The Lake of Nine shimmered beneath a vast, steel-grey sky, its endless waters stretching into the horizon like a silver mirror cracked by time. The surface, though calm, reflected the fractured clouds drifting above—dark, slow-moving veils that threatened snow. The air was bitter, biting like the edge of a well-honed blade, yet within that chill lived something far older than winter. It wasn't just weather that haunted this place—it was history. Power. A dormant storm, waiting to be stirred. Here, gods once walked with thunder in their footsteps. Empires had fallen to divine wrath. Now, silence ruled. Heavy, solemn silence, as if the lake itself were holding its breath.
At the water's jagged edge, Tom Marvola Riddle stood alone, boots grinding against frostbitten stone. The chill did not seem to touch him. His eyes, cold as obsidian, scanned the horizon without blinking. Beneath his pale skin, magic hummed like a sleeping leviathan—silent but immense. Each breath he exhaled coiled like dragon smoke into the air, curling and vanishing.
Beside him, Medusa wrapped her arms tightly around herself, drawing her green cloak closer. Her emerald eyes were wide, reflecting the lake's eerie glow. She looked like something out of myth—a goddess reborn, fragile and fierce in equal measure.
"Wow…" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "This lake is… beautiful."
Tom turned slightly toward her. His gaze softened, just slightly—a rare flicker of warmth brushing against the cold stone of his demeanor. "You like it?"
Medusa nodded eagerly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek as the wind played with it. "Yes. It's so… dreamlike. Like the kind of place you only read about in ancient scrolls."
A brief silence followed.
Then, the world changed.
The lake began to tremble, its surface rippling unnaturally.
Without warning, the serene waters exploded into chaos. Waves surged skyward like towers of wrath. A roar unlike anything mortal echoed across the land, shaking the mountains, shattering the air. The clouds above split apart as a massive shadow rose from the depths—a serpentine colossus so immense that its presence alone darkened the sky.
Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, had awakened.
His scales shimmered with hues of black and deep green, slick with ancient waters. He rose higher and higher, coiling through the storm, until his massive head loomed above the lake like a sentient mountain. His eyes, burning with eerie intelligence, locked onto Tom with chilling clarity.
Medusa stumbled backward, breath caught in her throat. In an instant, she darted behind Tom, clutching the back of his cloak. Her hands trembled like leaves caught in a gale.
"W-What is that?! What the hell is that?!" she cried out, her voice cracking with fear.
Jörmungandr's massive jaws pulled into a horrifying grin. His voice thundered like the end of the world. "Tom Marvola Riddle…"
Tom didn't flinch. He chuckled softly, unbothered. "Yes. I'm here."
The serpent's laughter followed—a deep, echoing bellow that split the air. "Finally… that bastard Odin will meet his end."
Tom's smirk darkened. "Let them enjoy their last few days."
Jörmungandr narrowed his vast eyes. "But why not now? Why wait, when the time is ripe?"
Tom glanced sideways at Medusa, still pressed against him like a frightened kitten. "Because…" he said calmly, "my wife told me not to."
For a moment, even the world serpent froze.
"…Wife?" Jörmungandr repeated slowly, stunned. "Who… is your wife?"
Medusa's heart thudded violently. But then, gathering herself, she stepped forward from behind Tom and lifted her chin. Her gaze met the serpent's with quiet defiance.
Jörmungandr peered closer. "Medusa… If she's your wife, then I assume Greece no longer exists."
Tom's grin widened like a blade unsheathed. "Correct. I turned it into ash. I claimed the souls of every god, monster, and creature within its borders. Their magic is mine now. It was… poetic."
The serpent released a slow, satisfied hiss. "Excellent. Then you are ready to slay Thor… and then Odin."
Tom nodded firmly. "We'll speak again soon."
Without another word, the serpent sank back into the churning lake, the waves closing over him with eerie finality. Stillness returned—unnerving and absolute.
---
Snow crunched beneath Tom and Medusa's boots as they moved through a forest of towering, frost-laced pine trees. The trees stood like sentinels, silent and unmoving. Between them, mist slithered like ghostly tendrils, curling along the roots and branches. The air was thick with cold—so sharp it felt alive.
