Senfu’s sarcophagus had been lost to time, stolen by those who had no respect for its significance. The black market was a vast network of greed and exploitation, but she would find it—she would find Senfu’s tomb, even if it meant tearing the city apart.

Notes:

*Translation:
"Sut em asru, Ardeth," → Control your temper, Ardeth.

Chapter 54: The Friendly Type

Notes:

A bit shorter than usual, I've hit a bit of a writers block :/ but let me know what you think of the chapter <3

Nouri and Marc walked the bustling streets of Cairo, trying to keep a low profile as they blended into the sea of people. The warm, humid air filled their lungs, mingling with the sounds of honking cars, street vendors calling out their wares, and the rhythmic chatter of the city.

Nouri’s phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the message from Ardeth. Her heart skipped a beat.

Layla has been spotted in Cairo.

“Shit,” Nouri muttered under her breath, the weight of the message hanging in the air. She turned to Marc, who was just finishing up at a juice stand, his attention focused on the vendor.

"What's going on?" Marc asked, sensing her shift in mood.

Nouri didn’t answer immediately. Her thoughts were racing. She could feel the presence of old friends; of connections she thought were long gone. And Layla... she had been through so much.

Before Nouri could speak, Marc broke the silence. “I’m looking for Senfu's sarcophagus,” he said to the vendor, his voice calm, but Nouri could sense the tension in his words.

"Senfu?" the vendor asked, raising an eyebrow. The sudden hesitation from the vendor made Nouri feel a chill in the air, as though they’d just crossed some invisible line. The vendor took a cautious step back, clearly unsettled by the mention of the name.

" I hope you like attention. Right guy, right place. But you're not Egyptian." Layla’s voice rang out from behind them, sharp and teasing.

Marc turned around, his posture tense, and his brow furrowed. "Layla," he said, his voice a mix of surprise and irritation. "What the hell are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here."

"Why? Because my name pisses off a few people in Cairo? Who cares?" Layla shot back, her lips curling into a playful, defiant smirk.

Nouri could see the confusion in Layla’s eyes. Layla had always been bold, unwilling to play by anyone’s rules but her own. She was fearless, in a way that could either inspire admiration or frustration. And right now, she was frustrating Marc.

Nouri stepped forward, her smile warm and genuine as she looked at Layla. "Hiya, Layla," she said, the greeting light and familiar. Despite the tension in the air, Nouri couldn’t help the fondness that crept into her voice.

Layla’s expression softened, and she returned the smile with one of her own. “Nouri,” she said with a small laugh.

Nouri’s eyes flicked back to Marc, who was clearly not happy with the situation. "Layla, this is not a game. You shouldn't be here," Marc sneered, his gaze hardening as he took a step toward Layla.

"Why not?" Layla shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?" She crossed her arms, her eyes challenging him.

Marc opened his mouth to respond, but Nouri cut him off with a laugh. "It's not the locals that he's worried about," she said with a glint in her eye. She followed Marc’s gaze, noting how he was now looking up at the roof of a nearby building. There, perched like a sentinel in the shadows, was the unmistakable Khonshu.

"I’m more interested in what you need, Marc," she said with a grin.

Nouri stepped between them, sensing the conversation would only get more complicated. "Layla," she said, cutting through the tension. "If you're really serious about helping us, I suggest we head to the house. It’s safer there."

Layla nodded, her smirk softening as she fell in step with them. "Fine by me. Let’s go.”

The three of them moved through the busy streets of Cairo, the noise and chaos of the city humming around them. When they arrived at the house, Nouri led the way inside, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead. The house was quiet, a refuge from the outside world. She moved through the familiar halls, showing Layla around the rooms.

Layla was quiet for a while, taking in her surroundings with interest. She seemed to be processing everything, just like Nouri. The walls were covered in ancient artifacts, scrolls, and maps that detailed the history Nouri had once been a part of.

The silence was broken by the sound of a knock on the door. Nouri smiled, knowing exactly who it was. She opened the door to find Ardeth standing outside, his expression serious but calm.

"You made it,” Nouri said, stepping aside to let him in.

Ardeth nodded, his eyes briefly flicking to Marc and Layla. "We have much to discuss," he said, his voice low but purposeful. "The situation has changed. We can no longer wait."

The four of them gathered in the living room, the air thick with the weight of their unspoken thoughts. Nouri took her seat, folding her hands in front of her as she watched the others carefully. Marc, ever the sceptic, was still tense, his mind clearly elsewhere. Layla, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Ardeth’s gaze moved to Nouri, his voice steady. "The time has come. We can no longer avoid what’s coming. The gods are watching, and they will not remain silent for long."

Nouri nodded, her thoughts turning inward for a moment. The weight of the situation was pressing down on her, but there was no turning back now. The storm was coming, and they needed to be ready.

"Let’s figure out how to handle this, then," Nouri said, her voice quiet but resolute. "We don’t have time to waste."

---

The four of them sat in the living room, the air thick with the smell of spice, tobacco, and mischief. A low lamp flickered softly in the corner, casting shadows on their faces. Outside, the distant hum of the city was just a faint buzz, but inside, the tension was palpable. The kind that only came from planning something big.

Marc leaned forward in his chair; his brow furrowed with that signature intensity that seemed to come with every mission.

“What do you know of Senfu’s sarcophagus?” Marc asked, his voice low but direct, cutting through the smoke and spice that filled the room.

Ardeth, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stared at Marc for a moment before responding, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of experience.

“Last I saw it, it was in Luxor, heavily guarded by the Medjai,” Ardeth said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Yeah, some odd 2000 years ago,” Nouri chimed in with a roll of her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. The firelight glinted in her eyes, casting a soft glow on her features.

Marc shot her a look but didn’t rise to the bait. Nouri smirked, enjoying the subtle moment of banter.

“Mogart has him,” Layla cut in, her voice sharp, her eyes scanning the room as she leaned forward, her hands clasped together.

Both Nouri and Ardeth looked at Layla, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Mogart’s collection is prime gossip for those of us who deal in antiquities,” Layla explained, her gaze flickering between Nouri and Ardeth. She leaned back, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as if she was working through a puzzle. “I have... connections. Mogart’s collection is rumoured to include rare artifacts from all corners of the globe. And trust me, he has access to more than just Senfu’s sarcophagus. He’s bound to have it.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Marc said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “We get to go after Mogart then.”

Layla nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression resolute.

Nouri crossed her arms over her chest, her mind already whirring with the possibilities. “Okay, here’s what we do…” She turned, stepping closer to Layla with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Seems like you know the guy,” she said, pointing to Layla, who nodded.

“You two will pose as a happy couple,” Nouri continued, her words calculated, as if she was already seeing the plan unfold in her mind. “Make the guy happy, distract him… and at which point, Ardeth and I will arrive—” she threw a sly glance at him, “—with our, shall we say, expert presence.”

Ardeth raised an eyebrow, a low chuckle escaping his lips. “You make it sound so… charming,” he teased, his tone light, but there was an underlying seriousness in his voice. Even with their banter, this mission wasn’t something they could afford to take lightly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Marc said, nodding firmly as he turned to Layla, the weight of the task ahead settling in.

Nouri smiled, her eyes flashing with a mischievous glint. “Call your guy, then,” she said with a wink, her voice both warm and commanding.

Marc stood up, his phone already in his hand, but before he could make the call, Nouri and Ardeth moved toward the door.

As they stepped outside, Nouri’s gaze shifted toward the horizon, her expression momentarily thoughtful. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get,” she murmured, more to herself than to Ardeth. The weight of ancient knowledge, the pain of the world, all seemed to settle on her shoulders at that moment. Her eyes narrowed, and the faintest glow of fire flickered in the air around her.

Ardeth, ever the one to lighten the mood, let out a chuckle, his deep voice breaking the tension. “Moon Knight’s not enough?” he teased, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

Nouri turned to him, her smile softening for a moment before she sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. The weight of the years, the battles fought in the shadows, the gods who betrayed her, it all came crashing down like a silent storm. She shook her head slowly.

“I just have a bad feeling,” Nouri said, her voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. There was a subtle, almost imperceptible flicker in her eyes, the fire within her momentarily dimming as doubt crept in.

They walked further from the city, the sounds of the bustling streets fading as the two figures blended into the night’s growing shadows. The moonlight bathed them in its soft glow, casting a mysterious sheen over the scene. The night air, cool and biting, caressed their skin, stirring the edges of their thoughts. Nouri felt a distant shiver, not from the cold, but from the profound silence that hung heavily over them. She paused for a moment, her eyes lifting to the sky above, her thoughts drifting far beyond the reaches of the mortal world.

“The stars…” she whispered, her voice low and filled with the weight of centuries. She let her gaze wander slowly across the heavens, her eyes tracing the familiar constellations, but tonight something was different. “They’re quiet…”

Ardeth, walking beside her, slowed his pace and watched her, his expression unreadable but with the faintest flicker of concern. He had seen Nouri in moments like this before—when something stirred inside her, when the world around her felt different, out of sync. It was not just the winds or the stars, but something deeper, a disturbance in the very fabric of existence that Nouri seemed to feel before anyone else. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew she did.

His smile faded, the seriousness of their situation settling between them like the night itself. He had known Nouri for many years, but it was moments like this—when she looked so distant, her eyes filled with sorrow—that he understood how much of herself she gave to the world. “What do you think it is?” he asked softly, his voice lowering, a trace of concern hidden beneath his calm exterior. His eyes were steady on hers, knowing that whatever was weighing on her mind, it wasn’t something that could be easily understood.

Nouri stood still, her gaze not shifting from the night sky, but her mind had already travelled far beyond the stars. She could feel the pulse of time itself, and the flow of fate.

“I’m not sure,” she said quietly, the words heavy with the weight of her uncertainty. She exhaled slowly; her breath steady but tinged with the ancient sorrow she carried within

Her mind flickered back to those ancient days of Egypt—the times when the gods were more present in the lives of mortals, when the stars themselves seemed to sing a melody that filled the hearts of the people with purpose. But those days felt like a distant dream now. The gods had retreated, and so had their light. And with it, so had Nouri’s sense of direction. The stars used to answer her call, but now… now they felt distant, like echoes of a forgotten time.

“We can’t trust anyone in this game,” she continued, her voice lower now, tinged with the pain of knowing how easily betrayal could take root, how quickly even the best intentions could fall apart.

Ardeth nodded solemnly, understanding all too well. He had seen the toll that the years, the battles, and the unrelenting weight of the world had taken on her. Nouri carried the pain of knowing what humanity could be—and the sorrow of watching them fail time and time again.

Her burden was his, too. The wind stirred around them, carrying the weight of silence, and Nouri’s eyes grew distant again.

"Still quiet?" Ardeth asked again, his voice softer this time, almost as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile moment between them.

Nouri nodded, but her eyes never left the sky. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over the desert, and for a moment, she allowed herself to drift in the quiet of the night. The stars, once her companions, now felt like distant strangers.

But even in that silence, a deep, primal part of her stirred. The fire that had once burned so brightly within her flickered again, a faint warmth in her chest that slowly began to spread. The fire of her essence was still there—hidden beneath the layers of doubt, fear, and regret—but it was still hers. And no matter how quiet the stars were, Nouri knew that her fire would never truly fade. Not while she still had breath in her lungs.

With a soft breath, she turned away from the sky, her eyes meeting Ardeth’s, her gaze steady and filled with a quiet resolve.

She stepped forward, her voice rising in a soft, haunting melody that seemed to blend with the desert wind. “Oh, my brothers, show yourselves,” she sang, her voice carrying with it the weight of time itself, as though the very desert, the very earth beneath them, was listening. Her words rang out like a prayer, each note a call to those who had once stood with her, the Medjai, those who had fought beside her in the days when the gods were still a living, breathing part of the world. “Protect the place you once called home…”

The wind picked up, the sand swirling around her feet as though it, too, were alive, responding to the pull of her voice. There was a quiet intensity in the air now, an electric tension that seemed to hum with anticipation.

Ardeth watched, his heart heavy with both hope and fear. He had heard Nouri sing before, but it never ceased to amaze him. The very air around them seemed to listen when she called, the desert itself awakening at her command.

“What is she doing?” a voice suddenly asked, breaking the tension in the air.

Khonshu had appeared, his form towering over them, his eyes gleaming with the cold light of the moon. His presence was imposing, a stark contrast to the softness of Nouri’s words. His gaze was fixed on her, sharp with both judgment and something darker.

“Gathering the remaining Medjai,” Ardeth replied, his tone laced with both respect and a warning. “Do not disturb her,” he cautioned, his hand moving instinctively to the hilt of his blade.

Khonshu’s gaze flickered with disdain. “The stars have forsaken the gods,” he spat, his voice harsh as it cut through the air like a blade.

“They always listen to her,” Ardeth sneered, his voice dripping with irony. "Perhaps you forgot, Khonshu—when the gods were at their peak, the Medjai stood with Nouri. They trusted her. They followed her light."

Khonshu’s eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, he vanished into the shadows, his form dissipating like smoke carried by the wind.

Nouri turned to face Ardeth again, the weight of her actions pressing on her heart. Her lips parted, but no words came immediately. There was only silence, the air between them thick with unspoken understanding.

“Did they hear you?” Ardeth asked, his voice gentle now, as though he could see the storm within her, the conflict of hope and doubt warring inside her heart.

“Hopefully,” Nouri answered quietly, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty that she seldom allowed others to hear. She sighed softly, her gaze drifting back toward the city in the distance, the faint glow of lights flickering in the horizon. “Let’s get to Mogart’s. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

With that, the two walked together, their steps quiet against the sands, the night stretching endlessly before them. And though the stars remained silent, Nouri knew—deep within her—that the world had not forgotten her.

---

The dust of the desert seemed to hang heavy in the air as Nouri and Ardeth made their way toward Mogart’s estate. The night sky above was clear, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the terrain. The rhythmic sound of their footsteps echoed in the stillness of the evening. Suddenly, from the shadows, Medjai warriors emerged, their presence as silent as the desert winds, their eyes sharp and alert.

“It has been too long, Ardeth,” one of the warriors, his voice low and gruff, spoke as he fell into step beside them.

Ardeth gave a nod of acknowledgment, his expression grim. “Indeed, but let us hope it doesn’t come to a fight tonight.”

Nouri’s gaze sharpened, and she spoke with a quiet but resolute tone, “If Harrow dares to release Ammit, the people will be in danger.”

Ardeth's lips pressed into a thin line as they walked side by side. “And we will protect them.”

The group moved swiftly; their footsteps almost ghostly in the vast emptiness around them. As they neared Mogart’s mansion, the sharp scent of metal and blood began to fill the air. The distant sounds of shouts and clashing weapons reached them before they even saw the arena.

As they approached the towering gates, Nouri’s heart twisted with a mixture of fury and concern. They rounded the corner to the sight of Marc, dressed in the Moon Knight suit, struggling to stay on his feet. Several guards had impaled him with long, jagged spears, and he was left hanging there, barely conscious, but still defiant. His struggle seemed almost futile, but there was still fire in his eyes.

Ardeth's jaw tightened, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his side. “Are we too late?” he asked, his voice tight with urgency.

“No,” Nouri replied, her voice sharp, her heart racing in her chest. “We’ve just arrived in time.”

Without hesitation, she turned to Ardeth and the warriors, her orders clear. “Protect Layla—make sure she is safe.”

The warriors nodded in unison and scattered into the shadows, prepared to do what they did best—fight.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed, her mind already assessing the battlefield. She was not about to let Marc fall—not when he was this close to victory.

“Marc, hold on!” Nouri shouted, her voice rising above the chaos. The warriors moved in, taking down the guards one by one, while Nouri dashed forward with a purpose.

Her suit materialized in an instant, the familiar warmth of flame and energy coursing through her. Flames erupted from her hands, swirling in vibrant, controlled arcs, carving paths through the air. With a wave of her hand, she sent the guards flying, their weapons clattering to the ground.

Marc’s head turned weakly toward her, and he managed a tired but grateful smile.

“Can’t die now,” Nouri urged, as she snapped the sticks that had impaled him in half with a wave of her hand. The powerful crack echoed in the arena, and the tension in the air seemed to shift as the guards hesitated.

Just as Nouri turned her attention back to the battle, she saw Layla, rushing toward them. Her heart leaped with a surge of relief. But that relief was short-lived.

From the corner of her eye, Nouri saw a blur of movement—Mogart, on horseback, speeding toward Layla with murderous intent. His spear glinted in the moonlight, and before Layla could react, he struck her down, sending her crashing to the ground.

“No!” Nouri cried out, her voice echoing through the arena like thunder. Her heart clenched with a fierce protectiveness as she dashed forward, her power surging within her.

