Who: Kenzi & Garcian Smith, with Killian & Regina What: Kenzi dies, and Garcie's summoned for a battle of wills against a valkyrie over her soul When: This morning Where: Casa de Disney Villains Rating/Warning: Death, language, Kenzi being ecstatic she didn't poop herself Status: Complete!
On the bright side, death didn’t really hurt.
If it were a movie, Kenzi could see her entire stride towards the end in slow motion - the fights with the revenants in the background, stepping over corpses, the anguished garble of Dyson’s cry after her because he knew she was right, he knew that out of all of them it was she that was Bo’s heart, no one else. Felt like a badass hero move, didn’t it?
It should have, anyway, but all she felt was numb. Ready to go, ready to end things on her terms - ready to cross to the other side and maybe find Hale again at the gates of Valhalla, knowing her sacrifice meant something here. Getting closer and closer as her feet moved (in boots so fabulous, mind you, that outfit was on fuckin’ fleek and if she came back as a ghost she’d be a total hottie) was the glowing Cinvat, the gaping vibrant maw that was the literal gate to Hel.
And her presence triggered a reaction to it. Kenzi thought it’d be cold but it wasn’t; it was warm, electrifying, and overload of power that pulsated through her body right before she saw her friends for one last time and then that was it.
Lights out for the princess of corsets, buckled boots and ninja stars. In Orange County, she had passed peacefully in her sleep. Death, in an outfit so damn fashionable that she would be happy to flaunt it on the other side - just like she planned her worst case scenario.
A feminine silhouette appeared over her not long after. Black holes for eyes, gold for hair, and a grand span of wings on her back that were dipped in ash and ink.
Regina’s morning started with a hiss. Not from her cobra, mind you - that bitch remained sealed in her vault for the most part, a decorative piece in her ‘dressing room’ area so she could stare at all the dresses she couldn’t wear as a snake - but from another beast, the cat. It was a menacing sound, mangled with a hostile mrowl and a tail so fluffed, fur sticking so high on her back that it made the queen rise with concern.
“Something’s wrong, Killian - wake up,” she urged her fiance with a push before ripping the blankets off them, climbing from the bed in her nightwear. There was something in the air that caused her to bristle, something dark, haunting, not from here. “There’s something here, something that doesn’t belong.”
Why was that fucking cat in the room, was the question? Killian dimly registered Tigra’s presence, but that and every other coherent thought dissolved into smoke because too fucking early - even for him, a sailor, a fisherman, a former Naval officer who was often up with the sun anyway for whatever duties lay before him. It was a habit he never quite broke, here or in the dreams. Besides, such a long time on Neverland seemed to destroy his internal clock.
At the moment, it was still dark outside. Black behind his eyelids and black outside, the sky dotted with stars they could barely see because of the smog.
“What do you mean?” he asked with a yawn, then it was like he felt it too. Tension radiated through him and a wave of some bad juju wracked his whole body - he was immediately up then, finding a shirt to put on over his pyjama pants. “Oh, Christ. Kenzi.”
Gods, it was like he knew. His stomach lurched, and bile rose up in his throat.
Part of Regina knew, the other hoped it wasn’t what they thought it was - but they’d been expecting it every morning, waking up before the dawn to make sure breath still filled the mini-pirate’s lungs. And to be awoken like this, well, the only thing they could do was expect the worst.
And what they saw when they arrived to the doorframe of the room, the door cracked then violently pushed open, wasn’t what they expected.
But it explained that sinking feeling in the pit of Regina’s stomach. Tigra’s hissing.
“That’s - I think that’s supposed to be a valkyrie,” she breathed in awe, and like a spectre of death the being stood over the bed of the deceased, ready to take a soul to the other side. “No, no, not yet, get the hell away!”
Well, Killian didn’t know much about mythology other than what warped views his own dreams showed - Hades and Hercules and Megara, with Zeus apparently having the power to restore his life, and there was some shite with Morpheus too. But a valkyrie? Wasn’t that Norse or something?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he wanted to bloody fucking kill whomever was responsible for this - Kenzi claimed it wasn’t the fault of anyone in her dreams, it was all simply a prophecy, but she’d been treated like the goofy, useless sidekick for so long she was utterly desperate to prove her worth to a bunch of fucking morons. Even if it meant sacrificing her life, when she’d already lost her fiance and lost pretty much everything else. Nothing she ever did seemed to be good enough - walking into Hel, giving it all up, it wasn’t worth this. They weren’t worth her sacrifice.
