The Orion Trilogy
Pt. 1
The Stargazer's Deal
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"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night."
-Sarah Williams
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The night was young. It was an odd thing to say, if Darcy thought of it, but it was true—there was a small, fleeting time after sunset when the air was cool and the vaguest hint of light still streaked atop the clouds, like a faint glimmer of what had once been daylight. It was when the darkness was not oppressive or frightening, when stargazers felt hope flutter in their hearts as they stared at the expanse of the sky; it was infinity in a sunset, and it was this time when Darcy would stretch her legs and leave her glasses and wander outside.
There was a cobblestone path winding from her house to the main road, and from there an expansive nothingness stretched on for a few miles. Her family barely questioned her departures anymore—having a job and working towards a degree did many things to her once-limited freedom. They understood—probably had since she was a child—that she needed this. Of all things in the world, she needed this.
She followed the road until she reached a trail that led up into the thick forest. It was hot tonight, and Darcy absently wiped the moisture forming above her brow. She breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of wood and grass and earth, the sounds of bugs chirping and clicking, and birds rustling restlessly through the leaves above. She knew this path by heart, and had helped this trail deepen from the amount of times she'd treaded across it. The earth was dry as she climbed uphill, the trees parting as if clearing a way for her, bowing down and waving their branches like old friends.
Further and further up she went, the wind picking up and the darkness in the sky increasing by the second. She quickened her pace, wanting to reach the end of the trail before the light of the night disappeared into darkness and clouds—before the moon would peak from the rising mist, only to hide behind a cloud once more.
Finally she reached the end of the trail, where the dirt met a soft grassy clearing. Her long hair was swaying gently around her face, sometimes across her eyes, and she would have to keep tucking it behind her ears (but to no avail, of course). "I should cut it," she said out loud thoughtfully.
Darcy walked to the center of the clearing, where the ground was the softest. Little flowers tentatively peaked out from the ground, small and white. Places like these were hard to find in Puente Antiguo, or New Mexico for that matter, but Darcy lived in the outskirts of the city where the land was not barren and some life dared to spring from the earth. She was grateful. A long day in the laboratory or buried in books for her classes was soothed by the nature surrounding her home, like a balm against the harsh cruelty of the world she was working for.
Without her glasses, everything was a blur. The trees were just waving figures in the distance, the ground dark green, and the sky just a canopy of dark sunset. Her other senses heightened, and she could hear the life around her, smell the scents filling the air—and without any preamble, Darcy dropped to the ground and laid on her back.
The stars had just begun to show. They glittered like diamonds; precious and so very far from her reach. Behind the sky were other planets and galaxies and worlds—the vastness of the universe never really hit home until she stared up like this, realizing just how very small Darcy really was. It didn't surprise her when Thor had appeared. It was foolishness to believe that Earth was the only place in the entire universe where other life forms could thrive. And he brought with him such wonderful tales that enraptured not only her, but Jane Foster as well. She knew that Jane would be gazing up at the sky right now as well—it was no secret that she was still searching for Thor. And as her assistant, Darcy knew it was only a matter of time when Jane would discover the mechanics of travelling between realms.
Darcy's eyes flickered across the sky, wondering if she could make out any constellations. It was difficult without glasses, but her vision was not completely abysmal. "Hmm," she pondered aloud. "Where to start.…" she noticed a particularly bright star right above her, and glanced at the stars surrounding it. It was then that she noticed something very odd—the star was glowing brighter and brighter. Darcy blinked. No, that couldn't be right. Stars didn't simply increase in strength like this, not so fast and not so visibly. She stared at it with scrutiny.
In mortified realization, Darcy realized that the star was not glowing brighter. It was growing closer.
"No way," she breathed, and rose up on her elbows. It was absolutely certain. The star was growing closer and closer, bigger and bigger—it wasn't a star at all, now; perhaps it was a meteor?—and she heard a violent crack, and suddenly it was flying and falling, faster and faster until Darcy let out a shrill scream when it was hurdling at a terrifying speed, straight towards her head.
Darcy rolled over quickly before it could land on her. She cried out when a jet of flames caught her back, and she quickly rolled over to put it out and threw off her jacket. A fire was blazing beside her, but it was receding rapidly. Darcy lifted a hand to shield her eyes, coughing as puffs of smoke rose in the air.
The fire extinguished in an instant, as if someone had switched off a light. The smoke began to clear, and Darcy carefully rose to her feet, making a cautious approach towards the meteor. She was a few feet away when a gasp tore from her throat, and she fell to her knees once more.