“Anton Mogart,” she warned, her voice dripping with ancient authority. “You have sealed the death of Egypt. Your actions will bring chaos upon your land.”

Mogart scoffed, barely sparing her a glance as he readied his staff. His cruel smile was wicked as he focused his gaze on Layla, who was struggling to rise from the ground. “Then it is your fate to perish alongside her,” Mogart sneered, raising the staff high, ready to deliver the final blow.

Nouri’s eyes blazed with fury. “You will not touch her.” With a powerful leap, she was in the air, her hand igniting in a burst of flame. She slammed the ground beneath her, sending a shockwave that knocked Mogart’s horse sideways. The beast reared back, unseating its rider, and the staff fell from his grip.

Marc, still weak, struggled to stand, but the sight of Layla in danger seemed to fuel his remaining strength. In a burst of determination, he threw a Crescent Blade at Mogart. The blade sliced through the air with precision, striking Mogart in the chest, killing him.

Nouri wasted no time. She moved to Layla’s side, her eyes scanning the young woman’s injuries. “Layla, are you alright?” Nouri asked, her tone soft, but urgent.

Layla coughed, her body bruised, but she managed a smile. “I think I’ll survive.”

“Stay close,” Nouri said, helping her up. “Marc, get back on your feet. We’re not done yet.”

Marc nodded weakly, his hands trembling, but the fire in his eyes remained. Together, the three of them fought side by side, taking down Mogart’s remaining forces as they made their way through the arena. The Medjai warriors were in full swing now, cutting down enemies with lethal precision. The balance of the battle was shifting, and Nouri’s power only made it more apparent.

Marc, Layla, and Nouri stood side by side, the victory bittersweet. The cost of their mission had been high, and they knew there was much more yet to come.

---

The trio made their way to where Ardeth and the Medjai had gathered, the air thick with tension. Marc’s frustration was palpable as he glanced at Nouri, his voice sharp.

“Where the hell have you been?” Marc demanded angrily, his eyes flashing with impatience.

Before Nouri could respond, Ardeth intervened swiftly, his voice calm yet firm. “We need all the help we can get.” His eyes briefly flickered over to Nouri, a silent agreement passing between them.

Nouri took a deep breath, her gaze turning cold as she met Marc's eyes. “He’s right,” she said with a steady tone. “The three of us can’t fight Ammit or Harrow alone. You may have Khonshu’s suit, but you can’t win if you keep looking over your shoulder to protect Layla.” She spoke with the authority of someone who had seen too much and understood the weight of their situation.

Layla, who had been silently observing the exchange, added in her usual practical tone, “She’s right.” She gave Marc a brief, reassuring look, but Marc wasn’t convinced.

One of the Medjai warriors, a tall and muscular man with a scar over his left eye, stepped forward, his voice unwavering. “We will protect you; we’ve sworn an oath to your father to protect you.”

Layla nodded at the warrior, her eyes briefly softening. "Thank you," she said quietly, but the weight of responsibility was still evident in her eyes.

“Stay in the city, we’ll find Ammit’s tomb,” Nouri commanded, her voice cutting through the moment like a blade, before turning to leave. Layla and Marc followed; the air heavy with unspoken words between them.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the trio jacked a car and sped off towards the desert, the city skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror.

Nouri sat in the back, her posture relaxed, though her mind was miles ahead. Layla, ever the focused one, took the wheel, her grip tight on the steering wheel.

Marc, looking back over his shoulder to see if they were being followed, let out a small sigh. "I really liked that jacket. Oh, well." He muttered before tossing it next to Nouri, then swiftly changing his clothes, doing so with the ease of someone who had gotten used to the chaos of his life.

“What was Harrow talking about?” Layla asked, her voice full of confusion as she kept her eyes on the road.

Marc's eyes flickered to her in the rearview mirror, a frown crossing his face. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone more defensive than usual.

Layla glanced at him, a mix of concern and curiosity in her eyes. “He said I had a right to know."

Marc let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I have no idea.” He turned his body towards the back to look at Nouri, who was still seated with a calm demeanour.

Nouri gave him a side-eye, her gaze dark and full of wisdom. “He’s just trying to mess with you,” she chimed in, her voice low, but her eyes were fixed on Marc, urging him to speak the truth to Layla. She could feel the undercurrent of guilt in Marc, something that stretched deep within him. She had known his type before. "Don't let him get in your mind," Nouri continued, turning her attention back to Layla. “He's got this idea that he can see the true nature of people, or some baloney like that. If that were true, I don't think he'd have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

Marc shot Nouri a look, but Layla’s gaze was unwavering, an earnestness in her eyes. “So, it’s not true? What he said about you and…” She trailed off, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Nouri’s eyes flickered to Marc, but she held her tongue, letting him explain himself.

“No, it's not true.” Marc’s voice was sharper now, but there was something beneath the surface that made Nouri’s heart ache for him. “He’s just trying to divide us. Don’t let him get in your head.” He said it with so much finality that even Nouri was taken aback by the rawness of his emotion.

Layla let out a frustrated sigh, glancing out the window. “Every time I learn something new about you, I think, ‘That’s it. There can’t possibly be any secrets left between us.’ And then something else pops up, and it’s like I’ve not known you at all.”

Marc's face hardened, and he muttered, his voice low, “Yeah. You haven’t. You don’t.”

The rest of the ride was silent, but Nouri could feel the weight of their unresolved emotions hanging thick in the air. She could feel Marc’s inner turmoil, the guilt and the anger that bubbled beneath his surface. And she felt Layla’s pain—her heartache at the distance between her and Marc. The words left unsaid, the trust yet to be built. As the car moved forward into the vast desert, Nouri couldn’t help but feel their pain as if it were her own.

They arrived in the desert, the sun barely setting as they got out. The warm air greeted them, the endless sands stretching out before them like an unforgiving sea. Nouri moved away from the car, her feet sinking slightly into the cool desert sand as she walked towards a dune, feeling the vastness of the world around her.

As she reached the top of the dune, she ran her fingers through the sand, feeling the coolness seep into her skin. The wind lifted her hair, the solitude giving her a brief moment of clarity.

“They’re hopeless,” Khonshu's voice came from behind her, his tone heavy with frustration.

Nouri, however, didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she stood tall, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “They’re in pain,” she responded, her voice soft but firm. She turned away from Khonshu’s words, brushing him off.

As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps crunching the sand, and she turned to see Marc walking away from Layla, his back hunched, his steps slow.

“What’s happening?” Nouri asked, her voice laced with concern as she joined Layla at the car.

“Marc gave the body to Steven,” Layla said, confusion clouding her features.

Nouri nodded in understanding. "Ah," she remarked, her tone laden with the knowledge of the complexity of their situation.

The two women walked toward Steven, who was sitting on the ground, carefully taping the cartonnage together with a focused intensity.

"Steven?" Layla called, raising an eyebrow as she watched him work.

"Egyptians invented modern navigation," Steven said with a grin, his voice filled with a surprising excitement. "There's not a lot of landmarks in the desert. So, they came up with a way to get about using the sun and the stars. It's bloody genius, isn't it?" His hands continued to move with swift precision, each fold of the paper aligning perfectly as he spoke.

"Spot on," Nouri chimed in, her voice warm and proud. She crossed her arms, watching him, her dark eyes gleaming with approval.

Steven looked up briefly, flashing Nouri a smile before returning to his work. "Et voilà," he announced with a flourish, holding up the cartonnage, now resembling a star, and offering it to Layla. "Done."

Layla took it with a careful hand, inspecting the makeshift star with curiosity. "So, what do we do with it?" she asked, her brow furrowed slightly as she examined the object.

"Well, I'm not sure," Steven admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But if... Wait, hang on a minute." He squinted at the cartonnage, his fingers tracing the faint pinpricks etched into its surface. "You see that? You see those little pinpricks there? That's a constellation."

Layla leaned in; her interest piqued. "We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right? Let me just scan it," she murmured, pulling out her phone and preparing to use the app.

Nouri let out a soft sigh, her tone thoughtful but laced with a hint of concern. "Unfortunately, it's not that simple," she said, stepping closer to them both.

"Not working. Why isn't it working?" Layla asked, a frown deepening on her face. She stared at her screen, clearly frustrated.

"Yeah, yeah," Steven said, nodding. "You see, Senfu—Senfu marked that tomb, like, 2,000 years ago. And stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but it could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we're supposed to be looking." He paused, looking at Nouri with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "So, unless we know exactly what the sky looked like on that date, we're buggered."

Nouri's eyes softened as she gazed out over the barren desert. Her gaze was distant, as though she were pulling memories from the very fabric of time itself. "I remember that night," she murmured, almost to herself.

Layla looked at her, confused, but Nouri was already motioning for them to follow her gaze. The air seemed to grow still for a moment. On top of the dune, barely visible in the twilight, stood Khonshu.

"I remember every night," Khonshu's voice thundered, as cold and untouchable as the moon itself.

The three of them climbed the dune, Nouri’s feet barely leaving a mark in the soft sand.

As Nouri, Steven, and Khonshu stood atop the dune, Layla sitting in the sand next to them, the world around them felt impossibly still. The evening air was thick with the weight of what was about to unfold. Nouri felt the pulse of the earth beneath her, the stars above, and the ancient energy that flowed through her veins. This wasn’t just any ritual—it was a call to the cosmos, a manipulation of time and space, a reminder of how small even gods could feel in the face of a vast universe.

The night sky stretched above them, endless and dark, like the deepest reaches of space. The air felt charged with an electric anticipation, the moonlit glow of Khonshu’s presence adding a haunting beauty to the scene. Nouri’s chest tightened, and though her body was brimming with power, she felt vulnerable. The cost of this act would be high. Her heart thudded in her chest as she locked eyes with Steven, who was still unsure of his place in all of this.

Khonshu's voice broke the stillness. "I can turn back the night sky," he said, his words laced with quiet authority, though there was a certain weariness to them. The weight of countless millennia of knowledge rested heavily on his shoulders.

Nouri’s pulse quickened, and her hand instinctively reached out for Steven’s. The connection between them was more than just physical; she could feel the pull of the stars, the energy swirling in the air around them. "No... don't..." Nouri whispered urgently, her voice shaking with both a deep sense of dread and a profound understanding of the consequences.

But Khonshu's gaze was fixed on the heavens, his face unreadable. "It must be done."

With a heavy heart, Nouri took a deep breath, gathering the strength to face the inevitable. She could feel the sands beneath her feet shifting, the weight of time itself pressing down on her. The ritual they were about to perform would take more than just physical strength—it would tear at the fabric of the cosmos itself.

Steven looked between Nouri and Khonshu, his confusion growing. "How?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder and fear. "How do we do this?"

Nouri squeezed his hand, her gaze meeting his. "Focus, Steven," she said, her voice low and steady. "Trust in the ritual. Let go of what you think you know."

Khonshu stepped forward, his towering presence casting a long shadow over them. The moonlight seemed to bend toward him as he raised his arms to the sky, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that matched the vastness of the cosmos itself. "It will come at a cost," he said, his voice echoing with ancient power. "And I cannot do it alone."

"Do what I do," Nouri whispered to Steven, her voice barely audible over the wind that began to pick up. She could feel the weight of the ritual settle over them, the very air trembling with the force of the magic they were about to unleash.

"Yeah? Like this?" Steven asked hesitantly, his voice laced with uncertainty as he mimicked Nouri’s posture. His fingers trembled, but he forced himself to steady them.

"Yes," Nouri said with a quiet but firm nod.

Together, they lifted their hands, their palms facing the heavens. The stars, once scattered like dust, began to shift. Slowly at first, as if the universe were stretching, then faster, a cascade of light beginning to realign.

Nouri’s eyes glowed with a fierce, otherworldly light, the energy coursing through her. Her skin prickled with the power of the stars as she felt the weight of the universe in her hands. She could feel the pull of the sky, the ancient stars shifting under her touch, and she held onto them as though they were threads in the very fabric of reality itself.

"This is the night," Khonshu intoned, his voice deep and resonant. As he spoke, the sky above them began to change. The stars rearranged themselves, the constellations shifting into the positions they had once held. Nouri’s heart raced, the immense pressure building in her chest as she held the night in place.

For a moment, the world felt like it was spinning. The stars flickered, as though they were alive, their energy pulsing through the air. Nouri could feel her body straining against the sheer force of the ritual. The wind howled around them, and the moon itself seemed to glow brighter, reflecting Khonshu’s presence in the heavens. The sky was stretching and warping, becoming something entirely new, something ancient, something raw.

“This is surprisingly painful,” Steven muttered, wincing as he felt the pressure build around him. The weight of the sky pressed down on him, a force he couldn’t fully comprehend.

Nouri gritted her teeth, feeling the strain of holding the stars in place. She could feel the burn in her arms, the ache in her chest. "Hurry!" she gasped, her voice strained with effort. The ritual was taking everything from her, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

The stars continued to align, slowly but surely. The constellations took shape, like puzzle pieces falling into place. "It’s working," Layla’s voice broke through, filled with relief. "We’ve got it—29 degrees north, 25 east!"

"Good," Nouri shouted, her voice hoarse, the words nearly drowned out by the howling wind that surrounded them. But before she could say another word, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit her like a freight train. Khonshu and Steven both collapsed to their knees, their bodies buckling under the strain of the sky they were holding.

"I can feel my energy leaving me," Steven gasped, his face pale, his hands trembling. His suit flickered, the energy beginning to drain from him as the ritual took its toll.

"No!" Nouri screamed, her heart racing as she looked at Khonshu. He was crumpled on the ground before her, his form flickering like a shadow in the wind. She fought against the pressure, her body screaming in protest, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let him fade away like this.

But as the stars resumed their positions, Nouri looked down and saw Khonshu, no longer standing, but kneeling, his form dissolving into the wind like smoke. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached out, her hands grasping at the air where he once stood. "No..." she whispered, her voice soft and broken, like a prayer that had gone unanswered.

Layla rushed to Steven’s side, her hands shaking as she tried to revive him. "Hey, Steven? Marc, come on. Come on! Where are you? Marc?" she called, her voice frantic as she cradled his head.

Nouri turned, the weight of the ritual settling into her bones. "Come on, Layla, let’s go," she said, her voice still shaky but filled with resolve. They couldn’t afford to waste any more time. As they dragged Steven toward the car, Nouri took one last look at the night sky, the stars now fixed in place. The ritual had worked. But the cost… she could feel it deep within her.

Chapter 55: The Tomb

“Almost there,” Layla panted, dragging Steven’s half-conscious form through the scorching desert sand. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. Sweat beaded on Layla’s forehead, but she refused to stop, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.

Nouri’s sharp gaze followed the outline of the distant horizon, her senses stretched taut. The air was thick with tension, a storm brewing not in the clouds, but in the very atmosphere surrounding them. She could feel it in her bones.

“Someone’s coming,” Nouri hissed, her voice a low whisper, but one that carried the weight of urgency. She barely had time to say anything else when the hum of an approaching engine reached their ears.

The headlights were visible now, cutting through the dark night like a predator searching for its prey. “We’re too late,” Nouri muttered under her breath, her heart quickening as she saw the car approaching. The engine roared to life, and before they could find cover, the men inside the vehicle began firing.

The air was filled with the shriek of bullets, the sound of metal slicing through the air with deadly precision. Layla and Steven were sent tumbling down a dune, their bodies rolling uncontrollably as the shots echoed in the distance. Nouri’s instincts kicked in, her body already moving in response.

“Stay with Steven!” Layla called out over her shoulder as she sprinted toward the car, flare raised high to draw their attention. Nouri hesitated for a split second, her eyes flickering between Steven and Layla, but Layla’s command was clear.

With a swift, fluid motion, Nouri dove to the ground next to Steven. Her breath was steady, but her pulse hammered in her chest. Stay still, she told herself, feeling the dry earth beneath her as the gunfire continued to crack through the night. She could see Layla in the distance, standing tall with the flare like a beacon in the dark.

And then, it happened—her cue. The gunfire shifted, and the car’s tires screeched to a halt. Layla’s flare had done its job. The moment Nouri saw the men in the car react, she sprang into action.

In the blink of an eye, Nouri was on her feet, her hands igniting with a surge of flame that curled and crackled like a living thing. Her movements were precise, cutting through the air as she advanced on the men. She didn’t hesitate. There was no room for mercy.

With a single swipe of her hand, flames licked the bodies of the men, their screams lost to the winds as they fell to the ground. The fire was controlled, swift, and merciless, just as she had always been when it came to defending those she cared about.

Once the men were incapacitated, Nouri turned to check on Layla, who was already running toward them. “You alright?” she asked, her voice still calm despite the violence that had just unfolded. Her eyes flickered toward the wreckage of the car before settling on Layla.

“Yeah, yeah,” Layla responded, her breath coming fast. “Where’s Steven?”

