"You know, you could have waited just a few days more." She commented lightly as she appeared inside the Bifrost chamber. Heimdall gave her a worried frown before shutting down the Bifrost, walking over to where the woman then collapsed to.
"Time is different in other Universes. It took the majority of the last hundred years' power to transport you here. War is coming to Asgard, and King Odin will need to transport troops. I might as well try to keep as much peace as I can by having as little power as possible. I apologise."
The woman gave a pained smile, hand going to her swollen midsection. "Well, do you have a room I can go into, or something? I bet your King will take some time to get all his troops through." She glanced over his shoulder to where horses were thundering down the Rainbow Bridge. "And quick."
Heimdall nodded, before picking her up and going over to the middle of the chamber, going down a hidden set of stairs into a small room, the only piece of furniture being a small bed covered in a thick sheet woven in runes. He laid the woman down as a contraction seized her form.
"I will watch you," he intoned lowly as she waved her hand loosely, causing gold to shimmer up and down the walls and over the entrance before Heimdall went up, just as Odin arrived on his magnificent stallion.
"Heimdall, open the Bifrost! We go to war against Laufey and his monstrous kin!" Odin shouted, raising Gungnir, the warriors behind him shouting and roaring behind him.
Heimdall bowed, before going up to the podium, taking his sword Hofund from its sheath.
"Of course, sire – but know I will not open it for you again if your return endangers Asgard." Then, he entered his sword and turned, shutting his eyes against the sights of the Universe as below, Elizabeth Potter gave birth.
It was a long but thankfully relatively painless birth. Elizabeth had gone through this before, years past, or maybe years to come – time travel and dimension travel were always iffy, especially when it came to this specific Universe – and she remembered the pain that had come with her beloved Loptr. Her daughter, Sif, as Heimdall had named her in Tom's stead – he'd have probably narrowed his eyebrows at the name, looked it up with a focus that mirrored her own, then decreed it acceptable – was surprisingly small for her second-born, though maybe that was to be expected.
When Elizabeth had found out she was pregnant again, it had been a tumultuous next few months. She'd been approximately three months and two weeks into her pregnancy when Dumbledore's compulsions and potions forced her to finally kill Tom. The Wizarding World had pronounced her, once again, their saviour, and she was the Woman-Who-Conquered, the Vanquisher of Dark Lord's – because somehow, for some inane reason they thought that Tom in the end had been an imposter, because 'he had different tactics to the true He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' – but Elizabeth had only mourned him. Less than a month into her solitude, she nearly had a miscarriage due to her lack of sustenance. She'd attempted to starve herself to death, but being Master or rather Mistress of Death, that was impossible. Her magic kept her baby alive until her body got to a point where her magic had to properly intervene, and dropped the baby's 'life-support'. She'd spent the next three and a half months in a muggle hospital, before they pronounced her fit to leave.
At that point, Elizabeth had been seven months along. The Wizarding World didn't take kindly to her reappearance after being missing for so long, and vilified her for being pregnant, despite her glowing status. So she decided to permanently leave the community, even abandoning Grimmauld – after, of course, packing away all her belongings, all her gold from Gringotts, the Black Library and several magical items that included but were not limited to the Sword of Gryffindor, Slytherin's Locket, a trapped boggart, the Horn of Infinity, the Amulet of Merlock and the Cintamani Stone, to name a few.
She remembered the time when she was fifteen – barely fifteen, but at the same time eternally fifteen – when she'd just ran, feeling so much grief. Cedric had died less than a month prior, and no-one was contacting her and stupid fucking Lord Voldemort was around. At that moment in time, Elizabeth then stumbled across two things – a mushroom circle, and an awakening in her magic.
The contact of the two caused her to be transported across time and space, to the land of the Frost Giants.
They didn't treat her well, at first. On her arrival, she had become one of them, her magic protecting her by turning her into a Jotun – but it didn't change her size, and for that she was ill-treated. But then Laufey found out she existed, her arrival and the time it took him and his convoy to reach her amounting to what Elizabeth believed to be around a year. In that time, she'd learnt their language – then subsequently the Allspeak, granted to her by a non-judgemental wise woman – and gained the skill of wandless magic, while also discovering that a war had been was going on for the last fifty years, and that it was the only reason there were no males around to molest her. Frost Giants lived a long time.
Unfortunately for her, that didn't save her from Laufey, who after finding out she wasn't an Aesir spy taking Jotun form – because apparently Sorcerers could do just that, except her magic worked differently so he didn't discover her human-ness, to both her luck and misfortune – decided to take her as one of his brides. She was pregnant within the next moon-cycle, and birthed her Loptr around half a year after. She had less than four months with her child before Odin finally reached the capital of Jotunheim, and he sent a burst of magic across the land upon removing the Casket of Winters. It destroyed the temple she and Loptr had taken sanctuary in, and for once in her life at that point, Elizabeth was glad that when Loptr slept, he was too cold for her to hold – something which always baffled her pseudo-husband – as she was thrown through time and space back to the mushroom ring-portal she'd stepped through so long ago.
It nearly broke her, losing her son despite the circumstances. Fortunately for her, that terrible grief overwhelmed her grief for Cedric – which Voldemort had dealt with, even increasing due to their connection. The backlash of such sudden emotion made her aware of their mental connection, and through it, she let the Dark Lord understand what she'd just lost. That was the start of something neither expected, but then Dumbledore showed his hand, and their relationship wavered long enough that Sirius died. It broke Elizabeth from the potion-induced haze of anger and she forced herself to fight back.
