26 | Arfanyarossë of the Multiverse

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Tony Stark | Iron Man

Location: Avengers Compound, New York, USA

Time: October 2023

Three Years Ago...

Tony let out a breath as soon as the door closed.

After a few hours of brainstorming (admittedly more like procrastinating), Bruce left to go rest before the mission tomorrow. Or more like going back to tinkering with the suits if he still knew what his science bro was like. Even being...whatever he and the Hulk were...Bruce was still Bruce. Tony knew that he would just leave to sleep, or more likely try to find something else to do that wasn't lying on the ground in the meeting room.

The moment he did, his mind already revolved back to what he was planning to do tonight. He'd been debating to himself whether he should even do it, thinking that Pepper would frown in concern why he considered being so drastic with the idea. The few days he'd been back here almost made it even more conflicting. Should he even try to? Is this him knowing how it will all turn out?

"You should sleep."

He turned over, the cushion only making some comfort for the back of his head as he noticed the person still laying on the same table beside him.

Face staring up, she was twirling a pen in her hand, notepad on her stomach.

With a sarcastic tone, he retorted, "If I wasn't busy staring up at the ceiling: I would have thought you didn't know me at all."

Natasha Romanoff shrugged her shoulders a little, though he could sense that familiar tone changed as she replied, "Just trying to be better every second I can."

"Well...we aren't all angels," He drawled, side-eyeing towards a specific direction.

Knowing from what FRIDAY told him, his certain...plus one to this entire mission was probably helping Lang or Rogers with something. Might be doing some sorcery shit. Meditating maybe; that was something he'd seen whenever she came around to babysit Morgan after putting her to bed.

"Like Illyria?" Natasha implied, and he hummed in confirmation as she continued, "I wonder how you even managed to adopt the kid."

Oh, sometimes he wished he did. Illyria Strange was everything he wasn't and yet everything that could have been. Intelligent and confident and yet incredibly so considerate and forgiving. Not the sort of kid he imagined Strange to have but then again: Tony only knew Stephen Strange for just under a day.

And within that less of a day, Tony realised how much Strange loved his daughter. He just didn't imagine loving Morgan like that then as well.

He rubbed his forehead, blinded slightly by the lights as he answered, "Not my kid. Morgan and Harley are enough. Just taking care of her when Strange is gone and Lewis is busy with her doctorate."

"I know you wouldn't let her come here if you didn't trust her. Or Lewis more likely."

The former Russian Assassin turned SHIELD Agent just had to be open, but he wasn't surprised nowadays. Natasha was actually concerned as to why he brought Illyria, but then remembered how that day in the lakeside house turned out.

It's not every day to tell the world that a nineteen-year-old kid forced the three Avengers who were broken up to get along and have lunch together. If Illyria wasn't there that day along with Harley and Morgan, Tony wouldn't even listen to them about their weird hot-tub time machine heist Lang was talking about.

But it happened, and now they were here.

Of course, his little assistant wouldn't be here without the permission of her guardian. "Well you know Lewis, I'd be tased before stepping into whatever time we head back," Tony wryly spoke, breathing into his nostrils as he reminded mostly himself what was happening tomorrow, "Besides she's not going. That was our deal."

A deal which he was going to make certain. Harley was already jealous that he took Illyria to New York to help with building the time machine, but considering he had to help with sorting out Stark Industries besides Pepper, it would be annoying to bounce between things.

He couldn't imagine all those years ago he would have fully taken Harley in and adopted him.

But after Peter...Tony knew it was best.

The kid lost his mom and little sister after the Snap...he wasn't losing another kid again.

Not Strange's or his or Peter...

He realised after a few seconds that Natasha sat up, an arm wrapped around her folded legs in a way it looked like a relaxed fetal position. Her head rotated to stare down at him, eyes blank as if she was thinking. Even with the dimmed lights her jade-tone eyes along with her blonde-reddish hair still popped from the monochromatic room.

"What?" Tony asked with creased eyebrows.

She blinked several times before she lightly responded, "Just wondering how we all got here." Natasha's voice grew hollow as she added, "Why the stones chose us and not the others."

Something in his chest thumped and tightened.

It wasn't uncommon to hear that same question from people's mouths nowadays. Even he thought it but never really said it explicitly to people he knew. If he did a lot of people who be going at him, angered why he – the least worthy man on this planet – to not be snapped.

Why had Tony survived when those like Peter Parker left? Why had Illyria survived and Strange left?

Well except for that. He sort of secretly knew of that predicament, which made it even more terrible to think about even if he did what he could to help the young Strange live her life in the States.

"Well, it wasn't some raffle draw. If I did I would have made sure it was rigged," Tony muttered, but then paused as he eyed upwards. In an awkwardly slow tone, he questioned, "Did you...lose anyone else?"

Natasha's gaze turned back to him before she moved away, staring directly at the wall of projectors.

"Some others. They were important to me," She revealed in a quiet and controlled tone, softer than which he hadn't expected. "Yelena. She was like a sister to me."

A second passed by before the words registered in his head.

Natasha Romanoff had a sister. A sister they didn't know. Maybe Barton knew but Tony suspected it wasn't something that out of all people: she would never tell in front of him.

