Fairy Godmother
Sigyn sipped at her coffee, which was too bitter for her liking but the sugar and cream helped cut some of that, and eyed the newspaper spread open on the table. It seemed her exile had come at an interesting time. A human spider saving the city from what she could only describe as a living Mjolnir. If she had known Midgard would have this much excitement, she might have picked another realm. She pulled her hood up over her head; she disliked spiders and the last thing she wanted was one crawling all over her.
The story continued on the next few pages. There had been a second attacker, Electro's accomplice. The picture showed a young man with her same dark blond hair and Loki's sharp blue eyes. So young to be involved in something like this, she thought, her heart quickly folded the newspaper and tossed it to the other side of the table. Sympathy was dangerous; getting to close to anyone right now was a luxury she couldn't afford, and especially not for a mortal child. Even if he did look like he could have been her and Loki's son.
No doubt whoever designed Ravencroft believed it to be impenetrable with its intricate maze of hallways, endless checkpoints and security clearances, and guards with guns and dogs. There were secret chambers in Asgard that were not so heavily guarded. Still, the doctors never noticed that one of the nurses who followed them into their patient's room didn't leave with them. Harsh overhead lighting created shards of darkness in the cell in which Sigyn could conceal herself.
"I know you're there," he said finally. He sat cross legged on the bed, his back pressed against the corner. "The others couldn't sense you, but I can."
A side effect of the serum, perhaps? She stepped out of the shadows, aware that he was watching her every move. "You're perceptive."
"And you weren't invited." He glared up at her. "Why are you here?"
To be honest, she wasn't sure. She was supposed to be laying low, not breaking into some secure facility with no clear purpose. But she had seen pictures, newspaper and magazine articles about this boy, about his company's actions and his father's death. The undercurrent of loneliness that swam beneath the words and between the lines on those pages was what drew her in, another isolated, hurting soul. "Thought you might like some company. One lost creature to another."
"I don't need anyone."
"Clearly," she said with a glance around the room. "I'm sure the doctors are great company after all the drugs."
His lips curled back, revealing sharp darkened teeth that extended well into his gums, and a harsh guttural snarl came from his throat. As she stepped closer, the damage from the serum became more apparent. The whites of his eyes were a sickly greenish-yellow, and his skin was pallid and mottled with brown patches and dark green veins. He snapped and bit when she was close enough, and the growling grew louder.
"Do you think you frighten me?" She gave him a gentle smile as she sat on the bed next to him. "I have seen and known far too many dangerous creatures to be afraid of a wee hobgoblin like you."
The growling stopped as did the snarling, but the feral look in his eyes remained. "What are you?" He sniffed the air and recoiled. "You don't smell human."
"I'm a friend," she answered, dodging the human comment. "Someone who knows what it's like to be abandoned. Betrayed." His medical and criminal files were extensive, filled with enough detailed records of his rants that she had an idea how to reach him. And it seemed to have struck some nerve; his shoulders relaxed and he no longer looked as though he would rip her throat out with his teeth. Yet he still kept his distance like an animal cornered.
"What could you possibly know about it?"
"My mother took me from my home and brought me to her realm, only to ignore me when I needed her. My husband was cast out on a frozen rock at birth and denied his birthright from his family. While he tried to reclaim it, I was left behind. When he failed, I was exiled from my husband, my home and my family for my loyalty to him. So believe me, I am all too familiar with being cast aside."
"A couple of rejects, you and me. Your husband must have done something terrible for you to suffer the consequences."
"I suppose there are some who would consider leading an army against an unsuspecting world terrible."
His eyes narrowed; Sigyn could practically see his mind slowly clicking the pieces together. "How did he fail?"
"He tried to wield a couple of weapons he couldn't control. Much like you did. And don't look at me like that; you know I'm right. Electro was unstable, a wild force you had no hope of controlling. The same could be said for your...affliction."
"I did what I had to do to stay alive," he said through gritted teeth.
"And I understand that, I do. Sometimes survival is the only thing people like us have." And if what she read was true, then he was stronger than others gave him credit for. His mutation should have killed him; data from his recovered suit showed massive internal injuries. Yet not only had he crawled across the lab in agonizing pain, he had managed to get himself into the suit and fight Spiderman. Even now, with his injuries healed, he was still hurting, yet he still fought. He should not have to suffer like this. "I...might...have a way to help you."
He sat up straighter, fidgeting against his restraints. "You mean a cure?"
She shook her head. "I cannot cure you here."
"Then take me some place you can."