Medusa shivered, her breath forming small clouds. "Hey… Tom? I'm cold."
He didn't hesitate. With a simple snap of his fingers, a luxurious crimson cloak appeared around her shoulders, radiating warmth. Medusa blinked in surprise, then clutched it tighter, her expression softening.
"…Thanks," she muttered, her cheeks tinged with pink.
Tom smirked. "Getting spoiled already?"
Medusa rolled her eyes. "You wish."
He stepped closer, that familiar teasing glint in his eyes. "Admit it. You like it when I take care of you."
"I hate you," she shot back too quickly, her voice betraying a flustered edge.
"Oh really?" Tom said, raising a brow. "Then why do you keep clinging to me like a lost kitten?"
She growled and gave his chest a push. "Stop teasing me!"
"Never," he whispered, leaning down, their faces dangerously close. The tension between them hummed like a string pulled taut.
They walked in silence for a while. Not the awkward kind, but a silence rich with meaning—weighted with the things left unsaid.
---
Eventually, the trees gave way to devastation.
Before them stood the charred ruins of a once-proud home. Ashes stained the ground like black snow. Collapsed walls, shattered glass, broken furniture—all that remained of something once whole.
Tom stopped cold.
"This…" he said softly, "was my childhood home."
Medusa stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the wreckage. Burned wood. Broken bricks. Scattered remnants of memories. "It's… heartbreaking," she said gently.
Tom said nothing. He simply stared. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he didn't move.
Then, without warning, Medusa lifted his staff. Her expression sharpened with purpose. She drove it into the frozen earth. A pulse of magic spread outward like a heartbeat.
The ground groaned. Stone lifted. Wood reassembled. Glass reformed with crystalline clarity. Warmth spread.
The house… was reborn.
Curtains fluttered into place. Fire crackled in the hearth. Color returned, chasing away the desolation.
Tom stood motionless, breath caught in his throat. The past, once lost, had returned.
Medusa looked at him with quiet reverence. "This was your parents' home… wasn't it?"
"…Yes," he answered after a pause, his voice quieter than the wind.
She touched the wall gently. "It's beautiful again."
"…Thank you," he whispered.
---
Night fell like a velvet curtain.
Inside, warmth reigned. A fire danced in the fireplace. Soft candlelight glowed across plush furniture. Medusa sat curled on the couch, a book on enchantments in her lap. The staff, now attuned to her, pulsed faintly with power.
She glanced outside and noticed Tom beneath the stars. Quietly, she stepped out to join him.
Above them, a shimmering dome of invisible power stretched into the sky.
"What is this?" she asked, voice hushed.
Tom didn't look at her. "A barrier. One even gods can't detect. I've hidden our home."
Her breath hitched. "…Our home?"
He finally glanced at her, a smirk forming. "Problem with that?"
Medusa turned away, trying to hide the warmth rising to her cheeks. "No… just surprised."
He stepped closer. "Blushing again?" he teased. "Should I be worried?"
She shoved him hard. "Shut up, Tom."
He leaned in, amused. "You love it."
"I hate you!" she shouted and fled inside, slamming the bedroom door.
Tom remained, smiling under the stars. None of them shone as brightly as the fire he'd seen in her eyes.
---
The next morning, gentle fingers brushed Medusa's shoulder.
"Medusa," Tom murmured. "I have to go. Stay here."
She blinked awake, hair tousled. "Where are you going?"
He gave a faint smile. "Not to fight. I promise."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You better not. If I find out you started another war…"
"I know," he smirked. "You'll kill me."
And with a twist of shadow, he vanished.
---
In Muspelheim—the land of endless flame and doom—the sky bled fire. Lava rivers split the ground, roaring and bubbling. Ash fell like black snow.
Tom landed in the infernal wasteland, the heat licking at his cloak.
Fiery chains erupted from the earth, binding him in place. They hissed with molten fury. He didn't flinch.
Dark magic surged. The chains shattered like brittle glass.
Surtr stepped from the flames—towering, infernal, eyes blazing like suns.
"You… the son of Tom Riddle?" he rumbled.