Nouri glanced behind her, and sure enough, Steven was standing up, looking around as if he were still trying to process what had just happened. “Do you want to keep staring, or should we get going?” Nouri’s voice carried an amused edge, despite the tension.

Layla and Steven exchanged a look, and without another word, they scrambled into the car. Nouri followed them, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at the map on the car’s screen. The coordinates blinked in front of them, and she knew the journey was only going to get harder from here.

“We can’t lose more time,” Layla said, her voice tense with worry. “Harrow must be heading back to the tomb.”

Nouri’s expression hardened. “Look, if he is, we’re gonna need Marc,” she suggested, her gaze still fixed on the glowing map.

“No,” Steven said, his voice firm and resolute. There was a finality in his tone that made both Nouri and Layla pause.

“No?” Layla echoed, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “But how else are we going to—”

Steven cut her off before she could finish. “No,” he repeated. “See, the thing is, Marc and I made a deal,” he said, his words slow, measured. “When he was done with Khonshu, he would disappear. For good.”

“You guys made a deal? That he would just disappear from my life?” Layla’s voice cracked with frustration; her cheeks flushed with anger. “And you didn’t think that maybe I should’ve been made aware of that?”

Steven faltered, clearly caught off guard. “Oh…” He scratched his head, trying to backpedal. “Well, hadn’t he disappeared from your life already?”

“Steven,” Nouri warned, her tone growing sharp. She shot him a look that said, don’t dig the hole deeper.

“Yeah, I mean, whatever. His suit was his best feature, wasn’t it? Didn’t even have that anymore.” Steven shrugged awkwardly, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Plus, I know him,” Layla said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. “He’d want to lone wolf this whole thing.”

Nouri’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “It’s not happening. We’re not doing that.”

“We are not,” Steven quipped, trying to ease the mood but failing miserably. “It’s just you and me and the goddess, and the open road.” He gave a small, half-hearted smile, but the energy between the three of them remained thick with unresolved emotions.

Suddenly, the car came to a screeching halt, throwing Steven forward into the dash with a loud thunk. Nouri couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up at the sight of Steven’s disoriented face, the chaos of the moment momentarily lifting the heaviness of their conversation.

“We’re going on foot from here,” Layla said, her voice no-nonsense as she slammed the car into park and threw open the door.

The three of them exited the vehicle, and Nouri’s eyes were immediately drawn to the cliffs ahead of them. The towering rocks seemed to pulse with an energy she couldn’t quite place, their presence stirring something deep within her.

“I know this place…” Nouri murmured, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the stone. Her fingertips brushed against the rough surface as memories of a long-forgotten past flooded her mind. “It’s Siwa.”

“Siwa?” Layla repeated, clearly intrigued, but also wary. She had no idea what Siwa meant to Nouri, but she could tell that it was something important.

Nouri nodded; her eyes distant. “Yeah. I’ve been here before. Long ago.” She took a slow, deep breath, trying to focus. “Let’s move. Harrow’s not waiting for us.”

They trekked through the rugged terrain, the desert giving way to a hidden oasis. It was a strange juxtaposition—lush greenery surrounded by the barren wasteland. It felt like a place suspended in time, and for a brief moment, Nouri allowed herself to remember what it had been like when she had lived among the people of this land.

Finally, they arrived at a large dig site, where Harrow’s disciples were already at work, their shovels cutting into the earth in search of something ancient and powerful. The air was thick with the scent of earth and dust, and Nouri’s senses were alive, buzzing with the electricity of the moment.

“There they are. Let’s keep moving,” Layla said, her voice low but determined. “It looks like they’re already inside.”

“We’ll need to find another way to beat them to Ammit,” Nouri said, her mind racing as she calculated their options. Her eyes flickered to the cliffside, noting a potential path that could give them an advantage.

As they approached the site, Nouri stepped away from Layla and Steven for a moment, letting her instincts guide her. She felt a pull towards one of the tents filled with ancient maps and artifacts. Her eyes scanned the contents of the tent, her gaze stopping on a particular scroll that stood out.

“Son of Amun?” Nouri whispered to herself, her fingers lightly grazing the parchment. The name sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The past could wait. She had a mission to focus on.

Exiting the tent, she rejoined Layla and Steven, who were in the midst of donning their gear. The sight of them kissing and then quickly pulling away caused Nouri to arch an eyebrow. “Are you two done?” she asked, her arms crossed, her voice teasing but also holding an edge of impatience.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steven mumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly.

Nouri smirked, her gaze flickering to Layla. “What you’ll see down there has never been discovered,” she said excitedly, her voice practically buzzing with energy. “This tomb... it’s been hidden for centuries. And now, we’re about to unearth something that was meant to stay buried.”

Without another word, she jumped down into the hole below, landing effortlessly on the stone floor below. Her movements were fluid, like fire.

Layla and Steven exchanged a glance before following her. Steven, however, had less finesse. He fell flat on his back with a dramatic thud, sending up a cloud of dust that lingered in the air.

Nouri’s laughter rang through the cavern, a soft and melodic sound that felt like it belonged to the very air itself. "Well, that wasn’t as graceful as I was expecting, Steven," she teased, her tone light, teasing, but not unkind.

“Are you okay?” Layla asked, bending down to help him up, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“I’m aces, yeah. I wish you hadn’t seen that," Steven replied, his voice muffled as he dusted himself off, face flushed with embarrassment. He turned his head, clearly trying to shake off his clumsy entrance. “Totally fine,” he added, though it was clear he wasn’t quite as fine as he made it sound.

Nouri, watching him, smiled and walked over to the lion statue that towered in the centre of the cavern. "Oh, wow, look at you," Steven exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he walked closer to it, almost reverently.

"Yeah, they're... gorgeous, aren’t they?" Nouri said with a deep admiration in her voice, as if she were staring into the heart of ancient Egypt itself. "They’ve been standing guard for centuries, untouched by time."

"Right? Look, I can't even..." Steven’s voice trailed off, his wonder clearly uncontained as he examined every detail of the statue, his fingers hovering just short of touching the stone. His excitement was palpable.

Nouri couldn’t help but smile at their reaction. She stepped back, watching Layla and Steven’s expressions light up with genuine fascination. She had seen so much of the world—so many different faces, so many stories—but there was something magical about seeing mortals experience the awe of history firsthand.

"They truly are magnificent," she said quietly, her voice soft, almost reverent. "Sometimes, I think the only way we can truly understand our own power is to see the world through your eyes—through mortal eyes."

Steven, clearly feeling more comfortable now, laughed and looked at Nouri with a mischievous grin. “Like, if they just sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I'd be thrilled. I'd shit myself, but I'd be thrilled.”

"Calm down, soldier," Nouri teased, walking over to Layla who had knelt down to inspect the lion’s paw. "You’ll get your riddles soon enough."

Layla gave Steven a small nudge and then turned to Nouri. "What’s this? Did you do that?" Steven asked, noticing a symbol etched on the lion’s paw. His brow furrowed in curiosity.

Nouri blinked as she followed Steven’s gaze, then looked back at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "What?" she asked, stepping closer to see what Steven was pointing to.

"Oh. Yeah. It’s for my father. He would've loved to be here," Layla answered, a small smile forming on her lips, though the wistful tone in her voice revealed the deeper layers of grief she still carried. Her fingers brushed over the symbol lightly.

“Oh, yeah? Big history buff, is he?” Steven asked, leaning in to get a better look at the engraving.

"So much worse. Archaeologist on a mission," Layla replied with a bittersweet laugh, shaking her head. "And to him, it was a dream worth dying for. And he did," she added, her voice softening with the weight of her words.

Nouri paused, her expression softening as she stepped closer to Layla, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. Her eyes, full of ancient wisdom, met Layla's. “Your father lives on in you,” she said with quiet conviction, her tone warm and reassuring. “In everything you do, in every step you take.”

"I'm so sorry," Steven said, his voice gentle, his hand resting on Layla’s arm as he looked at her with sincere sympathy.

“Yeah. No, it's fine, really. It’s fine. Happens,” Layla said, brushing it off with a small smile, though the sadness still lingered in her eyes. “Let’s just move on.”

“I bet he’d be positively beaming right now, seeing you standing here, in the heart of it all—the proof of it,” Steven said, his voice full of quiet admiration.

“He is,” Nouri said, her voice soft and warm, a faint but knowing smile playing on her lips. "He’s here, with you, in this moment. He’s proud."

"Let’s continue," Layla said, her voice firm, though there was a quiet reverence in her tone as she led the group deeper into the tomb. The air grew colder, the oppressive weight of the past heavy around them.

---

They reached a vast, open chamber filled with an array of passageways. "It’s a maze," Nouri said, her eyes scanning the layout. She could sense the ancient magic in the stone, the way the air seemed to hum with energy. "A labyrinth of time and memory. But don’t be fooled. Not all mazes are made to confuse."

“A-maze-ing,” Steven replied with a smirk, clearly pleased with his own wordplay, though he continued to mumble to himself as he wandered deeper into the room, his eyes wide with fascination.

Layla bent down, examining something on the floor. "What are these?" she muttered, running her fingers over the small, metallic objects scattered around. Bullets, she realized, with a frown. "What would they be shooting at?"

"You do not want to know," Nouri said, her tone darkening as memories of the tomb’s grim history surfaced in her mind. She knew all too well the horrors that lay buried here. The ancient wars, the bloodshed that stained these stones. Her gaze met Layla’s, and a silent understanding passed between them. It was a warning, one Nouri hoped they’d heed.

Layla gave Nouri a confused look but didn’t press the matter. Something in Nouri’s voice made her uneasy, and she respected it. She turned to Steven instead.

"This whole structure is a symbol," Steven said, his voice filled with excitement as he paced back and forth. He crouched again and began to draw something in the sand—carefully sketching out the Eye of Horus in the dust on the stone floor.

"The Eye of Horus," Nouri murmured, her voice rich with reverence. She stepped forward, kneeling beside Steven, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his drawing as she studied it. Layla nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the full implications of the symbol.

"Look, the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife," Steven explained, excitement creeping into his voice as he continued, "The Eye of Horus was a symbol of power, of divine protection. Everything here? It’s all tied to the gods’ power over life and death."

“I mean, like, the resources needed to build this thing,” Layla said, her voice tinged with awe as she gestured to the grandeur of the tomb. “The size of it. The manpower. This wasn’t just about burying a king. It was a statement.”

"Her final avatar was a pharaoh," Layla said, her eyes catching on another inscription that seemed to lead deeper into the tomb.

“Whoa! A bloody pharaoh,” Steven remarked, stepping back, his mouth agape at the magnitude of what they were uncovering.

"No, not exactly," Nouri corrected, though her voice was tinged with something akin to nostalgia. "He was more than a pharaoh. He had a role beyond the kingship—his influence reached further than any of his predecessors."

"Right," Steven said, nodding thoughtfully. "So, the Eye of Horus is also the Eye of Mind, yeah? Representing the six senses. Six points." He pointed to the drawing. "So, you’ve got the eyebrow—thoughts. Pupil—sight. This point here is hearing. This one, smell. And this one here is touch." His finger traced the lines. "And this long line, ending in a spiral? That’s the tongue."

Nouri looked at him, her gaze piercing, before giving a small nod. "That’s right," she said.

---

The three ventured deeper into the tomb, the air growing colder with each step. The walls, etched with faded hieroglyphs, felt like they were watching them, their ancient secrets whispering in the silence. Every step they took echoed loudly, as if the tomb itself was aware of their presence. The stillness pressed in on them, thick and suffocating.

They entered a room that felt... wrong. The quiet was so absolute, it felt like the room was holding its breath. In the centre, an ancient stone bed stood, cracked and worn by the passage of time. Dust hung in the air like a fog, the dim light from their torches casting long, flickering shadows across the floor. The room hummed with an energy that made Nouri’s skin prickle, the weight of centuries pressing down on her. The very air felt heavier here—saturated with something ancient, powerful, and dangerous.

Nouri froze as her eyes scanned the room. Her senses sharpened, every fibre of her being screaming in warning. "This place... it’s... not right," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart quickened, her pulse racing as she felt an eerie presence in the room—something old, and something angry.

Her gaze fell on the bloodstains on the floor, thick and dark. They were fresh, too fresh. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Oh no..." she whispered, her eyes wide with dread. The chill in the air seemed to double, a sudden cold that seeped deep into her bones.

Layla stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she examined the markings on the floor. "Heka priests," she murmured, her voice grim, heavy with the recognition. "Judging by their masks and ceremonial stance. They would've been entombed here to protect the pharaoh."

Steven blinked; his confusion evident. "The heck's a Heka?" he asked, his voice tinged with unease but trying to keep the sarcasm in check.

Nouri turned to him, her expression serious, her voice low and steady. "Sorcerers of their time," she said softly, her gaze darkening. "They were the guardians of forbidden magic. Their power was immense. They’ve been here for centuries, buried in this tomb... waiting." She swallowed hard, the memories flooding back.

Layla's eyes flicked over the drawings on the wall, her hand hovering over her weapon. "These must be some of the unlucky souls who crossed their path," she said, voice thick with dread.

Steven's eyes darted to the blood, and his stomach turned. "Right. An impressive send-off," he muttered, though his voice faltered. "Oh my God..." His gaze lingered on the gruesome sight. "Is that fresh blood? And... those chunks? Oh, God..." He gagged, visibly paling, his face twisting in disgust.

Nouri stepped forward, the weight of the moment settling on her chest like a stone. Her mind raced as she processed the scene. Something was terribly wrong. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to hide. "I fear something has awoken them," she said, her voice quiet, almost trembling with fear.

A shiver ran down Steven's spine as he glanced nervously at the bloodstains. "So... you’re saying they’ve been awakened?" he asked, his voice tremulous with fear.

"Yes," Nouri replied quietly, the word hanging in the air like a death sentence. "And I fear we’re the reason."

"Are they dangerous?" Steven asked, his voice shaking, his usual bravado gone.

"To you?" Nouri’s gaze hardened. "They will kill you in an instant. No hesitation." Her eyes darkened.

Layla glanced back; her face grim. "And to you?" she asked softly, almost as though she didn’t want to hear the answer.

Nouri’s eyes flickered briefly, a fleeting look of sorrow crossing her face. "I do not know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The truth was, she had never faced them in centuries, and now, she wasn’t sure how their magic would respond to her—especially after her rebellion against the gods.

"Let’s keep moving," Layla said, trying to shake off the unease. She turned toward a dark passageway, her steps hesitant but purposeful.

"Um, just a minute. Just a minute," Steven said, his voice full of nervous tension. "I’m just saying, what I see here is... a lot of bones and blood going that way. So... I’m thinking, maybe there's another..." His voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.

Nouri's gaze shot upward to a small opening in the ceiling. "There’s an opening up there," she said, her voice steady, but her heart raced. "Do you see it?"

"Should we check it out?" Layla asked, her voice laced with urgency as she looked to Nouri for direction.

"Yeah… All right. You go." Steven’s voice cracked, but he gave a nervous chuckle, trying to keep the mood light.

"Me?" Nouri’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

"You." Both Steven and Layla said simultaneously, their tone firm, almost commanding.

Nouri sighed, rolling her eyes but shrugging nonchalantly. "Yeah, all right. Yeah." Without hesitation, she climbed up toward the opening, her movements fluid but deliberate. She reached the top and, balancing on the edge, paused for a moment to survey the room below. "I did it. I’m up," she announced quietly as she stepped toward the wall, her eyes scanning the ancient inscriptions.

She read the wall carefully, her fingers brushing over the faded symbols. "According to the ancient texts, it should be bound to an ushabti," she said, her voice filled with reverence. She took a step forward, her senses on high alert. "There’s a way," she muttered, the words falling from her lips as her gaze flickered to the farthest corner.

"How’s it looking?" Layla asked from below, her voice tinged with hope.

"There’s a way," Nouri repeated, her voice steady despite the creeping fear in her chest. As Steven climbed up behind her, Nouri’s thoughts raced. Something was wrong—something was waking up.

Suddenly, a loud noise echoed from deep within the tomb—distant but unmistakable. The harsh sound of gunfire.

"What are they shooting at?" Steven asked, his voice filled with panic, his eyes wide with fear.

"Heka priests," Nouri answered, her voice sharp and filled with a chill that seemed to freeze the air around them. "We need to hide. Now."

"Hide. Hide!" Nouri urged; her voice tight with urgency as she pushed Layla behind the stone bed. "Steven, get down!" she hissed, motioning for him to duck behind a nearby table.

Nouri lay flat on the cold wood floor, her heart pounding in her chest. The air seemed to grow heavier, thicker with dread, as if the tomb itself was holding its breath. The room was silent save for the sound of their ragged breathing.

