"Why do we have to kill her?" Damp flesh creaked against a sink's rust, much louder than the frailty shriveled through her lapsed voice; Daisy Vince tightened her hands on the filthy margin, inhaling fatigue through the steam suffocating the claustrophobically small bathroom. 

Sweat dripped down to her wrist from all the way up her shoulders, despite having previously stripped herself of her shirt. That ripped material still fumed on the floor, right beside her feet, though it has been a while since it caught fire. It was hard to tell anything related to the directive of 'when'; time went by differently since she has awakened in that small space with nothing but a reflection for company. 

Her gasping for air has weakened to mere scarce breathing altogether. Daisy's fatigue left her features in a fearful contortion, while thirst deprived her lips to blacken. She's been in a constant state of fever. 

No windows, no ventilation, no water. 

The last thing she remembered were just a handful of stretched in blurs. At first, only haunting her during dreams, while the parasite spread and took over her mind. She should have known. Damn it, she should have known when her telepathy was taken from her. In these dreams, she often found herself locked in this Hell, but soon, the waking moments seemed to shorten, while the prison time lengthened; now, she could almost say she has gotten used to watching her life play out through the mirror, while something else took over her real flesh.

She had watched helplessly how Thor turned unsuccessful in saving her from this plague Daisy could now finally call by name: the Phoenix Force. 

It has long eyed her. Perhaps this has always been its plan. In surging paranoia growing frivolously in this environment, she was convinced that the Phoenix had always schemed to get her shot, to force her mutation to modify and evolve past its anticipated limits. It wanted her to get stronger and stronger... and Thanos... Wasn't the Phoenix Force which opened the portal, which handed her over to the Mad Titan on a silver platter?

To her delusional mind, it could all be blamed on momentarily blindness, sparking up ever ounce of guilt and regret that she could possibly muster in a madding swirl. At the end of the day, Daisy was aware she should have known better than to trust the apparent absence of a primordial force which always exists; she should have known better than to trust that pull of the deep cosmos that she felt right after the Battle of Tuun.  

And once she realized the Phoenix Force took over her mind, it was too late to save her own autonomy. 

Staring up into the steamed mirror over which she dragged her hand to clear the surface momentarily, torching eyes stared back at her. An identical copy, though must more healthy and dry, permanently grinned a mockery to her condition. It was for the better: burn scars on her arms proved that seeing a copy of herself was much better than seeing the actual splinter of the Phoenix's power which the universe had.

After all this time, however long it may have been, Daisy was granted fugitive glimpses of the memories of the Phoenix itself and though everything she has seen was not something she'd wish upon anyone to witness, there were some critical details that chilled her bones and boiled her soul to cower in fear.

"You know what she is capable of doing...," the Phoenix talked to her through the reflection. The voice calm, collected, was impossible to comprehend in comparison to the dreadful blasphemies to sound that it had uttered in the past. It could have spoke in whispers and Daisy would have still trembled. 

"She just doesn't seem like the type of person who'd-"

The screams of a child echoed from ahead and after raising her averted gaze, Daisy's teary eyes looked right into one of the many scenes she had seen in Dr. Blair Hayes' mind. Her son, Ryan, was born a mutant, gifted with the ability to see the future. Amongst the many atrocities she had seen Hayes' memory glorify openly, this was, by far the most heartbreaking one, the one which forever twisted Daisy's stomach into utter disgust. 

"How far into the future are you seeing?" Dr. Hayes' voice made her skin crawl. The woman grasped her son's arm, touched his forehead only to barely caress him on the way to fixing the helmet of wires recording his brain activity. 

"No more m...," Ryan mumbled, squirming in his seat, struggling in impossible pain. "No more..." He asked for his toy, begged for any sort of comfort, yet he had received none. His mother was ultimately oblivious that this was the last moment of his life, that her ambition would end him. "The end," the boy finally cried out, eyes shut, tears streaming down his face on both sides. 

"Three words from someone like her and the mutants would be gone," the Phoenix appeared in the fade of the memory. "We are making sure that never happens and all I need from you, Daisy, is to stop fighting against me."

