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A/N: Answer to the Tarot Challenge in Tumblr.
Prompt: The High Priestess. "Your dreams and meditations bring to the surface the hidden, subconscious past and future."
x-x
After the craziness that had been Thor crashing into Earth, after all those aliens and the giant armour that could level a town, it shouldn't have surprised anyone that Darcy had decided to learn how to fight. Yes, she was aware that she didn't stand a chance against an Asgardian, but that didn't mean that she liked the idea of being defenceless.
Until now, her taser had been enough for her, but after May... Well, she didn't feel safe anymore with just it for defence. She had taken down Thor with it, true, but she didn't know what it could do against an Asgardian at full power, and she doubted that it was affective against walking pieces of metal.
Even if she couldn't ever take an Asgardian down, at the very least she could improve her reflexes. She was now far too aware of what collateral damage was, and she didn't plan on joining the definition any time soon.
So Darcy decided to open her laptop and pay a visit to Wikipedia. Several articles later, Darcy had decided that she was going to learn karate. From the different styles of martial arts that she had read about in the last couple of hours, this one was the one she liked the most.
It seemed to be more about defence than attack. Darcy liked that, she wasn't planning on fighting anyone.
And that was how she had found herself practicing a new sport when summer ended.
The first three months were without any incidence, but the fourth month was a different story. They had been kneeling on the floor, meditating, when the quietness of the room had been broken by Darcy's gasp. Darcy's hands went to support her weight when she nearly fell.
The rest of the class opened their eyes and looked at her in confusion, some even glaring; Darcy, however, didn't notice them. Darcy was lost in her mind, thinking about the brief image that she had seen mere seconds ago in her mind.
Darcy didn't know where it had come from, only that it felt like an old memory. It had come so suddenly that it had startled her. The image -memory, whatever it had been-, didn't make any sense. No matter what that tiny voice inside her mind said, it was just her hyperactive imagination.
It wasn't a memory, because that had never happened. She would remember if that, it's not one of those things you forget that easily.
She wasn't a mother.
Darcy finally noticed the rest of the class looking at her and she panicked. The girl got up and practically ran to the door. At the last moment, she remembered to bow before leaving and closing the door.
She had never given birth to twins.
The dreams started soon after that. Or, at least, Darcy liked to call them dreams. Sometimes she was awake and something triggered an image. She could never predict what would be a trigger, and she still refused to refer to those images as memories.
The tiny voice was wrong.
Sometimes, her dreams were actually dreams. She was asleep and then she would be somewhere else, in a forest or a building that she didn't recognize. Sometimes she was still in a bed, but it wasn't hers and a pair of strong arms was wrapped around her waist; sometimes the feeling of kisses against her skin and fingers trailing her body haunted her after awakening.
It was all confusing, and that confusion was enough proof that it was just her imagination. She didn't have brown hair in her dreams, at least not always; the color of her hair keeps changing.
There was also a man there, the owner of the arms, with hair that kept changing between red and black. Her dream self sometimes loved him, but other times there was also hate for something he had done.
There was the memory of a male voice accompanying that hate, talking about Asgard and old laws.
What scared her the most, however, was the fact that sometimes the man was with the twins, and that in some of these dreams the twins looked like the man.
Darcy wanted to talk with someone about this. She needed to speak with someone that wouldn't put her in a mental hospital after the first words. Unfortunately, the only ones that fit the description were in the middle of New Mexico's desert.
Well, Jane was in the middle of New Mexico's desert; Erik had been missing since the end of the summer because of some secret project with SHIELD. Darcy guessed she could speak with someone from SHIELD, they knew about Asgard and their crazy magic, but she didn't trust them.
And of that she was sure, that Asgard had something to do with this, and that she couldn't trust SHIELD with these visions.
Darcy sighed and lied back on her bed. She was supposed to be studying for her exams, not stressing herself over this. Except for the fact that the situation was out of hand and she needed answers.
The young woman turned her head towards her bookshelf and stared at it. There they were, newly bought two weeks ago and never opened. Poetic Edda and Prose Edda. Her problem was of Asgardian origin, she was sure, and that meant that the Eddas could be of help.
If she ever dared to open them, that's it.
The problem, however, was that Darcy was scared of what she might find inside those. Or maybe she wouldn't find anything. She had no way of knowing how correct those texts were. She didn't even have any names in the first place.
With a final look at the books, Darcy turned around and went back to studying.
In the end Darcy read the books, but her reading was of no use. Her dreams weren't detailed enough; there weren't any names to help her. Of course, moths later, her vision found her.
She had been walking down the street when someone's hand grasped her wrist and tugged at her. Darcy turned around and saw green eyes belonging to a familiar face. It wasn't just a face that she had seen in her television, it wasn't just the face of the man that had fought the Avengers and that belonged to Thor's brother.
"Sigyn," he said.
It's also the face in her dreams.
"No, not this time," is her answer before she runs away from him.