Someone interested in us.

Chapter 18: Edenian Nights, Pt 1.

After cleaning himself up and spending a few more quiet, tender moments with Mileena, Fenrir finally excused himself and made his way through the palace corridors toward his own chambers. The evening had settled peacefully over the royal palace, lanterns casting warm amber light across polished stone while servants quietly disappeared into the background. For the first time that day, he allowed himself to think that perhaps he would have a few moments to breathe.

Hopefully, Jade and Kitana had finished their private conversation by now.

Someone else, however, had very different plans. The moment he reached the corridor outside his chambers, a blur of crimson exploded from his blind side.

A powerful shove caught him completely off guard. Fenrir staggered several steps before crashing through the half-open doorway of an empty room. The wooden door slammed shut behind them with enough force to rattle the hinges.

Before he could properly recover, the figure was already on top of him. One knee pressed firmly against his waist, while both of his wrists were pinned above his head with surprising strength. His instincts awakened instantly, and every muscle in his body tightened. His senses sharpened. His breathing steadied. Years of combat demanded a response.

Instead, confusion replaced violence. "...Skarlet?"

She didn’t answer; nothing escaped from her lips. Her crimson hair spilt over one shoulder as she leaned above him, her scarlet eyes roaming across his face with unsettling intensity. She wasn't looking at him like an assassin measured a target. She was studying him, trying to solve something.

Her expression remained unreadable, yet beneath that usual cold discipline lingered something entirely foreign to her. Curiosity. Frustration. Longing. Almost desperation. It was as though she expected the answer to reveal itself simply by looking at him long enough.

"What are you—" Fenrir began to speak, his tone turning commanding slowly. His patience thin.

"How?" Her voice cut through his question before it could finish. Quiet and low, almost reverent. Begging rather than demanding. "How do you do it?"

Fenrir blinked. For perhaps the first time since arriving in Outworld, he truly had no idea what someone wanted from him. "...Do what?"

No answer came from her, only those crimson eyes. Still searching… trying their best to understand.

"Skarlet..." His voice softened, choosing diplomacy over authority. "I honestly don't know what you're asking." He tested her grip; it was strong. Far stronger than most would expect from someone her size. "Skarlet. Could you let go of me?" His voice remained calm despite the absurdity of the situation.

Again, silence.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere." Still nothing. "Perhaps," he continued patiently, "we could have this conversation without you pinning your Emperor to the floor."

She blinked, finally realising what she was doing. For several long seconds, she looked at him, almost surprised by his response. Another ruler would have already called for guards. Shao Kahn would have broken her spine before demanding an explanation.

Fenrir...Asked her politely.

An unfamiliar irritation escaped her as she silently acknowledged she'd crossed a line. Without another word, she released him and stepped back.

Fenrir rose moments later, rolling one shoulder before rubbing the slight ache left behind where she'd restrained him. "...Quite the greeting."

She folded her arms across her chest, restoring the stoic posture expected of Shao Kahn's personal assassin. At least, she tried. Her eyes betrayed her. They were still searching him, still asking. Still demanding an answer, she herself couldn't define.

"Good," Fenrir said evenly. "Now we're on equal footing." He took one step forward, then another. Before Skarlet realised what was happening, he moved.

The distance between them vanished in an instant. One hand caught her wrist, the other guided her arm behind her back. With practised precision, he pivoted, turning her effortlessly before pinning her gently, but immovably, against the stone wall.

It happened so quickly she scarcely understood what had occurred until she found herself trapped exactly as he had been moments earlier. Her eyes widened. "...What—"

She struggled instinctively; his grip did not tighten through brute strength. It simply... didn't move. He gripped her like iron.

"Let go of me." It was an order. Or at least...It tried to be.

Fenrir's voice answered, cold and absolute. "Quiet."

A shiver ran through Skarlet's body before she could stop it, not from pain from his grip, but from fear. Actual fear.
For perhaps the first time since becoming Shao Kahn's assassin...She realised Fenrir could overpower her whenever he wished.

And he hadn't even drawn a weapon.

He leaned closer. "One." His voice remained calm. "Never." A pause. "Ever." Another. "Do that again."

"I—"

“I don’t care.” He added solemnly, speaking as a stern emperor. For a moment, the room answered to him, commanding it with just his words. “If you do that ever again, I will punish you.” His eyes never left hers. The room itself seemed to be still. Even the air felt heavier beneath the weight of his authority. “Don’t test me, Skarlet. Understood?”