"I just...," Daisy's head dropped, bowed before the mirror, chin shivering. If she was once the brightest candle, the Phoenix had reduced her to an almost dying flame now. "I just want to go back home."

"And you will," the Phoenix hummed, voice finally echoing in omnipresence around her. "When the Chaos of Creation is extinguished, you will have your life back. Charles, Erik, Peter. I will even release Thor, wipe his memory of this madness. We're almost through now."

She nodded weakly. What else she could do but nod and look up into the mirror to see the fog gather over her true reflection, beaten up, sullen, drawn to exhaustion.

Sierra's reflection was as clear as the bright light entering the room from two sides covered in tall windows; thin drapes fluttered in a soft draft, creating a calm breeze through the bottom half of the white dress she wore and now studied so worriedly in the mirror. Bright white flowers decorated her hair in an intricate sort of order she dared not even touch. 

Illyana had been a true blessing with everything regarding what she was wearing, be it in her hair, on her face or on her body; Claire and Wendy sure tried to help with the dress and while Jessica didn't mean it that way, her side comments made while fraternizing herself with the buffet desserts early, actually helped put a smile on Sierra's face a lot more often than her worries alone would have allowed. She really couldn't have wished for better bridesmaids.

But now, with the ceremony about to begin, Sierra wanted these moments of solitude, of silence, without however realizing she's doomed herself to overthinking. She couldn't help it; her mind was going a thousand miles per hour, over a thousand nonsensical things at a time. No matter how much lavender she wore or smelled, or how many herbal remedies she drank, the chaos stirred under her skin like a hive of bees trying to break out and escape. 

Sierra breathed out, flattening her hands over her stomach, then dropping them for a straight posture. 

"Don't slouch," she barely mouthed to herself. The nervousness was starting to get to her too: maybe they should have delayed the wedding. The last thing she'd want was to ruin this whole celebration not just for her, but also for Danny. She had to remain strong for him, just as he has been strong for her through all this madness. 

What little she did for him before the Tournament in the Heart of Heaven she found to be too little and insignificant compared to how valuable his support had been to her during the fight with Thanos, during the breaking of the Multiverse, during the Magician's shows and their targeted backlash repercussions, and especially now, in the aftermath of the Paradox. Sure, Aimee Hamilton had a key role to play in the fixing of that last mistake, but had it not been for Danny, who knows how many more people she would have had to bring back from the dead in her wake from the chaotic slumber. 

With a deep sigh, Sierra casted those thoughts aside. I need to remain calm, she told herself, trying to reminisce the hills and mountains of K'un-Lun. A part of her wished they had stayed there forever, but not even Master Zhihao had a solution to her issues and Shao Lao hasn't spoken to her since she touched the Darkhold. 

Another controlled breath reminded Sierra to stop swirling her thoughts around her mistakes. Do you want wrinkles in all your wedding pictures? she asked herself and finally grasped a moment of simply not thinking, but rather taking in her aspect. Some younger self of hers, the one small and smiling only when she was not at home, oh dear, she looked so real beside her that she could almost bend her knees, lower down and give that sweet, brave child a hug... Well, she would have looked into that mirror, seen her dressed and awed so clearly, out loud: 

"You look like a princess...," Sierra muttered, eyes unfocused, gaze blurred by whatever reality she had tucked her thoughts in. Light invaded the room and flickered in her eyes almost dangerously when a knock on the door startled her to blink, jump and turn around with a hand over her heart. 

"Yes," she tampered her shaking voice. "Come in." Was she expecting someone? She couldn't really remember. While she threw a wary glance to the mirror, just to make sure she hasn't, by mistake, conjured her child self in flesh there while daydreaming, the door creaked opened.

"Sorry," a shy, yet familiar voice greeted, sneaking in through the small opening he allowed of the door. "Your Wong told me I can come by to drop-"

"Nicholas!" A beam of joy burst in luminescence across Sierra's features. She rushed, shamelessly so, towards the door to give her Multiversal friend a good, warm hug, right by the now closing door. "Oh, I am so glad you could make it."

The boy had cleaned up nicely for the occasion. Though his experience with wedding invitations hasn't always gone favorable for him, he has been so profoundly moved by this particular invitation from a person he respected, that he had to make a civilized, even posh appearance. 