That was when he realised the trust she placed before him. The Natasha in front of him years ago wouldn't even dare to be so calm and relaxed in the same place as he let alone reveal something attached to her heart. She could be lying, but the way her eyes somehow went glassy and that there wasn't really any threat against the idea: was beyond the ways of how the Black Widow would go.

Tony echoed, "You have a sister?" She nodded before he then cleared his throat and added, "Anyone else?"

"Some others who I knew back in the good old days," She spoke before she audibly stopped. Natasha turned her head a little, her lips thinning before she breathed out so quietly, "And someone...he dusted too."

He.

"Special someone?" He arched a brow, sobering a little.

Okay, now he was a little curious.

Natasha gave him an unimpressed look before she shook her head. Well, what else was she expecting from him? Instead of changing the subject, she continued: "I wouldn't say special, more like someone who I never expected to know."

"Ah."

Her voice lilted, her lips quirking slightly as she exhaled. "We might've had something," Natasha said, smiling sadly back at him before she looked up towards the projector. "I realised that even the ordinary, there are ways to find people who understand what you are even if you don't seem to get it how it's possible."

Tony's mind turned to Pepper – recalling the conversation they had the night he discovered the solution of time travelling.

How she somehow just knew him even if he couldn't help but hate himself for being this way.

Pepper's love was something he still felt he didn't deserve. Even after Morgan and those five years together...

"Some people are just like that," Tony murmured, the corner of his lips lifting.

"Maybe..." She trailed off, before saying something which made him look at her with surprise, "Maybe it's just all fate."

Five years ago he would have scoffed at that idea.

But then this all happened...and now he wasn't sure if some things like that are true.

"Do you? Do you believe that?" He glanced up at her, watching her face change slightly.

With a small breath, Natasha answered, "If the universe thought to spare me, I think it's trying to tell me that there is a chance for me to try. To try and become better. For all of us to find something that means more to us than just fighting to save what we think we deserve."

Tony was lost for words, unsure whether it was awe or shock. But coming from Natasha...

She already knew what he was bound to say, shaking her head as she made a short huff, "I know that isn't something that I would say." Natasha formed a smile once more, her face truly showing something so rare between him and her. "But he said it to me once. I could only hope I get to see him again to tell him that perhaps I found it in the end."

Whoever this special person was to her, there was something in Tony that he felt determined to make sure came true. Out of all of them: he knew Natasha Romanoff deserved all the happiness. Just like everyone else in this place who wanted nothing more than to get their loved ones back.

Reaching her, he placed his hand over hers carefully.

Tony gazed up at her and spoke simply and yet certainly, "We're going to do, Tash." His lips twitched back, "For them."

With her hand turning to hold his, Natasha repeated to him with the same confident tone, "For them."

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Location: Formenos, Aman

Time: March 2981 T.A

Exactly two minutes passed since he woke up.

Apparently, he passed out whilst he was up against the wall, hadn't a pair of arms grabbed him before he could fall and hit his head on the ground like an idiot.

Nerda-no. Natasha's arms. Natasha Romanoff's arms.

Natasha Romanoff.

Tasha...

What the heck was he saying? It made no sense at all! Nothing seemed to make any sense!

He should be dead. He and Natasha should be dead. Dead from trying to get half of their universe back to existence by collecting the stones and snapping Thanos and his army into dust. They should be in the afterlife spending eternity and maybe watching over and contemplating how the rest of the team were fairing.

Did she know what happened? Did she know they won against Thanos and brought the universe all back?

His consciousness was on and off for those two minutes, only picking up several places in his sight and words that were coming from Nerdane-Natasha's lips. Oh, that sounded so weird to say now after spending almost, what, six months? Maybe even over six months. It didn't matter anyway considering he now realised why she felt so familiar to him. Why he was so open to a stranger and her son...

Okay, now that is something he'll have to address.

But when he's actually better.

When he finally did wake up longer than a few seconds, Tony found himself laying in his cot – propped up by the wall. He noticed that they were back in the large forge. The dimmed warm light of the fires was enough to spot where he was, and who was sitting in front of him - those jade eyes that he had been looking at for so long.

The same eyes he had last seen before they entered the time vortex.

Everything then came tumbling through, head throbbing as the sensation of guilt, sickness and confusion just muddled within himself. But as his stomach was practically empty, he couldn't even throw up at all. He couldn't even have the strength to gag as the exhaustion had hit him after all everything. Morgoth and the vampire. The portal and Earth.

He clenched his eyes shut, forcing him to hold his head with his hand as he groaned. He muttered underneath his breath, "I feel like I'm going to pass out...again."

From the short vision he saw, Nerdanel/Natasha held a cloth in her hand before she muttered something he couldn't understand. Before long, she reached out and placed the damp cold cloth on his forehead.

"Here, let me," She spoke quietly, shuffling closer before she wiped his face.

Sighing in relief, the coolness of the cloth sort of helped despite still feeling the iron-like sickness in his mouth. But at least his head wasn't pounding or circling about.

Gradually, Tony opened his eyes longer – finally inspecting the elf in front of him.

If elves did have magic...it definitely was powerful.

