Continuing Tales

Fallen Star

A Marvel Movieverse Story
by Alydia Rackham

Part 10 of 27

<< Previous     Home     Next >>

"Doubtless Catherine marked the difference between her friends, as one came in and the other went out. The contrast resembled what you see in exchanging a bleak, hilly, coal country for a beautiful fertile valley; and his voice and greeting were as opposite as his aspect."
- Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights


"Darcy!" Jane yelped, shoving the glass door aside and pelting out into the sunlit drive.

Darcy had half a second to look up from putting her keys in her purse before Jane threw her arms around her, almost knocking her down. When she finally let her go, Darcy laughed.

"I guess you missed me?" She readjusted her crooked glasses.

"Oh, you have no idea," Jane said in a rush, taking Darcy's duffle bag from her and heading toward her own trailer. "I don't think I've talked to a single woman the whole time you've been gone—I'm constantly surrounded by men."

"Oh, waah waah," Darcy said sarcastically.

"Oh, come on," Jane huffed. "It's just a bunch of geeky SHIELD scientists and Erik. Oh, and—"

"Darcy!" Erik strode smiling out into the sun, holding his arms out wide.

"Hi, Erik," she answered, stepped forward and gave him a hug.

"Good to have you back," he said. "We missed you."

"I gathered that," Darcy shot a crooked smile at Jane. Jane laughed. A shadow moved behind Erik, and Jane's eyes fell on Fenris, who stood behind him, hands in his jean pockets, head slightly lowered. He looked pale out here in the sun, his hair extra black—almost blacker than his leather jacket—and his emerald eyes even brighter. He watched them from a distance.

"Oh, and you remember Fenris," Jane gestured to him. Darcy stared.

"Um…kinda…" she stammered, visibly thrown.

Fenris studied her for a moment, then he stepped forward and held out his white hand. She hesitated, then put her hand in his. He brought it to his lips for a quick kiss, then inclined his head to her.

"Miss Darcy," he half smiled. "It's a relief to finally have you back. Ever since you confirmed you were coming, Jane could think of nothing else to talk about."

Jane chuckled.

"Yeah, I think I was driving these guys crazy," she admitted. Darcy, however, was still staring at Fenris. Fenris saw her face, and cast a quick, amused glance at Jane. Jane saw that Erik was also hiding a smirk.

"Hey, Darcy," Jane cut into the silence. "Why don't we throw your stuff in my trailer and you and me can go downtown and maybe get something to eat? Want to?"

"Um, sure," Darcy said, shaking herself. Fenris was still looking at Jane with a nearly-hidden smile on his soft mouth and a spark in his eye, obviously entertained. Jane felt an odd tension in her chest as she turned away. That whole encounter had been weird…

She put Darcy's duffle in her trailer, and then the two girls headed toward the center of town on foot, leaving Fenris and Erik behind.

As Jane and Darcy strolled down the sidewalk, the warm wind blowing through their long hair, Jane linked her arm through Darcy's.

"I'm proud of myself for talking you into coming."

"Hey, it really wasn't that hard," Darcy answered. "When you told me about the meteor shower, and that Tony Stark is definitely coming, there's no way I'd opt out of that. Besides, why should you be the only one who gets to hang out with all the hot guys from Asgard?"

"The meteor shower is going to be spectacular," Jane declared. "And they're not sure when exactly Tony Stark will be here, but they promised they'd let us know if…Wait," Jane's heart jolted and she whipped her head around to stare at Darcy. "Did you say 'hot'? Hot guys from Asgard?"

Darcy raised her eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah."

"What—you mean Fenris?"

Darcy gave her a pointed glance.

"Um, have you looked at him lately?"

"I…Well, yes, I look at him all the time!" Jane protested. Then her face got hot. "I mean, he's around all the time. I can't help it—it's not like I stare at him. I just—"

Darcy interrupted by heaving a huge sigh.

"I swear, sometimes Jane, you're kinda dumb for being so smart."