“I-“She repeated, almost pleading for him to hear her out. Yet he wouldn’t budge.

“UNDERSTOOD?” he asked once again, holding her right arm tighter behind her back. Ordering rather than requesting.

She stood silently for a second, staring back at him. No anger, no resentment. Only respect for the earth remains.
"...Understood." The answer came quietly. "...I'm sorry."

The words felt unfamiliar. Almost awkward. "It won't happen again."

Fenrir searched her face. In that moment, he knew that she truly meant no harm.

The mask had fallen. Gone was the bloodthirsty assassin. Standing before him instead was a frightened young woman who genuinely feared she had just ruined something she couldn't yet name.

"I promise." Barely above a whisper.

He believed her. His expression softened. Without another word, he released her. She rubbed her wrist almost absentmindedly before taking a slow breath.

"I'm glad." His voice carried genuine relief. "I'd rather never have to make good on that threat." He meant it; rules had to exist. Especially now.

He was Emperor. Every action became precedent. Mercy without boundaries became weakness. Weakness invited betrayal. And betrayal was something Outworld had no shortage of.

Yet despite everything...Fenrir found himself strangely fond of Skarlet. She fascinated him.

Perhaps it was the contradiction she embodied. A woman sculpted into a living weapon who somehow still retained fragments of humanity beneath years of bloodshed.

Perhaps it was the fiery crimson of her hair, how beautiful it complemented her perfect body and curves.
Perhaps it was the unwavering conviction she carried.

Or perhaps...It was because every time she allowed the mask to slip, he caught fleeting glimpses of someone she herself had never been allowed to become.

He couldn't explain it; he simply liked her. In his own peculiar way.

"Now..." His tone relaxed considerably. "Two." He folded his arms. He needed to choose his next words carefully; the way he would say them was vital for his relationship with Skarlet. "What exactly do you want from me?" He gestured around the room. "Because I sincerely doubt you destroyed a perfectly good door just to wrestle me onto the floor."

For the first time in years... Skarlet hesitated. "I..." Nothing came. She knew why she'd sought him out.

Didn't she? What was this all about? A foolish errand to seek answers for a question she didn’t even know which it was? Perhaps she was more foolish than she thought.

She had acted on instinct, an instinct she couldn't explain.

Fenrir waited patiently. "You asked me how I do something." He tilted his head. "What was it?"

Again...Those gentle eyes. Patient, interested, beautiful. Never demanding. Never judging. Every time he looked at her like that...Something inside her tightened. No one had ever looked at her that way. Not Shao Kahn. Not her fellow assassins. Not anyone.

When they looked at her...They saw a weapon. A servant. An executioner.

Fenrir looked at her...as though she were simply a person. It frightened her.

"I..." She swallowed, taking a confident stance. She needed to confront this burning feeling that had eaten her away for weeks. “I've been feeling…strange.”

Fenrir's brow furrowed. It was strange to see her this way. For a moment, he felt as though he was talking to Mileena. Those quiet and fragile moments when she needed his warmth and comforting words…those moments felt exactly as this one right now. "Changing?"

"I don't understand what's happening to me." The admission felt like tearing open an old wound. "I can still perform every duty expected of me."

She quickly straightened herself. "I haven't become weak." Almost as though she needed to convince herself. Then she added, whispery. "...I think."

“Skarlet,” Fenrir said, taking her hand in his with a touch that was soft, careful, and unmistakably concerned. “When did this begin? Do you have any idea?”

She nodded slowly and lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes held her in place, blue threaded with darker depths, bright and steady all at once, like light contained inside shadow. They were beautiful. He was beautiful. The thought came to her without permission, and for a fleeting second, she almost recoiled from it. Yet perhaps that was precisely why she saw him that way: because some part of her had already begun to understand that these feelings could no longer be ignored.

“Since you arrived…” she admitted quietly. “When I speak with you... when I am near you... I feel as though things make sense. I feel safe. My body still burns warm most of the time, but I can endure it better. I can feel my blood moving through me, hot and restless, like it wants to become something violent... and yet when I am near you, it settles. It feels like fire with purpose. Like it has found where it belongs.”

Fenrir froze for a heartbeat.

“Oh…” he muttered.