She looked even more beautiful since that day. Seeing the quirk of her lips as she looked at them all with confidence and hope. Hope that they would succeed and save the world. Her hair had been braided, now showing more of her natural red hair that the dyed blonde at the tips. Even with her height, she held her presence with strength and poise.

Now it was as if everything was enhanced. Her face still remained the same yet more sharp and soft at the same time. Her hair was all red, maybe even brighter by the warm light, and really damn long. If her hair wasn't braided intricately back, he assumed it must reach to her waist at least.

However, it was how her eyes glowed that somehow made him understand that this was the same Natasha he once knew. Even if they glowed, they remained filled with everything she endured.

Tony couldn't help but twitch his lips, his chest warming as he said something that just popped into his head; "You sound really weird with a British accent."

And to his expectation, an amused expression formed on her face as she moved the cloth away and placed it in some bowl of water.

"Is that how it comes out as?" She asked him, curious in a way by how her head tilted a little.

"Oh yeah," He couldn't deny it somehow suited her. Tony also noted back, "You do have a Russian lilt still."

There was a glimmer before her lips formed a small smile as she sat back down, crossing her legs as she looked down, eyes focused on the bowl. "Guess I can't run from my roots then," When she rose her head back, her voice grew softer as she continued, "I was surprised that I remembered Russian. In fact, I taught my children; they used to call it the secret Black Widow language."

There was a sort of face he recognized. The same one he began to notice when Morgan began to grow up and people asked about her and their family. That fond smile that actually reached people's eyes, remembering the family they loved.

For the first time, Tony finally saw it in her and there was no doubt that the warmth in his chest grew when she glanced away.

With a short snort, he replied: "Not surprised,"

He paused.

Did she just say –

"Wait, children?"

Natasha/Nerdanel nodded slowly, confirming with the same warm expression, "Seven. All of them are grown up with already a grandson...possibly a great-grandchild if I consider one of my son's foster children."

It took Tony possibly another ten seconds, making out a shocked sound that was mixed almost like a scoff, causing her to almost chuckle. He told her with a smirk, "Christ. Didn't know you had it in you. Even Morgan and Harley were enough, along with Strange's kid too." Tony softened his voice as he now added, "But I guess you got what you sort of wished. A family?"

"Don't forget you were my family too," Natasha twitched her lips as she spoke, "Even if we didn't openly say it, I considered the Avengers as my family as well."

Maybe it sounded corny to him that his heart swelled at that.

So instead he cleared his throat, questioning back at her: "Do you remember it all?"

"If I tell you that I wished I never, would you be angry?" She asked him before she inhaled sharply and her eyes somehow dimmed under the light. "Sometimes it hurts them to know it all. Everything that happened in my previous life when you're in a world that never understood the pain we live in. Especially my younger boys, they can sense my pain more. Carnistir and the Ambarussa."

"So they know then. Even him," Tony directed his gaze across the large hall, noticing the figure that was busy tinkering in his space.

The more he thought about it, he could tell almost a sort of similarity between Nerdanel/Natasha and Curufin. He might have gotten more of his dad's looks, but the slight mannerisms and the little ticks were almost like the former SHIELD agent. How he would look at something or how he would speak.

God seven kids...if he ever met the rest he wondered if they were like them. As she said to him all these months, maybe the kid called Caranthir would match her more than the rest. Or maybe even the eldest...Maedhros?

Damn, maybe he should have read the books Illyria had shoved Harley to read before their binge-watch of The Lord of the Rings.

She glanced over her shoulder, spotting her son keeping his gaze down. Though with how he assumed that elves had better hearing, he must be listening in even if it wasn't on 'purpose'.

Once she turned back, she murmured honestly, "I never lied to them. Never even tried to hide who I was because I knew who they could become. How much they have of me is surprisingly a lot...but also they share the same with their father."

After a ragged breath, he opened his palm out and just studied her.

Nerdanel and Natasha... were the same. Maybe slight differences or maybe just simple things that just weren't there because of the lives they both were brought up in, but overall showed that the names didn't really matter to her. All Tony knew then was that she accepted who she was and what she now, and she had done all she could to make her family understand what sort of blood and personality they had.

This Fëanor: sounded like a dick.

But then again it sounded almost like him albeit more elven and perhaps even more adamant to raise an army just to get back his ego. But with how Nerdanel described him so rarely in their conversations: she still loved the man she married. She loved him despite abandoning and maybe it took her a long ass time to forgive she still gave him a chance.

Just as Natasha once did.

Man...she had actually grown somewhere. Maybe just like him, and like the others. Oh hell, he knew Rogers would be proud and happy for her. And Barton? Oh, he'd be wanting to become the one and only godparent to every single child. And Bruce and Thor? Thor would enjoy hanging out with some of them and Bruce would absolutely find Curufin as another science bro to tinker with. And if Pepper, Morgan and Harley met them...oh Morgan would have them wrapped around their finger (considering he realised how much elves really liked their children).

It hit him.

Thinking about them just caused his throat to dry. His eyes stung as he tried to swallow back everything.

She didn't know what happened after Vormir. Did she know what he did?

Did she know they succeeded?

"Natasha," He began – voice now hoarse as the emotions welled up.