Then, the unmistakable sound of dragging echoed through the chamber. Nouri’s breath caught in her throat as she looked toward the entrance. A Heka priest appeared, his body cloaked in tattered robes, dragging the limp form of a disciple. The priest’s eyes glowed with an unnatural, eerie light, and his mask twisted in a grotesque mockery of life.

He dropped the body onto the stone table with a sickening thud and began to remove the organs, placing them in canopic jars one by one. The scene was grotesque, disturbing, and unnerving. Every movement was deliberate, methodical.

Nouri felt Steven inching closer. She shot him a sharp look, but before she could stop him, he was already moving. "No, Steven!" she whispered harshly, but he kept coming, too curious for his own good.

In a split second, Nouri’s eyes glowed with an unnatural light as she opened her mouth and called out to the winds. "Akhu ra Al Nouri, imat irt nehesi, em tefsiri."* Her voice carried through the tomb, the words swirling around them like an ancient incantation.

The priest paused, his head tilting as if hearing something beyond the confines of the room. His eyes narrowed, and he clicked his tongue, whispering in agreement, "Akhu ra Al Nouri."*

Layla, trying to move stealthily around the stone bed, misjudged her step, her foot knocking over several jars with a loud crash. The priest snapped his head around, his eyes flashing with suspicion as he scanned the room.

Steven’s heart raced. The floorboards creaked under his weight, and he froze in place, his eyes wide with terror. Nouri cursed him silently, her heart hammering in her chest.

The priest's gaze landed on them, and in a blur of unnatural speed, he was on the table, crawling toward them. Steven gasped, panic overtaking him. He jumped to his feet, ready to bolt.

Layla grabbed a nearby canopic jar and hurled it at the wall with all her strength, the ancient stone cracking loudly upon impact, sending shards scattering across the floor. The noise reverberated through the tomb, and the priest's head snapped toward the sound, his eyes widening in alarm. In that split second, Nouri reacted, swiftly grabbing Steven’s arm, pulling him toward the narrow passageway behind them.

“Run! We’ll find you!” Steven yelled, his heart pounding in his chest as the tension in the air thickened. He looked back one last time at Layla, who was sprinting down another corridor, and then, without thinking, pushed a table down with all his might, the heavy furniture crashing onto the Heka priest.

"I squished it... I squished it..." Steven panted, his voice shaky with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, his hand trembling as he looked down at the mass of fallen priests and broken furniture. His wide eyes locked onto Nouri, trying to make sense of what he had just done.

“Yes, you did,” Nouri said calmly, though there was a light amusement in her tone. “Now let’s go.”

Steven blinked at her; his breath heavy. "But... did I—?"

“Don’t worry about it, Steven,” Nouri interrupted, her voice filled with a quiet strength.

With urgency driving her, Nouri yanked Steven’s arm once again, guiding him through the narrow passage. The walls pressed in around them, cold and ancient, a reminder of the tomb's long-held secrets. The air smelled of damp stone, and every step they took seemed to resonate through the bones of the tomb itself.

---

“Who is buried here?” Steven coughed, his voice echoing eerily through the dark, winding passageway.

“Son of Amun,” Nouri replied softly, her gaze far away, as if she could feel the weight of history pressing down on them.

“Impossible,” Steven mumbled, still reeling from the sheer gravity of their situation. His mind was spinning, trying to reconcile the enormity of what was happening with the reality of the moment. The passageway opened up into a large chamber, its ceiling lost in the shadows. Ancient murals adorned the walls, telling stories of gods and kings, and life that had once been. In the centre of the room stood statues of long-forgotten rulers, their eyes eternally watching over the sacred ground.

“Oh, my days.” Steven’s voice broke the silence as his eyes widened at the sight. "First one in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh. Thutmose II. Nefertiti. Oh, it’s gotta be one of the big'uns."

Nouri slowly walked into the centre of the room, her eyes sweeping over the ancient walls. The gravity of the discovery was palpable, but there was something else in the way she moved—something grounded and centred. She was no stranger to these tombs, no stranger to this history. It was part of her, woven into her very being.

But then, she noticed Steven was staring at the water in front of them, his face pensive, almost like he was listening to something only he could hear.

“What are you gonna do? Try and drown us now?” Steven muttered under his breath, his voice carrying the frustration of not understanding his own thoughts.

Nouri’s sharp gaze flickered to him, noticing the way his body tensed. “Are you talking to Marc?” Her voice was light but filled with a knowing edge. There was no judgment, only curiosity.

Steven snapped out of his trance, blinking as if coming to his senses. He turned to Nouri, his expression a mix of confusion and self-awareness. “Uh, yeah... no. I’m good,” he said, his voice more grounded now, though there was still a faint tremor to his words. He nodded to her before walking closer to the walls again, his hands hovering over the ancient carvings as his mind raced.

"Wow. Look at that. Look at all these relics. Macedonian? No. What? No way!" Steven continued, his excitement growing as he examined the intricate symbols and carvings etched into the stone. His fingers traced the air as though he could feel the history radiating from the walls.

Nouri smiled, her voice soft with the weight of knowing, “It’s true.”

Steven paused, his mind whirling. “That’s not right. That can’t be right. That’s Macedonian. But the only pharaoh... But, I mean, he insisted on calling himself Egyptian. But... I think we're looking at the long-lost tomb of..." He trailed off, his gaze darting between the hieroglyphs and the statues surrounding him.

Before he could finish, Nouri cut in, her voice tinged with both humour and knowledge. “Alexander the Great, or as we called him, Son of Amun,” she chuckled, her eyes glinting with the joy of revealing such a monumental discovery.

“Everything inside me is screaming not to open this thing,” Steven admitted, standing frozen in front of the sarcophagus, his voice a mix of fear and wonder.

“What? Are you afraid of a curse?” Nouri teased, raising an eyebrow. She stepped closer to him, her movements graceful and sure. “What happened to the fearless scholar?”

Steven laughed nervously, then, with one last deep breath, moved to open the sarcophagus. “Yeah, okay. Let’s just get this over with.”

The stone lid of the sarcophagus creaked as they pushed it off together. The mummified body of Alexander the Great lay before them, eerily preserved for millennia, his face still bearing the faintest traces of a regal, untouchable power. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over his form, making the scene feel like something out of a dream.

"Where’s the ushabti?" Nouri’s voice was calm but insistent. Her eyes scanned the room with practiced ease, knowing that the relic they sought was hidden somewhere within this sacred place.

“Well… If you’re gonna hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look,” Steven said, his voice echoing with a strange excitement as he examined every inch of the sarcophagus.

“So, what do you think?” Nouri asked, her gaze turning sharp, watching him intently, knowing he was piecing things together.

"Um... Alexander was the voice of Ammit,” Steven mumbled to himself as he shuffled around, looking for anything that could give him a clue. “All right. I’m gonna try something. I’ll do something here.”

With a mixture of trepidation and determination, Steven began ripping the linen wrappings off the mummified body, his hands shaking as he apologized under his breath. “Sorry. Oh, God. So sorry. Sorry, Mr. Great.”

“Just... don’t damage anything too much, okay?” Nouri said lightly, her voice steady despite the chaos of the moment. “I’d rather not have to explain this to anyone, especially not when we’ve already caused so much disturbance.”

Steven chuckled nervously, finally pulling the linen off and cracking open the jaw of the mummy. He reached inside, his face scrunching up with disgust. “All right. Open up. Sorry, Mr. Great. Sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry. Ugh! Ew!” he said as his hand plunged into the corpse’s mouth.

“You’re doing great,” Nouri said with an encouraging smile, though there was a glimmer of humour in her eyes as she watched his antics.

Steven laughed, still uncomfortable but pressing on. With a final tug, he pulled his hand out of the mummy’s mouth, holding the ushabti in his hand, the ancient relic now in their possession.

They both froze as footsteps echoed through the cold stone tomb, each one heavier than the last. The sound was deliberate, but also distant—a warning of what was to come. Layla’s silhouette emerged from the shadows, her presence like a storm that had finally broken free. Her expression was fierce, her eyes filled with grief and an anger that could melt stone.

"Layla, look. We won!" Steven’s laugh was uneasy, a jittery attempt to mask the tension in the air. He held up the ushabti, the relic they’d fought for—his triumph, a flicker of light in the dark, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Not with Layla standing there, her red eyes burning with something far more intense than mere anger.

"Steven…" Nouri whispered, her voice quiet, barely audible, as she turned to Layla. Her heart sank as she saw the raw emotion in the younger woman's gaze. She could feel the weight of Layla’s sorrow, the unsaid words, the frustration that had built up for so long.

"And the ushabti goes to us. I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great's gullet, but I found it," Steven continued, trying to make light of the situation, his laughter forced as Layla took slow, measured steps toward him.

"Are you all right, love?" Steven asked, his voice softer now, filled with a tenderness that contrasted with the storm in Layla’s eyes.

Nouri stood a few feet behind Steven, watching the scene unfold with growing unease. Layla was so close now; Nouri could feel the fury emanating from her. It wasn’t just anger—it was loss, deep and unrelenting.

"Can he hear me?" Layla’s voice was strained, her words cutting through the silence with a sharpness that left Nouri feeling vulnerable, like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest.

"Alexander? I don’t think so. God, I hope not," Steven chuckled nervously, but his laugh faltered as Layla’s eyes never left his. There was no humour in the room now—only a tense, suffocating quiet.

“She meant Marc,” Nouri murmured softly, her words barely above a whisper as she stepped closer to Layla. She felt her heart twist in sympathy, knowing what Layla must be feeling. The grief, the betrayal, the uncertainty—Nouri understood it all too well. She had seen it in the faces of mortals, time and time again.

Layla’s voice broke the silence, sharp and bitter. "What happened to my father? I’m talking to you!" She stepped closer, her chest heaving with the force of her emotions. Each word felt like it was ripping her apart.

Nouri’s heart twisted painfully as she watched Layla lash out, her pain as tangible as the stone beneath their feet. She stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Layla’s shoulder. “Layla, I—”

"I’m talking to you, Marc!" Layla shouted, her voice ringing through the tomb. Her eyes burned with a fury that made the room feel smaller, hotter, as she slammed her palm against Steven’s chest.

Nouri’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the moment Marc began to surface, like a storm rising from beneath the calm surface of the sea. Her fingers curled into a fist, readying herself for what would come next.

“Layla…” Nouri whispered, her voice steady, but her heart was anything but. She stepped between Layla and Steven, guiding the furious woman back slightly, her gaze never leaving Steven’s face. There was something dark shifting within him, something that was no longer Steven.

And then, it happened.

Steven’s eyes rolled back in his head, his body jerking slightly before going completely still. A coldness took over his features, and the room felt darker, as though something ancient had awoken.

"Come on. Let’s go, let’s go," Marc’s voice broke through the tense silence, low and commanding, sending a chill down Nouri’s spine. He had taken control of Steven’s body again.

Layla stepped forward again, but Nouri reached out, her hand firm on her shoulder. "No." Layla’s voice was quiet, but the weight behind it could have cracked the walls.

"We need to go right now," Marc hissed, his tone cutting through the tension, but Nouri could sense the anger, the fear behind his words. He had a plan, but it was a desperate one.

"Marc, no. No. What happened to my father?" Layla asked, her voice barely more than a whisper now. The ache in her voice was enough to shatter the hardest heart, and Nouri could see the desperation in her eyes.

"Listen to me. We need to leave right now. I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go," Marc urged, his voice tight with urgency. He was pushing them, but Nouri knew that wasn’t all there was. Something was breaking inside of him, and it wasn’t just the pressure from Layla.

Nouri’s gaze flickered to Marc, and then back to Layla. She had to do this. "Marc, if you don’t tell her, I will," she said firmly, her voice filled with the weight of everything they had yet to face.

Layla’s gaze sharpened, and she stepped closer, her fists clenched tightly. "Did you kill Abdullah El-Faouly?" Layla demanded, her eyes searching for the truth in Marc’s.

Marc recoiled slightly, the guilt flashing in his eyes like a mirror cracked into pieces. "Of course not. Of course, I didn’t," Marc denied, but the way he said it made Nouri’s heart ache for him. The truth was there, hidden beneath layers of regret.

"Is he lying?" Layla asked Nouri, her eyes wide, pleading for answers.

"No," Nouri replied, her voice steady. She knew the truth, and though it pained her to watch Marc struggle with it, she would not let him lie. He had been there, but he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger.

"But you were there." Layla’s words came out as a gasp, and Nouri could hear the betrayal in her tone. It cut deep, but Nouri could see it—Layla was falling apart, and she couldn’t stop it. Neither could Marc.

"I was there. Yeah, I was there," Marc admitted, his voice heavy with guilt, his eyes not meeting Layla’s. The truth hung in the air between them, like a ghost they could no longer ignore.

"Yeah. And how did he die?" Layla’s voice wavered, raw with emotion. Nouri could feel the tremble in the air, the heartbreak spreading across the room. She could barely breathe with the intensity of it.

"His partner got greedy, and he executed everyone at the dig site. Marc tried to save your father, but couldn’t save him…" Nouri spoke softly, her voice filled with a sorrow she had hoped never to feel. But Marc’s pain was hers too. She couldn’t let Layla carry this burden alone.

"No. But you brought a killer right to him. Right?" Layla’s words came like a slap, her hands trembling as she shoved Marc back. The force of it took Nouri by surprise, but she wasn’t about to let Layla get hurt by her anger.

"Yeah…" Marc’s voice cracked, a whisper of his own shame and guilt. "He shot me too. I was supposed to die that night. But I didn’t die that night. And I should have. I’ve tried to tell you since the moment we met. I just didn’t know…" Marc’s confession hung in the air like a heavy fog.

"Oh, my God. That’s the reason that we met. You just had a guilty conscience," Layla laughed manically, the sound bitter, her body trembling. Nouri could see her fighting the breakdown coming, but it was too much. Too much to take.

The sound of rustling filled the room again—footsteps, familiar and cruel, echoing against the tomb’s walls.

"They’re here," Nouri said urgently, her voice steady despite the chaos building inside her. There was no time to waste. She knew that much.

"There must be another way out," Layla said quickly, her eyes scanning the tomb for an escape route.

"Okay. Go, find it. We’ll hold them off," Marc said, and Nouri nodded, determination filling her. She couldn’t lose them now—not after everything. Not after all the pain. She had to protect them both.

Layla bolted toward the other side of the tomb, her footsteps light but quick. Marc grabbed the axe from the sarcophagus, the heavy weight of it settling in his hands.

"Marc, you don’t have the suit," Nouri said, her voice low, filled with concern. She saw the disciples creeping into the room, their guns aimed, their movements slow but sure.

“I know…” Marc’s voice was quiet, resigned.

Nouri’s gaze softened. "I won’t let Khonshu near her." She reassured him, and in the next breath, she conjured her swords—flames spiralling around her hands, casting long shadows on the walls of the tomb.

As the disciples filled the space, guns trained on Marc and Nouri, the tension escalated. It felt like the calm before a storm, like a thousand thunderclaps that would never come. But Arthur’s voice broke the silence.

"Just you? The rest is silence," Arthur said, his voice cold as he stepped into the tomb, his presence like the chill of winter settling over the room.

“I remember the first morning I woke up knowing that Khonshu was gone,” Arthur continued, his voice a low hum, almost nostalgic, like he was savouring every word. "The quiet was liberating. You're a free man. And, of course, with that freedom comes choice. And right now, you have a very important decision to make."

Marc nodded, a grim determination settling over him. "Okay."

The gunmen closed in, their guns steady and unwavering. The room felt heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

“I will let you escape,” Arthur said, his gaze flickering to Nouri for a moment, almost like a whisper of something deeper in his voice.

Nouri locked eyes with Marc, a silent exchange between them as she weighed their options. The air was suffocating. There was no way out—no easy escape. They had been betrayed. And yet, she would not falter.

"Keep her safe," Marc whispered, his words cutting through the tension.

Nouri slowly walked back; her heart heavy with the weight of the decision she was about to make. She could hear Layla’s frantic breathing just around the corner. The gunmen, unsure of who to aim at, shifted their focus between her and Marc.

The tension was unbearable. Then, without a moment's notice, Nouri darted down the path Layla had taken, her feet light on the stone floor. She rounded the corner, seeing Layla crouched in the shadows, trying to stay hidden.

The darkness of the tomb seemed to swallow them whole.

They saw everything.

Marc’s final, desperate cry filled the air, the sound of it sharp and agonizing, ringing in Nouri’s ears like a death knell. Then, came the sharp crack of gunshots, the violence so sudden it sent a shiver of dread down Nouri’s spine. Two shots. Two shots.

Marc crumpled to the ground, his body hitting the cold stone with a sickening thud before slipping into the water below.