"The only place that is possible is the place I am exiled from. Even if I weren't exiled, mortals are forbidden there. The guards would take one look at you and kill us both. Besides, breaking you out of here would draw more attention than I'd like."
"What? Afraid of Spiderman?" he sneered.
"Oh little goblin, there are forces out there so much more terrifying than Spiderman."
For a moment, he stared at her wide eyed and almost fearful, as though he realized his accusation that she wasn't 'human' was true. Did he see New York burning when he looked at her? Did he see Grendel's mother, raised from her marsh-like homeland to devour and destroy in the name of vengeance? Whatever he thought in those moments, he covered with a derisive snort and mocking smile full of pointed teeth. "Some fairy godmother you are. You say you can help me, yet you can't heal me or get me out of here. So tell me, what can you do?"
"I can give you a way to control the only weapon you have left. The suit helped to heal your injuries from the initial transformation but you're having trouble changing back. It hurts when you try to. Patches of skin that itch and burn as they peel off. Joints that are stiff and aching. And as much as you would love nothing more than to rip my throat out, it hurts to move that quickly."
"How-"
"I read your files. And I know enough of pain to sense that you reek of it."
He was silent after that, fidgeting and shifting, and Sigyn realized he was moving closer. "Forgive me for being skeptical; I'm not in the habit of trusting people anymore."
"Nor would I in your position. But then again, what do you have to lose? You're already locked up, in pain. I can't hurt you more than you already are."
His eyes widened, and his lip trembled; something about that sparked some kind of recognition though she didn't know what. "What do you need me to do?"
"Nothing. Just close your eyes and try not to make too much noise. It shouldn't hurt much, but best not to have the nurses come running."
He did as he was told, and Sigyn felt a moment of apprehension. There was nothing stopping him from turning his head and taking a chunk out of her wrist. His eyes remained closed, yet he flinched when she placed her fingertips behind his ears. His skin felt rough, with an almost scale like quality, and she wondered what sort of disease could do this to someone. "Just stay still and remember to breathe."
She'd performed countless binding spells in her life, quite a few on people too. Most had been to bind spells into objects-weapons, armor, amulets, tokens-others had been to contain the magic within another, sometimes as punishment but more often than not for their own safety. This was something liminal, something bordering between the healing arts and the arcane. Not impossible, but different and rarely done.
The mutation was virulent, aggressive, and stubborn. As she feared, there was so separating it from him. The best option was a modified version of the spell the All-Father used to hide Loki's true form. She was not as powerful as him, but this might provide some comfort. Magic thrummed through her fingertips and into his body, binding itself to the cells that were afflicted. "Shhh," she murmured when he flinched and whimpered. "It will be over soon." Moments later it was. His skin returned to a normal color free of dark veins and mottled patches. The points of his ears shrunk to normal, as did his teeth and whites of his eyes. When the transformation was done, two small runes appeared behind his ears, pale and faint in color, and undetectable unless one was looking. "There. All done."
He ran his tongue over his teeth, testing to see if it was true, before stumbling off the bed and over towards the mirror. "Holy shit," he breathed. He examined every inch of his face for a long while. "So what's the catch, I can't be out after dark? Can't eat after midnight?"
"The catch is that it's still up to you to control it. Through concentration you will learn when to hold it back and when to unleash it. Think of your transformation as a chariot; you must steer it, I have merely given you the reins and the whip."
He nodded, examining his new features a while longer before returning to the bed. "And what is this gift going to cost me?"
"Gifts don't cost you anything that's why they're gifts. There's nothing I want."
"C'mon, everyone wants something. Especially from me." There was bitterness in his tone and smile. "So what'll it be? Money? Weapons? Someone's head on a pike?"
"There is nothing I want because there is nothing you can give me." Unless you can free my husband before I become a widow.
"Then why help me if there's nothing in it for you?"
She shrugged. "Perhaps I simply wanted to ease the suffering of another lost creature."
"No one is that benevolent. Especially someone who I'm pretty sure isn't human."
"You'd rather hear the truth? That you remind me of someone?"
"At least it'd be honest. It's your husband, isn't it?" She nodded. "So you're in exile and he's where exactly?"
"Either in prison or dead. I was cast out before his fate was decided."
He made a low, whistling sound and shook his head. "That is harsh, even by my family's standards. Then again, my father didn't really tell anyone he was sending me away, including myself." Maybe it was how emotions registered in his now human face, but Sigyn couldn't stand to see his arms bound in the jacket as they were, so with a slight flick of her wrist they were undone. He looked down at his newly freed arms, taking an extra-long time on his hands and nails. "You know they're just going to restrain me again, right?"
