Bad Things Happen Bingo: Thunder (III)

Count: ~1500
Chara(s): A God of Thunder (OC)
Pairing(s): N/A
Fandom: Org Fic – Fae Apoc xover
Prompt: Hate Plague

This continues a series of stories taking place in my universe, Fae Apoc, at the time just before the aforementioned apoc.  Portals are opening up to one other world at that time, and in this story, well, they happen to open up into a whole BUNCH of worlds. 

And from those worlds, a bunch of poor soon-to-be-victims-of-bad-things who bear some resemblances to fandom characters happen to slip through some portals.  And then bad things happen to them, because that, after all, is the name of the Bingo.

Content warnings for the series: violence, death, bondage, capture, drugging, visions. For this story: violence, lost of choice, capture. 


A. Author’s Note

Author’s note: In the universe in which this is set (My Fae Apoc ‘verse), for fae, saying “I belong to you” ties one into a binding Belonging of obedience and affection.  Since Thunder below isn’t QUITE a fae, it doesn’t work quite the same for him, but he’s still dealing with the emotional parts of it as the universe tries to figure out what he is.  I.e. disobeying feels really bad; he really likes the woman he said I Belong to You to, and so on.

B. Thunder

All things considered, Thunder thought he’d come out all right.  He might have fallen through a strange portal that hadn’t been there when he started his jump and definitely had been there when he landed.  He might have been kidnapped and, as far as he could tell, enslaved. He might be without his weapons, weapons that had served him for aeons, in a strange land with no contact with home and no way to get there.

But he had been sold to a lovely woman — possibly a frost elf, but she didn’t seem to be trying to kill him, so probably not — who had taken one look at him and, with a smile that showed all of her teeth, declared “I am going to use you to destroy the gods.”

Once they had gotten through a little miscommunication that had left her pretty sure that he was addled in the brain but left him sure that the gods that she meant were from this Elleheim and not from his own land, Thunder had been completely in agreement with her plan.  Use him as a warrior? Definitely! He had done far too much talking and negotiating and sitting on his hands lately.  Put a weapon in his hands and let him use it!

Things had been going wonderfully for days!  Thunder – she called him Guntur and he found he liked the feeling of it – had been smashing and slicing and attacking his way through anyone his lady pointed him at.  The words he had spoken so willingly – “of, of course, I belong to you, that is how this works, isn’t it? You have captured me. And I will be yours until I escape” – seemed to have some sort of hold on him, where if she spoke firmly, he felt the urge to obey her.

But he was her man right now and she was giving him orders he liked, so it really wasn’t a problem.

Today they were fighting a series of people in strange-looking armor who claimed to serve the God of Shadows.  They were tough, strong foes, worthy of being fought by Guntur, and they made a weird cracking noise when he hit them with the back of his axe.

“Try not to kill the ones that aren’t gods,” she’d told him, and he was going to try his best, but the God of Shadows didn’t seem to be showing up, and there were three score of these creatures against Guntur, his lady, and her three other fine warriors, and there was only so much he was willing to pull his swings when the people attacking him were using weapons they believed to be fatal.

He bashed aside one of their projectile weapons and, catching movement from the corner of his eye, ducked down so that his Lady’s favorite warrior, Candor, could use his back as a springboard.  They had been fighting together, Candor and Guntur, Aiden and Tashina and the lady, for three weeks now, and they moved as if they had been together forever.

Some of this, of course, was Guntur’s skill, but he knew much of the credit went to his lady, for her strategy, for the people she had brought together, for the way that she moved them as if they were all her pieces on the board.  He shifted his arm just so while his free arm smashed another one of these Shadow-things, and Tashina hooked her elbow into his and rolled into the air, kicking the face out of one more shadow- thing.

Gunter could feel the way his lady directed them in the back of his mind, not puppeting them, simply keeping an eye out for where there was an opening.  He jumped high as Aiden skidded under him. He had not felt this at home with a group of warriors in aeons, possibly ever. His sword swung around – not his weapon, but a mighty weapon nonetheless – and slapped flat-first over the face-plate of one of the bugs.