Nerdanel turned to him with concern.

Tony whispered, "We did it."

She reached out to take his hand and squeezed it as she stared at him with a knowing smile.

"I know."

He wasn't sure where it came from, but maybe from the pain and emotional agony, he and Nerdanel (along with her son) endured all these months and tried to suppress everything which he remembered: it all exploded out. But instead of the rage and relief...for once the tears were of happiness.

Tony Stark, the man who had no heart – cried for the love he had saved. Because even when he and Natasha weren't there to see what happened, at least they both knew that they were all back and living.

Even when they both knew this happiness was only a flicker within the uncertainty and destruction, maybe a little bit of hope is what they needed to get through this hellfire.

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Illyria Strange | The Eternal

Location: Arthorien, Far Harad, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: April 2981 T.A

Darcy always said that sarcasm usually helps in more dire situations.

Except in this case: when Illyria just wanted to scream down at a pillow and pretend that this was all a dream. That she was dead for the past three or four years and her body was found covered in layers of snow in the Alps because of her stupid ass wanting to look for energy anomalies.

But nope: she slapped herself awake and realised that it was hot as fuck and she was in a house inside a fortress that held variants of the people she knew of this world. Variants. Versions that belonged in other realities and were misplaced in a world for some reason.

Which that reason was Maglor motherfuckin' Fëanorion.

Oh hell, she wanted to smack him and just hold him by the neck (wait no: that's too much like Darth Vader sorry wrong fandom), wondering what in god's name did he thought that having variants as his 'friends' be the best idea to come into fruition? Did he not know what variants could possibly do this to the multiverse if they stayed too long in different worlds? Hadn't he met the universes with the Illuminati in them to know the number of incursions they could create just because they existed? [1][2]

Hell, she was forced to travel the Multiverse out of her will because a dark version of her red-headed bestie was after another version of her and just immediately assumed she was said person.

All whilst her dad and her Maedhros somehow got themselves stuck in the Multiverse as well with the version of herself. That 'Illyria' was way more experienced in multiversal travel, much more controlled and was rather arrogant and sarcastic even for her taste.

Not to mention that 'Illyria' wanted to kill - without hesitation - anyone who wronged her; that was perhaps something with which she wouldn't really agree.

Nah: Illyria was happy not killing anyone right now after what she did in Rivendell.

Going back to the topic: supposedly Maglor did tell her, she would've still reacted the same way she did when Mithrellas dropped the massive bombshell at her and then somehow stopped her from having a meltdown on the spot. Huh, quite reasonable for the captain of the secret guard to be calmer in a situation compared to her opposing wife who might hate her guts for being Noldo.

Hearing that Variant Mithrellas – who came from a different reality to Nimrodel – fell in love with this variant of Nimrodel was surprisingly heart-warming.

Illyria had the thank for her patience: spending possibly an hour listening and asking more questions about this place and who really did come from this universe.

Mithrellas revealed that almost all but several humans and some Avari were from the Multiverse, that they were all recruited by Maglor or by either of them whenever they would go on missions beyond this universe. Some would apparently stay just to get healed and then return to their world but many who they met stayed.

Arthorien overall was really a sanctuary. A place for people who didn't fit in their universe and chose to disappear than to die in the end of their destiny.

For her, it felt almost reasonable. How many people in her universe wished that things went better for them? How many times had she wished to pluck a Natasha or a Tony back into their universe just for the world to be complete? For Morgan Stark to have a father in her life or for Natasha Romanoff to finally get the recognition she deserved as a hero for little girls like her? Or perhaps a version of Vision, who was tossed aside and made into a weapon? If a version of Vision returned then maybe Wanda Maximoff would never need to force her way into the Multiverse?

Then again, how did this even pass through with any of them? With her dad or Uncle Wong or even the Ancient One? Surely they should have known Maglor had been stealing other people from realities and plopping them down here in the south.

And definitely the Ancient One...she must have known.

Or that Maglor was one good hide and seek player.

The entire time from waking up, getting Shana ready and meeting Bilbo before walking to the Khōn was just a blurry phase that she hadn't realised a certain hobbit had tugged her sleeve – trying to snap out of her thoughts.

"Illyria? Are you alright?"

Shaking her head, Illyria glanced down at Bilbo's concerned look before she asked confusedly, "What? Oh. I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

A nervous laugh left her mouth before she realised it just made it ten times worse.

Before she knew it, the sarcasm in her tone was very much keeping her sanity on the borders of her consciousness. "It's not as if I'm having a massive panic right now because last night someone told me that practically half of the people here are actually anomalies and now I have that sudden urge because of my upbringing that this is wrong and that this could potentially break the law of reality even though I've done it as well and—"

Oh god, she was hyperventilating.

The realization was finally hitting her back in the arse and deciding to override the adrenaline that was gone from her system since last night.

Aw fuck, everything was going at her now. Variants. Some young human girl who had supposedly died almost caused recent trauma for everyone, especially Maglor. Incursions and the Multiverse.

Not to mention that the idea that she was half-god, half-tree was probably taking a toll on her right now just made it ten times worse.

Good grief she was a tree.

What the fuck was she saying?