Honestly, it infuriated him to the point where all he saw was red. “Find that fellow she talked to - I’ll wait here, and I don’t know how to kill a valkyrie but I only need a few seconds to figure it out,” he snarled, stepping in between where the apparition was and the bed. To take Kenzi, it’d have to take him first. That was not an easy feat.
“Careful,” she warned, squeezing his forearm (and silently hoping Meara stayed dead asleep through all this - though perhaps her wailing could wake the dead here). Regina didn’t sense hostility, no, but this wasn’t something they knew to handle from Storybrooke. “I’ll be back in a couple seconds, tops, but don’t destroy her bedroom - Kenzi will have words for you.”
Oh, no worries, the valkyrie didn’t lunge, didn’t pull a weapon to fight but her presence, nonetheless, was unnerving - it made the air in the bedroom dense, little hairs stand erect. And it smiled, this ethereal figure. Didn’t match the gray face, or the pits of darkness that were her eyes but she smiled anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed with wings folded back.
Staring Killian down, waiting. Death was kind. Death was patient. Death would give them a window.
Regina didn’t hesitate. A whirlwind of royal violet enveloped her, bringing her from a home that was hers to the abode of a stranger’s (for all intents and purposes). A stranger that would hopefully be bringing back her sister-in-law before a pirate tried to disembowel a valkyrie over his dead sister’s body.
When Regina left in a puff of smoke, Killian stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back into him. He watched that valkyrie, and it was the creepiest fucking thing - but he didn’t look away, not for a second. If he did, he was afraid of what would happen. So those eyes stayed on her, so bright blue in the darkness of the room like a lake where no river flowed either in or out - but that lake was frozen and cold. Unwavering.
He didn’t want to give away how terrified he really was.
Meanwhile, maybe it was astounding coincidence or maybe it was fate, but in his apartment? Garcian wasn’t asleep. In fact, he was seated on the couch with a cup of coffee - bitter as his soul, really, as he stared at a blank ISZK television. It was giving him the creeps in a similar way the valkyrie was a neighborhood away. His flatscreen was on, but on very low volume and he was mostly fixated on the television not from this world anyway.
All until there was a puff of smoke in his living room, and a woman randomly appeared. Definitely the first time that had happened, that was for damn sure.
“So,” he set the mug down on a side table. “I’m guessing you need me.”
Excellent. Regina hadn’t barged in at an opportune time; it’d be rather awkward to appear in a mid-romp session. “We do,” she confirmed regretfully - this was a situation no one wanted but, gods, thankfully they had something of a backup plan, yes? A quiet desperation danced in her eyes, and she was too stubborn to let them water when there was still a chance. “And when we get there, don’t mind the valkyrie. Worst case scenario we’ll keep her off you.”
Worst case scenario, like they weren’t facing that already. But she was at least gentle with the way she grabbed him and whispered a fair warning to brace himself - unless he experienced the whoosh of teleportation before - as the smoke of magic wrapped itself around them.
Still on the bed, next to the freshly deceased, was the valkyrie with hollowed cheeks and almost skeletal expression. She hadn’t stopped staring at Killian, not even when there were two new occupants poofed into the bedroom in a way that caused a disturbance in the fabric of things; something arcane disrupting the air, changing the vibe again.
Her wings twitched.
“Has it - she - done anything?” was Regina’s first question. Pointless, perhaps. The room didn’t look like her almost-husband gutted a chicken and ripped off the feathers. “Or is it just biding its time?”
Regina didn’t need to worry, Garcian wasn’t doing much romping these days. Before he left via smoke-teleportation, he glanced pointedly at the ISZK television and it flickered to life - nothing but static, but still. Now it was on (and Garcian idly wondered if Dan’s own television switched on as well - it was highly possible. He just had to hope to whatever dumbass God or Flying Spaghetti Monster was listening that they didn’t switch places now).
Arriving in Kenzi’s bedroom (funny how he recognized the place right away and he’d only been here once before, not like he was a regular) he took a moment to reorient himself from that trip and then started a bit at the appearance of the gaunt, ghostly figure.
“Motherfucker,” he whispered in either awe or disgruntled surprise - probably both though.
“She hasn’t done anything,” Killian shook his head. “She’s waiting for us to fail, I think. So she can gloat.” Or something. He didn’t actually know. Turning to Garcian, he wasn’t above begging either. “Please save her, please.”
No pressure or anything. Damn, he should have listened to Geralt and gone to the morgue, but too late now.
Doing his best to ignore the valkyrie, he went around to the side of the bed and stood over Kenzi’s still form, hand tentatively placed where her life force was, her vitality - her heart. And at that moment, every single television in the house flickered to life too, with loud crackling - not just the television though, but the mirrors too. Static on every reflective surface, black and white and grey and gaining in intensity.