Layla gasped, her hands trembling as she reached for the space where Marc had fallen, her breath catching in her throat. The air was thick with grief, the heavy, suffocating weight of it pulling at Nouri’s heart. She couldn’t look away, even though her body screamed for her to act.

Nouri covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide, her heart breaking as Marc’s body sank into the water. There were no words for the ache that bloomed in her chest. She had failed him. She could have stopped this, should have—but she didn’t.

Arthur’s voice broke through her thoughts, cold and cutting as he stood beside Marc’s fallen body, his gaze unwavering.

"I can’t save anyone who won’t save themselves," Arthur’s words echoed, the finality in his voice stinging like a slap. He walked toward Marc’s body, the motion slow and deliberate. His eyes never once left Marc as he grabbed Ammit's ushabti, his fingers wrapping around the cursed relic with an eerie reverence.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, whoever else might be in there." Arthur’s words were hollow, devoid of any true remorse. "Sometimes we need the cold light of death before we can see reality."

Nouri's heart twisted painfully in her chest. He was just a man, caught between lives that weren’t his own. What reality is he seeing?

Before she could react, Layla moved from her hiding spot behind the pillar, her body tense with adrenaline. She slipped through the shadows, quiet and graceful, her every movement calculated. She subdued one of the guards without making a sound, her hand wrapping around the man’s throat before he even had time to cry out. The scene was a blur of raw survival instinct, a quiet defiance in the face of chaos.

Nouri turned her eyes back to Arthur, who stood there, the staff in his hand now transforming into something darker, something ancient. His grip tightened as Ammit’s form began to twist and coalesce around the staff, its menacing shape taking form, an embodiment of the goddess’s wrath.

Nouri could feel the heat from it—fire, fury, judgment—seeping through the air, rippling through the tomb like a rising storm. The power that Arthur wielded was dangerous, more so than anything she had encountered in centuries.

"Who wants to heal the world?" Arthur said, his voice a mocking laugh, his disciples moving behind him, leaving the tomb with their godlike fervor. The words were a challenge, a taunt to anyone who might dare defy his warped vision of salvation.

Notes:

*Translation:
"Akhu ra Al Nouri, imat irt nehesi, em tefsiri." → Praise be Al Nouri, for she has returned to the mortal realm, In the winds
"Akhu ra Al Nouri.” → Praise be Al Nouri

Chapter 56: Gods and Monsters

Arthur and his disciples had finally left, the desert wind carrying the echoes of their departure. Layla’s heart raced as she rushed to Marc’s lifeless form, her hands trembling violently as she pulled him close. The feeling of the cold water beneath them seemed to deepen the weight in her chest, and for a long moment, she simply held him, unable to let go.

“Can you bring him back?” Layla’s voice broke through the night, her eyes frantic as tears streamed down her face. The desperation in her voice was palpable, the kind of cry only someone who has lost everything would make. Her fingers stroked Marc’s face, desperately searching for any sign of life, but it remained still, lifeless.

Nouri approached slowly, her eyes heavy with the weight of centuries of knowledge, yet her heart felt a pang of sympathy she couldn't suppress. She knelt beside Layla, her hands resting lightly on the sand, feeling the pulse of the earth around them.

"His scales are balanced; he’s passed onto the field of reeds," Nouri spoke softly, her voice as calm and steady as the desert winds that surrounded them. Her words were final, like a soft decree from the heavens, but they didn’t carry the coldness of a god—only the wisdom of someone who had witnessed countless souls journey into the afterlife.

"No... Please, Nouri," Layla cried, her body shaking, pressing her forehead to Marc’s chest. She could feel her heart breaking all over again, the realization that this wasn’t some nightmare sinking in. He was gone.

Nouri’s eyes softened with understanding. She knew Layla was clinging to the last remnants of hope, but she also knew that death, no matter how painful, was a part of the cosmic balance. "He has to choose to return," Nouri said gently, her voice carrying a profound sorrow, yet her words were firm, etched with the truths she had come to understand.

Layla’s sobs turned into quiet whispers, "Please, Marc, come back. Don’t leave me... I can’t lose you."

Nouri stood slowly, a quiet strength emanating from her as she looked down at Layla. "We cannot delay what must happen," she murmured, though there was a tenderness in her gaze as she reached out to help Layla to her feet. "But we can still stop Harrow. That, we must do now."

Layla looked up at Nouri, her tear-streaked face resolute. She wiped her eyes and nodded, even though her heart was still reeling. There was a fire within her, a need to act, to do something that could undo this overwhelming tragedy.

The two women sprinted out of the tomb and into the unforgiving desert, the air burning in their lungs as they ran toward the vehicles. The sound of the wind shifted as they moved, and the weight of their task seemed to follow them like a shadow.

They reached the back of one of the trucks, and without hesitation, Nouri and Layla climbed into the cargo area. They huddled low, quickly covering their hair and faces, blending into the shadows. Nouri’s eyes scanned the surroundings with vigilance, every instinct telling her they needed to be careful. Arthur and his disciples were dangerous now, and their every move would be scrutinized.

The truck rumbled forward, kicking up a cloud of dust that shimmered like ghosts in the setting sun. As they drove deeper into the heart of the desert, Nouri’s mind raced. The situation was dire. If they didn’t stop Harrow soon, all could be lost. But Layla’s grief was still raw, and Nouri could sense the conflict within her—the desire for vengeance, the desperation to have Marc back, and the fierce will to protect those she loved. It was a battle of emotions Nouri understood all too well.

The truck eventually came to a stop near the Egyptian Patrol Agency. The night air felt thick with tension as officers surrounded the vehicles. One officer, his voice commanding, stepped forward and demanded to know what they were doing. The soldiers’ guns were drawn, but Nouri could see the flicker of fear in their eyes—they didn’t know who they were facing.

Arthur’s disciples slowly exited their vehicles, preparing for a standoff, their movements measured, full of purpose. Nouri’s heart quickened in anticipation, the air crackling with the power of the moment.

“We’re just passing through,” one of the disciples tried to reason, his voice smooth but strained under the weight of the moment.

But it was already too late. The tension in the air had reached its peak.

With a single, deliberate movement, Arthur slammed his staff into the ground with an earth-shattering crack. Nouri felt the tremor in her bones, the surge of power that followed—it wasn’t just force; it was something darker, something rooted in judgment. Her divine senses were on high alert, but even she could not look away as the ground quaked beneath them.

Arthur’s voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. "Let judgment be passed."

At once, the soldiers fell to their knees, their bodies convulsing as Arthur’s power engulfed them. Those whose hearts were not pure were sent to the afterlife in an instant, their forms crumbling into dust and disappearing into the winds. Nouri’s chest tightened at the sight. She could sense the pain of each soul, the weight of their fate, but she couldn’t show it—this was the path Arthur had chosen. He was doing what he believed was necessary.

Arthur moved toward a surviving officer, his demeanour strangely calm, almost as if the destruction he had just caused meant nothing. “You’re a good man,” Arthur said with a certain cold kindness, almost like a fatherly figure bestowing a final blessing upon the one person left standing.

The agent, shaking, could only look up in confusion and fear as Arthur reached down and removed his walkie-talkie, setting it aside as the disciples began to clear the bodies from the scene. The chaos left behind was overwhelming, but for Nouri, the most pressing matter was Layla—and what she was about to do next.

As the disciples moved, Nouri caught Layla’s eye. But before Nouri could speak, she noticed the glint of a knife in Layla’s hand, her fingers tightening around the blade. Her emotions were running high—she was ready to fight, to avenge Marc. But Nouri knew this wasn’t the way.

“Layla, stop!” Nouri called out, her voice sharp, filled with authority. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly with the weight of what she was about to say.

But Layla was already moving, her face hard with resolve, edging closer to Arthur, her figure disappearing behind a car.

"Don’t do it. Layla, wait. I am the Goddess Taweret," a voice said suddenly, but it wasn’t just any voice. It was Taweret’s voice, echoing through the air like a divine command. The soldier standing before them spoke, his form wavering with the power of Taweret’s spirit.

Layla froze, confused. "What... what is this?" she muttered, looking at the soldier in disbelief.

Nouri stepped closer, her expression grave. “It’s Taweret speaking to you,” she said softly, her voice filled with both warning and reassurance. Layla looked from Nouri to the soldier, her knife wavering in her grip. She was confused, uncertain.

“Layla, it’s Marc who’s telling you to stop,” another voice echoed. A guard who had been struck down spoke in Taweret’s voice, and Layla’s eyes went wide with shock.

Layla took a step back, her breathing quickening. "What the hell is going on? What’s happening?"

"It’s Taweret," Nouri repeated, taking a step closer, her voice soft but insistent.

Taweret’s voice continued, this time more pleading. "If Marc can return to life, he will need Khonshu. Break his ushabti. It’s in the Chamber of the Gods. Nouri will take you there. And you, Layla... You can be my Avatar. Marc speaks of you with great admiration."

Layla shook her head, disbelief clouding her features. "No, no, no. I’ll fight him on my own," she said, her voice desperate. Her eyes flared with determination; the knife still gripped tightly in her hand.

“Layla, please,” Nouri urged, her voice tender but unyielding. “Marc’s soul won’t be at peace until he makes the choice to return. If we want to stop Harrow and save the world, we need to do this together. We need Khonshu’s help.”

Reluctantly, Layla lowered the knife, the weight of the situation finally sinking in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Nouri nodded; her heart still heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. “We will stop Harrow. Together.”

The two women turned, their resolve set, and sprinted back to the trucks, the air around them thick with the promise of what was to come. As the vehicles began to move toward the pyramids, Nouri felt the weight of their destiny pressing down on them both—but she also felt a flicker of hope. There was still time. And they would not fail.

---

Once they arrived at the Great Pyramid, the ancient stone under their feet seemed to hum with the weight of history. Arthur and his disciples began to climb the pyramid, their movements synchronized, determined. The air grew thick with the smell of dust and old stone, and the moonlight illuminated their path as they ascended. There was a heaviness in the air, like the earth itself was waiting for something momentous to occur.

Arthur raised his staff high above his head. With a fierce, resounding stomp, the earth trembled beneath them, and a hidden passage opened at the pyramid’s base. The ground cracked open, revealing a descent into the temple's heart, dark and untouched for centuries.

“Come. You won’t believe what the Gods have hidden from mankind.” Arthur’s voice rang out, rich with excitement and malice, as he stepped forward, and his disciples followed closely behind, their faces betraying awe and fear.

As they entered the chamber, the heavy scent of incense and age-old magic filled the air. Nouri instinctively moved closer to Layla, her hand brushing against her arm in a protective gesture. "Stay close," Nouri murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, laden with unspoken warnings. She pulled Layla to the side, her mind racing as she observed Arthur stepping forward without hesitation.

Arthur raised his staff once more, the symbols carved into its surface glowing with dark energy. With each strike, he shattered the avatars one by one, their forms crumbling to dust and swirling into nothingness. The room pulsed with a violent energy, as if the very fabric of reality was tearing under the weight of Arthur's wrath.

The air itself seemed to vibrate with the death of the avatars, and Nouri clenched her fists at her sides. Her gaze flicked to the avatars falling, her mind locked on what had to come next. "Come on," she urged Layla softly, pulling her into the shadowed corridor just behind the chamber.

They moved quickly, the echoes of Arthur's destruction fading into the distance. The passage they entered felt colder, as if it was rejecting their presence. It was narrow, the walls lined with ancient hieroglyphs that seemed to watch them, their gazes unblinking. At the end of the passage, Nouri stopped, her eyes scanning the chamber before her. A room full of ushabti’s—stone vessels that housed the trapped souls of those the gods had forsaken, sealed away for eternity.

Layla’s breath caught in her throat as she surveyed the room, her eyes wide with reverence. "What is this place?" Her voice trembled slightly, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“These are the remnants of the gods’ wrath," Nouri continued, her gaze hardening. She stepped forward, her fingers grazing the stone of each ushabti. “But one... one is different.” She stopped in front of the farthest wall, where a solitary ushabti stood glowing faintly. The familiar energy emanated from it, and Nouri’s heart skipped a beat. "This one is Khonshu's."

Her fingers brushed over the ushabti, and as soon as they made contact, a sharp pain shot through her chest. It was as if the ushabti itself was rejecting her touch. Nouri gasped, dropping the vessel with a sharp crack, her hands clutching her heart as the pain intensified. It was like a dagger of cold fire piercing her from the inside out.

“What’s wrong?” Layla asked, her voice frantic as she stepped closer to Nouri, her hand gripping her arm in concern.

Nouri's breath came in sharp gasps, her vision briefly swimming as she fought against the pain. "He's released her," she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of the words. "Harrow’s released Ammit. We’re running out of time."

Layla’s eyes widened, her pulse quickening as the gravity of the situation became clear. “We need to stop this. How do we release Khonshu? What do we do?”

Nouri’s voice was steady despite the turmoil inside her. She had seen this moment unfold in her mind countless times, but the reality of it was harder than she’d imagined. “You have to break it,” she said, her words clipped and urgent. "Break the ushabti."

Without hesitation, Layla grabbed the ushabti from the floor and placed it on the ground. “This is it,” she muttered, her face set with determination, before she stomped on it with a force that shook the ground beneath them. The stone shattered with a violent crack, and the room was filled with swirling smoke, dark and heavy, as Khonshu’s presence flooded the space.

Nouri felt the familiar shift in the air, as the smoke began to clear, Khonshu materialized before them, his towering form a spectre of moonlight. His eyes gleamed with cold authority, and his voice rang out, deep and resonant.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her tone remained calm as she spoke, “He’s in the Field of Reeds, Birdman.” Her voice was measured, but there was a flicker of sorrow that only Layla caught.

“He died fighting, no doubt.” Khonshu's words landed like a stone, cold and factual, as if Marc’s death were nothing more than an afterthought in his mind.

“Fighting your war,” Layla snapped, anger flaring within her, her voice filled with bitter truth as she stepped forward, fists clenched in a tight, trembling grip. She couldn’t help the sharpness in her words. Khonshu’s actions had ruined Marc, shattered his life, and now his ghost loomed in their lives still, controlling everything from the shadows.

Khonshu turned his piercing gaze toward Layla, unmoved by her accusation. “And it’s far from over. If Marc is truly gone, I am in need of an Avatar.” His tone shifted, becoming more calculating, as if weighing the value of her soul in an ancient, divine scale. “Would you, Layla El-Faouly, protect the travellers of the night...?” He let the question hang in the air like a tempting offer, one that could grant power but at an irreversible cost.

Layla stepped back, her body rigid with distrust. “Are you joking? You turned Marc’s life into a waking nightmare. Why would I ever sign up for that?” Her voice was fierce, filled with righteous anger, and Nouri could see the fire burning in her eyes.

Khonshu’s response was cold, almost patronizing. “Because you won’t win against Harrow and Ammit alone.” He turned his gaze toward Nouri, who was silently observing, her eyes calculating.

Nouri stepped forward, her eyes unwavering, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "The Medjai are evacuating the city,” she said, her tone steady but urgent.

Layla’s gaze flickered to Nouri, and she drew in a sharp breath. “I’ll take my chances,” Layla replied, her voice full of unshakable resolve. “Plus, I have Nouri and Ardeth.” She smiled at Nouri, a gesture that warmed Nouri's heart in the midst of the chaos. Nouri offered her a nod, the silent reassurance of their bond.

Khonshu sneered, his form shifting with annoyance. “Marc was in crisis over you. His lack of focus got him killed. You need a plan, little bug. What I offer—”

“I don’t care what you can offer,” Layla interrupted, her voice cold with defiance. “Marc didn’t trust you. Nouri doesn’t trust you. I don’t trust you. We’ll work together without me enslaving myself to you!”

Khonshu's expression twisted in disdain, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to Nouri, his voice now carrying a darker weight, as though he were addressing a long-lost ally. “We must rebind Ammit.”

“How?” Layla’s question was genuine, filled with both curiosity and confusion. The threat of Ammit hung over them, and yet the way to contain her seemed impossible.

“Only an Avatar can do it,” Khonshu said, his voice low and calculating, as though he were delivering a final verdict. His eyes stayed locked on Layla, daring her to challenge him.

A faint chuckle escaped Nouri, almost imperceptible, but it was there—her amusement in the face of Khonshu’s self-importance. “I said 'no,’” Layla said angrily, her eyes flashing with a flicker of fire, though her words were soft. Her expression was serene, but there was a hidden strength beneath the surface, one that even Khonshu couldn't ignore.

“So be it,” Khonshu’s voice echoed, before disappearing entirely.

Layla gasped, her body shaking slightly from the rush of emotions. She took a few deep breaths, her heart pounding. “You did good,” Nouri said, her voice warm with approval. “My husband nearly fainted at the sight of Khonshu.” She let out a light laugh, as if she were sharing a private joke. Layla shot Nouri a sharp look, but despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“What now?” Layla asked, her tone still tense but softer now, the anger subsiding slightly. She was still on edge, but there was a certain acceptance in her voice.