Jane gaped at her for a second, then burst out laughing and shoved her lightly. Darcy grinned.

"I'm telling ya…" Darcy said under her breath. "Total, major hottie."

"Shut up already," Jane shoved her again, but she could still feel herself blushing.


Jane lay awake, staring at the ceiling above her bed. She didn't feel particularly troubled or restless tonight—her mind simply wasn't interested in shutting off yet.

For the past two days, she'd been getting used to having Darcy around again, asking offbeat and sometimes insightful questions, both helping and getting in the way. Jane and Erik had also had to write a program with which to diagnose a long stream of vital—and perhaps groundbreaking—data they had gathered from the Cube research. All of that in combination had boiled her brain.

She blamed overwork for her sleepless night, and knew that if she tried to focus on sleeping, she'd never succeed. So, she let her thoughts wander, meandering down whatever tangent, as the wind whistled against the walls of her trailer, and a little night light glowed at the far end of the room. But slowly, as her thoughts formed, they made her brow furrow.

The Cube could control space, and perhaps time. They knew that now. In theory. There was no telling as of yet how to operate it, or what its limits were. But all through her research, Jane had been building a hunch—and a hope—that was proving more and more correct the longer she studied: this Cube was the way back to Asgard. She wasn't sure how, or when it would be ready to test. But she just knew.

However, for the first time, she began to have strange feelings in her chest associated with that possibility. She couldn't name them, which is why she hadn't voiced any of them to Erik. She still wanted a chance to see Thor—wanted it desperately—but…then what?

She kicked her covers and turned onto her side, pulling her arms up to her chest and pressing her fingers against her lips. She blinked slowly.

Fenris had laughed the other day. It had had something to do with his vanishing act, and the magic storage closet in limbo. She couldn't exactly recall what it was that had amused him—she just remembered the sudden change in his face. His eyes had lit up like fireworks, and a dashing, perfect smile had crossed his face—his laugh had been almost musical. And ever since then, he had been smiling all the time. Not broadly, and not always so everyone could see. He just seemed to make sure that she could see.

It was astonishing, the change that had come over him. It was like Jane been knocking on a wall of ice with her bare hands forever and ever, and then she'd come across a small pick axe, struck the wall once, and the whole thing had split apart. At least, she would like to think she had something to do with it. Perhaps she didn't—perhaps he was just feeling better, finally healing his broken ribs and gaining his strength back…

Jane let out a deep sigh, her eyebrows coming together as she resettled her head against her pillow.

Darcy had called him "hot." Which was weird. That thought had never occurred to Jane. Not the way it had with Thor. Of course, that thought was hard to avoid with Thor, especially when he had been walking around her lab shirtless…

No, "hot" wasn't the right word for Fenris. But Jane realized there had to be a similar word for him—because he was good-looking. He was—she would admit that. In a totally different way. Thor was golden and beaming and towering and good-natured, with a gorgeous smile and brilliant eyes—blue eyes that sparkled. He was warm and protective, brash and confident, and very easy-going. Welcome and enjoyable as a summer afternoon.

Fenris was dark and striking, with a penetrating gaze and a chilly aspect. He carried himself with caution, and nothing escaped his critical notice. But when his eyes and mouth softened, it was a captivating thing to see. And when he spoke to her when they were alone, telling stories of Asgard or discussing a book or magic, the way he used his hands to gesture was interesting and deft and precise, always leading with his left hand—and his speech, even more than his laugh, sounded like music. More than once, Jane had found herself falling utterly silent, forgetting herself, listening to the ebbs and rhythms of his tone as he spoke, watching his soft mouth form the perfect words, his long-lashed eyes either following his hands as they illustrated what he said, or glancing at her to catch her reaction to his tale.

The two men were so different. Thor was an open book, pages sprawled for everyone to see. But Fenris' book seemed to be open only to Jane.

Jane rolled over again, then pulled the pillow over her head and groaned.