"Then enjoy the freedom while you have it." His shoulders cracked and popped as he stretched them out. "What will you do now?"
He snorted, touching his ears and face, as if still in disbelief that they had once been pointed and peeling. "You mean aside from counting the bricks and ceiling tiles? Oh I have a few ideas. I could ask you the same, though, now that you've done your good deed."
Sigyn didn't have much a plan anymore. Her life had been chaos since her exile and she lived day by day. Loki may have thrived on such uncertainty and fluidity, but there was only so much she could stomach. But for as much as she craved peace and stability, Midgard was not where she would find it. "I will go wherever the Fates take me."
"You should stick around. I don't plan on being in this cell forever, and you would a useful ally."
"In your war against this Spiderman?"
He nodded. "I'm starting to think I'll need an army."
He brought an army to Midgard, Sigyn, Thor's voice echoed in her head. An endless army that claimed the lives of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. No matter how much you love him you cannot just ignore that. "A word of advice, little goblin. Armies are fragile things, easily crumbled and scattered when defeat is imminent. You'd be better served with a smaller, more disciplined group."
"Like Leonidas and his 300."
"Smaller than that. More like the six who defeated my husband's army."
The door opened sooner than scheduled, and Sigyn leapt off the bed and into the shadows. A nurse came in, a pill cup in one hand and water in another. "Who're you talking to, Harry?"
He scooted back into the corner, his eyes wide and his jaw set firmly shut. Without his transformation, he'd have a harder time fighting the pills being shoved down his throat. He's frightened, she realized. Instinct drove her forward, one hand gripping the nurse's shoulder. She froze in her steps, unable to even turn her head.
"Harry's already received his medication for the night," she said in her calmest, most assuring voice. "He's doing much better, by the way. He's even being cooperative." Her nails dug a little bit more into the nurse's shoulder. Influence was a tricky thing; enough pressure was needed to make sure the idea took root, but not so strong that they would fight the suggestion. "You've been working so hard lately. Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"
That was enough, it seemed. Tension left the nurses shoulders; she looked at the medications in her hands and shrugged, muttering a 'good night' before leaving the room.
"Why did you do that?" he asked.
You were frightened, she wanted to say. "Like I said, I don't want to draw attention to myself."
"Right. Because if word got out that Loki's wife is wandering New York helping Spiderman's enemies, every law enforcement and government agency would be looking for you. Hell, they might even call the Avengers again."
"So you figured it out."
"An inhuman woman whose husband led an army against an unsuspecting world only to be stopped by a group of six. Kind of obvious once you have all the pieces." He grinned. "So what does the god of Mischief want with me? I assume that's why you're here; he sent you."
"Nothing. Everything I told you was true; I'm here on my own." She expected more of a response. Yelling, demanding that she leave, something. There were still newspaper and magazine articles that radiated anger at what happened to New York, and some still called for justice. Politicians used it as a rallying cry for their cause. It was permanently woven into the fabric and the history of the city. He may have been at boarding school abroad but New York was his home; his father and his friends were still here. So where was the anger? Why were his hands not around her throat? "You're...not angry?"
He shrugged. "A few weeks ago I might have been. Now...I see things differently." His fingers picked at the sleeves and straps on his jacket. "So. Small team versus large army...I might be able to put one together."
"You will assemble a team from in here?" She asked skeptically.
"You're not the only visitor I've had. Just the first in a while whose face I haven't tried to bite off." He scratched behind his ears, no doubt feeling for the runes that bound his metamorphosis. Sigyn sat beside him again and looked for herself. The marks were tiny but red. His affliction was fighting the binding, trying to come through again, so she strengthened the binding influence.
"You weren't horrified," he murmured, relaxing and watching her through lidded eyes. "When you saw me earlier, you weren't repulsed by what you saw."
"I've seen worse."
"Yeah but even Pete-even Spiderman was disgusted."
"You know this Spiderman?"
He didn't look at her but he nodded. "Yeah. He was my best friend. But uh," he gave a short, bitter laugh. "You see how well that turned out."
Oh she knew. She could hear echoes of Loki's anger in his words, his talk of betrayal, the loss of friends, family, birthright. His hand was cold and a little clammy when she took it, but at least it felt human. He didn't pull away; rather he stared down at how her hand covered his. "There are few things more painful than a betrayal. But you can let it drown you, or you can view it as a cleansing fire that burns away all that holds you down, and in the end you emerge stronger than before."