Then the meaning of her words struck him with the force of a blow, and his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Oh.” He looked at her again, now openly startled. The girl had just confessed to him, and yet she seemed not to fully understand what she had confessed, or perhaps she understood only enough to know that she could no longer keep it buried. The worry that followed in her expression made him realize she feared she had said something wrong.

“Skarlet... do you... uhm...” he began, searching for the right words with unusual uncertainty. Then, after a brief pause, he asked it plainly. “Do you have feelings for me?”

Her expression shifted instantly, mirroring his own surprise. And then, quietly, it became clear to her as well.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps her body had been demanding this all along, his presence, his warmth, his touch, the calm that came from standing close enough to feel him breathe. She certainly liked him. He was the only one around whom she felt truly safe. The only one she could trust. And even now, she did not understand why. She only knew the truth of it, deep in her chest, where Shao Kahn’s conditioning had not quite managed to silence everything.

It felt as though the dark magic that had been used to shape her was slowly being undone simply by being near Fenrir. As if he were changing her in ways she did not yet have words for.

And deep down, she did not want that to stop.

With a small surge of courage, she reached out and took his arm with the same tenderness he had shown her. Then, in a voice so quiet it seemed to come from somewhere older and deeper than fear, she said, “I... I think I do, Emperor.”

The words hung between them.

Then she lowered her gaze, realizing fully what she had just admitted. She had declared herself to him, the emperor. Yet instead of shame, she felt something else entirely. Relief. Lightness. As though a burden she had carried for far too long had finally begun to crack and fall away.

This was what she wanted. This wasn’t Shao Kahn’s command. This was not the purpose he had given her; it was her own choice.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Fenrir answered after a moment, his voice softer than before. “And I’m not trying to be rude, but are you sure about this?”

Skarlet considered the question carefully. When she looked up again, there was certainty in her crimson eyes, still guarded, still wary, but honest now in a way they had never been before.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

She held his gaze with a steadiness that was almost startling, care and need replacing the usual dread she reserved for her targets. “I cannot deny this any longer. I have spent so long trying to understand what was wrong with me that I never realized the answer was standing in front of me all along.”

Fenrir's expression softened, though his tone remained calm and measured. “And yet you’re not saying it with the joy one usually associates with love,” he said gently. “You sound certain, yes, but also as though this is something that shouldn’t be happening.”

Skarlet looked down briefly, her voice falling quieter. “It is. It is not right, Empero—”

“Fenrir,” he corrected, cutting her off, though not harshly. There was warmth in it, not authority. “Call me Fenrir. At this point, I think we’ve earned that much in private.”

For the briefest instant, she smiled. Small, involuntary, and quickly hidden. Fenrir saw it anyway, and instead of pointing it out, he allowed it to remain untouched between them like something fragile and precious.

She nodded, then tried again. “As I was saying, Fenrir... this cannot be happening between us. It is not right. It is not my place to feel these things for you. I am not the thing you think you can make me be.” Her arms folded across her chest, not in defiance, but in defence, as though she were trying to hold herself together. “I am a weapon. The hidden blade beneath your hand.”

With that, she turned and began to move toward the door.

But Fenrir reached out and caught her arm before she could go. “Wait.” His tone was urgent, but not angry. “You can’t tell me all of that and then just walk away, Skarlet.”

She stopped, but she did not pull free. Instead, she turned and met his eyes again. “I know,” she said quietly. “But what I said is true, Fenrir. Emotion is weakness. I cannot allow myself to feel this way. It would only harm you.”

“Emotions make us stronger,” he replied with steady conviction. “Fear. Sadness. Love. Compassion. Rage. They shape us. They make us who we are. And you should not deny who you are.”

Her eyes widened slightly, listening now with the full weight of her attention.

“If you believe you’re stronger by cutting yourself off from everything, then go on and do it,” he said, his voice still calm, but firmer now. “But understand this, it will only hollow you out in the end. I’m not saying that because I enjoy being emotional more than being cold. I’m saying it because life would be meaningless without any of it.”

“But can’t you see?” she shot back, her voice trembling now with something dangerously close to tears. “Not even a minute after I tell you this, and you are already making room for me in your heart!”

She stopped herself, breathing more sharply than before.

“I am not being fearful, Fenrir. I am being rational. I cannot love you. I cannot reciprocate this knowing I may hurt you.