"This is your fault, Darcy," she mumbled into the mattress. "All your fault!"


"It isn't that simple, Jane," Loki insisted, coming around a table in the lab where Jane sat in front of a computer screen. "Magic isn't just spiritual and mental—there are biological elements to it as well."

"I still think anyone can learn it if you take your time and have good teachers," Jane answered, frowning at the computer screen as she typed.

"No," Loki shook his head. "Some people just can't."

"I don't see why," Jane said.

"Oh, come now, Jane," Loki furrowed his brow at her as he turned a chair around and straddled it, resting his elbows on its back. She didn't look at him. He leaned forward to try and get her attention, even though he knew he was testing her patience.

Jane had opted not to go to the bunker with Erik today, in favor of staying in the lab and processing the Cube data. However, Loki doubted she had been able to get much done, since the two of them had been arguing about her Midgardian Magic theory for three hours so far.

"Can you sing?" he asked.

She shot him a glance.

"No. Why?"

"I can," Loki replied. "And if I can, why can't you?"

"Because, I…I never took the time to learn."

He gave her a skeptical look.

"It isn't because you can't seem to make your voice hit the notes?"

Jane glared at him. He smirked and kicked his head back.

"All right then, can you juggle?"

"Yes," Jane said triumphantly, typing even faster.

"I can't," Loki shook his head. "Not to save my life."

She turned and gave him a curious glance.




"So what does that tell you?" Loki asked. She turned back to her program.

"That I need to practice singing and you need to practice juggling."

"Woman," Loki narrowed his eyes. "You are insufferable."

Jane grinned and let out a light laugh.

The front door banged open. Loki jumped up, reflexively stepping toward Jane.

It was Darcy, brushing her hair out of her face and holding her cell phone in the other hand.

"Just got a text from Erik," she panted. "All he said was 'Sorry, I didn't mean to, it was an accident.'"

"What? What does that mean?" Jane asked, losing her color.

And then a low rumble reached them. Jane gripped the armrests of her chair. Loki swallowed, his eyes darting from one window wall to the next.

Then, five black vehicles pulled up to the back parking next to Jane's trailer, kicking up dust as they came. Jane stood up and spun around to face them.

"Is it SHIELD?" she murmured. Then, the car doors opened, and a dozen men in black suits and sunglasses stepped out. And among them was a tall black man in a long trench coat and wearing an eye patch—the same man Loki had seen in the bunker, speaking to Erik. Right on his tail walked a stunning red-headed woman in a tight black leather suit. They strode toward the back lab door.

Loki felt Jane step in front of him, reach back and take hold of his wrist. That action set his heart pounding—Jane was afraid of them.

The tall black man stepped in, followed by the red-headed woman whose eyes were like lasers, and the men in suits came after, fanning out behind their leader.

"I'm Nick Fury," the leading man said, his voice deep and cutting as he fixed his one-eyed gaze on Jane. "I hear you have an Asgardian here."

Every muscle in Loki's body went tight. Jane clamped down on his wrist so hard he thought his bones would come together.

The front door opened. Loki risked a glance behind him. Erik, running a hand through his hair, walked in past Darcy—and he was smiling.

"I'm sorry—I let the cat out of the bag. I didn't mean to—it was completely absentminded of me. But Mr. Fury and Agent Romanoff happened to be in town, and they insisted on coming by to visit. I ordered delivery pizza."

Slowly, Jane's death grip on Loki's wrist relaxed, and as Loki made himself take the time to study the calm posture of the other strangers, he saw they were in no way poised to seize him. Fury's glance crossed Darcy, then Erik, then Loki and Jane. Then, he gave them a surprisingly winning smile.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "We're not here to confiscate anything today."


Darcy had snagged the last piece of pepperoni pizza before Agent Coulson could get it, and now she plopped down into her seat next to Erik, a little way away from all the noise and banter of the large group. Darcy took a bite and cocked her head, watching all the SHIELD people, Nick Fury, Romanoff, Fenris and Jane, who sat in a large circle, using the couch and most of the other lab chairs. Keeping her attention where it was, she leaned toward Erik.