“Now we protect Cairo,” Nouri said, her eyes gleaming with the intensity of the moment. She turned on her heel, her footsteps resolute and swift as she moved toward the Chamber of the Gods. The sound of her footsteps echoed through the passageway, leaving Layla in the shadows alone.

---

As Nouri reached the grand entrance of the Chamber, she saw Ammit standing in the centre, her figure towering above Khonshu’s weakened body, her massive form blocking any hope of escape. Arthur and his disciples stood by their eyes hungry, witnessing the end of what they had so long awaited—the destruction of Khonshu, the harbinger of their twisted vision for the world.

“Tell me to spare you, and I will,” Ammit said, her voice laced with a false sweetness that made Nouri’s skin crawl. The words came like venom, dripping with malice as she loomed over Khonshu, claws gleaming in the dim light of the chamber.

Khonshu, his battered form frail, spat back with defiance, “I choose obliteration over mercy.” His voice was raw, but the fire in his words held a flicker of resistance—though even he knew, deep down, that his time was nearing an end.

Nouri’s body tensed, the flames of her power starting to rise, coursing through her like an unstoppable tide. Every inch of her being screamed for action, for justice, for retribution. Without thinking, she surged forward, her speed almost blinding in its intensity.

In one fluid motion, her sword met Ammit’s claws in a deafening clash. The sound reverberated through the chamber like a thunderclap, and the sheer force of the strike sent shockwaves that rattled the ancient stones of the room. The heat from her blade flickered around them like a second sun, her body glowing with the energy of a goddess who would not back down.

“You’ll have to kill me first,” Nouri declared, her voice steady but carrying the weight of centuries. She stood between Ammit and Khonshu, her posture a perfect shield, her sword raised in defiance. The fire in her eyes was the same fire that had burned in the hearts of the gods when they first saw her as a child of the union between Ra and Khonshu. She was both light and dark, day and night—an impossible contradiction.

Ammit’s wicked grin widened, but there was something more than just cruel amusement in her gaze. It was the look of someone who believed they had already won. “Al Nouri, you may be the child of Khonshu and Ra, but you do not posses their powers,” she laughed, her voice like the sound of nails scraping against stone.

“I do not deserve your protection,” Khonshu whispered, his voice frail, heavy with the weight of his past decisions. The regret was there, evident in his tired words, but also the remnants of his pride—he had never been a god to ask for help.

“No, but I can stop you,” Nouri said, her voice almost tender, her eyes flashing with an unspoken promise. She was a protector at her core, a guide for those who could not see the way. She would not let Khonshu’s downfall be the end of the world. Not like this. Not when there was still a chance for redemption. Her grip on the sword tightened, and she swiftly moved to Khonshu’s side, kneeling to lift his frail form into her arms.

With a surge of divine energy, Nouri’s power enveloped them both, and in an instant, they vanished from the chamber, leaving Ammit’s furious roar and Arthur’s disappointed sneer behind.

Nouri and Khonshu reappeared in a hidden passage of the pyramid "Go to Marc," Nouri instructed, her tone more urgent than ever. "He's in Alexander the Great's tomb. I'll find Layla." Her words were sharp. For the first time in ages, Khonshu listened to her without question and disappeared, leaving Nouri standing in the dim, shifting corridors, her breath steady despite the chaos.

Nouri's eyes flashed as she turned and ran, her steps echoing in the hollow passageways. She felt the vibrations of the walls as they began to break apart around her. There was no time to waste. She had to reach Layla before—

"Layla!" Nouri hissed as she emerged into a new corridor, only to see Layla standing over the lifeless body of Selim. His face was frozen in death, a sinister stillness about him. Layla's gaze was locked on the body, her voice soft and full of grief.

“Taweret, are you there?” Layla’s voice was barely a whisper, her eyes filled with sorrow as she spoke to the lifeless body of Selim. Her words seemed to hang in the air, both a plea and a resignation.

"Layla! I’m so thrilled. We’re gonna have so much fun together!" Taweret's voice screamed from Selim's body, her joy far too loud for the situation, her voice echoing in the enclosed space like a mocking echo of death.

Nouri couldn't help herself. She chuckled, her laughter rich and almost musical as she stepped forward, her presence commanding and unyielding. "My dear sister, keep your voice down," she teased, her tone light, but the fire in her eyes burned fiercely.

Before Layla could respond, Nouri grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from Selim’s body. The walls around them cracked and crumbled as they ran, the entire structure seemingly on the verge of collapse. Dust and debris rained down as Taweret's voice continued to fill the passageway with laughter.

"Oh! You've changed your mind!" Taweret's voice screeched again, this time from Layla’s body, delight dancing in the words. "I would be delighted to accept you as my Avatar."

Layla’s expression was torn between confusion and a reluctant understanding. "Okay, okay," she said, her voice wavered for just a second. "Temporary Avatar. Just temporary!"

But Taweret was relentless, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes, of course! Oh, your father is going to be over the moon when he hears!" The words were as playful as they were terrifying.

"My father?" Layla echoed in shock, her mind whirling. "What do you mean, my father?"

Taweret giggled from Layla’s body, the laughter echoing through the crumbling halls. "Yes! I met him when I took him to the Field of Reeds. He was such a joy to guide, you know," Taweret said, her voice almost nostalgic for a moment.

“What?” Layla’s voice cracked, confusion and disbelief written on her face.

"Are we doing this or what?" Taweret continued, her voice now full of impatience. "I have a fabulous costume in mind. We could be the perfect pair—like a goddess and her shining star! Oh, Layla, this is just the start of our journey together!" Taweret’s enthusiasm practically hummed through the very air, causing the ground beneath them to tremble.

Nouri halted in her tracks, a look of deep frustration on her face. "This is why I refused to have an avatar," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. "Always with the costumes and the theatrics. She never knows when to stop. She doesn’t understand boundaries."

The walls around them broke down even further as Taweret’s jubilant voice continued to rise, overwhelming the sense of urgency and darkness that had plagued them. With one last, exasperated glance, Nouri turned her attention back to Layla.

The walls continued to crack as the two women made their way through the ruined passage, the echoes of Taweret's voice fading behind them. Nouri’s heart was heavy with the weight of everything—the gods, the choices, and the inevitable destruction of everything she’d once known. She could only hope that this time, they could stop the inevitable.

---

As the walls collapsed, Nouri and Layla struggled, their muscles straining as they both pushed against the weight of the wall blocking their path. Their breaths quickened, but with a final, coordinated shove, the wall crumbled, revealing the moonlight streaming through the opening.

Layla took a step forward, blinking as the light hit her face. Her expression shifted from determination to awe.

“The Scarlet Scarab...” Nouri whispered in awe; her voice tinged with an ancient recognition. Her eyes gleamed with pride, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“What?” Layla asked, her voice still laced with adrenaline as she stepped forward into the light.

Without warning, Layla's back arched slightly, her body shifting as massive wings erupted from her shoulders, their vibrant, feathered edges catching the light. Nouri’s laughter rang out, light and filled with admiration.

“Taweret truly outdid herself,” Nouri laughed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she took in the sight of Layla’s transformation.

Layla looked over her shoulder at her new wings, a mixture of shock and excitement in her eyes. “This is… wild.”

With a deep breath, Nouri stepped forward and placed a hand on her chest, closing her eyes for a moment as her power swirled beneath her fingertips. The air shimmered around them.

“May my powers flow through you, just for tonight,” Nouri murmured, her voice soft yet powerful. A small but tangible surge of energy flowed from her and into Layla, lighting her up like the dawn breaking through the darkness.

Layla blinked in surprise, her body feeling both lighter and more empowered. “Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude and awe.

“C’mon, Harrow’s probably halfway through Cairo by now,” Nouri urged, turning toward the exit. She grabbed Layla’s arm gently, but firmly, and they bolted from the pyramid, sprinting into the city.

As they emerged from the shadows, they saw the chaos unfolding in front of them. Towering over Cairo, immense manifestations of Ammit and Khonshu clashed violently, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Disciples of Ammit stood below, hurling judgment at innocent civilians caught in the chaos.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed behind them, and a familiar voice echoed through the night air.

“Find Spector. We’ll hold off the Disciples.”

It was Ardeth, standing tall with the Medjai warriors by his side, their swords drawn, their expressions grim.

Nouri nodded sharply, her eyes narrowing as she felt the weight of the battle ahead. “Layla, go. I’ll be right behind you.” she said, her voice steely, determined.

Layla gave her a quick nod before her wings spread wide, lifting her off the ground with a burst of speed. Nouri turned and sprinted toward the battlefield, her own fire crackling through her veins, guiding her through the chaos.

It wasn’t long before Layla’s voice rang out, triumphant.

“Got him!” she yelled, hovering over Marc, who was lying on the ground. Arthur Harrow stood menacingly above him, staff raised, preparing to strike.

Nouri’s heart pounded in her chest. “Harrow!” she yelled, her voice full of fury. Without hesitation, she charged forward, her body glowing with the power she had just given Layla. Her hands flickered with flame as she moved swiftly toward Arthur.

Before Nouri could reach him, Layla swooped down, her wings cutting through the air like a blade. She kicked Arthur back with a force that sent him stumbling to the ground. Layla wasted no time, helping Marc up with a fierce determination.

 “Oh yeah, sure, I didn’t do anything,” Nouri quipped, crossing her arms and looking mock-offended as Marc hugged Layla.

Marc rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks for the assist, Nouri,” he teased.

Layla simply laughed, shaking her head. “Always so humble, Nouri.”

Marc nodded toward Nouri, a smirk on his face. “Oh, and by the way, I met your husband.” He pointed to Steve Rogers, who was standing a few paces away, looking confused.

Nouri froze. Her heart skipped a beat. “What?” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes darted toward Steve, who was now giving her an amused look.

“Yeah, he convinced me to come back. Nice dude,” Marc said casually, as if he’d just talked about the weather.

Nouri couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “He truly is,” she said shyly.

Layla raised an eyebrow, still in the air, hovering beside Nouri. “How did you get back?” she asked, genuine curiosity written on her face.

Before Marc could respond, the shift happened. Steven took over, and the transformation was evident in his wide eyes and the slightly different posture.

“Wow, you look amazing! What are you wearing?” Steven exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels as he looked Layla up and down with unabashed admiration.

Nouri let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. “Oh, this is going to be a nightmare,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes already rolling. But as much as she wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, she couldn’t ignore the urgency of the situation.

Behind them, Arthur slowly got to his feet, his disciples following in his wake.

“Hey, I’m really jazzed about showing you two these new skill sets we have!” Steven said, grinning from ear to ear.

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her amusement quickly fading as she looked back toward Arthur and his disciples, who were now preparing for another round. “All right, show us what you got,” Layla said, her voice filled with excitement, though she knew the real battle was about to begin.

Nouri’s gaze flickered toward Arthur, her eyes hardening, the flame within her rising with each passing second. The air around her seemed to grow hotter, the weight of her divine power ready to explode. “Just remember,” she said, her voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent a chill through the air. “We’re not here to play. We’re here to end this. And that means no mercy.”

Her words burned through the tension, electrifying the battlefield. As Steven began fighting his way through the disciples, Nouri was already moving with grace, her body like fire in motion. She wielded her powers with precision, summoning flames that curled around her fists before she launched them at her enemies, sending them flying back.

Arthur, however, was no mere mortal. With a flick of his wrist, he blasted energy at Steven, forcing him to dodge. The energy sizzled as it missed its target, but Arthur was quick to react. Steven, focused on evading Arthur’s blasts, barely had time to process when he hurled a truncheon directly at him.

Arthur deflected the truncheon with a mere twist of his staff, the weapon humming with divine power as it met the truncheon’s path. In that split second, Marc’s presence took over, and with a swift motion, Marc caught the truncheon mid-air, using it as an extension of his will to slam it into the face of an advancing disciple. Layla and Nouri fought side by side, their movements synchronized, taking down another disciple with a perfect double strike—Nouri’s fire-wielding fists meeting Layla’s quick, precise combat techniques.

The three glanced at each other, a fierce bond between them, an unspoken understanding of what was at stake.

“Show them no mercy!” Nouri yelled, her voice laced with authority as they continued to fight off the disciples, pushing through their ranks with relentless fury.

The fight raged on until the trio finally reached Arthur, their combined might closing in. But Arthur was a force to be reckoned with. With a twisted smile, he unleashed a powerful blast, sending all three of them flying back. Nouri’s body collided with a stone wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Layla, too, was sent sprawling against the wall, but Nouri’s fiery eyes flickered with determination as she slowly rose to her feet.

Marc, his body now under his own control, landed hard on top of a nearby car, groaning from the jolt. He quickly regained his composure, his gaze sharp. "This isn’t over," he muttered to himself.

Arthur, on the offensive now, stalked toward Layla, preparing to strike her down. His staff crackled with power, and he lifted it, aiming to end her life in a single blow.

But before Arthur could act, Steven’s voice cut through the chaos. He surged forward, pushing Arthur away with an unnatural force, and the two grappled, struggling for control. The sound of their fists colliding echoed through the air as they tumbled across the ground.

Arthur, with a burst of strength, threw Steven through a nearby wall, the drywall crumbling as Steven crashed through it. The momentum was enough to send Steven out of the fight momentarily, but Marc emerged from within, his merciless warrior persona taking over as he landed a powerful kick to Arthur’s chest, sending him sprawling back.

Arthur barely had time to recover, but he was a god in his own right. As he righted himself, preparing to strike back, Nouri’s figure loomed large behind him, her hands crackling with divine fire as she seized his staff in a vice-like grip. With a fierce twist, she overpowered him, the flames from her hands wrapping around the staff like a serpent, controlling it.

Arthur’s face twisted with frustration, his own strength failing to match Nouri’s as he attempted to escape her hold. They struggled, both trying to land a blow, but Nouri was relentless—her movements a dance of power, skill, and raw, untamed fury.

A group of civilians, panic-stricken, rushed toward a truck in the midst of the battle. Marc and Nouri were still locked in combat with Arthur when they saw the truck barrelling toward a child, its brakes failing. Layla acted without hesitation, her body moving like lightning as she rushed over, scooping the child out of harm’s way just in time. She slid to a stop, holding the terrified child in her arms before she stopped the truck with sheer willpower, her muscles straining with the effort.

Arthur, seeing the moment of distraction, blasted Marc and Nouri aside, sending them both crashing into the debris. His disciples, sensing weakness, opened fire on Layla. But Layla was faster—her body fluid and lethal as she took down the attackers one by one, her movements graceful and deadly.

Arthur, his eyes burning with rage, threw Marc and Nouri aside like ragdolls, sending them sprawling across the floor. His eyes glowed with power as he began blasting Marc with his staff, sending wave after wave of energy into him.

“Had Ammit been allowed to rule, young Randall's life would've been saved, your family would've been happy,” Arthur yelled, his voice thick with fury. “She need only remove one weed from the garden. You.” The words were like daggers aimed at Marc’s soul. Arthur’s attacks grew more violent, each blast hitting harder than the last.

“Harrow!” Nouri screamed, her voice slicing through the chaos as she lunged forward, her body trailing fire as she desperately tried to intervene. She reached out to stop him, but before she could, Arthur’s staff shot out a surge of energy, blasting her back into a wall.

Marc’s body shook under the force of the attack, but he held his ground. “I’m not letting you get away with this.”

Arthur, his face twisted with madness, used his staff to force Marc into submission. The staff pushed against him, attempting to make him draw out the Crescent Blade against his own body. But just as Marc struggled to resist, a burst of energy erupted from the staff, the dart shooting out and pinning Layla to the side of the truck, her body slamming against the metal with a sickening thud.

Nouri, seeing the woman she’d fought beside fall, reacted without thinking. Her body burned with rage, her spirit thrumming with ancient power as she dashed toward Arthur. But once again, his staff flared, sending a blast that sent Nouri flying back, her body hitting the ground with a painful crunch.

Arthur’s staff crackled with energy as he prepared to strike down Marc once more, his eyes narrowed with intent to destroy. But Marc, now fully in control of his body, launched himself at Arthur with a savage yell, his movements fuelled by pure anger.

Nouri’s eyes narrowed in determination as she fought to rise, a glint of fire flashing in her gaze. "We are not done yet," she growled.

Then, in a blink, Marc went wild. Like an animal, he tore through the disciples around him, his hands burning with fury as he fought with savage desperation. Each strike, each blow, was driven by a need to protect, to stop Arthur from carrying out his destructive plans.

In a flash, Marc blinked and realized he was holding Arthur’s staff to his own head, poised to deliver the final blow.

“That wasn't you, was it, Steven?” Marc asked, his voice hoarse as he looked at the staff in disbelief.