It was an odd sort of energy, but it pushed and pulled against the energy the valkyrie gave off. Like a competition. A challenge.
Killian’s assessment was correct. Failure was what this valkyrie was waiting for - the soul was hers to claim but it was being stubborn, and she could rip it from the body if need be but that was such a hassle. Garcian was the one that caught her attention now. Probably not a good thing, no, and she eased off the bed to circle it instead.
And when that energy piqued, white noise all around, her wings opened like she was facing a threat. Indeed, a challenge.
“Don’t you dare, you vulture,” Regina seethed, ready to let something fly but mindful of what was going on - the enclosed room, everyone in it, and she was also the one responsible to make sure Captain Hook didn’t fly off the handle.
Kenzi looked peaceful, though. Like she’d been lulled into a breathless sleep, color still on her face, and her skin had a warmth to it.
Killian continued to glare - he wished he’d grabbed his hook instead of his regular prosthetic, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He had no magic yet he would attack this valkyrie like a rabid dog if he had to. For the moment, he slid his arm around Regina protectively and watched the scene unfold - behind the ice of his stare was a real fear, however. A fear that he’d lose his sister just like he lost Liam - it was something that would probably break him, to be honest. He loved Regina, he loved their daughter, but his sister was literally his heart - there was little chance he’d come back from this one. He’d barely come back from losing Liam.
“She’s not gonna get her,” Garcian assured, dark eyes locked on the valkyrie - those same eyes flashed the brightest green color then, like they were radioactive. Eyes of the Devil, and he had the power within him to really back up that unfortunate moniker too.
He turned it up a notch or two - then another, and another, knowing exactly what to do. It was like it all locked into place - like he was back in Harman’s room, bringing back a fallen Smith. A constant stream of power, adding more gas and steam and more and more and more until it would eventually overwhelm the very forces of life, death, and nature itself. He wouldn’t stop until he felt a heartbeat under his hands.
Not just a flash in his eyes, but a glow - and the white noise was almost deafening.
In that dreary world he dreamed of, he always said he felt nothing when he saw a dead body. It was just cold, rotting flesh. But that really couldn’t be farther from the truth now.
What the hell was this kind of power? His, specifically - there was a clash of forces that made her senses go a tad haywire, but the valkyrie had an echo of familiarity. Garcian’s didn’t. Regina couldn’t pinpoint what kind of ability it was, but it was something, and between him and this nasty wraith here to collect souls for the other side -
Her bets were on him.
Despite how the valkyrie’s face changed to reflect annoyance. In retaliation her wings flapped, like the opposite pull of a magnet that fought against Garcian. A tug of war over dominance of who’d get to keep this soul, but the soul in question, the one the valkyrie practically salivated over to harvest, had a preference.
And that preference wasn’t her. Mr. Smith here could feel a rabid thump under his hand, the ferocity of a beating heart with a thirst for life. Her lids fluttered to reveal widened, silvery blue eyes and her lips parted to gasp for air. Circulation reset, blood pumped, and oxygen back into those dormant lungs.
“DID I POOP MYSELF?!” was the first thing Kenzi said as she jolted up. It was as if electricity coursed through her body and revitalized her whole, and she grabbed onto Garcian like he was her anchor to this world. “Oh, hey, hottie.”
The air in the room grew still again, at least on the valkyrie’s behalf - feathery appendages stalled from their flaps, and disdain marked that nightmare of a face.
Poseidon’s salty bumhole, Killian needed to move to another country. He could not fucking handle shite like this - though when Kenzi bolted upright as if she’d been cattle prodded, he felt the chances of an impending heart attack-stroke combination at least recede a little. Maybe he’d live to see another day.
Though he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that asking if she shat herself was the first burning question on her mind. “At least we know she’s not possessed - it’s her, in her body,” he said shakily, scrubbing his good hand over his face.
The static that had been the prominent channel featured on every television and in every mirror shorted out, just as quickly as it had come on. Garcian wasn’t sure what to do with his hands so he just...held Kenzi gingerly. Wow, what a greeting. “Hey homegirl,” he chuckled throatily.
“Fuck off,” Killian told the valkyrie. Really, you cunting nuisance - or else he was going to rip Kenzi’s chainsaw to life in a second just to see what would happen.
No need to tell it twice, pirate. Kenzi caught a glimpse of her, too - a familiar sight (after all, she had raised a valkyrie from from childhood) but it wasn’t Tam-Tam, wasn’t a valkyrie she ever knew. Just a valkyrie here to collect her to Valhalla too, just how Tamsin had done it on the other side. And as quick as she appeared, she disappeared, cocooning herself with her own wings and vanishing into the ether.
