The conference room's silence was heavy with unspoken words.
Thragg, seated at the head of the massive table, observed the assembled group with careful attention while war-torn Eve slept peacefully in his arms, her head resting against his chest.
His gaze lingered on Original Mark, noting the young hero's unusual silence and the subtle distance he maintained from Original Eve, despite her occasional attempts to catch his eye or shift closer.
Though she tried to bridge the gap between them, something held Mark back - a hint of guilt or fear perhaps?
Thragg's mind drifted to what he had witnessed mere hours ago, before his journey to save war-torn Eve...
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[Flashback]
The warehouse air was thick with tension and the metallic scent of blood.
The bodies of Phantom and Maskless Mark littered the floor. But it was the scene at the center of the space that held everyone's attention.
Mad Angstrom Levy hung suspended in a cage of pink energy, Eve's powers containing him as effectively as any physical restraints.
His disfigured face twisted in a mockery of a smile as Original Mark approached, each step deliberate and heavy with purpose.
"Back to finish what you started?" Levy taunted, his voice carrying an edge of hysteria. "Going to try to kill me again, Mark? We both know how well that worked last time!"
Mark stopped before him, his expression unnaturally calm. "I remember," he said quietly. "I remember everything. The guilt of thinking I'd killed you... it ate at me. Made me question myself, my choices, my right to be a hero."
"Poor little Mark," Levy sneered. "So concerned with being good, with doing the right thing. Look where that got you! I brought an army of yous who made different choices, who embraced what they really are!"
"You're right," Mark replied, his voice dropping lower. "I've always tried to do the right thing, to show mercy, to be better than what everyone expected a Viltrumite to be."
His eyes hardened. "But you've shown me something important, Levy. Sometimes mercy is just another word for cowardice."
Levy's sneer faltered slightly. "What are you babbling about?"
"If I'd really killed you the first time, none of this would have happened. All those people that the evil Marks killed would've killed if Thragg wasn't here...
All those who would've died before we stopped them, their deaths would have been on me. Because I wasn't willing to do what needed to be done."
Mark stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Levy's face. "But what really opened my eyes? Learning what some versions of me became. What they did to the people they claimed to love." His gaze flickered briefly to Eve, who maintained her hold on Levy despite the growing horror in her expression.
"Another you showed me a universe where I keep Eve paralyzed, where I..." Mark's voice cracked slightly, rage bleeding through his calm facade.
"Where I torture her, mutilate her, all while claiming it's love. And you helped versions of me that may have been like him to come to my world - put my loved ones at risk!
The very thought of some monster you brought doing to my Eve that... I can't even describe it! It makes me sick!
"It's not my fault if some versions of you are monsters," Levy laughed. "The world needed to be shown what you could be! What you really are inside!"
"No," Mark said, stepping even closer. "You didn't show what I could be. You showed me what I need to prevent. No more half-measures. No more mercy for mad dogs who only understand violence."
"You won't do it," Levy taunted, though uncertainty had crept into his voice. "You're too soft, too worried about being the good guy-"
Mark's hand shot out, grabbing Levy's head in an iron grip. "I'm not worried about being good anymore," he said softly. "I'm worried about being right."
"Mark-" Eve began, but fell silent as she saw the resolve in his eyes.
"You want to know what I really am inside?" Mark asked, his fingers tightening incrementally. "I'm my father's son. And sometimes, that means making the hard choices."
Levy's eyes widened in genuine fear as he finally realized this wasn't the same Mark who had shown mercy before. "Wait-"
The sound of Levy's skull being crushed was surprisingly quiet - a wet crunch followed by silence.
Blood and brain matter sprayed across Mark's face and chest, but he didn't flinch, didn't look away.
He maintained his grip until there was nothing left of Levy's head but pulped tissue and fragments of bone.
When he finally released what remained of the corpse, Eve's energy field caught it, preventing it from falling to the floor. Mark stood there, covered in blood, his expression unreadable.
"Mark?" Eve whispered, letting the body drop as she stepped toward him.
He turned away from her, unable or unwilling to meet her gaze. "It had to be done," he said quietly. "And I had to be the one to do it."
