Denigoddess2001@aol.com
08/10/01
Princess Ashanti 1.0

Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles. They belong to Disney. I do not own X-Men. They belong to Marvel Comics. All original characters belong to Denigoddess2001.

I do not mean to offend anyone with this work. Every good character must have a good flaw to make him or her believable. I DO NOT endorse bigotry based upon gender, orientation, religion, creed or color. Yet, such a thing could happen in the Marvel Universe, why not the Gargiverse? What would happen if Puck decided to run amok with a little magick?

This work is rated R for strong content, strong language and adult themes

Wren felt the rays of morning gently warm the contours of her face. She turned in the direction of the morning and saw the bright morning sun greeting her cheerily. She looked at interior of the cabin that Demetrius had so painstakingly made a den. It charmed her that he was so far to honor her with an ancient Gargoyle custom.

It went further than honoring tradition. Demetrius was a stickler for every minute detail. Combined with an artistic eye, a diligent pursuit of excellence, and fiery idealism and she had her lover in once complex, enigmatic package. He had taken her to his specially prepared love nest and made love with her well into the night.

[I guess that since we were married by a goddess, that makes it legal.] She mused. She appreciated deeply Xanatos' "documents" given to them as a joining present. The packet included birth certificates, marriage licenses, college transcripts, credit cards, and various other things needed for Demetrius to assume his human identity during daylight hours. She knew it to be a gift to them from the Powers-That-Be.

[It wouldn't be so bad to stay here. Gargoyles are accepted here in this dimension more so than in ours. We can have a good life. We could have the house, the kids, the mini-van and the family dog. We'd just have horns and talons after dark. It wouldn't be so bad. Demetrius would acclimate. I'd adjust It's not like I left anyone behind.]

[Liar.] She chided herself.

She missed HER Owen, her David, and her Hudson. She longed to speak to be with the other members of the clan: Veda, Kellen, Coldfire, Coldstone, Angus and Brooklyn. The only one she never wanted to see again was Atalanta. The golden Gargoyle was the only that Wren detested with the greatest of passions.

She remembered that innocent night on Caledon Isle that Scottish July evening. It had been a night of celebration for the clan around the bonfire. Wren felt sentiment fill her mind as she thought of those first halcyon nights when times with Demetrius were unfettered and innocent. They walked leisurely to Atalanta's forge and watched her work.

"Atalanta, wellmet!" Demetrius and the golden Gargoyle grasped their wrists in greeting. "How comes your work this night?"

"Well." Atalanta said nothing as she quickly glanced at the human and then, just as quickly, ignored her. "Brother, what brings you by this way?" You finally chose to participate in the festivities?"

"I was detained for a short time." He replied warily.

Atalanta again looked disdainfully at the human female beside him. "I can only guess why."

Wren heard the sneer in her words. The golden Gargoyle was one of the few that shunned the overtures made by Xanatos and the others. She felt great anger at most humans for the atrocities committed by them against the clan. Atalanta thought of them as nothing more than hairless apes only good for destroying one another.

Demetrius stood as a fortress behind Wren. She felt his warm hands rest easily on her shoulders.

[Even then, he protected me. How did he know that our friendship would come this great love?] Wren marveled at how early their affinity had began.

Slumber left her as consciousness filled her mind. [This is the first day of the rest of my life with Demetrius. I'll be damned if I'm going to let Atalanta ruin my happiness. That little scenario happened in another place and another time.]

Wren found Demetrius a multifarious fusion of ancient and modern, Gargoyle and Human. By Clan terms, he was an eccentric maverick. He openly embraced human contact and kindness. He avidly learned human language and customs. He adored human cuisine and entertainment. He loved a human woman. His essence was idealistic, fiery, ardent, and teasing; truly unlike the stoic and taciturn temperaments that trademarked the rest of his clan.

Wren knew where his heart lie. She knew it was treason to sway him from the Gargoyle way. It defined him. It was who he was and what he did. He was truly Gargoyle. His first instinct was to protect. The night that Wren wanted him to remain while Goliath and the others fought Ares, Demetrius refused her plea for him to stay. It was one of the incredibly rare times when they were at odds. He honored Gargoyle custom when he took her to den and wanted to her to become his mate under the light of a mating moon. His loyalty was unquestionable. He kept his word to the letter. His Gargoyle instincts were primal and fierce.

