First things first: I own nothing. Malekith et al. belong to Marvel. Second, to all you fans of the comics: please don't kill me. I wrote this with complete and utter disregard for the books. I'm just riffing on what was in the movies and hoping it makes sense.
Shout-outs to Aortic Inkwell (who loves the Dark Elves at least as much as I do) and to moonship (author of Thickened Skin, which I used throughout as a reference)!
The first thing he was aware of was the noise: the creaking of ancient hardware, the snap of sparks, the slow hiss of atmosphere re-entering the corridors. Feeling returned to his limbs as biochemicals trickled into his blood, drawing him back to the waking world. The face shield withdrew, clanking softly, and he felt air on his face. It was cold. He opened his eyes and looked around.
He nearly collapsed when his harness released him. That wasn't right, he thought as he struggled to get his legs under him. He had been through this process before. Something was different this time; but whatever it was eluded him for the moment. He staggered forward, clutching the walls for support, struggling to remember where he was and what was going on. A scrap of half-remembered training floated back to him: Remain at your stasis pod for ten minutes after waking. This will prevent injury in the event the side effects become overwhelming… He had never listened. He had to keep moving; it was his way. He didn't know how not to.
A door opened and he stumbled through it to see a deep bay lit by red engine-glow. Tier upon tier of stasis pods lay below him, disgorging their occupants as he watched. The Ark. He was on the Ark. Which was concealed in the asteroid ruins…
At the same time he remembered the faint whisper, the tug at the back of his mind that he'd been too addled to notice sooner. The combined force of the realizations struck him with a shock like cold water, jarring him fully awake. His voice echoed around the bay, startling even himself, and he realized he had somehow forgotten its sound.
"The Aether awakens us. The Convergence returns."
Before the Universe, before the birth of Time itself, there had existed seven singularities. Each differed from the others, displaying its own traits and governed by its own set of laws. Then came the Start, the Universe exploding into existence, and six of the singularities were absorbed into its fabric. Matter cooled, nebulae formed, stars were born. Over time, the singularities shrank and became concentrated, until by the time of the first sentients, a strong enough individual could bend their power to its will.
All this Malekith had learned in his youth at the Temple of the Relics. "Only six," he had wondered. "Only six survived the Beginning. What happened to the seventh?"
He could still remember the look in his teacher's eyes when she answered. "You are living in it."
When the first älfeneel [1] had set foot on Harudheen [2] during the first Convergence, they had found one of these singularities waiting for them: the shale of a stillborn universe. It was the first of their great relics, and the mightiest, and the order that formed around it was revered even by kings. They gave it many names, and many more were given by the pilgrims of other worlds that came to witness its splendor. It was the Aether, the Ever-Changing, the Ungraspable, and to the älfeneel it was the wisdom of the king and the power to change, to build, and to protect.
"You look terrible."
Malekith raised his eyes and grunted. He had decided to sit down before he fell; he had hoped it would avoid notice, but very little on the Ark escaped the notice of Algrim the Strong. He had been out of stasis less than an hour and already he was up and walking with his usual easy confidence. He held out a hand; Malekith took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.
"It's been five millennia," he complained. "Our bodies weren't meant to sleep that long."
"You said yourself, there was no other way. Come on, let's get you in your armor."
Before the war, Algrim's unflappable demeanor would have annoyed Malekith. Now, he relied on it for his own sanity.
"I see you're already armed."
"I had to be ready when we awoke."
"Eh, you slept in it."
"I came out of my mother's womb in my armor."
"Your mother wore armor."
Algrim snorted and almost smiled. For a moment, it was as if there was no war.
To be continued...
Notes on the Shivaisith:
[1] älfeneel: Dark Elves
[2] Harudheen: the homeworld of the Dark Elves