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[Present]
"Why should I grant you places in my circle?" Thragg asked, his deep voice carefully modulated to avoid disturbing war-torn Eve's sleep, addressing those who remained.
For, good Levy had transported the other variants back to their respective dimensions. Each had been given a mission -
to grow stronger, to build networks of resistance against their worlds' Viltrum Empires where possible, preparing the way for Thragg's eventual conquest of their realities.
Mohawk Mark leaned forward immediately, dispensing with any pretense. "Simple. The closer I am to you, the better my chances of staying alive."
His eyes moved to war-torn Eve, sleeping peacefully in Thragg's arms. "Especially since you've proven to be more than just a mindless beast of power. You're actually capable of caring."
He spread his hands on the table, a gesture of complete honesty. "I like living. I'll be loyal. I'll risk my life on whatever missions you give me. Because honestly? Dying on a mission is infinitely preferable to dying by your hand."
Thragg studied him with interest. "Such fear," he observed. "Yet you seek to serve me? Surely you must hate what inspires such terror."
A hollow laugh escaped Mohawk's lips, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Of course I hate Thragg," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "But I hate my Thragg. Not you."
His eyes took on a haunted look. "I still see it all... every moment. My children - my beautiful children. Ripped apart by punches, kicks, teeth... I watched it all happen in the Flaxan dimension. Time moved faster there, but my perception..." He swallowed hard.
"I made myself watch every second. Every death. My own self-inflicted punishment, because it was the only way to stay focused. To remember why that monster had to die."
War-torn Eve stirred slightly in Thragg's arms, perhaps sensing the pain in Mohawk's voice. Thragg immediately adjusted his hold, providing more warmth until she settled.
"He killed everyone!" Mohawk's voice cracked with sudden fury. "My Eve, my little brother Oliver, my parents - everyone! All because my father and I carried Argall's blood. All because he wanted to keep his rotten throne!"
He slammed his fist on the table, then immediately looked apologetic when war-torn Eve whimpered in her sleep. Thragg's hand moved soothingly through her hair until she calmed.
"Some people might be disgusted by what I did," Mohawk continued, his voice lower but no less intense.
"They might criticize how I won, using my own children as weapons. I don't care.
That Thragg was insane. My father foolishly believed in the Empire's promises. He bought into all that talk about improving human life. He even convinced Eve..."
His voice broke. "But it was all lies. That monster wanted to use the same culling method on humanity that decimated Viltrum.
Create wars, systematically genocide the weak, breed the survivors with Viltrumites. He was a mad beast that needed to be put down."
Mohawk's gaze moved to Royal Mark and Royal Eve, then to Nolan, and finally back to Thragg. "But you... you're different. You've actually improved your Earth. And him?"
He gestured at Royal Mark. "He has everything I was promised. The love of his life, his father, an Emperor who actually seems to love him..."
The raw emotion in his voice made him forget any pretense of formality. "I want that again. I've been studying everything - Hell, Heaven, any spiritual path that might let me see them again. And you..." He met Thragg's eyes directly.
"You're the strongest being in every universe I've found. That's not coincidence. You're favored by God, by the universe itself. Your fate might be my key to getting them back."
He leaned forward, desperation evident in every line of his face. "I'll go through Hell itself - literally if I have to - to be part of your fate. To have even a chance of seeing them again."
Silence fell over the room as Mohawk's words hung in the air. The other variants shifted uncomfortably, struck by the raw honesty of his confession.
Even Original Mark, lost in his own dark thoughts, looked up with a mix of sympathy and understanding.
Thragg studied Mohawk for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to everyone's surprise, he inclined his head slightly - a gesture of genuine respect that made Mohawk's eyes widen.
Without comment, Thragg turned his attention to Viltrumite Mark and Omni Mark, but the weight of his acknowledgment remained, a silent validation of Mohawk's pain and purpose.
"Your perspective?" Thragg asked Viltrumite Mark, who sat rigidly in his pristine white uniform.
"My reasons are more... strategic," Viltrumite Mark replied, choosing his words carefully. "In my universe, you - he - rules from afar through proxies. The Empire's strength is wasted on bureaucracy and protocol rather than true purpose."
