Before you begin, I once again want to remind those who skipped the author's note that this is just a fanfiction, kindly treat it as such. Some details might be different from the canon stories, some new characters have been added. It is set after God of Fury and before God of War. Please ignore any silly mistakes, if you find them. I have given my best to this story. Also don't forget to vote, it really means a lot to me, and I don't want to be in a situation where I have to set targets. That's all, you can begin now! Happy Reading!

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VIVIAN

He knew me, I was certain of it. The man sitting beside me had recognized me even after my billion-dollar disguise. Any second now, I would be bombarded with questions—I could feel it in the air. I should've listened to Dad and let him send the private jet. But I was too stubborn. Too determined.

It was too late to realize my mistake—or maybe not. I could still get off this plane and call Dad. He'd probably throw me one of his famous "I told you so" looks, but Mom would defend me. He never argued with Mom, anyway.

The urge to get up and leave became overwhelming. I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay seated, shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts. I was not getting off now. Not after I'd come this far. I had practically begged to pay for my own ticket from my stipend—I didn't want to worry Dad or Grandfather any more than I already had. 

Mom had been crying on the phone last night, Dad felt helpless, and Grandfather? Well, he was ready to buy or destroy anything in his path to fix the problem. And considering who he was, that included almost everything.

It had taken every ounce of patience and courage to convince them I was holding up just fine, that I would manage to come back home on my own—without anyone babysitting me all the way. If I called Dad now, he'd lose it.

I pulled my baseball cap lower and leaned back against my seat. Digging into my purse, I retrieved my mask and slipped it back on. I had taken it off earlier because it felt stuffy inside, but now, a little discomfort was better than an unwanted conversation. 

A conversation about the tragedy that had shattered my life—and possibly my career—within the last forty-eight hours.

I turned to look out the window. It was sunset. The sky was unbelievably calm. It didn't bring me any real comfort, but any distraction was welcome. Soon, I would be home. Away from this place. Away from these people. Away from the dream that had twisted into a nightmare. I closed my eyes, seeking relief, but all I saw were flashing lights, cameras, and thousands of unanswered questions.

..."Ms. King, do you have anything to say about the leaked images?" The reporter thrusted the mic in my face and I stumbled back. "I- uh-" I tried to form words but nothing came out. Two bodyguards on my either side pushed the herd of reporters away but there was only so much they could block. My eyes failed to open up against the relentless flashing of cameras. I felt the weight of their gaze on my skin. My every word, every expression would be plastered on every headline by tomorrow morning. Another round of questions barraged my mind, one after another, all demanding some sort of explanation.

"Are you involved in any kind of relationship with the famous designer and producer, Gabriel Dubois?" The question fell like a dagger slicing through any remains of dignity I had as my fingers turned cold. Surely, my face would have reflected the same shock because their murmurs became louder. "How do you know Gabriel Dubois?" "Do you have anything to say about the scandal?" "Is Gabriel Dubois the reason of your success in this industry this soon?" "Is anyone else involved in this scandal?" The voices became louder and louder until my head started swirling from the chaos of probing microphones and flashing lights. I was trapped. I'd never be able to get out of here. The allegations became bolder with each passing moment.

Soon these allegations would be presented as facts. I tried to speak up, to deny them, to defend myself but my voice was drowned out by the cacophony of accusations. Someone pulled my hand, someone pushed me from behind, within a series of moments that soon turned into a blur, I was inside my car as people still banged on the windows, demanding one word, one statement. I pulled my head down and my hands reached for my face. I pressed my palms against my ears as hard as I could, hoping that it would block out the voices but it did nothing. Tears fell down my cheek as I resisted the urge to scream but soon it became too much and then—

I gasped, my eyes snapping open.

Sweat clung to my skin. My breaths came in sharp, uneven pants. I searched wildly for the cameras, the reporters—but they weren't there.

A hand touched my shoulder. I flinched, clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the scream threatening to escape.

The man beside me immediately withdrew his hand, palms raised in surrender.

"Shh, you're okay," he said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just breathe."

His words washed over me, and I obeyed. Slowly, my breathing steadied. My heartbeat, though still fast, found a rhythm again. I was trembling. Drenched in sweat.

A woman appeared, holding out a glass of water. He took it and handed it to me. I hesitated before accepting it.

"Is it your first time—er—traveling like this?" he asked.

I downed the last of the water and shook my head. "No, that's not it. I'm sorry for the trouble."

"Don't be. You didn't cause any trouble." His smile was easy, unassuming. "I was just concerned. Name's Nathaniel, by the way. Nate, if you prefer." He extended a hand.