Finally, all the noises and alarms going off in her mind muffled as Illyria felt a hand grip hers.

She didn't need to look down to know who it was, finding the sounds dimming as she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly.

"Deep breaths, Illyria," His voice trailed into her mind, his tiny yet callous fingers rubbing across the back of her hand. "There you are."

Illyria exhaled deeply and tried to place herself back in the present. If only she could meditate again before they would go see them. Once she opened her eyes, she gazed down at him.

God, she didn't deserve a friend like him.

She didn't deserve him going to lengths at all.

Turning her hand, she grasped his hand in hers, trying to form a genuine smile. Those sage eyes twinkled under the light,

"Thank you, Bilbo," Her voice seemed faint despite how much she really did thank him for keeping her planted in the present. Illyria then joked wryly, "You know I could use that pipe and some weed right now, but we're about to go talk to them."

Letting go of her, Bilbo made a blustering noise before he snorted and eyed her with that typical bemused look.

Yeah, both of them knew she wasn't going to start smoking any time soon. Even if the end of the world was coming.

As she felt the dull weather from her mind pass a little, though still incredibly nervous and just uncomfortable, Illyria managed to mentally prepare herself before heading down the hallway towards the same room they had met Nimrodel for the first time. The Khōn just now seemed so large now, but she was ready to commit to the meeting they were going in.

Then she remembered who she and Bilbo were beside.

There with her hand taking her wrist, Shana's panicked gaze made her backtrack again. Her heart almost stopped then and Illyria had to stupidly scold herself for not telling her what they were going in for.

Shana tugged her sleeve and questioned, 'Where are you going?' She pleaded, 'Don't go!'

Her face softened and she tried to assure her as she walked back to her and knelt down. Eye to eye, Illyria placed her hand on Shana's shoulder and returned, 'Hey, don't worry. Bilbo and I are just going to talk to them for a while and I'll be back pronto.' Her eyes glanced momentarily to the side, spotting the elf that stood by the door, 'You can trust Aphadriel okay? And if you need anything, we are just in the next room.'

Shana turned to find Aphadriel, the elleth who had surprised Illyria by actually being the only other person who Shana trusted. Daeron was the other alongside the children and ent children, but since Daeron was going to be in the meeting (or was already inside), the only person was her. Said elf who still stared at her warily at most times.

But to shocking revelations, when Illyria stood back up to let Shana walk over to her, the elleth didn't give her a cold expression but instead seemed compliant and nodded.

"Don't worry, I assure you she shall be in safe hands," Aphadriel quietly spoke in a thick Silvan accent to which Illyria curtly nodded before going back to Shana with a small smile.

The next, she and Bilbo began to head down towards the doors – far from ready to head into the fray.

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Yeah no.

They were far from ready.

Or maybe it was just her.

Damn, Bilbo did well for someone whose age was obscured by a cursed sentient ring. Or that he had to endure several decades of being a co-ruler and probably learnt how to do the 'calm royal face' that she imagined the British Royal Family had to learn as well. Though considering he had Thorin for a husband, the complete opposite to poise and patience: someone had to be the one to control the reigns of negotiation.

Was she being a hypocrite? Yes. Did she give a damn? Possibly not.

This was going to be the third time she had to face some sort of council meeting and the most perfect saying: third time's a charm right?

Illyria did her best, concentrating on keeping her entire body and mind calm as the doors closed in and they appeared before the seven chairs that were propped up at the end of the massive hall. The chairs were slightly curved in by how she saw it the last time, enough for them to look at one another as they spoke, though with enough gap in front to find themselves turning heads towards her's and Bilbo's direction.

When all seven pairs of eyes came to them, never had she considered silence to be deadly.

She could even hear her heart thump against her chest as she breathed in.

Maglor sat at the centre, his face clearly trying to hide anything. But she could sense the guilt in a stark manner, almost causing the fire to grow again in her. Thankfully she caught herself and pulled back, exhaling subtly as she panned her eyes.

On Maglor's right was Nimrodel, who in turn had Mithrellas sitting on the seat in her immediate left. Sitting on the outer seat beside Mithrellas was Elurín, or Limroval (Illyria still wasn't sure which name he preferred but now was not the time to ask), whose eyes lit up and his lips formed a genuine smile back at her – a tint of sympathy as he still appeared confident and aware.

The other side did have two people which she hadn't met before. The elleth who sat directly on Maglor's left appeared too familiar, dressed in clothes that were a fusion of Noldorin and of their style here in the south. What surprised her was how short her hair was; it hung just above her shoulders; the top half tied back in a small plait that wrapped at the back in a bun.

If her eyes weren't glowing electric blue then maybe she would've looked oddly like someone she knew back in Lindon.

Daeron sat next to her, maintaining a neutral expression but she could tell he was trying to comfort her and not intimidate her. His grey robes stood out from the rest of the colourful array of styles the rest wore, acting opposite to the opulent dress Nimrodel wore which had sapphire-toned embellishments and silver jewellery.

Then it was the last person at the end, sitting on the opposite end of Elurín was a face she had only briefly seen.

But not here in Arthorien.

She had to stay calm, even if it meant ignoring all she could at the face that was almost worriedly looking at her. With a deep mental inhale, Illyria reminded herself who they were and what they were.

