Okay, let me start off by saying A Kitten in the Palace has not been abandoned. It is on temporary hiatus while I work on other things (AKA possibly preparing for Nanowrimo) and also I may or may not have a severe case of taliae scriptoris (writer's block). That being said, I suddenly had this idea in the shower at around 3:00 in the morning (best time and place for ideas, right?), and figured it was too vivid not to write down. So here it is. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Marvel, this would be a movie script, not a fanfiction. I'd also have an editor.
Yggdrasil, the World Tree, surveyed her realms thoughtfully. Her sentience was a fact known only to a select few, and her omniscience known only to one besides the Norns themselves. But the fact of the matter was, since the beginning of the universe, Yggdrasil knew everything. Everything that would happen, everything that could happen, and everything that must be prevented at all costs. That being said, she did not interfere unless she absolutely needed to. Normally, events would work themselves out over time. But once, 3,467 years ago, she had been forced to make a choice. Forced to meddle in the lives of her children. 3,467 years ago, a man had decided to defy fate itself.
That man, of course, had no idea what the effects of his actions might be on the future of the universe, but Yggdrasil did. And Yggdrasil knew that the wrong choice could spell an early Ragnarok, an early end to all she had strived for. She couldn't let that happen, so she intervened. A twitch of a branch. Nothing much. But enough to stop a betrayal, a murder, and a war. And enough to nearly cripple her in pain, for a tree can only move itself with great determination.
And so Yggdrasil decided only Ragnarok itself could bring her to move, even inch, in any direction.
And as Yggdrasil set her gaze on the golden realm of Asgard, she knew she had to move. In her mind's eye she could see what no one else could. The future of the universe lay on the shoulders of one man, sitting in a cell.
Loki, of Jotunheim and Asgard, would need to make a choice. A choice that could potentially set off a chain of events that could only lead to war. The death of a queen. The loss of a king. A titan's rage. War was at hand. And Yggdrasil despised war more than anything. The fallen prince, the only one who knew the true power of Yggdrasil, was not going to make the right choice.
But as Yggdrasil searched the realms of her branches, she could see no other way. No hope of avoiding the coming storm. Not in the nine realms she had placed in the center.
Until something caught her eye. Nestled deeply in her farthest branches, cut off from all other realms, lay a sphere of blue. Identical to Midgard in appearance, it seemed to be the spitting image of the center realm. More primitive, perhaps, and with different people, but exactly the same in every other way. Earth-323.
And on this planet, this lonely universe of its own, was a light. And it was coming from a girl. A girl that was not meant to be there.
Yggdrasil stared intently at this enigma. A girl made for one world, was placed in another. How could this happen? A mistake had been made, a life misplaced, and now, everything was going wrong. Perhaps if this hadn't happened, the universe wouldn't be in this situation. Yggdrasil would not need to do what she was about to do, and everything would have been right. But nevertheless, it had happened, and it needed to be fixed. And, as much as Yggdrasil dreaded the pain it would inflict upon her, she knew she was the only one who could do it.
Slowly, steadily, she stretched one branch out towards the pale blue clone of Midgard, and, pain coursing through her entire being touched the young girl's light.