However, his awkwardness was stark, barely patting Sierra's arm with his free hand before the hug was over. "Miss your wedding?" She brightened his whole line of sight with a smile to the point that it was impossible not to allow the corners of his lips a faint mimic of it. "Wouldn't even dream of it." The irony made it so that he never truly dreamt anyway; such a hint solidified the naturality of a smile's presence on his features.

Some short steps of distance between them left room for pleasantries starting with a short but clear observation. "You look stunning," Nicholas complimented, stirring up Sierra's carefree giggle. If he could compare her at any time with anything in particular, without disregarding so her uniqueness, he would most definitely say she was 'light'. Not dim or artificial, but pure light. Just the prospect of it made his eyes strain, but it was a pleasant sort sting. 

"Well," Nicholas cleared his throat with a short cough. He lifted up the hip-high frame he's been carrying with himself and has kept in his presence for a lot longer than he has breathed the air of this new universe. The object represented the reason of his allowance to visit the bride before the ceremony actually took place. "I made you and Danny something," he looked down at it, humming and chewing on words in hopes of finding the appropriate ones before she actually got to see it. "Hope you like it," was everything he could utter when Sierra's hands reached out and he carefully passed over the painting.

"Nick...," Sierra's gasp was soft and awed; she was holding in her hands a painting of her and Danny. "You painted this?" Disbelief was expected given the intricate and expert brush strokes which made the sort of oil piece more often found in such style in museums. The vintage frame, polished and restored to an adequate condition, only further added on the aspect seeding in Sierra's mind the clear thought that she will treasure this painting forever.

"I take you do not hate it...," with his hands now freed of this extra weight to carry, Nicholas stuffed them in the pockets of his pants, making it all the easier to shrug and sway just very lightly back and forth. 

"I adore it," Sierra corrected him. "Danny and I are staying here in the Sanctum for a while, but as soon as we'll move to that dream house he's been promising me, I can already tell you the painting's going to be right above the fireplace, at a stand of honor." She turned around, still looking over all the details of the painting whilst deciding where she should set it down for now. Next to the wall seemed to be the best play. "It's still baffling to me that you hold so much talent in this artistic medium, Nick...," she continued on, absent mumbles turning quieter and quieter, until even Sierra herself was rendered unsure of whether or not she was actually talking or simply thinking. "I could see galleries dedicated to your work one day..."

"So what have you been up to lately?" Nicholas' attempt at small talk perhaps proved in effortless swiftness that her words never reached him. Startled by the confirmation, Sierra straightened up with no knowledge of ever having reached the wall or set the painting down. Instead, she had a clear memory that never happened of walking in an art gallery: she could describe everything about that place from the color of the walls, to the wood used for the floor to even the scent dancing around each corner, around each painting, moving in sways, undulating ocean.

A damp sound, like an absolutely drenched cloth had been launched to the floor in a fit of anger, properly awoke Sierra from her spontaneous trance. 

Nicholas, who attempted to advance a few steps into the room, froze wide-eyed, staring in stun at the place beside Sierra's feet. He knew what he was looking at, but the process of accepting it had tilted his head to the side nonetheless. 

Sierra looked down with the dreadful expectation; the anticipation made her to gulp, before a sigh of disappointment in herself too over. Down on the floor, an octopus with just about over a dozen eyes looked up at her confused. "Sorry," she cried down to the animal before picking it up. The tentacles clung to her arms while she attempted to keep it away from her dress. Walking past Nicholas, she threw and apology towards him as well. 

Having reached the door, Sierra opened it with her elbow and leant out with her head. "Wong!" she called out, impatient and still looking rather pitifully at the unusual octopus. Running up the stairs almost instantaneously in answer to her call, Wong got there in a matter of mere elongated seconds. 

"I know," he gasped, rather breathlessly. "Your friends appearance has slightly disturbed the wards and I am putting them back up in place as we... speak?" The rush's metamorphosis into an inquiry happened as soon as his breath was cut by confusion; an octopus was not exactly something he expected shoved in his arms.

