1. The War Begins
The skies over the Atlantic cracked like glass.
A stealth-class SHIELD jet tore through the clouds, glowing red on its leading edges. Below, concealed by illusion, the hidden Helicarrier "Vigilance" braced for impact.
Inside the command deck, Jon Snow stood at the center—bare-chested, runes glowing along his spine. Around him stood Daenerys, Wanda, Sif, and, now, Mystique—all watching the incoming storm together.
"He's modified his own DNA with combinations from mutants, inhumans, demonic hosts, and two surviving Eternal strands," said Raven. "Essex doesn't mutate to win. He mutates to conquer evolution."
Wanda looked at Jon sharply. "You can't face him alone."
Jon's eyes never left the sky. "Then don't let me be alone."
Moments later, the jet struck the carrier's shield.
And the storm hit.
A flood of biomechanical drones spilled across the deck—winged, fanged, composed of flesh and code. Behind them…
**Mr. Sinister.**
Regal and soulless, pale skin pulled taut over redesigned armor, fingers trailing with red-black psychic sludge.
"I don't want to kill the First Flame," he drawled. "I want to dissect it. Wrap it in silk. Breed it from your marrow."
Jon stepped forward.
"Try—if you think you'll live to explain it afterward."
Then the fire answered.
His runes flared golden. Longclaw ignited in dragonfire. And the battle began.
### 2. Magic and Muscle
Sif intercepted the first wave—twirling her blade in a storm of disciplined fury. She moved like she was born of metal, her shouts of battle half-poetry, half-fury. Red gashes opened metal hide, and her smile widened.
Daenerys floated behind her, wild fire arching from her hands. Jon could feel her energy interweaving with his own. They were synchronicities now—two reborn flames of different origins, orbiting one destruction.
Wanda hovered above the upper deck, hex magic weaving chaos sigils into the battlefield. Where others fought directly, Wanda unraveled reality itself—bending time just long enough for Jon to vanish, strike, and reappear, blade singing steel and embers.
Mystique moved unseen, striking vital points cloaked as enemies—vanishing into shadow before robotic forms could defend.
Sinister smirked. "You four really do love him."
He reached into the air—and the battle stopped.
A field bent. Reality shimmered.
Jon stood frozen.
Time locked.
Only Sinister moved.
And only Wanda could see it.
From her position in leylines between moments, she watched as Sinister reached directly into Jon's chest—ghostlike—and whispered:
_"There's something in you. But it's not alone. Something older lurks behind it. Something starting to awaken."_
She screamed his name—
And the world snapped back.
### 3. The Kiss of Fire and Fury
Sinister reeled back with a burned hand, sizzling with Old Flame magic.
Jon's eyes were silver-white. Flame licked across his shoulders as Daenerys descended behind him—wings of lava light pulsing.
"You want to cut open the flame?" she hissed. "Try mine first."
Between Daenerys's Phoenix aura and Jon's draconic rage, the battlefield heat cracked the hull.
Sif called to Jon. "If you strike now—you end him. But if you wait, you may learn *why* he wants what's inside you."
Jon hesitated.
And in that pause, Sinister grinned—and vanished.
A teleport glyph shimmered behind his retreat—Wanda's magic scattering fragments in the air as he disappeared.
The battlefield went silent again.
Victory or warning... none could say.
### 4. The Flamebond Ritual
That night, what began as rage gave way to restlessness.
Jon stood under flickering candlelight in the magic sanctum of the carrier—shirtless again, eyes locked on a floating glyph Raven had extracted from Sinister's tech.
Wanda approached first.
"Sinister said there's something older in you. Not just the First Flame…" she whispered.
Then Sif spoke: "It's time we bind it properly. We have the spell. The rite of unity. You call it a 'marriage' in your world. We call it Flamebond."
Daenerys walked to him.
"It's not about vows. It's about permission. Through body, through spirit, through fire."
Mystique emerged last—naked, unapologetic, uninhibited.
"We share you because you don't try to own us. You burn, but you warm us too. The bond will share power… and memories."
Jon hesitated. "If I do this… I may become something I can't control."
Wanda touched his cheek.
"Then you need us to *hold* you when you fall."
One by one, they removed the barriers—physical and magical.
Wanda's kisses slid down his neck while Daenerys traced old scars with her tongue. Sif climbed behind him, gloves discarded, strong hands claiming his shoulders. Mystique circled him like a panther, her pale blue skin shivering with anticipation.
They lay him among the runes.
The ritual began—not through force, but through rhythm.
Hands over hearts. Kisses over promise. Whispers in ancient tongues.
And then…
**Flame. Real and divine.**
Together, they burned—not in agony but in joining. The bed beneath them was soaked with heat and sweat and light. They moaned not just from pleasure but from the flooding *bond*.
Now—Jon was no longer burning alone.
He was burning **with them.**
### 5. Wakening the Blood of Old Valyria
He slept only moments.
But in his dreams, a dark long hall opened before him—smooth black stone lined with broken dragon bones. The ghosts of his ancestors walked the walls.
He saw Valyria—not as it fell, but when it **rose**.
Their faces murmured: "One among you bound magic in the blood. Flame was never natural. Flame was given. And now... you awaken its guardian."
Jon opened his palm.
From it… sparked not fire—
But a voice.
«We are not the gods. We are their caution.»
And he awoke—heart trembling.
### 6. Aftermath and Intrigue
In the aftermath, SHIELD fractured again. Some agents vanished. Rumors spread of **Tony's tech being corrupted**, that Essex had backup labs.
Meanwhile, Jon remained nested between loyalty and longing.
Wanda watched him constantly now—not possessive, but protective.
Daenerys trained with him openly—sparring with him shirtless on the deck, heat spiraling between their blows.
Sif took him climbing ice cliffs at dawn, whispering runes of restraint as they kissed behind waterfalls of crystal mist.
Mystique? She explored his secrets nightly, and sometimes, **became** others—testing how he breathed when he loved those he had once lost.
But in all of this… Jon began to feel the **Truth** flickering beneath everything.
The First Flame was not just legacy.
It was **a lock**.
And whatever it kept sealed…
Was moving.
## **Chapter 7 Ends**