It was then that Nimrodel's voice echoed around the room, cutting off the silence like a blade through paper.

"Thank you for meeting with us Illyria Strange and Bilbo Baggins," Her compliant tone and assurance made her look back at her. Nimrodel continued, "Do not worry it is neither a formal meeting nor a council."

Pfft, yeah fucking right.

Illyria commented aloud in return, "Is this all of the guardians then?"

To her expectation, Maglor was the one to pick up as he calmly introduced, "It is. You've met Nimrodel, who overall protects the entirety of Arthorien and runs most of the planning and meetings here. Mithrellas whom you know from The Dar specializes in missions at a secretive scale, mostly for more skilled missions. Elurín who is our head scout." His head gestured to his left, "The other guardians are Faelivrin. She manages the external meetings with Sîrayn and their effects on the war North. Daeron who manages the Ents and Ent children and Gildor, who is—"

"Finrod Felagund."

Illyria plainly finished his sentence, folding her arms across her chest as she watched the different reactions to the name.

As expected, the variant of Elurín had gawked but almost smirked, whilst Nimrodel appeared disdained. Honestly, did she have a grudge against her just for that?

Oh right: she wasn't supposed to know about it.

Whilst Maglor's face broke with open guilt, she shrugged and simply put, "Mithrellas told me."

Once that was placed, Nimrodel rotated her head towards the other Silvan elf and accused, "You told her?"

The elleth in question merely nodded, bluntly putting, "She would have known, either way, Nimrodel." Her eyes directed straight to her – a glimmer of support in her face as she added, "She had to know who we were."

Silently thanking the elleth, her lips removed the small smile before she bluntly spoke, "To be honest you didn't even need to show Gildor, I mean no offence to everyone, but I can sense souls." She also blurted out, "And you look almost exactly like the Finrod I saw up in Lindon."

Oh yeah, none could deny how identical they were. Apart from the supposed scar that ran down his face and the blue eyes, Gildor could have been the secret twin of the certain Vanya-Noldo lord.

Illyria paused, her eyes warily looking back at the Fingon variant and quietly continued, "I just didn't realise who you were entirely."

Maybe it was because she just couldn't believe it. Variants. Those were what her father described them to be. Alternate versions of those that are different to their timestream.

The elf who supported her did somehow know what she was thinking about, elaborating more on what she said hours ago.

"We were all taken from our timelines in various places, saved by Maglor or chosen to follow him and help him with his task," Mithrellas continued, her tone exaggerating in certain words. "To you, you may think of us as a variant of those you knew of this universe, but to us: we are just people. We chose to risk our beings and pick this path instead of our...supposed life."

It was the elleth who she assumed to be Faelivrin who continued, "Maglor explained to us the risks of becoming Arfanyaras, that if we crossed travelled, we may risk exposure if we made a choice that could alter history." She held her hand out as she spoke, "That is why we stay here, in the unknown where we help those who need help. Those that have been written away from Beren and Lúthien's tales in order to make a better place."

"Both the Tolkiens and our people have done so for the past thousands of years. To ensure that Sauron does not hold all power in Middle Earth," Nimrodel stated, her chin rising up.

"But most importantly we are here to protect our side of the multiverse as well, and to prevent catastrophic events that may pose a threat to either our universe or the collapse of others." When Maglor finished, he looked at her dead in the eyes.

Illyria nodded silently before she piped in, "Did the Ancient One know?"

"She did," Maglor confirmed, no lie in his words as he still tried to maintain some strength in his posture. "She didn't approve of it at first but eventually we agreed on the terms."

Raising an eyebrow, she mentally snorted at the statement. Of course, it would come to that, considering who she was. But really, Illyria was rather surprised this passed on. Her dad would definitely have a say in Maglor's choices.

Wong would definitely have words.

Very strong words about Maglor's decisions.

"I know you are sceptical," The very sorcerer in question inhaled through his nose, spotting how his gloved hands were clasped together a little too tightly.

Oh, he was sure nervous. But why? She wasn't going to rat them out and certainly not to her father.

In fairness, despite it all being so fucking wrong it just seemed so nice. During her stay; Illyria may not have felt as if she was in a holiday resort in the Bahamas but they were welcoming. They gave her and Bilbo freedom to wander even if there were people keeping an eye on her. She wasn't forced into a house for hours and was allowed to ask questions despite the vague responses she would receive.

"In honesty: not really," Illyria confessed, causing most of her audience to either raise a brow or even smile. Even she couldn't help but send them a sort of side smile as she spoke, "I'm just amazed and confused and...just in limbo to be honest. How much you have done. But that isn't what we're here for, is it?"

"No," Nimrodel shook her head as she answered, "What we are here is to discuss what Lokachari has explained briefly to us."

"Yes."

Never had Maglor looked so relieved in changing the subject, almost sobering up as he began to explain, "There is a hidden place just beyond south of your borders and the Yellow Mountains. A place where once the Ainur dwelt before the change of this world. Even before we woke."