"This poor thing doesn't understand how it could have been born from nothing," Sierra mourned the abrupt creation of the octopus, still looking after her rather than at its new handler. "Please be gentle with it and do put the wards back up as fast as possible." Only after blurting out that abundance of words defining just how much struggle she was putting in silencing the chatter in her skull, her shoulders finally lost their tension; Sierra sighed out a relieved 'thank you' to the Sorcerer Supreme, as he left studying the creature with an emotion on the border between fascination and concern. 

Either way, Sierra closed to door quietly, and bowed her head before it, taking control of her breath.

"Born from nothing," Nicholas repeated her words back to her cautiously. 

Sierra nervously bit the inside of her bottom lip, dragging it between her teeth while answering with a silent, rather ashamed nod.

"But that is..."

"Creation Magic," she turned around.

"Chaos Magic," Nicholas continued his own statement despite her response. Meeting her teary eyes had almost made him feel bad for the defensive tension in his posture, present from the second he looked at that octopus thing and sensed a tingle... a painfully familiar one, the sort he wouldn't expect to find radiating so strongly in Sierra's universe, particularly around her.

A defeated nod moved Sierra away from the door, her hands meeting in front of herself where nails fidgeted to tug on cuticles in a tic of nervousness she couldn't shake off anymore. "I wanted to tell you," she bowed her head, at which point Nicholas looked inward and tamed his own instinctive judgement for anything involving chaotic forces, for to some extent, he was aware his demeanor could be interpreted very easily by Sierra as a hatred towards her rather than just his bad experience with such unchecked mysticism. 

"Much has happened since we last saw each other," Sierra couldn't meet his eyes. She felt, at that moment, as filthy as the immediate moment after she realized she gave in to every temptation; though the Darkhold was now far away from her, she could feel it, a permanent smudge on her hands. "I had to do things...," she attempted to explain but a knot in her throat stopped her from going any further than that with her speech.

"But I am working on it," Sierra breathed out after a while, widening her eyes and looking up. She recognized Nicholas was worried, wary even, for good reasons too. "Can we talk about this after the ceremony? I'll tell you everything, but I really need this one thing to just go well."

Though his reaction was delayed, Nicholas sighed. If there was anyone at all worthy of this sort of goodwill and faith, then it was Sierra. He tampered and mustered a faint smile of reassurance. "We'll talk when you're ready, though you don't really have to explain anything to me. Last I remember...," he paused for a deep breath meant to distance him emotionally from past events still rather heavy on his heart, "you didn't question the state in which you found me when the Multiverse was falling apart."

Perhaps, at his core, Nicholas was just worried to see Sierra battling chaos, a war which by experience he discovered to be rather futile. She was aware that the vast majority of the guests to her wedding shared that quality: worried for her. 

So worried that something bad could happen at any moment that every Sanctum has sent reinforcements, for security. Once the guests started arriving, one Mystic Arts Master checked them and their invitation before entrance on the premises. They also had to keep the line of reporters crowded outside, on the street, decent and less intrusive. Once inside, however, the guests were guided up the stairs, on corridors enchanted to appear without doors, by yet another Mystic Arts expert, only for, at the very top, before the single door, their invitations to be checked again by Wong, who ticked every name which showed up from a list he compiled himself. 

The groom himself, his groomsmen and the bridesmaids were all already on the roof when Wong started admitting in the guests. He was happy to see many familiar faces, especially since he had feared the rudest of rumors about Miss Sierra had driven most of their acquaintances away from this event's appeal. Tony and Pepper Stark thankfully showed up. Ward Meachum's plus one as well. Agent W made an appearance, though with apologies that Grizzly would be a no-show. Wendy Weber, as expected, joined in to accompany Peter Parker, serving his duties as groomsman to his friend. 

"Strange," Wong greeted by politeness and instinct using the family name, unaware that behind young Nicholas loomed the dark otherworldly Stephen. A chill certainly crept on Nicholas' back of the neck, however if there was one thing he would have grown rather proficient in, than that was ignoring Stephen variants. He waited for Wong to tick their names off the list and with a flat, strictly casual smile, he proceeded into the terrace atop the Sanctum Sanctorum, clearly refurbished and enchanted to suit the rather small event. 