They would use me. You know the kind of people we are dealing with. You think the sorcerer would not think of that? You think he would not twist me into a weapon against you?”

“That can only happen if you allow them to do it,” he answered solemnly. “And believe me when I say I know that better than anyone. I have lost more people than I can count.”

Skarlet faltered at that. The force of his words seemed to quiet something in her.

Then, softly, almost afraid of the answer, she asked, “Then why do you keep repeating it? Why risk that kind of pain? Why try this with Kitana, or Jade, or Mileena, knowing you could be hurt? Why would I even try this, knowing I might hurt you?”

“Because it is what we want,” Fenrir said simply. “It is what our hearts want.”

“I don’t,” she said at once, though the words sounded less like conviction and more like an attempt to convince herself.
“Is that really the Skarlet I know speaking?” he asked, his expression thoughtful, his voice low and solemn. “The one who can spend hours speaking with me about everything and nothing? Or the one who still sees herself as Shao Kahn’s tool?”
That made her go still. For what felt like an eternity, she said nothing.

His question struck deeper than any blade ever could. It slipped past the walls she had spent a lifetime building and reached the place she herself had never dared to examine. For the first time since her creation, Skarlet turned inward, searching for an answer that had never belonged to Shao Kahn.

Who was she? An assassin? A bodyguard? A weapon? A servant fashioned from blood and sorcery?

Or was there someone beneath all of that, someone who had been buried beneath years of obedience and was only now beginning to breathe?

Perhaps even her name had never truly been hers.

“Skarlet.”

A title. A designation. A name chosen by the man who had fashioned her into his perfect instrument. She had answered to it because she had never known there was another option. But perhaps names were not owned by those who bestowed them. Perhaps they belonged to those who chose to carry them.

If she was to forge herself anew, then perhaps she could reclaim even that name, not as Shao Kahn’s creation, but as her own.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

She was still an assassin. She was still a bodyguard. She would still become Fenrir's hidden blade if that was the path she chose. But she would never again be anyone’s tool.

She could have betrayed him countless times since his arrival in Outworld. No one would have questioned it. No one would have been surprised. Instead, she had remained at his side, not because she had been commanded, but because she had wanted to.

The realization settled warmly inside her chest. Everything before this moment had belonged to someone else. Every order. Every battle. Every execution. Every victory. Even every failure. They had all belonged to Shao Kahn.

This belonged to Skarlet.

She would have to build this new version of herself from the ground up. It would be difficult. She would make mistakes. She would question herself. She would stumble. Yet, strangely, she welcomed the challenge.

Perhaps Fenrir had been right. Perhaps strength was not the absence of emotion. Perhaps true strength was having the courage to feel everything and continue walking regardless. Perhaps she could allow herself to hope, to fear, to become angry, to laugh, to grieve, to forgive, to love.

The last thought frightened her most of all. Yet instead of pushing it away, she embraced it.

The future no longer looked like a battlefield stretching endlessly before her. It resembled a path disappearing into thick mist, unknown, uncertain, terrifying, and beautiful. And for the first time, she wanted to discover what waited beyond it.
She opened her eyes. This time, when she looked at Fenrir, there was no hesitation left within them, only quiet resolve. “I know what I want.”

She crossed the remaining distance between them with slow, deliberate steps before gently placing her hand against his abdomen. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath her fingertips. He made no attempt to move, no attempt to rush her. He simply allowed her to choose.

“I know who I want to become.” Fenrir's expression softened, but he said nothing. He simply listened. “I want to be...” She smiled faintly. “...me.” The word felt strange upon her tongue. It also felt right. “I don’t know who she is yet.”

A small laugh escaped her, quiet and almost embarrassed.

“But I think I’d like to meet her.”

A brief silence followed, and then she asked the question that mattered more than any confession she had made that evening. “Will you help me find her?”

Fenrir smiled, not proudly or triumphantly, but warmly. He reached forward, brushing a loose strand of her crimson hair behind her ear before letting his hand rest gently against her cheek. His touch carried no expectation, only reassurance.
“You already started.”

She blinked. “What?”

“The woman standing in front of me.” He smiled. “She isn’t the same woman Shao Kahn wanted you to be. She’s the woman you chose to become.” Skarlet felt her throat tighten. “You don’t need me to tell you who you are.” He shook his head softly. “No one can.”