It was warmer without her presence. Significantly warmer.
“Dude, you did it,” Kenzi told Garcian in complete ballin’ awe. “And I didn’t - I didn’t poop myself, oh fuck, oh thank you for showing up and doing this before I pooped myself because these pants are dry clean only, and -”
Breathe, Kenzi. Breathe. It felt like she’d been injected with a dose of blow or whatever, with how aware and alert of everything she was. Which meant she knew Killian and Regina were there too, watching, and she let out an exhale of relief when her eyes landed on them. “Hey dudebro and dudesis. Crisis averted.”
“Aye. Crisis averted. Something like that,” Killian responded, clutching his chest as if that would slow his frantically racing heartbeat. He was glad Regina was here because he needed her for support, emotional and probably literal.
The sun was rising, light beginning to peek in through the curtains of Kenzi’s gothic-infused room. The Captain glanced at the window, acknowledging the day of a new day, then back at his sister. “We’ll give you a minute, if you need,” he said to her, since it was probably overwhelming to have a bunch of people in the room right now. Besides, he could embarrassingly hug the shit out of her later. And Meara would be up in a bit, fussing, luckily having no idea what had transpired.
He left the room, and Garcian sat on the edge of the mattress. “Yeah, guess I did it. You’re really okay though?”
How in hell’s bell’s do people act after a literal death experience? Kenzi hadn’t a clue - all she could remember from her dreams is the Cinvant, the echo of Bo’s cry, and zip-zap darkness. There was an afterlife, though. She was sure of it. A valkyrie had scooped her up, taken her to Valhalla and that’d either be her home forevermore, or maybe her friends were desperate enough to break into her afterlife and bring her back.
She hoped not.
“Yeah,” she nodded, brows furrowed, and put a hand on her chest to just double-check the beat of her heart. Yep, still there. Going strong. “Yeah, I’m good - I think. It’s not like the experience was painful. Did you just legit have a battle of wills with a valkyrie over my soul, though?? Because that’s a way to start the morning.”
Man, she owed the dude. How does one repay a person for bringing them back to life? It’s not like he helped change a spare tire or anything, good lord.
“I don’t know if it was a battle of wills - well, okay, I guess it kind of was,” Garcian admitted, since hell if he had any other sort of term for it. “I knew what to do though. And I’m glad you’re okay.” For someone who just rarely ever felt things (it wasn’t like he was a sociopath, he was capable - but underwhelmed about most people and most parts of life, was the thing), he was surprised by the intensity at which he did go into a battle of wills against that valkyrie.
As soon as he saw it, he knew it wasn’t going to take Kenzi’s soul. Over his dead body.
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, then just leaned in and hugged her - because she seemed like she could use a hug, even if he was probably shit at them and could count the number of people on one hand who had ever hugged him before. “If you wanted to do something crazy and life-affirming or whatever, I’m sure no one would blame you.”
Really, he had no fucking clue how you dealt with being dead either - in his dreams, it was just something that happened. The Smith’s died and then they were brought back and they got the job done and the cycle continued. It was a world void of feelings and shit, which was more dangerous than anything else.
Hugs were good. Hugs were nice. Hugs were proof that everyone around her was real, this actually wasn’t some troll-filled limbo in between death and a happily ever afterlife (or the flames of hell, who knew). Kenzi returned the embrace something tight, her arms practically clinging to him for a second there because what the shit was life.
“Like getting my nipples pierced?” she laughed, choked. “Maybe, I’ll think about it after some coffee or - pancakes, coffee and pancakes.” Coffee at the very least, because it was also life and a hug and those were things she was craving. “Seriously, dude - you really did me a solid. And thanks to you my brother can sleep at night, and we know I won’t miss his wedding -”
Which, come to think of it.
Kenzi reeled back from the hug a little and slapped her hands over his cheeks, squishing them. “How do you feel about weddings? Like, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything but I mean, my brother’s wedding. You wanna come? Initiate yourself as one of us because it’s food and booze on a pirate ship.”
It wasn’t the way she wanted to repay him but it was a start on a long, long list of ‘ways to show a guy that brought you back to life how much you appreciate him.’
“Mmmpf - “ was the sound Garcian made, because what the hell was she doing to his cheeks? Was that all typical and shit? It was a surprise, needless to say. Probably more so than the question about weddings.
He’d never really thought about it - probably because they were just this ceremony and ‘til death do us part and blah blah and not anything he’d ever have, most likely. So why bother familiarizing himself with it, right? Rhetorical question.