"Does any of this seem funny to you?"

"Funny?" Erik answered, his voice low. "What do you mean?"

"When I left, this Fenris guy was a total whack job. Completely messed up, wouldn't let anybody touch him and didn't want to talk to anybody." Darcy paused. "Now look at him. All cleaned up, he has manners and everything. He's listening when those agents talk to him, and he answers them nicely, and look—look, look! He just smiled."

"He's not sure about these agents, though," Erik commented. "Look at his face—he's definitely not being completely open with them."

"I wouldn't be either," Darcy snorted. "Too many black suits."

Darcy watched for another long while, studying each person around the circle, and listening to their conversation. However, her eyes kept coming back to the woman with long, curling red hair—the one next to Nick Fury who held herself like a coiled snake. And then she watched how the others interacted with her. What she saw made Darcy shake her head in amazement.

"Hm. Not once."

"What?" Erik asked.

"That Whatever-Her-Face-Is Romanoff—that gal who has to be a movie star or model or something when she's not killing people—has been trying to get Fenris to look at her for a good half hour."


"Yep. She keeps playing with the ends of her hair—see? But he won't. I mean, he does when she asks a question. But she is so flirting and he is so not."

"He's paying attention to Jane," Erik observed. "Waiting for her to lead the conversation."

"Maybe," Darcy murmured. She studied everyone for another few minutes, eating half her pizza slice as she did.

"For a guy who doesn't like to be touched," she mused. "He's sure letting Jane sit close to him."

"I don't even think he notices," Erik answered. "They've been that way for a while now—they follow each other everywhere."

"I've noticed that," Darcy nodded. "And he says her name. Like, all the time. 'Jane, what about this,' and 'Jane, tell me about that.'"

"They say a person's name is what they like to hear most."

"So, what…He's trying to get her to like him?" Darcy glanced at Erik.

Erik sighed.

"I think it worked."

Laughter rang out—it was Jane—and Fenris just grinned at her. The hardened SHIELD agents seemed surprised by her exuberance, but they soon chuckled along. Except Romanoff, who just turned away and looked out the window. Darcy smirked to herself, and got up to get a soda.


"You have no idea what you're talking about," Loki muttered, glaring out the passenger window at the dark landscape.

"I resent that," Jane shot back, gripping the steering wheel of the van. "I have had relationships before, you know. Parents, friends, family, boyfriends—I know the difference between hurting someone intentionally and hurting someone accidentally."

Loki sat back in the seat as the van jostled and bounced, the headlights barely bright enough to illuminate the dirt road in front of them. They were coming back from a short trip into a larger city—Jane had needed what she called another "external hard drive," and Loki had come along. But instead of enjoying themselves, they had been arguing for two solid hours and Loki was wishing he had not accompanied her.

"That is just what I'm saying," he answered. "There is no such thing as accidentally hurting someone. It's impossible to unwittingly do damage."

"No, it isn't," Jane insisted. "You can hurt somebody's feelings by not knowing that what you said would hurt them—"

"Ignorance is never an excuse," he shot back, glaring out the windshield. "If you don't know, you should keep your mouth shut instead of making assumptions. And not knowing is just another way of showing the person that you didn't care enough to find out."

"You can't walk around on eggshells all the time," Jane countered, turning her head to give him a sharp look. "And you also can't take everything everybody says personally! Sometimes people clash and do things they regret later. And sometimes people say stupid things—you can't hold it against them for the rest of time."

"There you go again with the stupidity," Loki snapped. "I told you, that is not an excuse."

"You know what I meant!"

"It's a foolish argument."

"Oh, so now I'm—"

Something flashed outside the windshield. Jane gasped, and jerked the wheel.

A thud rang through the front of the van.

Jane slammed her foot down on the brakes and the van skidded to a halt.