[This isn't his home. He needs his clan. He needs Caledon. This clan isn't his or mine. Where I go, he goes. Well, now I realize the sacrifices he has made to keep that simple promise.] She blamed the stinging mist in her eyes on staring into the morning sun. [What you need, I will give you. I promise.]

Ten days in this wonderful dimension allowed them their taste of Paradise. She had enough faith in their love to know they stood a good chance of being together for a very long time. Wren inhaled deeply to exorcize the melancholy looming over her. She held her hand up to the light to see if she had slept through her first transformation.

Owen thought it great sport to make her and Demetrius 'half of the other.' Now, at night she became half-gargoyle. At dusk, he became half-human. She realized it to be both a blessing and a curse. They were the only a few "Nightkind" in the entire world. She knew there were others like them; Goliath and Adrienne's daughter, Greer and her half-brother, Darius Maza. Goliath had spoken briefly of a Gargoyle/ Human hybrid named Delilah. Wren counted five total.

She held her hand in the morning light and examined it. Gone were the five slim, tapered talons that marked her transmutation of the previous evening. She saw five human fingers wiggling in front of her. She rolled on her side and let her hand fall to the apex of where her spine and derriere met. She felt no long prehensile appendage lashing to and fro. She felt only her skin.

[I'm human again.] She breathed with relief. Then, it hit her. [Demetrius is HUMAN!!]

[How will Demetrius look as a human? Are his eyes still be lavender as lilacs? Is his face remain wickedly handsome?] Wren eagerly turned away from the morning sun to see for the first time the human face of Demetrius Nightkind. His head remained turned away from her Wren saw that he was entirely covered by the Egyptian cotton linens of their mating bed. She excitedly pulled back the coverlet to view her sleeping mate.

[Black Hair? Demetrius' hair is naturally WHITE!!]

"HOLY SHIT!" She shrieked.

Demetrius bolted abruptly upright. His head darted around. His muscled arms tensed and brought Wren to his smooth chest. "Milady, what ails you? What is wrong?"

"Oh my god." Each word came out as a short, abrupt gasp. "Demetrius... is that YOU?"

She gawked at him as though he had grown a third eye and danced the funky chicken. The dismay on her features caught him unawares. Then, he realized that she was seeing him as a human for the first time. His brow creased in worry. His eyes of lavender darkened to a stormy indigo with her distress.

"Wren, what is wrong?" He asked pointedly. She sat there with mouth agape and jaw slack. He voice seemed to leave her at that moment.

Wren found it difficult to gulp away the large lump lodged in her dry throat. Demetrius held up his hand before him and carefully examined it.

"I have fingers." He whispered in awe. He was a small child receiving that special toy during a birthday. He wiggled them in front of him. A laughter bubbling with joy burst forth. "Wren! By the Dragon, Puck did it. I have five fingers."

"I see that."

"What ails you, Love?" He sensed her withdrawal within herself. "Am I ...unsightly in your eyes as a human?"

"Demetrius...you're exquisite." Wren admitted. There was no dispute that his unearthly beauty transitioned well from Gargoyle to human. His eyes still sparkled with their mischievous lavender hue. His hair remained flowing but was now the color of a raven's wing. His shoulders still were broad. Every sculpted muscle of his physique reminded Wren of Michelangelo's David. His body was smooth, but he carried five-o'clock shadow and brows. His lips were full and sensuous. His cheekbones seemed flawlessly prominent in his strong, classic features.

He had an "Arnold Body with a Denzel face" to quote the song by Salt n-' Peppa. Every contour was sculpted teak. Caramel complexion with a hint of honey greeted her eyes. A brilliant smile melted her heart as she gazed upon him. She also didn't loose the irony that Puck imbued the transformation.

"Aye, Lass. I am. Goliath is lavender, Hudson is tan, Brooklyn is blue and I am black."

"I just wasn't expecting you to look like this."

Her dismay puzzled him. He stared quizzically at his Ladylove.

"Let me see?" He jumped from the bed and walked to the mirror hanging on the wall. She blushed when she remembered how Demetrius told her to brace herself against the bureau before it. He stood behind her and made love to her in a way she never before imagined. Now, he stood there looking at his new form and examining it carefully. He turned around several times in front of the looking glass. He checked out every inch of his new form and shook his head in confusion.