He flexed his free hand, the joints cracking and popping as he imitated a claw. "I made myself a monster." There was no lament in his voice, no self-pity or loathing, just a slow realization that crept in like the frost.
The monster parents tell their children about at night. In another lifetime, she might have argued. Might have told him that he was a lost boy, hurt by those closest to him, but past experience told her that wouldn't work. At this point, that often required rewriting some piece of the past that couldn't be undone. Better perhaps to be the monster that survives. "There is power in being a monster."
There were still traces of the transformation in the way he grinned, the way his mouth stretched just a bit wider than it should. "I suppose you're right." He turned his smile to her, and she felt a cold shiver on the back of her neck. "You never told me your name."
"Is it not enough to know who my husband is?"
"I'd like to know the name of my fairy godmother."
There were plenty of reasons why she shouldn't tell him, chief among them that anonymity was her shield. But she wanted him to trust her so that he would listen to her advice and not wind up back here or worse. "Sigyn."
The too-wide smile was gone, replaced by something more normal, something closer to the image she saw in the newspaper. Her hand was still over his, so he shifted them so that they were shaking hands. A formal introduction.
"Harry Osborn."
Sigyn stayed longer than she intended; Harry had asked her to, saying she promised him company. At first, he wanted more advice on how to wage war on the city, on Spiderman-small group; trust them but not too much, whole scale destruction may seem fun but a few well-chosen targets can accomplish the same thing. Then he wanted to know more about her, about Loki and Asgard, so she carefully picked which details to share-both she and Loki were skilled in magic though Loki was a master, a few tales of their more harmless exploits, the golden, glittering palace of Asgard. He told her of a mother he didn't know and a father who didn't want to know him, of wild, lonely nights at a boarding school abroad, and a best friend who would rather have let him die than become this.
She offered words of comfort and sympathy to Harry, and promises of conquest and victory to the goblin.
Every so often, a guard or a nurse would stop by to check on him. Sigyn had no problem varying the methods for turning them away depending on how hard Harry flinched in their presence.
Sigyn knew he had finally fallen asleep when he trailed off mid-sentence and he slumped over, his breathing even and slow. He looked more at ease than when she first found him. She adjusted him so that he was a comfortable angle and placed the threadbare blanket over him.
The temptation to stay nearby tugged at her. She could help him, guide him, either with his powers or his goals. But Loki had made more than enough enemies, the least of which were on this realm, and she had lost the protection of Asgard. He would be no safer with her around; even knowing of her was a risk.
She placed her hand on his head, gently patting his hair. This had to be done, for both their sakes. A spell to fog the mind would work. He would remember her advice, he would remember how to control his transformation, but he would not remember her. Any concrete memory of her would turn to smoke if he tried to grab it. She pulled her hand away when she was done, a few stray tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Sleep well, little goblin," she whispered before stepping back into the darkness.
Harry woke the next morning to a barrage of tests and his arms bound in the jacket again. The doctors wanted to know how he changed, but he couldn't tell them. Not that he would, but he couldn't remember how he had managed it.
He remembered a woman, dressed in black (at least that's what he thought; the cell is poorly lit and whatever she was wearing was dark) with hair the color of tarnished gold, but her face and name escaped him. They had spoken at length, but about what exactly was lost. Her voice sounded as though it was underwater, gentle but unintelligible. Harry wondered if she was even real, but the fact that he could feel the touch of her hand on his head whenever he closed his eyes told him she was.
Fiers showed up some weeks later, after he'd spent his abundant amount of free time practicing sliding between his two forms. It was still painful, and there was a tingling sensation behind his ears and down his neck and the smell of burning wires, but it hurt a little less with each time. He asked about the team they were putting together and how many he wanted.
Small, a muted voice, either his or another's, echoed in his head. Six.
He'd dream of her more often some nights, less so on others. Sometimes he'd get new details, other times details he was so sure of were gone. But he did like her; she'd been kind, he always remembered that much. The creature in him liked her, too, humming contentedly when they thought of her, especially when they remembered what she named him.
So when Gustav Fiers returned some time later with a list of potential candidates who wanted to know who was bringing them together, Harry knew what to tell him.
"Goblin. Tell them, I'm the goblin."
Note: I've had this story kicking around my head since I saw The Amazing Spiderman 2, and after there was that news story that Sony and Marvel were thinking of working out a deal so that Spiderman could appear in the MCU.
I wrote Sigyn a little darker in this one, a little more morally grey because she feels lost after he exile, but also has this maternal pull towards Harry because he reminds her a little of Loki.