And then loud, sharp, mournful howling cut the night.

"Oh, no! What did I hit?" Jane cried, throwing the van into park and unbuckling her belt.

"Jane—" Loki tried, but she wasn't listening. She flung the door open and leaped outside. The night wind blustered into the van and blew her hair. She slammed the door. Loki ground his teeth, unbuckled himself and got out.

His boots hit the dirt, and he squinted against the darkness contrasted by the brilliance of the headlights. The pitiful howling sliced through his senses. He had to search for a moment to find Jane, buffeted by a strong wind, furtively searching the side of the road. Then, she jerked to a stop.

"Oh, no," she sounded on the verge of tears. "It's a dog!"

"Jane…" Loki warned, stepping closer.

"Oh, it's a dog—it's got a collar…Fenris, this is somebody's dog!"

Loki came closer, peering around her to see a large black dog with a red collar struggling to rise and escape. One of its rear legs was mangled, and Loki saw blood running down its hip.

"We have to get it to a vet," Jane decided, her voice gaining a firmness Loki recognized. "We'll get it in the back of the van and take it back to town." Jane stepped assertively toward it, her mind obviously made up. The dog went still, and its yelping changed to a strange, throaty, whining growl. It turned its head to look at her—and Loki could see the whites of its eyes. Loki's instincts tingled.

"Jane, please slow down a moment," he tried. "Jane, let me—"

"It's okay, it's okay," Jane soothed the animal, and reached down to grasp its collar.

The dog let out a sharp snarl—

Lunged and sank its teeth into her hand.

She screamed.

Loki's heart lurched.

The dog thrashed loose and scrambled away.

Loki leaped toward Jane as she fell onto her knees, gripping her left hand in her right. Blood covered her fingers.

Loki whirled, rage turning his vision scarlet. He would find that beast and kill it. It would be so easy—

Jane's moaning brought him around. He turned back to her, then quickly knelt down in the sand in front of her.

"Let me see," he urged, holding his hands out to her. "Jane, let me see."

Her whole body shook, and she stifled sharp cries. He took both her hands in both of his—his fingers instantly became hot and sticky.

"He bit me," Jane gasped, her hair blowing into her face—Loki could see a pair of tears running down her cheeks, glittering in the headlamps.

"Yes, he did," Loki murmured, his fingertips exploring her wounds. His mouth tightened, and he closed his eyes. One canine tooth had penetrated all the way through her hand. The other teeth had torn open the soft skin of her palm, and wrenched back the flesh on the back of her hand.

She let out a staggered sob, then swallowed it. Loki opened his eyes and summoned the smallest bands of black, sparkling magic to his fingertips.

"Can you open your fist for me?" he asked. Her hands twitched, her shoulders tensing, but her shaking fingers slowly unlocked as he eased them open. He pressed his right hand up to her palm, and his left hand down on the back of her hand. She twitched again, almost out of his grip, but he held her fast.

"Easy, easy," he soothed. She sucked in a hitched breath.

"This is my fault. That was stupid, so, so stupid…"

"Nonsense," Loki frowned, spreading his fingers out over her wrist, and slowly running his fingertips over the jagged wound. "The animal bit you."

"No, that was stupid! I shouldn't have grabbed him like that," she shivered, gasping through tears and swiping at her eyes with the back of her right sleeve. "He was just scared…he didn't know…"

"It was a dog," Loki said flatly, turning her hand over gently and rubbing his thumb down her palm, drawing circles around the puncture marks. His fingers got covered with her blood. He focused down. Jane pressed her right arm to her chest and quivered. Several minutes passed, nothing filling the silence but the wind, the van engine idling, and Jane's short, uneven breaths.

"Probably a nice dog," Jane whispered, her voice jerky. "He'd probably never do something like that..." She swallowed hard, trembling again. "He just lost his mind for a second."

Loki glanced up at her pretty face—her brow twisted, and her long-lashed eyes were burnished with falling tears. He looked back to his work, closing his hands around hers and letting the energy hum between them.

