Here's a fun new story kids! I'm still sick so updates may lag. Sorry.
The word Dragur is pronounced Drog-R. Drog rhymes with dog. The R is trilled like in German. Just FYI.
Being a historical research assistant on a documentary was a dream come true for bookish Iona Kirkwood. That it was about Viking graves, called kuml, in her family's ancestral home of Iceland was a challenge for her, but she liked it well enough. The best part, by far, was the documentary host. Instead of the usual stuffy BBC host, this documentary was hosted by none other than Loki actor Tom Hiddleston. And Iona was his personal history coach- she was pretty sure she could die happy now.
Iona was shy, but also very bright. She had a knack for making history seem like a personal event rather than a bunch of boring names and dates.
Since they'd started working together Tom had managed to draw Iona out of her shell and befriend her. No matter how shy she got, Tome was always his patient and kind self.
They'd been working together for nearly a month, spread across Iceland at various Viking graves. Nothing too exciting happened, though a side trip they'd take on a day off to one of the active volcanoes was pretty memorable.
The last location was a mass grave that had never once seen the light of day once it was closed up on the day of the funeral celebration almost four thousand years ago.
Archeologists were on site- going to open the grave on camera, but first there was days of preliminary work and digging to get through. Everyone involved was staying on site in trailers as the nearest town was a couple hours away. While it was cool to be there 24/7, Iona and Tom didn't have much to do. There wasn't much for Iona to research on an unopened grave. They hung out in Tom's trailer mostly, usually reading or playing cards.
It was midafternoon when Iona, too hot thanks to the trailer's heater, shed her cardigan and draped it over the back of her chair.
Tom always liked to look at the birthmark on her left shoulder- to him it looked a bit like a rune or something. He'd pointed that out once but Iona had just shrugged. He figured the mark, highly visible against her very pale skin, made her self-conscious and didn't bring it up again.
Neither of them spoke, Tom read a script he'd been sent and Iona had been reading a book about local history before getting restless. She pulled her thick hair up into a ponytail and stretched.
Tom secretly thought Iona was staggeringly beautiful- what with her hair so fair it was almost silver and eyes to match, but he didn't want to scare the shy woman off. She was barely a woman anyway- having just turned 21. Sometimes Tom felt far too old to think of her the way he did.
She was quirky in some ways. Iona dressed plainly enough in jeans and cardigans, but she always wore a dangly earring in one ear whose stone looked like it held a galaxy of stars inside. In her other ear was a simple sapphire stud.
Another way she was quirky was the way she seemed to just know things- not just history ether. Iona had saved a crew member's life on set from an accident that hadn't even happened yet. The set light crashed down where the man had been standing seconds after she called him over for help lifting something. Coincidence, she'd shrugged when Tom mentioned the perfect timing.
Tom stopped staring at her and turned back to his script as Iona got up and moved to look out the window. The grave was busy with activity and for, what seemed like the millionth time, Iona wished she could be out there helping somehow.
With a sigh she left the window and stretched out on the couch- something about Iceland made her tired, must be the weather. The wind had picked up since they'd been out that morning to look at the kuml. It was a bitter driving wind that howled and rocked the trailer- lulling Iona to sleep.
She even dreamed of the dig- there was just no getting away from it in her head. This dream was different than the usual one about what was inside and it had an odd diamond bright quality to it.
Dream Iona found herself looking at the now fully opened kuml. Beside her was a man who was also looking at the kuml, even without looking she knew it was Tom based on his build and towering height.
But when she did look over it wasn't Tom but his Marvel character Loki.
'Odd.' Dream Iona thought, knowing that Loki- especially MCU Loki was fictional.
He looked rather distressed as he studied the kuml's opening- peering into the darkness as if waiting for something to happen.
It was dead silent around them until a shrill cry sounded from inside the kuml and a skeletal raven flew out and landed at their feet. This being a rather odd lucid dream, even for Iona, she wasn't particularly surprised when the bird spoke. Loki looked this this confirmed his worst fears.
"I am the Black Herald." It croaked, voice cracking with disuse. "Heed my warning and the Prophetess of Starlight may survive. The Dragur are waking, find the Song of Sleep to lull them back into dreamlessness for another four thousand years."
