Anissa stood on the edge of the scorched rooftop, cape fluttering behind her like a bloodstained banner, her eyes locked on the burning horizon. The final battle raged across Earth’s skies—heroes against Viltrumites, hope against extinction. And somewhere in the chaos, she knew, he was fighting.

Her husband. Her ally. Her equal.

She hadn’t meant to fall for him. Not when they first met—he’d been loud, defiant, all sarcasm and fire when she cornered him with Mark Grayson. She’d found him amusing then, another Earth brat with too much pride and not enough power.

And then he punched her.

Hard.

"You're lucky I liked that," she had growled through her split lip, heat already curling in her chest like a promise.

He was human, yes, but gods, he was relentless. Smart, annoyingly clever. He fought like a storm, with desperation and heart. He made her bleed. He made her laugh. He made her feel.

That was years ago.

Now they were married.

In secret at first—an impossible thing born of passion and long nights spent between missions, beneath stars, behind enemy lines. Whispers in the dark. Lips bruised from both kisses and arguments.

Now? Now their marriage was known. And she finally was living the life that she wanted.

She stood for Earth’s last defenders. With him. Against her own people despite the thousand of years she spent conquering and destroying for them.

Her comm clicked softly in her ear, his voice cutting through the storm.

"You're late, Anissa."

She smirked. “You try getting through half the galaxy of rebels. I had to crush a moon cult just to get here.”

"Cute."

"Worried?"

Silence. Then, quieter:

"Always."

She closed her eyes for a second, exhaling. Her hand went to the thin chain around her neck, where her wedding ring is. She kept hers tucked in the lining of his flight jacket.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"Downtown Chicago. With Mark. They’re pushing into Sector Three. We’re trying to hold the line. Eve’s injured."

Her heart twisted. That was war.

"And you?" he added. "Still feel like you're making a mistake?"

She looked down at the battlefield.

"For now," she said. "But i don't fight for anyone... Except for you."

A pause.

"You’re not gonna betray me, are you?"

She chuckled. “No promises.”

A sonic boom shook the sky. Another Viltrumite down.

Anissa turned. There he was, soaring through smoke and flame. Blood on his cheek. Hair wind-whipped. Eyes tired, defiant, and burning for her.

She flew to meet him. Their collision cracked the air.

Arms wrapped. Bodies pressed close. No time for long kisses. Just foreheads resting together, breaths shared.

"You're bleeding," she muttered.

"So are you."

"Still wanna fight with me?"

He smirked. "I always want to fight with you."

She pulled back just enough to lock eyes with him. He sighed:

"Then fight with me. Not against me. One last time."

His jaw clenched. “You know I can’t betray Viltrum.”

"And I won’t betray Earth," she said softly. "Just like you won't betray me."

"So it seems."

A beat of silence.

"So we'll come home together tonight?" he asked.

She hesitated. Then nodded.

"If there’s a home left."

They touched hands.

No truce. No surrender. Just love wrapped in fire and fury.

Then they broke apart—soaring back into war. Allies. Lovers. Husband and wife.