"You're uncommonly compassionate," he commented quietly. "Far more so than I am at the moment. I'm inclined to murder it."

"It's not it's fault," Jane said, letting out a shuddering sigh. "Everybody acts like that when they're hurt."

Loki paused, lifting his eyes to her face again. Her eyes had drifted closed, her features tight.

Suddenly, she twitched again, jerking Loki's magic-lined stitches until they almost pulled.

"Stop, stop, stop," Loki urged, taking hold of her wrist. "Hold. Jane, listen to me."

"Mhm," she said through her teeth, eyes still closed.

"I need you to breathe. I need you to take deep breaths and relax."


"And I need you to trust me. I can repair this, but you need to allow me." He raised his eyebrows, watching her. "All right?"

"All right," she whispered. Then, she took two breaths, and blew them out. "Okay, okay, okay…"

"Hold still," Loki instructed. He pressed her hand between his, then released, and turned her hand over, palm up. He gathered the strands of magic in his fingertips, and sent them down and across her punctured palm, touching soft as feathers. Jane sniffed. Her hair brushed his face as the wind tousled it.

He turned her hand back over, and set his fingers on the edge of the long wound. He pulled and wove the magic, a centimeter at a time, gathering her flesh back together, binding it and holding it. Then, he pulled her hand a little closer to himself, took a half lungful, and lightly blew an icy breath across her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arm.

"Ooh," she shuddered, wincing. He stroked the wound again, feeling it smooth out beneath his touch—feeling the gash close up. He turned her hand over once more, palm up, and blew another chilly breath. Her hand flexed open on its own in reaction—Loki watched with pleasure as the tendons moved as they ought. Then, he pressed his thumb down on one side of the puncture and his forefinger on the other side, and he pinched her hand hard.

"Ah!" she gasped. He shot magic straight through the hole, and a blue flash issued, lighting up the inside of her hand for a moment, so they could see the veins and bones, all perfectly reordered.

"There," Loki said. "Let me see."

He took hold of her wrist and squeezed, then slid his hand firmly over the heel of her hand, the middle of it, then her fingers. Everything lined up within, and his fingers slipped smoothly over her flawless skin. The only thing that remained was the blood—but it no longer issued from any hurt. He let go of her.

She lifted her hand, which still trembled slightly, and stared at it. He could see half of her face now, lit by the headlights. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. She blinked. A surprised tear fell.

"It doesn't even hurt," she whispered. Her eyes found his. "That's…That's incredible."

He smiled, something inside his chest going weak and unstable.

"That was frightening," he corrected, his face going cold. Jane gave a watery laugh, her tears making her eyes sparkle, and she wiped them away with her sleeve again.

"You? Scared? I don't believe it."

He managed another smirk and glanced down.

"Well, um…I need to wash," Jane said, getting her feet under her. "You think we can make it back to the—" She stumbled. Loki leaped up and grabbed her arm with both his hands.

"Are you all right?"

She lifted her face for a moment and smiled at him.

"Yeah, I'm good," she steadied herself. "I'm feeling kind of shaky, though. Too bad you can't drive."

"I will try if you wish," Loki said.

"No, no," Jane laughed faintly. "It's okay. I'll just go slow."

"You're sure?" he watched her.

"Yes," she nodded. Her hand found his and squeezed it. "Thanks, though."

Loki swallowed, wanting to say something in protest, but knowing there was no way around it. So he nodded too, and helped her around to her door and fairly lifted her in. Then, he got in beside her and quietly shut the door.

As she put the van in its moveable gear and began driving again, much slower this time, Loki paid no attention to the road. He kept his eyes on her, his heartbeat odd and unsteady against his breastbone.

Jane swiped the last of her tears away on her sleeve, and gripped the steering wheel tightly with her dirty hands.

"So, um…What were we talking about?" she sniffed.

"How you are right," Loki murmured.