Gunter frowned.  There was a mist creeping over the battlefield, sliding over the fallen bodies.  Where it covered someone Gunter or his allies had knocked out, the sounds were awful – not screams, nothing that human.  More like animal pain.

Gunter had once, in a very different world, fought creatures who rode mounts like giant beetles.  These sounds reminded him of the beetle-mounts when they’d been dying.

Maybe they really weren’t human.  Maybe he could kill them with impunity.  He would like to be able to kill something: this Shadow God, that would be nice.  Or the people who had enslaved him. His lady was-

The shadow climbed over him, engulfing his face, and for a moment Guntur had no thought at all.

There was darkness, not just over his vision but of everything, and then there was the sound of an animal screaming as if it was being ripped apart, and then there was – there was his voice, screaming, not in pain but in fury.

And there was fury.  He turned as his vision cleared and saw Aiden coming towards him, their mouth open although Guntur could not hear them.  The sword swung, and he was no longer doing any of this stupidity of fighting with the flat, no.  He caught the skinny little satyr in the gut and the wretched creature went flying across the battlefield.  

Guntur did not stop to see where they landed.  There were more immediate targets. There, in front of him, that traitor Tashina, she was sneaking up on him in front, where nobody would expect her, and she was about to gut him with that nasty little blade of hers, but his blade was longer and he was stronger.  His first swing broke her wrist, just because he could. His second swing-

“Guntur!  Stand down, damn your eyes!”

A surge of guilt washed through him, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by yet more fury.  How dare she swear at him?  How dare she think that she could give him orders?  The nerve of the woman!  The nerve of anyone who would do such a thing!  He charged her, snarling, screaming, swearing in a tongue nobody in this land was noble enough to speak, and his sword –

and his sword –

and his sword stopped, just an inch from cleaving her head from her body.  He hissed at her and dropped the useless weapon, going for her eyes with his hands.  If he couldn’t kill her quickly, then he would kill her slowly.

“Guntur.  Guntur, heel.”

Misery washed over him and he dropped to his knees. The anger reasserted itself, washing over the misery and shoving it away like a high tide pushing a very small boat.  He dove for her knees and knocked his Lady to the ground.

Someone was on his back, driving a knife into him.  Someone- he threw an elbow back and caught the coward in the chin.  The grunt – the grunt was Candor’s. He didn’t care. If someone was attacking him, they were going to die. He rolled over, driving the knife deeper into his back.  The wound was superficial, but it was going to hurt to move his shoulder later.  He shrugged it off and dove for Candor.

He didn’t have his weapon anymore.  When had that happened? No matter; he went for Candor’s throat with his teeth.  The man was bigger than him, the only one of Her Ladyship’s soldiers who could out-mass him.  It didn’t matter. He was going to destroy him and show him what it meant to betray Thunder.

“Guntur!  Guntur, sleep.  Candor, sleep.”

He felt another wave of misery, but the orders couldn’t reach him.  He was going to kill this man in front of him, and then he was going to turn around and he was going to gut her.

“Guntur!  That asshole, the one with the mask on, up there!”  That wasn’t the Lady. That was Aiden.  Hadn’t he killed Aiden?  “He just said something about your mother!”

“My mother!”  Thunder roared and attacked.  The man with the mask, where was he?  Where was that awful bastard?

“Up there!”  Someone gave him a little shove.  Thunder turned and growled, but there was nobody in behind him.  

Ahead of him, there, up there.  There was a bastard in a mask.

Thunder charged.

The man in the mask – the man who was made mostly of shadow – seemed to reel backwards as Guntur hit him, but he had nothing to hit.  There was nothing to him but shadows and cold, goo and ickiness.

And the mask.  Guntur had to kill something, and if he could not kill his Lady (his Lady?  The thought popped up, confused. Why would he want to kill his Lady? She was kind and good to him) – if he could not kill her, he was going to kill this mask.

The mask shattered into a thousand pieces and Guntur fell to the ground, the knife in his back driving itself in even further.  He struggled to stand, but the darkness was filling him again. He reached up, grabbing for something, anything, and found a hand.

He grabbed the hand and broke it with a squeeze, the sounds of shattering bones and the screams of his enemies sending him into unconsciousness with a smile on his face.

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