Fin-Gildor Inglorion murmured under his breath, "The Sea of Ringil." He glanced over to Maglor before he pursed his lips, "It is but a myth. A tale spoke once by Oromë when he met our kind in Cuiviénen." [3]

"All myths come from the truth, however," Daeron pointed out, making Gildor hum in agreement whilst Faelivrin looked at them with amusement.

(If this wasn't so important, Illyria definitely could tell that those two were together.)

"I've had visions about this place ever since I was even an elf," Illyria revealed, causing their attention back to her. "Visions of some lake and some lamp in the south. There were voices."

Mithrellas frowned, asking: "Voices?"

Of course, Maglor and Bilbo knew, but the rest didn't seem to. Maybe he had stuck to their promise and let her tell the entire story.

"None of them was familiar but they kept telling me the same thing," She inhaled when she paused. "...A beacon upon a broken shard of stone. Created beyond time and space. Between the edges of known and unknown...There you will find what you have been searching for..."

There was a second of silence...until someone spoke.

"Ormal."

Her eyes darted to where Gildor sat, his eyes looking tensed as he thinned his lips.

So whatever they speculated was right. [4]

"We need passage through whatever this jungle or wasteland this is. If we find the remains of what is there, we could possibly find a way to travel to Aman. Find a path that not even the enemy knows. Not even the Valar know," Illyria stepped forward as she told them their plans.

Faelivrin glanced over to Gildor – who simply was eyeing Maglor warily – before she responded, "Well that explains what Lúthien predicted. Ormal is perhaps the predecessor of The Trees and would ultimately produce quite high energy sources. No doubt it would link very much to your own considering of your power, Illyria Ettelëa." Her lips quirked to a small smile. "And as the Silmarils are connected as well and with their abilities..."

"The energy of Ormal could potentially create a large enough rift to pass into Aman," Maglor nodded, looking briefly to Faelivrin before he continued. "That is what Illyria, Bilbo and I have speculated when we finally combined Illyria's visions, maps and Lúthien's predictions. And if Ormal is real and that is the key to finding a way between the realms of our universe—"

Illyria then cut him off a little too enthusiastically, "—We could cross into Aman without the detection of the Valar."

Her body was practically shaking, which was usually often typical when it came to scientific explanations. If there was more time, Illyria could go on about the possibilities of harnessing radiation at that scale. No more shitty Silmaril portals being created in an Oxford university lab.

Not that Fëanor and her work were shitty. It's just that the Silmarils were just difficult to control in the sense of portal making.

It grew silent after she finished, causing her eyes to wander everywhere else. Unfortunately, she couldn't really tell who agreed with the idea. Even by Elurín's wonder and curiosity to Gildor Inglorion's pale face at probably remembering horrific about the Silmarils: none of the six looked convinced.

Honestly, how much did Maglor really tell them?

Or maybe was it a bad move?

Daeron for the second time spoke up, clearing his throat. "Well, I for one am not adept at such things as astrophysics and nuclear energy sciences..."

Well, that wasn't what she expected to come out of an elf's mouth.

"...But if it means finding a way to truly elevate our aid to the north without risking incursions and other interdimensional threats then I shall accept your request and provide whatever aid you need."

(Yep, still weirded out.)

"As will I," Faelivrin looked at her with a knowing and sincere smile. "I may not be able to help you directly due to the issues arising going north, but I shall accept your request."

"Well, I've already said yes." Elurín heaved out a breath as he relaxed his posture, giving Illyria a wink before he gestured to the sorcerer who sat in the centre. "And Maglor and I know you will need someone like me for something like this."

That's three down then, and they could only hope one more could go on their side.

With that, a voice sent Illyria's eyes directing straight to her, "I agree..."

"Mithrellas," Nimrodel's voice snapped but she quickly retracted as the Silvan elleth sent her a blank expression before she closed her eyes and breathed in.

"Because we all know this could be our only chance. And perhaps our only chance to change the tide in this war." Mithrellas' voice grew louder, no turning back as her confidence seemed to grow. "We have been here in the South. Have fought countless wars in different realities all just for this moment. We made this reality by learning from the mistakes made by others...And in truth: we should never have."

Daeron almost looked at her worriedly, but not in disagreement but in concern for her instead.

"Mel—"

"I am tired of fighting. Fighting and making choices for others. I leave Arthorien, hoping to change things for the better. And for a while it does. Saving people to make sure people would not die because of illnesses or lack of food. But that is not enough," Mithrellas hit her hand at the edge of her armrest, her face scrunched in determination and anguish as she spat out the rest of her words. "I hear of children being sacrificed. People forced to fight for a cause they didn't want to begin with. Their own faith is being manipulated by the hunger for power. And what do we do? We sit here in the desert: in a realm that is closed off from other people."

The room was dead silent and neither Illyria nor Bilbo dared to move nor breathe as the waves of anger continued to clash against the room.

All whilst everybody all seemed to have different reactions. The understanding from both Daeron and Gildor Inglorion to the pride in Faelivrin and Maglor whilst Elurín nodded in agreement...compared to the one other blonde elleth who just stared blankly.

Perhaps the two didn't really know the truth of each other's feelings. That one disagreed with the ways of their protection whilst the others believed that they needed to fight more.