There weren't many guests in plan to begin with, and once the responses came in, the wedding went from quiet to downright restricted. Not that it mattered in any way to the bride; but Stephen knew with certainty that the Iron Fist was bothered. After all, good friends of his were quick to turn their backs on him the second an unfavorable shadow fell over his beloved Sierra. 

Regardless of the political and business side of things, wildly circulating the affair, Stephen had more concrete concerns, namely Sierra's 'friend' from another universe. He'd have taken no interest sufficient to place himself in front of the boy, were it not for the fact that he travelled all by himself there; Multiversal travel was an impressive stun to pull unassisted, one he had seen very few individuals, including Sierra, perform without losing limbs to the Outer Dark or accidentally getting swallowed to a maddening meeting with an Eldritch Terror. 

"We didn't have a chance to speak. Dr. Stephen Strange," he extended his hand forward, but Nicholas walked past him to his appointed seat without as much as a blink in his direction. Sometimes, ignorance truly was a bliss and given the luck he had, he'd much rather not push a limit to break the beauty of this day. 

Before he could follow and insist, Stephen caught Danny's stern gaze from ahead, at the altar and decided against giving that man a reason to mitigate his return to the cell. 

It was a beautiful day indeed. 

No clouds, warm weather. The wards Wong has put up to ban magic from being used on the premises, were a true crafty display of finesse: he had enchanted several perks into those invisible sigils like a distinct scent of cherry blossoms flooding the atmosphere, a diffusion of all the noise New York City otherwise constantly had and of course, a blur effect to any electronic devices. None of the news helicopters surveilling the area would get any privacy-breaking pictures, though their eyes would see everything. Tony Stark offered help in restricting direct flight overhead of the ceremony.

As for the rooftop itself, its sunlight bath brightened a natural ambiance. White chairs fit orderly on a floor peppered by cherry blossom petals. Their motive repeated in lively fresh ornaments, framing the scenery and inducing to every guest a sense that they were not on a rooftop, but rather in a fantastical forest. 

Danny was nervous and it was written all over his features, perhaps even more visible than in the way Luke Cage, his best man, rubbed his hand on his back. The wedding was going to be officiated by Master Zhihao, who has come all the way from K'un-Lun and prepared to give their champion and his Guiding Light a proper binding ritual. 

For a brief moment, the world faded away and it seemed it was going to be a good, normal day. They deserved it. A laurel of rewards for all they've sacrificed for the greater good, all they've given thoughtlessly. Everyone present needed this break from constant struggles, from mundane lives and those worries of vigilantes and protectors. 

For a brief moment, the world was bright and warm. 

And that was when the last guest got seated and the music started, bringing everyone back on their feet. A live orchestra tucked at the edge of the terrace behind a myriad of flower ornaments, brought the tone by which Sierra entered Danny's line of sight and he immediately straightened himself up to remember how to breathe. 

Looking at him was a dangerous gamble for her own breath as well. Sierra held tighter onto Wong's arm now, grateful to lean on his presence, because had it not been for him, she would have either fainted or forgotten herself on how to walk slowly, to look composed. There was no fooling anyone though on her expression, a mirror of the sun itself with all the warm joy she spread with her smile, with her shimmering eyes. Her gown was pure light materialized and the flowers in her hair rejoiced to meet the fresh air. 

Her heart was beating, alive and happy to the truest definition of the word. The chaos in her was finally silenced by the clear desire of her mind to be there. This was all she ever wanted. He was all she ever wanted and just with a glance, she would have been able to tell Danny reciprocated every single emotion. 

It felt like yesterday since they've met during a meditative dream. Climbing mountains, learning off of scrolls, falling in love. Everything which stood at their foundation had a sense of freshness to it. Time has passed yet the affection birthed during those moments has not aged a single day. 

Wong let go of Sierra's arm before the altar and, unfelt, he slipped to the left, to find his seat beside Nicholas. 