“Not a chance, mate,” Steven’s voice was full of confusion and fear. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Marc blinked, still reeling from the strange and brutal power he had just wielded. Layla stepped forward cautiously, her voice filled with concern. “Marc?”

Nouri, her heart racing, turned toward him with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?” Her voice trembled, but her expression was steady, refusing to let the moment slip by.

“I blacked out,” Marc admitted, his face a mask of confusion. “What happened?”

The trio stood there, breathless and battered, as they watched Ammit drag Khonshu away in the distance, her power overwhelming.

Layla’s voice was firm, filled with an unshakable resolve. “Get Harrow. I know how to stop Ammit.”

Without missing a beat, she grabbed Arthur’s broken staff, her hands trembling with a mix of anger and determination. The three ran towards the pyramid, each step echoing with urgency. Nouri led the way, her senses honed to the tension in the air. The energy felt thick, like something ancient was about to stir.

---

The chamber was cold, the stone walls lined with the faces of gods, their eyes seemingly watching their every move as they entered.

Nouri nodded, her eyes flickering with an ancient understanding. “The power of this room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow’s body—just like we’ve planned.” She paused; her gaze sharp as she turned to Marc.

Layla moved quickly, kneeling next to Arthur’s body, placing him carefully on the stone altar. The staff crackled with energy, the remnants of power still coursing through it. “Now, we need to act fast,” Layla said, urgency lacing her voice. “Quick, grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

Nouri stepped closer; her voice low but steady. “Remember, this is not just about sealing Ammit away. This ritual will intertwine their fates. The gods’ will be woven into this moment.”

Marc, still conflicted, hesitated, but then took Layla’s hand, and they began the chant. It was a blend of ancient words, flowing together like a river of power that reverberated through the chamber. Purple energy erupted from their hands, swirling around them like a storm, hitting every god's statue in the room. The energy of the ritual connected with the statues, igniting a pulse that sent waves of power rushing toward Arthur’s body. Slowly, the ritual began to take hold, the connection between Ammit and Harrow deepening.

“Finish it, and leave neither of them alive,” Khonshu’s voice thundered in the room, harsh and cold, his presence still lingering like an oppressive shadow.

Marc’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, his hand gripping the crescent blade tightly, the moonlight reflecting off its sharp edge. The weight of Khonshu’s command pressed on him. His heart pounded. “I have to finish this,” Marc muttered, his voice rough, conflicted. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

“Marc!” Layla’s voice was desperate, a crack of emotion betraying her usual strength. She stepped in front of him, placing a hand gently on his arm. “You have a choice. You are free.”

Marc looked at the blade in his hand, his fingers trembling. The weight of Khonshu’s words rang in his ears. But Layla’s plea, made his heart ache with the thought of what he was about to do.

“Marc...” Layla’s voice broke his train of thought, softer now, more fragile. “Killing him… won’t set you free.”

Nouri stepped closer; her voice low but carrying an undeniable force. “Ammit cannot be allowed to live.”

Marc’s grip tightened on the blade, but then his eyes flickered. He looked at Arthur’s still body, then at Layla, and then back to Nouri, feeling the weight of both their words. His breath hitched as he dropped the blade, the metal clinking softly on the stone floor. “I can’t. I’m done.”

Khonshu’s voice came again, colder than before, like an angry storm breaking the silence. “You would let her free? You would let them live? You are a fool, Marc. You have made your choice.” His voice was thick with contempt.

Marc straightened, turning to face the voice that had haunted him for so long. “The choice is vengeance, Khonshu. But not mine. Your vengeance, your rage—you want them dead. Do it yourself.”

Khonshu’s form flickered, his presence filled with anger, but he said nothing for a long moment. The silence between them was thick, crackling with tension.

“Now, release us,” Marc commanded, his voice firm, steady, a weight lifting from his chest. His eyes locked onto the space where Khonshu’s presence loomed.

Khonshu hesitated, a flicker of something like regret flashing across his face, though it was quickly replaced with the cold imperiousness that Marc had come to expect from him. “As you wish,” he said, his voice final, before his form disappeared, the cold, moonlit energy vanishing with him. The Moon Knight suit vanished with him as well, leaving Marc standing there, breathless and free.

Marc fell to his knees, his body feeling lighter than it had in years. He was free. Truly free. The weight that had been pressing down on him for so long seemed to vanish in that moment.

“Marc!” Layla yelled, rushing to his side. She knelt beside him, her hands reaching for him, her touch a grounding presence. “Marc, are you okay?”

Marc’s chest heaved as he looked up at her, his voice ragged, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Finally free,” he stuttered, the words tasting strange on his tongue.

Layla’s hands rested gently on his shoulders; her eyes soft with relief. She had never seen Marc like this—vulnerable, raw, and so utterly human.

Nouri stood a few steps away, watching them with a mix of understanding and sorrow. She had seen the gods’ grip on Marc for so long—seen him struggle against their will. She knew that he was free now, but she could still feel the echoes of their presence on him, lingering like a heavy fog. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of it, even as she knew this moment had been coming for a long time.

Her eyes softened as she gazed at Marc and Layla. The connection she had to them, though brief, had been meaningful. The ties that had formed, even in a world so filled with chaos, had left a mark on her soul. She had witnessed their growth, their pain, and their victories. The thought of parting ways with them now made her heart ache in a way she hadn't expected. But her journey was different now, and there were other paths to walk.

“It has been an honour, Marc Spector, Layla El-Faouly,” Nouri said, her voice calm, yet layered with an unspoken sadness. She took a slow step forward and bowed her head respectfully to both of them. "But for now, we must part ways."

Layla looked up at Nouri, her eyes wide with surprise. "You're leaving?" she asked, her voice filled with both confusion and a little hurt.

Nouri’s lips quirked into a gentle smile, the weight of centuries of experience evident in her gaze. "My work here is done," she said softly, looking first at Marc, then Layla. "And I would much rather spend eternity with my husband, than here, surrounded by this turmoil." Her laugh was light, almost wistful, a stark contrast to the weight she carried.

Layla, without hesitation, ran toward her. The warmth of their bond was undeniable, and Layla enveloped Nouri in a tight hug, as if unwilling to let go just yet.

"I’ll miss you," Layla whispered, her voice muffled against Nouri’s shoulder. There was a sincerity in her words, the kind that only those who had truly shared their hearts with someone could convey.

Nouri hugged her back, her arms wrapping around the young woman as she sighed softly. "And I will miss you, Layla. But your journey is just beginning. You’ve learned much, and there is still so much ahead for you."

Pulling away, Layla wiped at the corner of her eyes. She tried to force a smile, though it trembled at the edges. "I’ll tell your father about what you did," Nouri added, her voice quiet but filled with a deep affection.

Layla’s face softened, a hint of pride rising in her expression. She nodded, holding Nouri’s gaze as the understanding passed between them—an unspoken promise to carry forward what Nouri had taught them.

Nouri turned toward Marc, her face growing more serious, yet there was a warmth in her eyes. She stepped toward him, the air around her shifting slightly with the faintest warmth of the sun. "Should you ever need me, use this." She pulled off one of her bangles and handed it to him.

Marc's brows furrowed for a moment, the usual scepticism in his eyes, but when Steven’s voice suddenly filled the space, Marc’s face softened.

“Oh! Cheers, mate!” Steven exclaimed, stepping forward and taking the bangle from Nouri with wide eyes. He gave her a grin that was all too familiar.

Nouri’s smile grew just a little, the edges softening with the tenderness she hadn’t shown in centuries. "Take care of it," she told him, her tone both light and knowing. "It’s not just a piece of jewellery—it’s a reminder that you’re never alone."

As she stepped back, she turned her head, ready to face the new path awaiting her. She was at peace, though there was always a sense of loss, no matter how much time passed. Before she made her final step, she whispered to the wind, her voice barely audible but filled with purpose.

“Anubis, open the gate. I wish to come home.”

The air around her shimmered, a faint glow rippling through the space. And in that moment, the familiar warmth of her ancient connection to the gods surged back to her. A portal—gentle, yet powerful—opened before her, its edges glowing with the light of Ra and the shadow of Khonshu. The weight of her home, her temple, called to her like the pull of the moon.

Nouri turned back to Marc and Layla, her eyes meeting theirs one last time. She saw the way they waved at her, their hands a silent gesture of gratitude, of friendship. It warmed her heart more than she cared to admit. She smiled softly, a glimmer of the love she had for them in her eyes, before she finally spoke.

"Goodbye... for now."

The words seemed to hang in the air, fragile and full of unspoken promises. Her heart stirred as she took one final look at them, knowing they would be alright, knowing their paths would lead them to places of light and darkness alike. With that, she stepped forward, into the portal.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused. The connection, the bond, everything she had shared with these two incredible souls—Layla and Marc—remained, a thread woven through the fabric of fate.

As Nouri stepped into the portal, it closed behind her, leaving only the soft echo of her voice lingering in the space.

“I will always be with you.”

And then, the world was quiet again.

Notes:

And so we've reached the end... Or have we?

Chapter 57: One Final Journey

The air in the afterlife was cool and peaceful, a stillness that seemed to stretch across the endless horizon. The mute colours of eternity painted the sky in soft shades of blue and black, and the gentle breeze carried with it the scent of ancient sands and forgotten time. Nouri stepped forward, her body light but her heart heavy. She had walked this path before, but this time it felt different—this time, it was her final journey, hopefully.

Her footsteps echoed softly against the vast stone beneath her, each step a soft murmur in the eternal silence. She glanced over her shoulder, but the mortal world was already a fading memory. The pain of leaving it behind lingered, but it was quickly replaced with a sense of quiet acceptance.

As she approached the heart of the afterlife, a familiar voice broke the stillness, deep and commanding, yet full of understanding.

“You’ve returned?”

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest as she turned, her eyes finding Anubis standing before her. His presence was a comfort, like a pillar of strength that had always stood by her side in the most difficult moments of her existence. His gaze, filled with both judgment and compassion, softened when it landed on her.

“Hopefully forever,” Nouri replied, the words escaping her lips with a softness that betrayed the weight behind them. Her voice was steady, but the flicker of sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable.

Anubis stepped closer, his figure towering above her but his demeanour gentle. “Marc Spector was… interesting,” he said thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I understand why you prefer Steven Grant.”

Nouri chuckled lightly, but the laughter was tinged with sadness. “Yes, Steven was better company, far easier to be around. He had a gentleness that made the world seem… softer.” She paused, her gaze drifting to the horizon, as if searching for something lost. “But Marc… he’s tortured. His soul is torn, and I can’t help but ache for him. They both deserve peace, Anubis. I just wish I could give them more.”

Anubis studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “You ache for them,” he said quietly, as though reading the deepest corners of her heart.

“I do,” Nouri whispered, the weight of her own words sinking in. “I’ve watched over them for so long, and yet, I could never do enough. I couldn’t fix their pain. It’s... it’s hard to let go, knowing they are still lost.”

The god of the afterlife stepped closer, his gaze softening. “And you, Nouri? Do you find peace in this journey?” His voice was almost tender, as though reaching out for the woman behind the goddess.

Nouri’s shoulders slumped slightly, the burden of centuries weighing heavily on her heart. “I don’t know,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been a guide for so long, I think I forgot how to simply... be. How to live without the weight of the world on my shoulders.” She paused, glancing at the heavens, a faraway look in her eyes.

Anubis’ gaze softened further, and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “You’ve carried the weight of countless souls, Nouri. Perhaps it is time to set it down. Let the journey ahead be one of healing, not just for others, but for yourself.”

Before Nouri could respond, a voice—deep and full of familiar affection—called out to her.

“Don’t think you’re going alone.”

Nouri froze, her heart skipping a beat as she turned toward the voice. There, standing just behind her, was Ardeth, his tall, imposing form bathed in the soft light of the afterlife. His presence was both calming and powerful, like a steady flame that refused to flicker in the wind. His eyes, full of the same wisdom and loyalty that had defined him in life, met hers.

“What are you doing here?” Nouri asked, her voice laced with both surprise and warmth. “You shouldn’t be here, Ardeth.”

Ardeth smiled, a rare softness in his expression as he took a step forward. “I am bound to you,” he said, his voice steady and sure, carrying the weight of centuries of loyalty and friendship. “And if you are no longer needed in the mortal realm, then the Medjai are no longer needed either. Besides…” He paused, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I could use some peace.”

Nouri’s lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile, the familiar warmth of his presence soothing the ache in her chest. “You always did make peace sound so elusive,” she teased, her voice light but edged with sadness.

Ardeth let out a soft laugh, the sound a comforting echo in the silence. “Some things are worth the struggle.” His gaze softened as he met her eyes, the weight of their shared history hanging in the air between them. “Let’s not keep the Field of Reeds and the Captain waiting for your arrival.”

Anubis nodded, his voice taking on a deeper, more solemn tone. “Come. The scales await you Ardeth of the Medjai. Your path to peace is almost complete.”

The trio walked in silence toward the scales of Ma’at, their footsteps light but filled with purpose. As they approached the sacred artifact, Nouri’s heart beat a little faster, the significance of this moment settling in.

Nouri stopped before the scales, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of Ardeth’s chest. She looked up at him with a playful gleam in her eyes. “May I?” she asked, her voice light with the same theatricality she had once displayed when they had fought side by side in Egypt.

Ardeth chuckled, the sound rich with affection. “Yes, my goddess,” he said, his voice filled with a mixture of reverence and fondness.

With a small, graceful motion, Nouri pulled his heart from his chest, the act as intimate as it was ceremonial. The heart glowed softly in her hands, its light a testament to the purity of Ardeth’s spirit. Gently, she placed it upon the scales.

The balance shifted for a moment, but only to settle evenly, the heart's weight perfectly matched by the feather of Ma’at. They watched in silence, their gaze unblinking, as the final judgment was made.

“You have a heart as pure as Ma’at’s feather,” Anubis said, his voice full of solemn approval. His hand rested on Ardeth’s shoulder in silent blessing. “Your journey is complete, Ardeth. You are free to rest.”

Nouri’s chest tightened, a wave of emotion crashing over her as she stepped back, her heart swelling with pride and sorrow for the man who had stood by her side for so long. “Thank you, Anubis,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Anubis gave a small, respectful nod, his gaze softening with compassion. “May the peace of the Field of Reeds be yours,” he said, his words carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom. “May you find what you have always sought—rest.”

Ardeth turned toward the ship that awaited them, a vessel of gold and light, its sails billowing with the winds of eternity.

“May you find peace in the Field of Reeds,” Anubis intoned once more, his voice gentle but firm. He bowed his head to both Nouri and Ardeth before stepping back, allowing them to board the ship.

Nouri turned to face Ardeth one last time before they embarked. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that this was the end of their shared journey, but her soul was lighter than it had been in centuries. “Thank you, Ardeth,” she said softly. “For everything. For being my brother in spirit, in life, and now in death.”

Ardeth smiled, his eyes filled with unspoken words. “Always,” he replied, his voice steady. “Always, my goddess.”

---

The ship sailed smoothly across the vast, endless expanse of the Du’at, the gentle ripples of the sand beneath its hull the only sound to break the thick silence of the afterlife. The sky stretched endlessly above, a surreal mix of colours as the twin suns cast long, soft shadows across the golden sands. Nouri stood at the bow of the ship, her hair billowing in the breeze, her eyes reflecting the eternal calm of the land she was so deeply connected to. The peace she felt now was unlike anything she had known in centuries, and it filled her with a quiet sense of contentment, one she hadn’t expected to experience again.

The journey ahead would be long, but she felt no rush. No fear. Her heart, once heavy with the weight of her own existence, had lightened in a way that had seemed impossible only moments ago.

"May the light of Ra guide us home," she whispered softly, the words a prayer to the god who had once created her, and to the deep love she held for both the living and the dead. The words left her lips like a prayer to the universe, to the vastness of time and space that had shaped her very being.

And then, without warning, a squeal echoed across the ship.

"Nono!"

Nouri turned, a smile already spreading across her face as Taweret came barrelling toward her, waddling as only Taweret could with her unmistakable hips and a joyful gleam in her eyes. Before Nouri could brace herself, the massive goddess had wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing her tight.

"Sister, you’re crushing me!" Nouri gasped, laughter spilling from her voice, though she was doing her best to catch her breath under the pressure.

Taweret pulled away immediately, her face full of exaggerated concern. "Oops! Sorry! Sorry!" she said in a voice that was the very definition of bubbly innocence. "I just couldn't wait to see you, Nono! I missed you so much!"

Nouri laughed, rubbing her sides as the last of the pressure released. "You really have to stop doing that," she teased, though the warmth in her tone revealed no real frustration. "I can’t breathe under your hugs."