"I look normal, do I not?" He turned to her. "I see no scars or marrings upon my skin. It is pleasing your eye?"

"Uh, yeah. I just thought that you'd be more ...Scottish."

"Do you find my color displeasing?" He asked with a concerned note in his voice.

Wren sat there speechless in their mating bed. She remembered her father's rantings on the need for racial purity. He detested those whom he considered less than human: that meant Mutants. When Robert Summers found out his youngest daughter, Wren was a 'mutie-freak,' he had disowned her and turned her out into the world without money or resources
.
Old lessons died hard. She remembered Robert Summer's rejection when she began speaking ancient Aramaic at the dinner table one evening. She heard the hurtful words in her ears as though he were standing next to her shouting them.

"Mutants are dangerous. They need to be corralled."

"Mutants convolute the gene pool. What if they mate with good, decent humans?"

"They're freaks. They endanger our way of life."

"The only good Mutie is a dead mutie."

"My daughter is a freaking Mutie? You're not my child. Your mother must have fucked some freak to get you. Get out of my house before I kill you here and now."

"Mutants need to know their place in society. They're not a part of it."

"I don't want to do business with anyone who's a Mutie-lover."

"No mutant is a daughter of mine...."

"No mutant is a daughter of mine...."

"No mutant is a daughter of mine...."

Scars formed, but the pain of his rejection remained.

"You are not repulsed by my Humanity?" The uncertainty of his voice made Wren feel like an absolute heel. She knew that unlike most Gargoyles, Demetrius took special care with his appearance. That meant every hair in place and every piece of jewelry polished. Her next words would set the course of their path for years to come. It determined the course of their relationship. How strong was her love for Demetrius verses the prejudices ingrained within her by a bigoted, xenophobic father?

"I just wasn't expecting it, I will be honest."

Demetrius looked away from her. His hurt was a deafening silence in their den. She reached out and rested her hand on his forearm.

"You're stunning." She said softly. "Puck ...made you look like an Adonis. Please, come back to bed and make love with me? I need you, Milord."

How would she explain the world that her Beloved was a Scotsman with the looks of a fine looking Brother? She decided to let Destiny work things out later. With that final thought she pushed everything else out of her mind. Not even the sun's light matched the radiant smile that crossed the young man's features. Demetrius turned to his mate and loved her again fiercely and well.


*******

A while later Wren marveled at this fascinating new person making breakfast for her in their kitchen. Demetrius quickly made himself at home with pots and pans, bacon and eggs. She gingerly sipped her juice as he prepared French toast. She giggled when she remembered how he disappointed he seemed when he burned the first batch.

[Never come between Demetrius and his pursuit of excellence.] She appreciated the wisdom of her assessment.

He placed a plate of golden French toast and fresh bacon in front of her. The French toast was truly closer to charred than golden and the bacon was over-cooked. Wren silently grimaced at the scorched breakfast sitting before her. She knew the importance of Mahsma (first meal).*

She noticed him gazing at her in eager anticipation. He reminded her a child looking for approval from a discerning parent. Wren looked at him and gave him a waxen smile. "It looks... well-done."

"I hope that you find it pleasing." His eyes never left hers. She nodded slowly now that she faced the moment of truth. She resignedly picked up her fork and cut into the gooey, syrupy mess of French toast. Wren cut the entrée into several small pieces. Their special rapport caused Demetrius' anxiety admittance into her mind. His excitement and uncertainly clued her in on once special fact [It would break his heart if he knew that I didn't like it.]

Cautiously the fork harpooned a small piece. It gradually rose from the plate and toward it's destination. Knowing that she could stall no longer, Wren took a bite. It was sticky and sweet, but actually-

"This is tasty." She spoke with a full mouth. [So much for manners.]

Demetrius' shoulders relaxed with relief at her approval. He nodded impatiently. "You find it to your liking?"

Wren unceremonious stabbed several more pieces of the French toast onto her fork. She forgot her age and her manners and eagerly shoveled them into her mouth. After a night of spirited mateplay, her appetite demanded satisfaction. "Duh us Yuh-hee!"

He cocked his head to the side in a very Gargoylian gesture? "What did you say?"