Danny extended his hand and Sierra took it without looking anywhere else but in his eyes. Why had she doubted this wedding to be a good choice in these chaotic times? It was by far the clearest, purest blessing. She has never felt more at peace than at that moment, marked by the gradual decrease in music, by the sound of shuffled fabrics as guests sat down. 

Now, it was time for them to look away from each other, to stare ahead at their friend and mentor, Master Zhihao, and perform the formality to the connection they've felt and honored since even before the defeat of Master Crane. What they had was sacred, holy -if she dared even compare. 

The gradual fade of the music was cut to an abrupt fall into silence and a series of events happened all at once in a desperate synchronization: the hair on the back of Peter Parker's neck stood up, Wong felt a chill on his spine, Sierra's hands grew impossibly cold, Zhihao's face contorted with confusion as he looked up and Tony flinched, removing his earpiece creating pitched sounds. 

Danny turned around, much like everyone else, but Sierra was not moving. She couldn't move. She didn't want to move. Turning around meant accepting that everything slipped through her fingers into a disaster. A lack of control was a dangerous thing to acknowledge when her mind clung so tightly to the idea that she needed this wedding to go well. 

"Sierra," called a voice from above.

"Daisy?" Danny tilted his head to the side, gripping Sierra's hand tighter. 

Reality mocked with rapidity, forced her to accept what was happening and eventually, though crippled with freezing chills, Sierra turned around and looked up at the darkening sky. It weren't clouds gathering up behind Daisy Vince, whose floating silhouette looked down on her in particular, but ash, thick and molten. 

"Daisy," Tony beamed, feeling the tension dense enough to cut with a knife and deciding it was best to appeal to reason and old friendships. "Come on down. We didn't know you were back."

However, Sierra could no longer ignore her senses and the danger they screamed about. She looked to Wong and immediately to Nicholas. The latter understood the request, the plea. Though some hint of curiosity and protectiveness would have seeded a different course of action, Sierra's look reminded him instantly that interfering with her world in times of peril might be too dangerous. They did not need another Multiverse instability, not now. So he nodded at her wish and transported himself, silently and through a spot of shadow, just further down the street, from where, after a single glance at the dark sky, he sighed and portalled himself back to his own universe. 

"Desecrating reality like own it, right?" Daisy nodded towards the disappearing sorcerer, then directed her glance towards Stephen. 

Though she had no clue as to how, Sierra realized Daisy knew those two were not of this world. 

"The Paradox was but a taste of your powers," Daisy spoke, her voice suddenly growing deeper, filled with chambers of echoes. "And you cannot get enough of them, can you?"

"Daisy," Sierra's voice shivered, a warning trying to speak into it. "Don't," she ended up begging instead. Some part of her mind screamed: I warned you. Did I not warn you? Why do you never listen? Why are you so selfish as to ignore me and endanger every single person you've invited here? You knew this would happen. You knew it would all go catastrophically wrong. 

Intrusive thoughts of nameless wisdom turned to a choir in her mind, Daisy is not herself. Danger! She is blinded. Destruction! She wants you dead. 

Scared by her own mind, Sierra did not trust herself to hold Danny's hand nor her bouquet of flowers. She dropped both and raised her hands up. She had to bargain. At least to try so, even though all her newest senses burned her to defend herself through immediate action. 

"You're an abomination who shouldn't exist," Daisy continued, her eyes glowing not in the yellow Tony would have expected to see, but in deep, furious fire. "Who shouldn't have been allowed to exist."

Danny was on the brink of stepping forward, Stephen and Wong were getting ready to dismantle the wards, but before Daisy's sentence had even come to an end, thunder shook the floor and a flash broke across the terrace, stopping right into Sierra's chest and swiping her off the building, pinned behind the hit of Mjolnir, crackling lightning. 

A blink of an eye later, she was in a crater, on the street. Cars were honking, people were gasping, thunder was distantly still going. She couldn't breath so she cried, hands desperately tugging on the hammer which wouldn't budge. 

Trapped, she had no other priority but to wave a hand to the side. "Get off the street!" she choked a scream out of herself to drive bystanders away. Her eyes reflected a sky of ash luminated by lightning. Daisy didn't come alone. 

Nicholas Strange belongs to raichia <3
thank you for trusting me to cameo him in this