Taweret's grin only grew wider, and without missing a beat, she turned to Ardeth, who had been standing a few paces behind them, watching the exchange with an amused smile. She practically skipped over to him; her usual exuberance contagious.

"Ardeth of the Medjai, we are honoured by your presence and your loyalty to Al Nouri!" Taweret said, her voice loud and dramatic, as if proclaiming a grand announcement. She threw her arms wide, her gaze filled with genuine admiration.

Ardeth, ever the stoic warrior, gave a mock bow. "And I am equally honoured by the presence of such a delightful goddess," he said with a grin, his tone dry but light. "Though, I must admit, I do wonder how you manage to keep your energy at such levels."

Taweret smirked and placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, please, Ardeth, you just wish you had this much spunk."

Nouri raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. "I think we both know the truth here, Taweret," she said, her voice playful. "Ardeth could never handle this much energy. After all, who else would be able to keep up with my exuberant sister?"

Ardeth tilted his head, pretending to think for a moment. "Ah, yes," he said, voice laced with a teasing tone. "I believe it would take at least three of me to match her boundless enthusiasm. But then again, my energy is usually more... discreet. I prefer subtlety over constant chaos."

Taweret gasped dramatically. "Chaos? I am no such thing!" She placed a hand over her heart in mock hurt. "I refine the world with my vibrancy, Ardeth. You should be thanking me for making things more... lively around here."

Nouri chuckled, clearly enjoying the light-hearted back-and-forth. "You heard that, Ardeth? You’re lucky to be in the presence of refinement." She shot a playful glance at Taweret. "I’m sure the Du’at would be utterly dull without it."

Ardeth shook his head, clearly enjoying the friendly teasing. "I’m certain the Du’at would survive without your ‘refinement,’ Taweret," he said with a smirk. "But I do admire your... persistence."

Taweret placed her hands on her hips, still grinning. "That’s the spirit, Ardeth! Keep up that dry wit, and maybe one day we’ll get you to crack a smile that isn’t just a hint of one."

Nouri leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "Don’t worry, Taweret. Ardeth cracks a smile just fine when he’s trying to hide his frustration with my questionable decisions."

Ardeth’s eyes widened in mock surprise. "Frustration? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nouri," he said, his voice full of feigned innocence. "I’m always completely at ease when you make your... creative choices."

Taweret giggled at their banter, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Oh, I knew it! You two are such a perfect pair. Nouri, you get all spunky and adventurous, and Ardeth is here, trying to keep it together and make sure everything is in order." She giggled again, clearly delighted by the dynamic between them.

Nouri grinned, her eyes twinkling. "It’s true," she agreed, turning to Ardeth. "But honestly, where would I be without you keeping me grounded?"

Ardeth gave her a playful side-eye, then shrugged. "I suppose you would be causing chaos all over the Du’at. But I suppose that’s why I’m here, to balance out your... creativity." He shot a quick, teasing look at Taweret. "Someone has to keep things from falling apart."

Taweret winked. "I’ve got it covered, trust me."

Then, without missing a beat, Taweret darted back to Nouri, practically vibrating with excitement. "So, tell me everything, Nono! What’s the scoop on Marc Spector and Steven Grant? You met them, right? You have to tell me everything! The juicy stuff, the dramatic stuff!" Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she practically bounced in place, ready to hear all the gossip.

Nouri couldn't help but chuckle at Taweret’s unrestrained enthusiasm. Taweret leaned closer, lowering her voice in a playful whisper. "Well, you won’t believe this, but Steven was frozen in the Du’at. Completely frozen. I’ve never seen anything like it."

Nouri gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as though Taweret had just told her the most shocking thing she’d ever heard. "How could that even happen? And Marc—what did he do?"

Taweret’s expression softened as she remembered the lengths Marc had gone to. "Marc... he offered to sacrifice himself to get Steven back. He was ready to give it all up, to trade his life to save Steven. The devotion he showed..." Taweret’s voice trailed off, her words heavy with a mix of admiration and a hint of sorrow. "It’s hard not to feel for him. Even with all his flaws, he was willing to do that for Steven."

Nouri grinned, watching her sister’s excitement with amusement. "You might want to save your affections for someone else," she teased. "I’m pretty sure Marc’s heart is already claimed. By Layla, of course."

"Ah, Layla!" Taweret said, her face lighting up with even more excitement. "She’s just the best, isn’t she? So strong, so determined, but with a heart of gold. If Marc is lucky, he’ll realize how great she is before it’s too late."

Nouri’s expression softened as she thought about Layla and Marc. "They’re good for each other," she said quietly. "They’ve both been through so much, and still, they find a way to keep going. It’s something to admire."

Taweret let out a contented sigh, clearly pleased by Nouri’s words. "This is exactly why I love hearing your perspective on things, Nono. You always see the beauty in everything, even when it’s tangled up in chaos."

The ship sailed steadily onward, the soft hum of the divine energy around them filling the space between words. As the journey continued, Nouri and Taweret continued to gossip, weaving stories of Marc, Layla, and the unpredictable lives they led. Taweret’s excitement was infectious, and soon Nouri found herself laughing more freely, her own heart lifting with the joy of hearing stories of mortals, of love and loss and hope.

As the gate of Nouri’s divine domain drew nearer, Nouri felt a flutter of anticipation in her chest. She was so close—so close to the next chapter in her life. She turned to Ardeth, who had been standing by quietly, his expression thoughtful.

"Well, it’s time," Nouri said with a grin, stepping forward, the flutter of anticipation in her chest undeniable. "Let’s see if Steve is as excited to see me as I am to see him."

Ardeth stepped forward, giving her a nod of approval, his voice light but still full of that steady confidence she had come to rely on. "I bet he is."

Taweret’s eyes gleamed, and she leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "You know he is, Nono. There’s no way he’s not. Now go on—run to him! I’ve got everything covered here!"

With those words, Nouri didn’t hesitate. She nearly leapt off the ship, her feet barely touching the ground as she ran toward the gate, her heart pounding in her chest.

---

Nouri's feet pounded against the earth, her heart racing in sync with her breath, as the wind whipped through her curly hair. She didn't even remember when she stopped thinking about the others—Ardeth, Taweret, or the mission she was supposed to be focused on. All that mattered was the ground beneath her, her body moving faster, urging her toward the familiar path, the house, the one place that felt like home even after all the time that had passed.

As the distant outline of the house came into view, she ran harder, her legs burning from the effort, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not when the very core of her had been yearning for this moment, for this reunion. She burst through the door, heart pounding, eyes scanning for him.

But he wasn’t there.

Her breath caught in her throat. Where was he?

She stepped back outside, her gaze sweeping desperately over the horizon. The river, the Nile she had spent so many lifetimes gazing at, stretched out before her in its endless grace.

And there he was.

He stood at the edge of the riverbank, his back turned to her, his posture familiar, his silhouette carved against the sky like a figure from a dream. It was Steve. Just... standing there. The sun was setting behind him, casting a warm golden glow around him, like the world had paused to let this moment happen.

Nouri froze for a second, her chest tight as she absorbed the sight of him. The world seemed to shrink, the noise fading away, leaving only the sight of him—her Steve, standing so calmly in the midst of everything that had changed. He’s real. He’s here.

Her feet started moving before she could think. She ran toward him, the grass beneath her feet brushing past, her legs working faster and faster until there was nothing but him. And as she reached him, she leapt into his arms, laughter spilling out of her as the sound of his name escaped her lips.

"Rogers!"

He caught her, his arms around her immediately, the strength in his hold anchoring her to this moment. His warmth, the comforting presence of him, wrapped around her as if he was a piece of her she had been missing for far too long. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar scent of him fill her senses. She couldn’t believe it. She was here. With him.

“You’re back?” Steve’s voice cracked through the haze of their reunion, his words laced with disbelief. He pulled her back to look into her eyes, as if searching for confirmation that this wasn’t just a dream, some cruel illusion.

Nouri smiled at him, her heart swelling with emotion. “Forever,” she whispered, the word carrying all the weight of everything she had kept buried inside for so long. She reached up to cup his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over the lines of his jaw, memorizing every inch of him. And then, without thinking, she kissed him.

It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of time lost, and of all the love she had been holding back for the time she was gone. It was deep and desperate, the kind of kiss that made her feel like she was grounding herself in the very soul of the man in front of her. She poured everything into that kiss—her power, her heart, the fire that had always burned between them.

As they broke apart, her forehead resting against his, she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. His lips parted, and he looked at her with such tenderness that it made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t expect.

“Are you really here?” Steve’s voice trembled as he spoke, the disbelief still in his eyes. His hands were still on her waist, his fingers splayed wide, like he was afraid she might disappear.

“Forever,” Nouri replied, the word slipping from her lips like a sacred vow. She leaned in again, brushing her lips over his with an intensity that left them both breathless. This time, the kiss was softer, sweeter, full of promises that neither of them had dared to make until now. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, tugging him closer, needing to feel him as if to prove that he was real.

They would have stayed like that, wrapped in each other, if not for the distinct, loud cough that broke through their bubble of bliss.

“I too am here,” came the voice, dripping with sarcasm, but tinged with warmth.

Nouri laughed softly, pulling away from Steve with an amused roll of her eyes. And there was Ardeth, standing at a distance, arms crossed with a sly smile. He raised an eyebrow as he approached, his tone playful as ever. “Well, I see the reunion is... touching.”

Without missing a beat, Steve stepped forward and pulled Ardeth into a hearty hug, his genuine warmth evident. "It’s good to see you again. I didn't think I'd run into you here, of all places. You've been keeping well?"

Ardeth returned the hug with a laugh, clapping Steve’s back in a brotherly manner. “I’ve been well, Captain. Still fighting the good fight, just in different places now. It’s good to see you too.”

Nouri watched the two of them, a soft smile on her lips, as the bond between them was so natural, so effortless. Steve and Ardeth had a history, and in that moment, it felt like all the years between them had melted away.

---

As night fell and the stars began to twinkle above them, the three of them gathered around a fire that Steve had made, the crackle of the flames mingling with their quiet conversation. The warmth from the fire matched the warmth of the moment, and for a while, there was peace—peace Nouri hadn’t felt in ages.

The flames flickered, casting a warm, golden hue over their faces, their quiet conversation filling the space between them. For a fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside had ceased to exist. Time itself seemed to slow, the air still with the magic of the moment. Nouri nestled closer to Steve, the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her fingertips a comforting, steady presence. Ardeth, always the silent sentinel, remained watchful, the quiet strength of his gaze on the horizon.

The stars above twinkled brighter as the fire flickered out into embers. Nouri looked up at the night sky, the vastness of the universe stretching above her.

But peace was fleeting for someone like Nouri, whose very existence seemed to pull the universe’s attention, both divine and mortal.

A shadow loomed across them, and before they could even react, Khonshu’s towering figure appeared. His bird-headed visage loomed over them, the moonlight reflecting off his skeletal features. His presence filled the space, his voice a deep, unsettling command.

“I request an audience with you, little one,” he said, his tone as cold and unyielding as the night sky.

Steve stiffened, glancing up, his brow furrowing at the sudden appearance. “He’s been here often,” Steve muttered, more to himself, his voice laced with a resigned understanding.

Nouri stood up slowly, her feet moving gracefully across the sand. She didn’t rush to respond to Steve’s comment, her thoughts drifting momentarily, her eyes casting out over the Nile. She could feel Khonshu’s presence pressing on her like the weight of the stars themselves.

Rolling her eyes, Nouri turned to face her father, arms crossed, her voice sharp as a blade. “How may I help you, pigeon?” she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm, her stance defiant yet familiar.

Khonshu’s eyes narrowed, and a low scoff escaped him, his wings shifting slightly in irritation. “Your arrogance is truly unbelievable—”

Before he could finish, Nouri interjected, her lips curling into a playful grin. “I know, I learned from you,” she said, her tone teasing but affectionate, as she placed a hand on her hip. “But I apologize. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Father?”

The silence stretched between them as Khonshu’s gaze flickered, a moment of something—softness?—passing through his normally stern features. His words, when they came, were far quieter than Nouri expected, though still laced with the gravity of a god who had seen eons unfold before his eyes.

“I wished to thank you,” Khonshu said, almost reluctantly, his voice carrying a weight that Nouri rarely heard in him. The words caught her off guard.

“What?” Nouri blinked in disbelief, a soft laugh escaping her lips at the sheer absurdity of what she was hearing.

Khonshu took a moment to gather himself, his wings rustling in a subtle movement, as though he was searching for the right words to match the unusual softness in his tone. “You took my side against the gods. You helped that mortal free me. I am eternally grateful.”

The world seemed to freeze around her, the gravity of his words sinking in. This was Khonshu, the god who had raised her, whose presence had always been marked by cold imperiousness, and yet here he was, speaking words of gratitude. It was so unexpected that Nouri felt momentarily lost, as though the world had tilted on its axis.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Nouri whispered under her breath, the surreal nature of this conversation tugging at her heart.

Khonshu’s head tilted slightly, his gaze softening further, though it was hard to say whether it was love or something more complicated. “I want you to know,” he began, his voice quieter than ever before, “that I am proud of you.”

Nouri’s breath caught in her chest at the words, the weight of them nearly bringing her to her knees. Pride from Khonshu? It felt like a foreign concept, and yet here it was, unmistakably true.

Her voice faltered slightly, the unexpected emotion catching her off guard. “Thank you, Father,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with something unspoken. She reached up then, without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his skull—an action that felt both like a release and a reconciliation. It was a quiet acceptance, something they both needed but never fully knew how to give.

Khonshu’s form was still as stone for a moment, before he slowly turned away from her. His eyes, as always, held a deep, ancient sorrow. But before he could leave, Nouri spoke up, the question burning on her lips before she could stop it.

“Does Marc Spector know you didn’t release him?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice laced with both curiosity and an edge of challenge. It was a question she’d wanted to ask for so long but had never found the moment—until now.

Khonshu’s form stiffened for a brief moment, the only sign of emotion in his usually controlled demeanour. His voice, when it came, was low, almost mocking. “Marc Spector is more damaged than you think,” he said, a dark laugh following his words, as though he found some twisted amusement in the mortal’s suffering.

Khonshu’s eyes met hers for a brief second, an expression flickering in his gaze, almost too fleeting to catch. “But that is a story for another time.” His tone shifted again, colder, distant. “I will leave you now, Al Nouri. But remember… do not forget your place, and do not forget that I care about you.”

Nouri’s lips parted to speak, but before she could, Khonshu vanished into the night, his presence dissipating as quickly as it had come.

She stood there, the silence deafening as she let his words settle into her bones. Proud of me? It was so rare to hear those words from him, and yet, there they were. The strange tenderness in his voice, buried beneath the weight of centuries of godly detachment, had shaken something in her.

She turned back toward Steve, seeing that Ardeth had gone into the house, her chest tight with emotions she wasn’t ready to unpack. The question about Marc hung in the air between them, unresolved and unanswered. But for now, she didn’t want to think about it.

As she approached them, she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Walking over to Steve, she slid back into his lap, her body feeling suddenly light, the weight of centuries lifting for just a moment. The fire crackled softly beside them, the night stretching out, filled with unspoken thoughts. For once, Nouri didn’t feel the weight of the gods or her destiny on her shoulders. Instead, she felt something simpler—peace.

“I think I’ve had enough of gods for one night,” she said, her voice a soft murmur against Steve’s chest, his steady heartbeat the only sound that mattered now.

Steve chuckled softly, his arms instinctively wrapping around her. “I think I’ve had enough of gods for a lifetime,” he said, his voice warm with affection.

Nouri smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding herself in the present. The fire beside them had burned down to glowing embers, and the world, for the first time in a long while, felt still—quiet in a way that only those who had known the weight of the universe could fully appreciate.

Nouri rested her head against Steve’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body grounding her in a way no force ever could. For the first time, she allowed herself to fully surrender to the peace of simply being. No expectations. No burdens. Just love.

The future was a distant thought. There would be no more battles, no more war or intervention, no more fighting the battles of the mortal realm, no more gods and immortals pulling at her heart. In the quiet moments that stretched into eternity, there was only this: the slow, steady beat of Steve’s heart, the warmth of his embrace, and the peace of knowing that they would face forever together.

As she looked up at him, her heart full in a way she never thought possible, Nouri whispered, “This is all I need, Steve. Just you, and me, and everything else... can wait.”

Steve looked down at her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyes filled with love and certainty. “And it will, darling. It’ll all wait.”

And so, in each other’s arms, they found eternity. No more missions. No more fear. Just love, forever.

Notes:

The End <3

 

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have writing it<3, I would love to hear any feedback, both good and bad <3
also if you like my writing I have a Sirius Black story called Stars Aligned, and I have two new stories coming up soon, one Lord of the Rings, and one based on Pirates of the Caribbean <3