“But...” His thumb traced her cheek with the lightest movement. “If you want someone to walk beside you while you discover it...” His smile widened ever so slightly. “...I’d be honored.”

A warmth spread across her face. It wasn’t the fever that had haunted her for weeks. This warmth was different. Gentler. Safer. Alive.

She looked into his eyes once more and realized something then. He wasn’t looking at Shao Kahn’s assassin or outworld’s deadliest assassin. He wasn’t even looking at the emperor’s protector.

He was looking at her, simply her. No one had ever done that before, that realization made the decision for her.

She stepped closer. Rising onto the tips of her toes to bridge the difference in height, she slowly pressed her lips against his. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t passionate. It was curious, like someone discovering warmth for the very first time.

Fenrir answered immediately. One arm settled naturally around her waist to steady her while the other rested gently against her back. He never pulled her closer than she wished. He simply followed her pace and allowed her to lead.

For Skarlet, time ceased to exist; The palace, the throne and the war. The countless ghosts of her past, even they faded. There was only warmth, his heartbeat, and his embrace. For the first time since her creation, she felt safe.

When she finally drew back, she opened her eyes reluctantly, almost afraid the moment had been a dream.

Fenrir's amused smile greeted her. “So...” One eyebrow lifted. “Was that what you wanted?”

Colour rushed into her cheeks, but a genuine smile spread across her face. “It was.” She laughed softly. “I think... I’ve wanted to do that for much longer than I realized.” She looked at him with quiet sincerity. “Thank you.”

Fenrir chuckled. “No.” He gently squeezed the hand she still rested against him. “You don’t thank someone for accepting a gift.” His gaze remained steady. “This belongs entirely to you. You made this choice. I was simply fortunate enough to witness it.”

She stared at him. Then she laughed. Not politely or awkwardly. A real laugh, bright, natural, unrestrained. The sound surprised her so much that she laughed again. “Jade is right you know; you really are a fool.”

Fenrir folded his arms with exaggerated confidence. “I’ve been called worse.” She tilted her head, unable to suppress the mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “And yet...” He grinned. “...you seem remarkably fond of this particular fool.”

“I am.” There wasn’t a trace of hesitation anymore. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment before speaking again. “Would you perhaps...” A playful glimmer entered her crimson eyes. “...like to continue this conversation later…In my chambers?”

Only after hearing the sentence aloud did, she realized the implication. Her eyes widened, and then she smirked. “That came out differently than I intended.” She stared at him with flirtatious eyes, despite the forwardness of her proposal. She was too happy to care in this moment. “Though...” The corner of her mouth curved upward. “...I suppose I wouldn’t object.”

Fenrir actually laughed. The unexpected boldness caught him completely off guard. “I’d like that.” He smiled. “But first...” He sighed dramatically. “...I should probably reassure Jade and Kitana that their Emperor hasn’t been murdered.”

Skarlet blinked. “Right.” Then realization dawned. “Oh...” She looked away with theatrical embarrassment. “That was where you were going when I...”

“When you assaulted your Emperor?” Fenrir finished innocently.

“I restrained him,” she corrected with mock dignity.

“You tackled me.” She added amused at her stubbornness. “I distinctly remember meeting the floor.”

“You are exaggerating.” She folded her arms. “It was a controlled descent.”

Fenrir couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “So that’s what we’re calling it now.” Then she gave her a stern look. “Never do it again though.”

She chuckled, then answered with the same tone. “I won’t…in public.” She answered grinning at the end, founding herself laughing. It came so naturally that she barely recognized the sound as her own.

Finally, she stepped backward toward the doorway and stopped just before crossing it. For one last moment, she simply looked at him, not because she feared forgetting his face, but because she feared forgetting how she felt.

Free.

She smiled, not the calculated smile of an assassin, not the victorious smile of a killer, but something far more genuine. “You truly are a strange Emperor.” She smiled even wider. “In the best possible way.”

Their eyes met one last time. Then she turned and quietly disappeared into the corridor beyond.

The chamber fell silent.

Fenrir remained where he stood for several long moments, an unconscious smile lingering upon his face.

Favourite girl so far?

16 votes · Closes Aug 1, 2026, 3:04 AM (4 weeks from now)

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Kitana 31.3% (5 votes)

Jade 62.5% (10 votes)

Mileena 31.3% (5 votes)

Skarlet 25% (4 votes)