A body was lying in front of her, smoke still rising in small wisps around the arms and legs. Darcy squinted her eyes as she tried to make out any wounds, and noticed the deep green and golden armor, and the bleeding face.
A man had fallen from the sky yet again.
She knew it was not Thor. This man had a full head of jet black hair, with a chiseled and gaunt expression. There were cuts on his face and he sported a bleeding lip; his eyes were sunken and his hair in wild disarray, sticking out in every direction and doing a marvelous impression of a stubborn mop.
The realization of the situation finally hit Darcy in the chest. "Oh shit."
Something clicked inside her brain, and she finally began to move rapidly. She checked his body for and bleeding or wounds, but found none except a badly bleeding hand. She couldn't get his armor to budge at all, causing several frustrated swears to erupt from her mouth. She tried to lift the body but found she couldn't do this either—in a last effort, she pressed her hand to his chest to feel some distinctive rise and fall of breathing. Frowning, she pressed her fingers to his carotid. A dull pulse lifted to meet her fingers, and she felt the barest traces of air touching her hand when she hovered it underneath his nose.
"Alive," she breathed in relief. "Much better than dead."
She reached for the hem of her shirt and tore off (with much difficulty) a long strip. Grasping his left hand, she gingerly wrapped the cloth around it. She didn't have anything with her to clean the wound, so she hoped whoever he was, his immune system was as impenetrable as his fall.
Darcy bit her lip. Should she leave and get help? She checked her pockets and fished out her phone. The screen was cracked. Darcy groaned.
She knew this man needed some serious medical attention. She also knew he was an alien from another world, falling to earth much like Thor had. And she really, really did not want to come back to this clearing, only to find he had gotten away or died before she could do anything. Perhaps he knew something of Thor? Perhaps she could help him.
With these thoughts in her mind, Darcy came to a decision. She grabbed the charred jacket she'd flung off, and placed it carefully over the man. Folding her legs, Darcy sat beside the stranger, and waited.
It was times like these where Darcy sorely wished she hadn't left her glasses at home. She could barely see now, the night settling with a deep, impenetrable darkness that only the moonlight could recover. Unfortunately it was not visible yet, being dutifully covered by a cloud somewhere. Darcy sighed as she stared at the sky. This was not how she'd planned her evening.
Darcy blinked, frowning as she lowered her gaze. Something was…off. Her senses were telling her something, something that had changed just now, but she couldn't quite pinpoint—Darcy's eyes widened when it dawned on her.
The man beside her had stopped breathing.
She whipped her head around but it was too late. Darcy cried out as a hand came to her throat and forced her to lie back roughly on the ground. It was the same hand that had the cloth wrapped around it, and currently it was digging painfully into the soft flesh of her neck.
He was not lying over her, but she found she could not move all the same. She was immobilized by something far more powerful than she could understand, and as she stared helplessly into impossibly dark eyes, she struggled to breathe…she wasn't the enemy, she had helped him…she helped…
His eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment he appeared confused. His eyes trailed down to the hand around her throat, and noticed the wrappings. His brows knit together.
"What realm is this?" he hissed. Darcy blinked rapidly, her head feeling faint. The man growled and lifted the pressure from her throat, enough to let some air through. Breathing in generous gulps, Darcy choked, "Earth."
The man's frown deepened. After a few moments, he released his hold on her and backed away in disgust, noticing the jacket Darcy had draped over him and flinging it off carelessly. Darcy coughed violently, no longer paralyzed, and rolled over to the side.
Fear was coming off of her in waves, and Darcy knew she had to get the fuck away. Danger signs flashed in her mind and she quickly started to back away, stumbling as she rose to her feet.
He grabbed hold of her arm again and before Darcy could think what she was doing, she swung around and slapped him across the face. Shock registered on his expression and he released her, and Darcy turned and began to run. She could have sworn she saw the beginnings of a smile just as she'd begun to leave.
She liked to blame her panic, and the fact that she had no glasses for what came next. But as she bound for the darkness at the edge of the clearing, of which she knew to be where the trail back home began, she ended up running straight into a tall figure and stumbled backwards.
"How did you—" Darcy spluttered, unable to finish her sentence. The stranger raised his hands in an attempt of a benign gesture.
"I won't hurt you," he said. It was a different tenure from before—whereas it had been rough and savage, now it was soft and melodic like a stream of water.