"Arthorien was supposed to help those who need us the most," Mithrellas emphasised, directing her gaze at each of the other guardians as she sucked in one last breath and continued, "And as much as I always push for regulations and the rules, recent events have shown that what we've done isn't helping them. No, we're hiding. Because we're afraid of what it could do to us. We're afraid to die because we don't know where we will go. If we would be brought to this universe's Halls or not... should not matter. Death should not matter to those who have already cheated out of it already."

In a way that had taken a massive blow in not only the rest but for Illyria as well.

That wasn't what she expected.

And no; it wasn't bad at all. Maybe it was something they all needed, a wake-up call to everyone in this room to understand how much control and power they really had over this universe.

Because variant or not: they were all sorcerers (or so she suspected if Maglor taught them all about the Mystic Arts). They knew the consequences of messing with reality and manipulating it to their advantage. If they have been doing small bits which weren't changing the end goal then who were they in the larger picture? They were supposed to protect reality from those wanting to destroy it.

Did the disaster that Mithrellas said to her that night truly change their ways of saving this world?

The pondering looks and the pained expressions halted when Gildor cleared his throat and began, "Mithrellas is right." He looked across to the Silvan, giving her a look of support. "We have been given a chance to change things and yet there has been no true change in the course of this reality. What we need to do is to make the choice and help the north directly."

If Illyria wasn't already shocked that this person was who he said he was...then her jaw must be six feet under right now.

Huh...so this was Finrod Felagund. Not the one she knew back in Lindon – who opposed indirectly said nothing in helping the east – but someone who was much older. Even at the surface, Illyria noticed how damaged his fëa was, patched in places that she couldn't really tell if she tried.

Perhaps she misjudged his character. Maybe beneath those glowing blue eyes, there was an entire story that told more of the truth about him and how he came here in the first place.

A story that changed the eldest son of Finarfin into an ellon who wants to risk his life to save those who won't even think a minute about who he really was.

"What about all of you? Of all the variants of this world?" Illyria asked, turning her gaze up to Gildor. "Are you not afraid?"

"Oh, I am very afraid, Illyria Strange." Gildor Inglorion answered her – the corner of his lips turning upwards. "But the years we have been living as Arfanyarossë, and despite being the youngest of all of us: I understood the cost of being who we are. There is nothing braver than facing the biggest fears that cross our paths."

It was there she couldn't help but sense the warmth filling her chest.

Hope. That was the feeling she sensed.

And someone so unexpected had given her that.

"Nimrodel?" Maglor looked at his left and began, "You must know that—"

"I decline your request."

Nimrodel stared blankly but was far from the cold-cutting tone of her voice.

"And that is because I love the people who all sit here. I love the people who live in Arthorien and the people we have met in Far Harad. Without them, I have none to love, because where do I go if all are gone? This world has its own Nimrodel and an Amroth. My Amroth was killed in the sea whilst the very love of my life who sits beside me...she chooses something that is far higher than my beliefs."

The White Lady of Arthorien panned at every face before she took a long time staring at the love of her life.

Carefully, Nimrodel reach out to take Mithrellas' hand and squeezed it.

"I don't deny that I am selfish. That I want Arthorien to stand and if Dagor Dagorath comes I will do all I could to evacuate into another reality just to save us," She gulped before her face hardened once more and she looked down at Illyria back. "I know this won't matter in our vote but I wanted to tell you all directly that I would everything to keep you all safe. Even if it means incursion or not."

For a moment: Illyria understood.

She understood Nimrodel's side of this argument, knowing well how much she wanted to do the same and save the people that she loved.

But for the sake of the world? She already knew so many people who did the same.

And did it work for them? To some extent it did. But had it cost most lives lost and more blood spilt because of it? Yes.

Because Illyria had seen and been in the same spot. So did her friends and family.

Gildor finally interrupted the quietness, "Well this session then concludes one thing...you along with Lokachari and Limroval would set off beyond the Yellow Mountains as soon as possible."

Faelivrin hummed before clasping her hands, "We wish you all the best, Illyria Strange and Bilbo Baggins." She lowered her chin and spoke, "We will do all we can to now help in this coming war."

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[1] - Illuminati: A Secret Organisation in Marvel Comics (and now in the MCU in DS: MoM) comprised six members. They tackle threats that made pose a threat to the Multiverse.
[2] - Incursion: When a boundary between two universes weakens, one tries to fight the other until one succeeds. There are other classes of incursions, such as continuity incursions, interdimensional incursions, time incursions etc.
[3] - The Sea of Ringil: An inland sea south of the Sea of Helcar. It joined together later when the world became round to become larger. It was created after the destruction of the Southern Lamp, Ormal, by Melkor.
[4] - Ormal: One of the Two Lamps made by Aule and hallowed by Varda. Destroyed later by Melkor.

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A/N: We finally get another Natasha/Nerdanel and Tony moment which I feel needs more but honestly it feels more special when there are only these. 

We also get the full Guardians in a MoM Illuminati style meeting, which sort of explains their purpose here but also sets up more allies for Illyria in the future. I would only say to keep an eye on them as they'll be something to look out for in the following parts.

Got one more chapter to post and then should be enough if I don't have the wifi to do this abroad. <3

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Edited: 20/03/2023