Tom nodded calmly.
Surtr chuckled darkly. "Then Ragnarok draws near."
"I need your help," Tom said. "Enchant my staff with Muspelheim's flame."
Surtr said nothing. He took the staff and plunged it into molten lava.
The flames roared. Runes burned into the staff.
Minutes later, Surtr returned it. "It will now obey your will."
"Perfect."
---
Tom reappeared at the Lake of Nine.
Jörmungandr rose again. "You've returned."
"I want your venom in this staff."
The serpent narrowed his eyes. "You're preparing for war."
Tom's gaze was steel. "Do it."
Jörmungandr growled but relented. Tom tossed the staff into the water. When it returned, it glowed with deadly venom.
He vanished again.
---
Back home, danger waited.
Baldur stood in the snow, smiling like a viper. "Oh? Still breathing?"
Tom's eyes darkened. "Move."
"But I can fight," Baldur whispered—and lunged.
Tom dodged with ease. Baldur's attacks hit nothing but illusions.
Then—silence.
Tom vanished.
---
He returned home.
Medusa looked up, instantly suspicious. "You're back."
Tom held out the staff.
She took it. "You enchanted it… You're preparing for war again, aren't you?"
Tom scratched his neck awkwardly. "Uhh… maybe?"
She grabbed his cloak and yanked him close. "Don't you dare start another war!"
Tom grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
"I'd dance on your grave."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "With flowers?"
She blinked. "With fire."
A smirk curled his lips. "Romantic."
She groaned in frustration. "You are insufferable."
"And yet," he murmured, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, "you still care."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I never said I didn't."
Silence stretched between them like a drawn bow.
Then, under her breath, Medusa muttered, "I just hope… our future child doesn't turn out like you…"
Tom blinked.
A slow, delighted grin spread across his face. "Oh? So now we're having kids?"
Medusa's face turned crimson. "I-I didn't mean—!"
"Oh no, no," he said, chuckling darkly. "You said it. 'Our future child'—that's adorable. You're picturing a little me, aren't you? Maybe with your eyes? Or my hair?"
"I will murder you in your sleep," she hissed.
"And here I thought you were the nurturing type," he teased, voice low. "Tsk. Imagine a tiny little god-killer crawling around our home, casting spells before learning to walk…"
Medusa buried her face in her hands. "Please stop."
Tom leaned closer, whispering into her ear, "You're already imagining it, aren't you?"
She shoved him hard, but her laughter betrayed her. "You're the worst."
He caught her wrist gently. "And yet you're still here."
"I should've run when I had the chance."
"But you didn't."
Their eyes locked.
"Maybe…" she whispered, "maybe I didn't want to."
Tom smiled, softer this time. "You're the strongest creature I've ever met. And somehow, the most beautiful."
Medusa blinked, stunned for a moment, then looked away quickly. "Say things like that again and I will fall for you."
"Then I'll say them every day," he replied.
She paused, then exhaled in defeat. "I really do hate you…"
Tom grinned. "I love it when you say that."
She sighed, turning away. "Go to sleep, you idiot."
As she walked toward her room, he called after her, "Goodnight, wife."
Her hand froze on the doorknob.
"…Shut up, Tom."
But she didn't close the door all the way.
Tom stood there, smiling at the crack of light between them.
His home was restored. His power had grown. And for the first time, he felt peace.
---
Next Morning
Soft sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm golden hue across the living room. Tom sat leisurely on the couch, one arm draped over the armrest as his fingers moved in lazy, deliberate motions through the air. Around him floated a handful of magical butterflies, glowing with soft, shifting hues of silver, violet, and sapphire. Each one shimmered like a star, wings trailing sparkling particles as they danced in the air, obeying Tom's every silent command.
There was a rare peace on his face—calm, content, even playful. His usually sharp eyes were relaxed, almost dreamy as he guided the butterflies to form elegant spirals and patterns. The chaotic god-killer was, for once, simply… chilling.
Just then, the door to one of the rooms creaked open.