Her eyes caught his for an instant, still glimmering a bit, and he solemnly held her gaze. Then, she smiled shakily, and turned back to the road. Loki swallowed, and did not turn away from her.


The halls of Asgard were quiet, and dimly lit. Warm night wind wafted through the open doors and windows, as did soft moonlight. Frigg paced down a long, alabaster corridor, her footsteps padding quietly, her long white dress trailing on the marble behind her. She paused as she glimpsed her husband's tall chamber door slightly ajar, golden firelight spilling through the crack. She hesitated, then pushed the door open on its silent hinges.

Odin sat before the fireplace in a broad, plush scarlet chair, its wooden armrests carved into the shape of dragons. The rest of the chamber—his bed and chests of treasure—hung back in dark shadow. Odin wore soft gold, and he gazed down at the object in his hand: a small silver stone the size of a robin's egg, that gleamed and glittered differently with each angle it was turned. Frigg hesitated, seeing the lines in Odin's brow, the distant sorrow in his eye. She lowered her head, and pulled back to leave him alone.

"So often, we are so certain," Odin murmured, his voice stopping her. She lifted her face, but he did not look at her. She slipped into the chamber, and slowly stepped toward him. She settled down into a chair across from him, folding her hands in her lap, and said nothing, watching him as the firelight flickered against his rugged features. He took a deep breath.

"And other times," he murmured. "We question every decision we have ever made. Every method we thought well-tried, every priority we set, is suddenly thrown into doubt."

Frigg glanced down at the rings on her fingers, unable to make herself look at the glitter of the stone in Odin's hand.

"He never complained, never contradicted me or you," Odin whispered. "He was such an odd, solemn child. I never could understand him—never knew what to make of him." Odin paused—and when he spoke next, his voice was ragged. "But that doesn't mean I didn't…"

He swallowed, and fell silent. Then, he closed the stone in his hand, and pressed his knuckles to his lips and shut his eye.

Frigg watched him for a moment, then rose up silently. She turned and walked back toward the door, left the room, and shut the door behind her.

She let out a long sigh as she stood there a while, and then she followed her feet further down the hallway just a short distance.

Frigg paused in front of another door that no light shone beneath. She reached out a graceful hand, and touched a brass handle that had a spell on it so it would only open for her or Odin. She worked the latch. It clicked and gave way.

She pushed the door open, and stepped into a dark chamber where only moonlight drifted in through a higher window in the far wall. She passed her hand over a glass lamp hanging near the door, and it came to life, glowing softly. Frigg stood still, and glanced around the small room.

In the far corner sat a carved cradle, and next to it stood a little child's bed, the headboard shaped like a sailing ship. The deep green blankets and embroidered pillows had not been disturbed for years. All along the walls sat open chests of toys—mostly wooden swords, metal figurines or play armor made of leather. A thick, soft rug covered the floor, so it was perfect for lounging, playing or even sleeping upon.

Giddy laughter, and the clacking of wooden swords rushed across Frigg's memory, like the echo of the tide carried on the wind. She closed her eyes tight and opened them—and for an instant, she saw Loki, just a toddler, sitting on the floor in front of her in a beam of sunshine, with a wooden horse—his favorite of all of these playthings—captured between both hands. His brilliant green eyes turned toward her, and a delighted grin lit up his face.

She blinked again.

He was gone. And the room was dark.

Frigg wandered further in, surrounded by silence, and paused at the edge of the tiny bed. Her long fingers reached down and curled around the soft top blanket. Loki's skin had been far too tender for wool, so she herself had made him a fleece blanket as soft as silk that would wrap around him and keep him warm as a summer night, even in the depths of winter.

Frigg picked the blanket up, dragging it across the top of the bed, and drew it to her chest. She gathered it up and wrapped her arms around it tight, then buried her face in its softness and sobbed.

Fallen Star

A Marvel Movieverse Story
by Alydia Rackham

Part 10 of 27

<< Previous     Home     Next >>