Dumbledore dying produced the opposite of what they expected, her unnatural will for Tom – Tom, never Voldemort – to die increasing tenfold.
A few months before she was finally forced to kill him, they shared Beltane together, the magicks of the Holiday negating the corrosive magic cast on her. It was when Sif was conceived, Elizabeth knew for sure – she'd never lain with another, with the obvious exception of Laufey. She would never say she regretted it.
"She is a beautiful child," Heimdall said quietly as the newborn laid on her blankets on the podium. Elizabeth was on her front beside her, watching her as she slept. "Do you know what you will do now?"
"I need to find a home, somewhere we won't be disturbed. Hopefully Iðunn will be forthcoming with her apple for Sif when she is old enough."
"I have already contacted her on your behalf," Heimdall replied with a small smile, causing Elizabeth to look up sharply, eyes wide.
"Heimdall, you shouldn't have!"
Heimdall smiled wider, "Iðunn loves children. She would not refuse me in any case – especially when she heard that, while you are not Aesir, you will never die. No-one with as long a life-span, longer even, should have to witness the death of their child due to old age." He suddenly glanced up at the Bifrost. "Gather Sif, Lady Elizabeth, for I must return Odin and his troops from battle."
Elizabeth nodded, before sitting up, scooping Sif and her blankets into her arms, the baby not even stirring as she hurried down into the small room beneath the key to the Bifrost. Inside, her half-arctic leopards, half-kneazles were laid out on her bed, the giant Alaskan malamute puppy cuddled into Ronan's fur as they lounged. Elizabeth sat down, glancing to see if Morag was at her post. The three-eyed raven was absent though, making the witch worry, especially as she didn't see Demon anywhere. The Cornish Pixie had long ago taken a liking to her – their first meeting during the chaos that was Lockhart's lesson being quite the memorable occasion. Luckily though, her little fairies, small, tiny beings that lit up the walls of the room like little stars, were there, calming her. One – her favourite, Lir – fluttered over, resting on the bunch of her knotted black braids, where they connected at the back of her head before falling down in a thick rope.
So patiently, she waited, listening as the Bifrost opened, admitting hundreds of militia – and then Odin himself.
"Heimdall, close the Bifrost." Her friend did, and Odin talked more about his good service to Asgard, but it seemed Sif was waking up. Elizabeth went to put up her silencing wards on automatic, before remembering who was above her – Odin would sense them in a second. Swallowing her panic, she started to rock the child, only for her to let out a cry, silencing the King above.
The illusion disappeared momentarily, Heimdall peering down, "Sister, is there something wrong with Sif?" He seemed worried as he spoke – Elizabeth taking the title thrust upon her in stride – before Odin himself came forward to look at her in the small room.
"You have been holding out on me, Heimdall," the King wiped his pink forehead of sweat and blood, a sheen of magic making them both disappear from his body quick as a flash. "Come up here, milady."
Elizabeth bowed her head, hugging the whimpering Sif to her chest as she ascended into the Observatory, glancing at Heimdall for help as she knelt at Odin's feet.
"Your Majesty." Sif then let out a plaintive cry, Elizabeth switching her attention to her daughter without thinking, ignoring the King as she turned on her knees, slipping into a sitting position on the podium to attend to her.
Odin glanced at Heimdall, eyebrows raised. Heimdall bowed in apology before going to her, pressing a hand to her shoulder.
"Sister," he reminded her of her company, but she brushed him off.
"I'd rather Sif not scream bloody murder, Heimdall – no offence meant, Your Majesty," she tacked on at the end, before summoning a premade bottle, which obviously confused Odin.
"What is it drinking? Is it not too young for such things? Is there something wrong with you that you do not feed your child yourself? Does it have a wet-nurse?"
Elizabeth glanced at him, "I don't see how it is any of your business – but if you have to know the specifics, its cow's-milk, Your Majesty." She said it without embarrassment, but it obviously caused Odin great concern as he pursed his lips.
"You should learn how to speak to a King, woman. Heimdall, see to it your sister is educated in such matters."
Heimdall went to speak, but Elizabeth already had fire in her eyes.
"Heimdall, if you so much as utter a word I will take Hofund and stab you with it." She stood, facing Odin with a click of her heels, only then remembering as he stared at her, that she'd conjured Earth clothes that day. It must have been weird to see a woman in trousers and a loose button-up.
"Your Majesty. First of all, if you expect to continue your line and be respected by the female population as a King, you need to be able to hand such language with grace. Usually, mothers know what their children need. If I feel like the supplement I'm giving my daughter isn't enough, I'll hire a wet-nurse, but that's last resort. I should also point out, Your Majesty, that she is not an 'it'. If I called you an 'it', you would probably have me whipped at the stocks, or worse." Odin puffed up, about to retort when she continued. "My daughter is a girl, Your Majesty, so you would call her, her, or she. Also, as I said previously, the subjects you spoke of aren't any of your business. If you truly wish to know why I feed my daughter cow's milk, then you can gain my confidence as a friend and ask politely – but even then, I might not tell you. It's my private business. You have no say in my private life, unless it threatens the realms – and does it, Your Majesty?" She raised an eyebrow.
The irate King had no answer, and went to leave.
And so Elizabeth smirked what, to Odin, would eventually become a familiar smirk – even if it were not from Elizabeth.