Medusa stepped out, arms stretching high above her head as she yawned. Her long, midnight-black hair was a wild mess, tumbling down her back in tangles, her white silk nightgown swaying with her movements. She blinked once, adjusting to the light—and then she saw him.
Her eyes locked onto Tom… and the glittering butterflies hovering around him.
A mischievous thought sparked in her mind. Her lips curled into a sly smile. Now I will mock him.
With a dramatic scoff, she crossed her arms and tilted her head. "So the mighty God-Killer was playing with butterflies? How amusing."
Tom didn't even look startled. Instead, he glanced at her with a grin that oozed calm arrogance. "Well," he said smoothly, "this God-Killer will happily play with bloody dragons if he wants to. But right now, I'm playing with butterflies because of his wife."
Medusa blinked, stunned for a second. Then her face scrunched into an irritated pout. "Tch…" she muttered, turning on her heel with a huff. "Damn it…" she added under her breath as she walked away.
Tom chuckled. She'd come to mock him, and somehow, he'd turned the tables with one line.
But he wasn't done.
"Running away already?" he called out, lazily swirling a butterfly toward her as it landed gently on her shoulder. "That's not very snake-queen of you."
Medusa stopped mid-step, slowly turning her head. Her glare could've turned lesser men to stone.
"Oh? So now you mock me back?" she said sharply. "Be careful, Tom. I bite."
"And I tame snakes," he said with a smirk. "It's practically a hobby now."
She stomped back toward him, arms flailing slightly. "You're impossible!"
"I prefer the term 'irresistible,'" he replied.
"More like 'insufferable.'"
Tom stretched out lazily and patted the spot on the couch beside him. "Come on, sit with your 'insufferable' husband. Let's talk about how adorably angry you get every morning."
She rolled her eyes but sat anyway, keeping an inch of distance between them. "I swear, if you keep teasing me like this…"
"What?" he leaned in, voice low, "You'll turn me to stone? Again?"
Medusa's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Shut up."
"You love this. Don't lie."
"I want to kill you!!" she snapped, glaring at him furiously.
Tom smiled darkly. "Then do it."
With a flick of his wrist, a glowing dagger materialized in his palm—blade humming with dormant power. He reached out and placed it gently in her hand.
"Kill me then," he whispered, eyes locking with hers.
Medusa's grip on the hilt trembled for a moment. She looked down at the blade, then back up at him.
Her expression softened. "No. Never," she muttered, voice cracking just slightly. With a swift motion, she threw the dagger aside, where it landed with a soft thud on the floor.
Tom raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching. "Huh. I thought you were serious. Guess you've gone soft."
"Soft?!" she snapped, eyes flaring. "I could crush your spine in my sleep!"
"Yet here you are," Tom said, draping an arm around her shoulders, "blushing like a schoolgirl and sparing the man who ruined your kingdom."
Medusa's jaw clenched. "You arrogant—!"
"You adorable."
She froze. "What?"
"You're adorable," Tom repeated smugly. "Even when you're mad. Especially when you're mad."
She swatted at his arm, but he didn't budge. "Stop calling me that!"
"Fine. Fierce. Dangerous. Bloodthirsty."
"That's better," she muttered.
"Still adorable."
She let out a dramatic scream and grabbed a cushion, slamming it into his face.
Tom laughed under the soft blow, pulling the pillow away with one hand. "Temper, temper, wife."
"Ughh!!" she groaned, standing up again. "I should've killed you when I had the chance."
"And miss out on this wonderful domestic chaos we're building?" he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "Admit it—you like waking up to me."
She hesitated at the doorway. "…I hate that you're right."
"Then it's settled," Tom said. "You hate me, I love you. Balance."
She looked over her shoulder. "One day, I will actually kill you."
He winked. "I'll rise from the grave just to annoy you again."
Medusa sighed, shaking her head with a reluctant smile. "You really are the worst, Tom."
"And yet…" he whispered, "you're still here."
Their eyes locked once more.
Something warm lingered between them. Dangerous. Addictive.
Then Medusa turned and walked off—this time without slamming the door.
Tom stared after her, the playful butterflies still circling above his head.
He smirked to himself.
"Wife of the God-Killer," he murmured, "you've already win this World."