His eyes moved to war-torn Eve, studying how Thragg cradled her with such care despite his overwhelming power.
"But you act directly. When there's a threat, you don't dispatch armies - you go yourself. When someone needs protection, you provide it personally. You're what a Viltrumite Emperor should be."
Thragg's attention shifted to Omni Mark, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.
"And you?" Thragg prompted softly.
"I killed my father," Omni Mark whispered, his voice thick with pain. "He showed mercy. He wanted to protect Earth instead of conquering it. I thought... I thought I was being strong."
He looked up, meeting Thragg's eyes. "But I was wrong. He understood something I didn't, and I killed him for it."
A tear rolled down his cheek. "I have nothing left. No direction, no purpose. Just this... this hole where everything used to be. I didn't really know what to do." He glanced at Mohawk. "But if there's even a chance... if what he says about bringing people back is possible..."
Thragg remained silent for a long moment, his massive hand still moving soothingly through war-torn Eve's hair as he considered their words. Finally, he spoke.
"I will grant you the opportunities you seek," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of imperial decree.
"But understand this - I do not offer second chances. Disappoint me, and your fate will make your world's Thragg seem merciful by comparison."
The three variants nodded solemnly. Without another word, Thragg rose, cradling war-torn Eve against his chest. He turned and strode from the room, his massive frame somehow moving silently despite its size.
Only Royal Eve dared to follow him, hurrying to catch up as he walked down the facility's corridors. "How is she?" she asked softly, her eyes fixed on her sleeping counterpart.
Thragg entered a prepared bedroom - one of several that had been quickly modified to accommodate Viltrumite physiology. With careful movements, he laid war-torn Eve on the large bed.
"She will heal," he replied quietly to Royal Eve's question, pulling a blanket over war-torn Eve's thin frame. "But she needs rest now."
They stood in silence, watching war-torn Eve's chest rise and fall with peaceful breaths.
Thragg tucked the blanket more securely around her shoulders, his massive hands displaying surprising dexterity with the delicate task.
Royal Eve watched this tender interaction, something warm blooming in her chest.
Before she could second-guess herself, she stepped forward and threw her arms around Thragg's waist - the highest she could reach.
The Emperor froze, genuinely surprised by the unexpected embrace.
"You're a good father, dad," she whispered against his chest.
The moment the words left her lips, she felt heat rush to her face.
Before Thragg could recover enough to return the embrace, she broke away, backing toward the door with embarrassment written across her features.
"I should let her rest," she stammered. "And you too. I mean... goodnight!"
She disappeared through the doorway, leaving Thragg standing there, his arms still slightly raised from the aborted attempt to return her hug.
Slowly, a soft smile spread across his face - an expression few had ever seen, and none had lived to tell about.
His daughter. She had called him father, just as he had secretly hoped she would. The warmth that spread through his chest was unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
Thragg moved to the chair beside war-torn Eve's bed, lowering himself into it with careful precision to avoid making noise.
After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and gently ran his fingers through her short hair.
War-torn Eve stirred slightly at the touch, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. She squinted up at him, and Thragg felt a flash of concern that he had disturbed her rest.
But instead of fully waking, she leaned into his touch and drifted back to sleep, a small smile touching her lips.
As the night deepened, the Emperor of the Viltrum Empire sat guard over his sleeping daughter, his fingers continuing their gentle motion through her hair.
Outside, stars glittered in the infinite darkness - each one a potential world to conquer, a dimension to reshape, a reality to rule.
But for now, there was only this moment: the trust of a broken soul finding peace in his protection,
the echo of another daughter's words in his heart, and the strange, wonderful feeling of being needed for more than just his strength.
And for the first time in millennia, Thragg found himself perfectly content to let the universe wait.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found Mohawk's motivation and more depth to his backstory. This Mohawk isn't like the show and comic version where he accidentally killed his Eve, in this fic he has this backstory.
A bit of variation since in my Sukuna fic he has his normal backstory.
Well, question here, do you guys like Thrag's paternal side? I've been getting some (not a lot, just a few comments) saying that it is ruining the fic, so just wish to hear if it is, to what extent you believe it would remain good and when it is too much, etc.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)