She took another swig of her juice and swallowed the food in one large gulp. She pointed at the toast with her fork. "I said, this is yummy!"

Between bites, Wren and Demetrius discussed renovations they wished to make to Summerlands. He reminisced about his nights around the bonfires at Castle Wyvern while he had been a hatchling. She secretly envied the fraternity and sorority that Gargoyles shared with clan members. Wren thought Demetrius fortunate to know so much love.

"What about your clan, Wren?"

"Huh" She asked distracted from her inner musings.

"Your family?" He took her empty plate. He rinsed it carefully and placed it in the dishwasher. "You never speak of them. Tell me what it is like growing up in a human family?"

"My daughter is a freaking Mutie? You're not my child. Your mother must have fucked some freak to get you. Get out of my house before I kill you here and now."

Words from years prior peeled like church bells in her mind. She looked to her mate and saw his avid interest. She sighed. "Well, my life growing up was fairly typical. My father worked here in Linoma as a researcher for Neptune Corporation. My mother was an English teacher. I grew up with two brothers and two sisters: Falcon, Hawke, Raven, and Sparrow."

"All were name were after birds?" He thought this to be an unusual Human custom.

"My mother's idea, actually." She shrugged and poured herself another glass of orange juice. "My grandfather was named Robin Goodfellow. My mother's name was Robin. She thought it to be rather clever to name each of us after birds."

"You spoke once of being named after your grandmother?" He inquired further.

"I was named after Elizabeth Claire Goodfellow, Robin's wife."

"You are the eldest of your rookery siblings." Demetrius caught himself quickly and cleared his throat. "I mean, your brothers and sisters.

"No, I'm the youngest."

"Where are they now?"

"Well, Falcon is a Captain in the Army. He's the oldest. Hawke is a mechanic. Raven, well, who's to say with Raven? Last I knew she was working as a Telephone psychic for some Jamaican lady that I see adverstised on late-night infomercials. And Sparrow, I haven't talked to her for a very long time."

"It pains me to hear that. You must miss your family much." Demetrius laid his hand over Wren's.

"I do." Was her simple reply. Wren felt a pang of heartache thump at the inside of her chest. She had neither talked about nor thought about her family for quite some time. She rose from her chair and reached for the half-full pitcher of orange juice. She used the excuse of putting it in the refrigerator to shake off the sadness taunting her.

"I thought you told me your father had passed to the next world." Demetrius probed gently.

"He might as well have died for all I care." She spat. She slammed close the refrigerator door caring little for the fact that it rattled the shelves within.

"His is alive?"

"And well..along with the rest of the Summers brood." Her scathing reply took Demetrius aback. "He can rot in hell for all eternity."

"Wren, you speak harshly of your sire." The softness of his words drew her attention back to the present. "Why is he in such low regard?"

"Where do I start?" She shook her head at the desolate possibility of reliving old memories.

"At the beginning, Milady." He rose from his chair to meet her. He brought his brow to hers. "I wish to know about this part of your life."

He held her hands in his. Teak hands holding alabaster hands reminded Wren all too well why her father was on her shit list. The last words riposted by him were a ceaseless refrain in her thoughts.

"My daughter is a freaking Mutie? You're not my child. Your mother must have fucked some freak to get you. Get out of my house before I kill you here and now."

This amazing being before her was her mate by night and husband by day. It flabbergasted Wren that she had never shared her past with him. They were one heart, one soul, and mind. "You don't want to go there, Demetrius."

"Where you go, I go." He kissed her hands. "Where you lead, I follow."

"I'll tell you, but it isn't a pretty picture."

"Truth, even in it's harshness reveals it's own beauty, Love." His words of encouragement filled her with bittersweetness. He accepted her without question. Her father had questioned her acceptability.

"My father is an intelligent man." She began slowly and carefully chose her words. "He is a good provider for his family and a dutiful husband to my mother. He had an extensive education and is, to my knowledge, still very active in church."

"He is a man of character." He speculated. "And distinction."

"Some would say." She replied cryptically. "He just happens to be a bigoted, racist son-of-a-dog that disowned me at sixteen because I was found to be a mutant."

"I meant not to bring you pain." Demetrius felt remorse as he watched his Ladylove's face turn into a dark mask of restrained hurt, anger and pain. "I have never known rejection from my clan."