Before Iona could ask it one of the many questions she now had, the bird shrieked and disintegrated into a pile of dusty black feathers.
She turned to Loki to find herself alone. Suddenly a deep unearthly moan sounded in the kuml and Iona knew this wasn't another raven. The hair on her body stood on end as the first moan was joined by a chorus of others. Whatever Dragur were she didn't want to find out first hand.
Iona woke up on the couch screaming about ravens and Dragur, Tom hovering over her- trying to calm her down.
Iona focused on Tom- his closeness and the warmth in his face- especially in his beautiful green eyes. Wait, what? She looked again- blue. Blue like they always were. Just a trick of her mind as the nightmare lingered in waking. When the wind blew, she realized that was sound that had come from the kuml.
"God…that was terrible…" she shivered even thought she'd been so hot earlier. Tom wrapped a soothing arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. "It was just a dream, darling. How about I make us some tea?"
Iona nodded, "Yes, please."
Tom frowned slightly as he plugged the electric kettle in. "What's a Dragur? You talk in your sleep." He explained.
"No idea…but nothing good. Maybe…maybe they shouldn't open the kuml…"
Leaving the kettle to boil, Tom gently guided Iona into the bedroom and eased her down on his bed. "It was just a dream. Lay down and rest. I'll bring your tea in when it's ready."
Sleep was the last thing she wanted more of- being wide awake and in fear of having another nightmare. But, as Tom stroked her hair, she seemed unable to fight off the sudden and intense heaviness of her eyelids.
When she woke up it was well after dark. A cup of tea steamed on the table bedside the bed as promised. It was silent but for the wind outside. Iona sat up and stretched, ignoring the tea. Tom wasn't in his trailer.
All she could see when she got up and looked out the window was darkness mixed with a few snowflakes. As her eyes adjusted she noticed a figure standing by the kuml. It seemed to be inspecting the inscription on the rocks that flanked the doorway- no one had been able to translate it, it was a form of Icelandic that had been forgotten.
Iona decided to go outside and see what was going on, assuming it must be Tom out there as he wasn't in with her. She threw on her cardigan, not her jacket as she had no intention of being out very long and headed out the door.
Her newfound uneasiness of the kuml kept her farther away that the other person out there. "Tom!" she yelled over the wind. "What are you doing?"
The figure turned and looked at Iona, clearly surprised at being sneaked up upon.
That wasn't Tom. Shock was the first emotion Iona registered. Only the bitter wind told her this wasn't another dream. Probably.
Fear was the second emotion and it had her legs running away before her brain could catch up. Whether this was real or a dream, she wanted it to be over.
Iona was tiny, no more than 100 pounds and 5 foot 1 inch. Her best bet, like when she played hide and seek as a kid, was to pick a spot that would be overlooked by the figure. She slipped into the hollow trunk of an old dead tree. Using her hand as a filter she managed to keep her breath from condensing in the cold air and giving her hiding spot away. Less than a minute after she hid, the figure rushed by clearly angry and looking for her.
Staying put until she was sure the coast was clear was her plan, but with just a tank top under her cardigan Iona was bone piercingly cold. Oddly, the longer she stayed there the warmer she got. The shock of what she'd seen numbed her brain, just as the hypothermia numbed her frail body. She tried to retrace her steps to the trailer, but the snow storm had started in earnest and she got confused. Sitting down, she told herself to think. Think about what to do next, where to go, but all she managed was to close her eyes and slip into a frozen state of unconsciousness.
She was back in Tom's bed when she opened her eyes- no trace of cold in her body. The steaming tea was still on the bedside table. Tom was sleeping in a chair beside his bed, arms crossed tightly across his chest, a slight frown marring his perfect features.
Iona decided it had been a dream after all, until she looked up and found Tom's oddly piercing green eyes glaring at her. He hadn't moved an inch other than opening his eyes. His mouth was compressed in a hard line- all traces of his usual warmth and kindness were gone.
Icy, she thought, he looks icy…
While Iona tried to figure out what was going on, Tom moved from his chair to sit on the edge of the bed. He leaned down, body still ridged, his face very close to hers. "You will be silent and listen. Do you understand?" he growled.
Iona looked up, silvery eyes wide, and nodded mutely.