I hesitated. I didn't want to shake his hand. I didn't even want to tell him my name. But he had helped me just now, and I felt obligated.

"Vivian," I said, taking his hand briefly.

His smile deepened. A sweet smile.

Having lived in Paris for five years, I knew better than to trust sweet smiles and gentlemanly gestures. I had met my share of 'gentlemen.' And not all of them had been as gentle as they appeared.

"So, are you returning home?" he asked. His question took me aback for a moment. How did he know? I'd been living away for long enough for any accent to accommodate. I sneaked a look at his face. There were no signs of any recognition. Nor had he shown any surprise on knowing my name.

Perhaps it was a wild guess on his part or maybe my remarkably casual attire gave it away; past few days had made me more paranoid and I was scrutinizing every little thing.

I gave him a slight nod and just to be polite asked, "Are you too?"

"Oh, no! My family lives in New York. I was visiting my uncle in Paris and now I'm set back to London to handle my own shit. London is a great city, but when you constantly have to travel back and forth from London to NY, it gets really exhausting and then you're just wondering if all of it is worth the hassle. But in my case, there's a slight-" I interrupted him in between.

"Sorry, but can you excuse me, I need to use the restroom." I said and got up from my seat without waiting for his answer.

I walked straight up to the restroom, got inside and locked the door behind me. My back fell flat against the door as I rubbed the heel of my palms against my eyes. I pulled my cap down and my hair, which I had dyed brown long ago, fell on my shoulders. My eyes were red and my face was swollen. Anyone who took a good look at my face would realize for exactly how long I'd been crying. My reflection stared back at me, except that it wasn't me in the mirror. It was everything I was afraid of becoming. With shaky hands, I turned on the water. It was cold. I splashed it on my face, once, twice, thrice. I kept doing it until every single thought circulating in my head was washed away.

When I returned to my seat, feeling a little better than I was when I'd left it earlier, the cabin divider between my seat and Nathaniel's was pulled up. Maybe he did get the sign that I wasn't interested in a conversation. It was rude, mostly on my part, but there wasn't much I could do about it. And with my list of regrets, there was no room for guilt about something as trivial as this. I settled down on my seat and plugged in my headphones, hoping that the journey would be over soon and I'll be home. Though I didn't know if the place I was supposed to call home would be able to make me feel at home at all or not.

Luckily, the flight was without any layovers and within two hours, I boarded down the plane with everything I'd got. As expected, both mom and dad were right there at the exit, waiting for me. I saw them before they saw me. Mom was standing near the glass railing her hands resting on it and her eyes snaking everywhere. Dad stood behind her, with one hand in his pocket and other curled around mom's waist. They still looked the same as they did five years ago. Looking at them, it felt like no time had passed. Dad's gaze flickered to me and he raised his hand. I pushed the cart in their direction as mom ran towards me and engulfed me in a tight hug without giving me a chance to say anything.

"Honey, I missed you, so much," she said and prepped kisses all over my face. Just like that, I melted against her touch and once again I was the baby girl who never wished to leave her parents' side. I hadn't realized how much I had missed this. This feeling of being held, and being told that you're loved, it felt foreign to me, something I didn't even know I was longing for.

"I missed you too, mom. And dad." I hugged him next. I barely reached his neck; he was still taller than me. He looked at me with a soft gaze, but his words were firm as he said, "You're safe now. No one will harm you, you're home."

I nodded and pulled back. My eyes strayed to the strands of brown hair barely visible behind dad, I tilted my head and there he was. My eyes scanned him from head to toe as I squeaked, "Eli?"

I ran towards him and jumped in his arms. "Eli, it's really you! When did you become so muscular and so tall? I almost didn't recognize you!"

He put me down and ruffled my hair, "Five years, you didn't visit once. I was convinced that you had forgotten about us."

I knew he was just pulling my leg, but those words fell harder than I'd imagined. Instead of letting the guilt show on my face, I did what I did best ­and offered him my most cheerful smile.

Mom stepped between us, "You can have all the years' worth of discussion at home, let's get going."

Dad signaled someone and within a matter of minutes my luggage was swept off of the floor of airport and stuffed inside the cars. I hopped in with Eli, while mom and dad got in a separate ride.

After five years, I was finally home. I was home, I was safe and I was with people who loved me. But for some reason, my heart didn't feel at ease. As if there was a looming danger, which would strike me sooner or later. 

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That was the end of Chapter 1. I wrote this chapter months ago and I wasn't satisfied at all, but as I began writing more, the words came to me naturally and it got a lot more interesting. Don't forget to vote and leave comments here on my discussion page. Stay tuned! Follow me on my Instagram (: authornephthys and paperhearts.x) for more updates!

Thank you for reading,

Nephthys