"Consider yourself lucky." She scoffed and finished the last of her French toast. "I know it sounds insane, but I miss them."

"Your clan ...family?"

"I do." She rolled her eyes in disbelief. "I actually miss my mother."

"Where did they live?"

"They lived in Linoma Bluffs." She decided to rinse her plate. She let the cold water run over the sticky mess remaining. "Demetrius, it's time we considered returning ...home."

"I know." She hated to see that look of dejection on his face. Lavender eyes closed as if to block out the reality of her words. "We could have a good life, Wren."

"It's not our home, it's not our clan." Every word was ripped from her, as she knew she had to do the right thing. "This is another Earth and another dimension in another time. We belong in a world where there are Mutants. We belong in a world where Clan Wyvern is alive and well."

"You speak truth, Milady." He turned from her to gaze at the newly risen sun. "Yet, this world has given us so much; a new possibility of life. This is a clan where one isn't just another warrior, but an individual. Humans have learned to at least tolerate our kind. At home, we remain hidden because there are those who seek our demise."

"I know it's tempting to stay." She whispered with shining eyes and open arms. "We have to return to the clan. In the end, you'd hate yourself and me if we stayed here."

"I want a good life for you, Milady. I want to raise our progeny in a world where it matters little if they are Gargoyle or Mutant. I want them to know the love of family and the solidarity of clan." She heard the determination building within him.

"Then, we will give our children both when we have them." She smiled. She looked up at him.

As a human he remained an impressive specimen of masculinity. Wren noted he still stood head and shoulders above her. The dark hair was an abrupt change for which she had been unprepared. She knew it was difficult for a Gargoyle living in a human world. How difficult was existence for a Gargoyle living as a human? She prayed to the Powers-That-Be that Demetrius remembered Clan and honor.

"We shall wait until dusk." Demetrius sadly nodded.

"I'd like to tell everyone thank you and good-bye." Wren looked at her rinsed plate.

"As would I, Milady. I wish to spend this day with you as your mate. I hope that you will me as your husband."

"One step at a time." She laughed nervously. "There's a lot for you to learn. Where do I start?"

"How hard can it be to be human?" He asked innocently. "You do it everyday."

"You don't know that half of it." She placed a hand on his broad, smooth chest to stay him. "When were you hatched?'

"I was hatched in the year of our Lord, 946." He said proudly.

"Wrong." She jumped in immediately. "This is 2005. If you tell someone that you were hatched, they'll think you're a candidate for the nearest mental hospital. You were forty-six years old when you were... well, you know."

"MURDERED." He growled. "Vikings murdered my clan. I spend a thousand years lingering in the Shadowlands between life and death because of them."

"I know, Dem." Wren soothed him as best she could. "I know. But, don't tell people you were hatched. Tell them you were born. Gargoyles age one-half the rate of humans. So, that would make you twenty-four."

She went to the envelope provided to them by David Xanatos. She leafed through the documents and paperwork. It wasn't quite the same quality as Professor Xavier, just different. She found what she thought to be Demetrius' birth certificate.

"Demetrius Tiberius Nightkind. Race: African-American. Born September 16, 1981. You turned twenty-four yesterday. No parents are listed." She went on to read the certificate and various other documents. "According to these, you were a ward of the New York State Foster care system until 1995. You were taken in and adopted."

"Adopted." A dreamy expression crossed his handsome features. "I like it."

"We need to be careful with this paperwork. Xanatos meant well, but I don't know if this will match the needed the requirements in our own world."

Wren felt as though she were on Caledon Isle once again as she spent the morning instructing her mate in his history and past. It was a rare time combined of joy and exasperation. They spent the rest of the day teaching Demetrius about certain items of clothing: underwear, jeans, buttoning shirts, tying shoes.

She didn't find it so amusing when he walked against a red light in the middle of rush hour traffic. She wanted to strangle him when she argued with him for twenty minutes that he couldn't relieve himself in public. He seemed at a loss when she tried to explain why men and women had separate restrooms.

It would take too many pages, dear reader, to describe the myriad of experiences that Wren and Demetrius underwent as he spent his first day living a human life in a busy world. That is another tale for another time.






*AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAHSMA IS AN ANCIENT GARGOYLE WORD THAT LITERALLY MEANS "FIRST MEAL."