“Okay,” he responded easily. “I mean, yeah, sure. I’ll come to your brother’s wedding. How could I turn down food and booze on a pirate ship? ...that doesn’t even sound all that weird. I must be getting used to this place.”
“It won’t be too sappy, I promise,” smirked the thief, patting his cheek with a little more tenderness now - not so much squish. Sorry, she was still kind of wrapping her mind over wht just happened ten fuckin’ minutes ago. “Might have to make you dance with me at least once, though, so prepare for that.”
Gods. That’s what had been eating her whole this entire time. Thinking that if something happened to her, her death would be taking a literal shit on her brother’s wedding and that she’d miss this. Liam wasn’t around anymore, and Kenzi was determined to keep the siblinghood alive - Killian would have his sister, Bo her best friend, Meara her aunt.
There was a deep breath sucked in. “You got time for coffee, maybe? Whiskey in coffee too, with the way this morning’s been. I don’t think they’ll mind you hanging around after Bubba breaks my ribs.”
Whiskey in coffee, the cornerstone of every nutritious breakfast. “You’re asking me for a dance in advance? That’s sweet of you,” Garcian smirked. “I guess I can agree to that.” Even though he wasn’t much of a dancer (it had been awhile - but hey, he at least had rhythm, that was half the battle right there). Still, he’d try. It actually seemed...fun. Light-hearted. Something happy. After so much gloom and doom, maybe a change of pace wouldn’t be too terrible.
“I could go for coffee too, though I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt too much family time,” he said, not squishing Kenzi’s cheeks - but he curled his fingers beneath her chin and pressed his thumb there. Such a face. “Better go get your ribs broken now.”
At least she was already dressed for the day, but she knew she was going to stick to being a homebody and kind of stew in what happened - once the rush of it all subsided, anyway. “A worthy cause,” she concurred, squeezing his wrist before finally rising from her literal death bed and, uh, maybe patting herself in the butt a bit to ensure that she didn’t, y’know.
Drop a turd in there or whatever.
Nope, safe.
Then, like a ninja, she started tip-toeing out of her bedroom. Hopefully Meara was awake - she didn’t want to scare the little starfish out of her slumber. “Buuuuubbaa. I’m comin’ for ya.”
Meara was, in fact, awake (and babbling to herself, early morning musings). Killian had her in his arms but passed her over to Regina so he could meet Kenzi in the hallway. He swept her up into a hug and wasn’t leaking from his eyes, no, of course not. It was simply raining on his face right here in the house (must be a crack in the ceiling, perhaps? How odd).
“Don’t do that again, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled. Naturally, he knew it wasn’t her fault - and she couldn’t control what happened in her dreams but still. If she made it through this death episode, the Kenzi there deserved a life of retirement away from whatever nonsense claimed her life in the first place.
He turned toward Garcian, who was leaning in the doorway of Kenzi’s room. “Thank you.” Because honestly, that was quite a skill to have - but he imagined that it would, like anything else, come with a price. “Now I think we could all use a bloody drink.”
Except for Meara, it was going to be a mushy breakfast for her - free of alcohol.
Oof, there went her ribs! Kidding. All bones remained intact. But his was a hug she needed, too - the other half of heart and soul, literally. “Don’t plan to,” she wheezed into his arms. “Like, my dress for your wedding is too pretty not to wear, broseph, I’ve gotta be there -”
“Zeeeeeee,” was Meara’s babble of interruption with her limited vocabulary. ‘Ma’ and ‘da’ were coming distinct, and so was the last bit of Kenzi’s name. It made her auntie feel squishy on the inside. And after she and her brother squeezed the organs out of one another, she went to her sister-in-law and niece - hugs exchanged there too - and then the wittle baby was passed onto her because there was nothing like early cuddles from the prettiest pirate princess in all of the land.
Regina’s eyes were a tad wet but that was joyous moisture. Relieved moisture. “I’ll opt to remain sober due to parental responsibilities - and we can go downstairs while I halfass us some kind of breakfast and coffee cocktails, because it’s been a morning. You’ll join us for a bit, won’t you, Mr. Smith?”
And then she would offer her transportation services to get him home when he was ready, of course. It was a small favor to pay when the man helped keep their family alive, together.
“Sure,” Garcian nodded, mouth tilted up in a half-smile. It was rare for him (one day he might even show teeth, as polished as they were). His arms were folded across his chest as he watched the scene - he’d never had a family before, either here or in the dreams. He wasn’t sure if the Smith’s counted - they were personas, they were all in some old man’s head. Did it count as even being real?
This was though, so that’s why he’d been glad to do what he did. The warmth of it was real too - something he would never have (a family, people who loved him), but he could bask in the glow of a good deed for a little while.