"Like hell you won't," she hissed. "Get away from me."
To her surprise, he did just that. He took a step back, then another, until he was well out of reach.
"Better?"
His tone was soft again, but she caught traces of mockery. Darcy narrowed her eyes. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
The man replied, "You don't need to worry about that." Then, with a smile, "And I believe the sky is the answer."
"Are you another one like Thor?"
The effect was instant. The stranger's expression closed off immediately, and he replied, "You know of Thor?" It was spoken in the same polite manner, but she could feel the coldness between the words.
"A little. He fell in this town too, not too long ago." After a brief pause, she added, "And I brought him down to his knees, so I swear I'll do the same if you try to hurt me." She hoped her voice and her expression were fierce enough to get the message across. If not, the stinging cheek should in a few moments.
The man smiled, baring his teeth. "I believe that." He lifted his head to the sky, his eyes narrowed and flickering searchingly. His brows furrowed angrily and he looked away, redirecting his gaze back to her. He was looking at her strangely, and tilted his head as if listening for something. He blinked. Darcy frowned.
"You helped me," he said.
Darcy nodded. "Yes."
He looked down at his hand, then to the discarded jacket. "These are yours." Darcy nodded again, and he snapped, "Speak up!"
"Yes! Yes, alright?" Darcy snapped back. "Jesus."
He was looking at her again, and then took a step forward. Darcy stiffened, backing away. "You helped me when you could have harmed," the man had an almost predatory gleam in his words. "You will not go unrewarded."
"What, am I the lowly peasant now, waiting for some coins to be thrown at me for my help? No thanks, buddy," Darcy snorted.
She blinked, then let out a startled sound when he was in front of her in an instant. "You look at me as if you cannot see me," he observed, peering into her eyes.
"I see you just fine," Darcy said defensively. He ignored her, and lifted his hand and held it open to her. On it were her glasses. Darcy froze.
"How did you do that?"
She didn't touch the glasses. The stranger replied, "I can do many things other can't."
"Where did you fall from?" Darcy prompted suspiciously. She eyed his clothing, and noticed a very similar style that Thor had sported, albeit slimmer and darker. "Asgard?"
"Perceptive," he said, nodding approvingly. "Yes, that is where I hail from. Consider it an experiment gone wrong." He unfolded the glasses and then placed them over her eyes. "Now, to matters of business," he stepped back, and Darcy found herself breathing more easily. "My position will not allow me to let your actions go unpaid. So I offer you one request. Any request you'd like. Within reason, of course—no murder, and nothing that is already impossible to do in the universe."
Darcy shook her head slowly in refusal. "No, thank you." But it would not end there, and Darcy knew this already—for it would not be a story to remember if it had. She was not surprised this time when he appeared in front of her again, and she held her ground as he pinned her gaze with his.
"Oh but I think you do," he said quietly. "I can read others very easily, child. I know what the mind desires, know from one look into another person's eyes on what they were, what they are, and what they will become; I know their heart of hearts—the desires they refuse to even admit to themselves, and it is dreadfully easy to find your kind's. Like open pages of a book, waiting to be read…" he circled around her slowly, and Darcy decided never to leave the house without a taser again, "and your pages are filled, dripping with repressed hopes and wishes, pushed hastily to the side until they may be of use to you."
Darcy tried to move, but found for the second time that night that she could not; she began to believe that this stranger was responsible for it. He had magic in his hands, producing her glasses and moving in the blink of an eye, and now he kept her paralyzed on the spot, ensuring that she would listen to his every word. Strangely enough, she didn't think much of this; her mind was running in wild circles on what he was saying to her, as if being lulled by his voice with the witchcraft in his words. "I offer you, freely, the choice of fulfilling one of those wishes. And you have so many, my dear girl…so much ambition…tell me. The words are on the tip of your tongue," he was smiling now. "Tell me, and I shall grant your request."
Darcy looked up at him. There was a niggling part of her that was screaming, crying for her to stop the words from spilling from her lips, but on their own accord they moved to say, "Show me the stars."
The stranger smiled widely. "Close your eyes."
Darcy narrowed them instead. "No."
A flicker of annoyance passed across the stranger's face, but he replied, "Very well, then." He took her hands gently, and continued, "It will be brief, so I advise you pay attention closely. I will do this only once."
Darcy stared up at him with wide eyes, searching the green irises for a hint of an answer. She stopped breathing altogether when she felt her feet leave the ground, and she looked down.
She was fifty feet in the air. Panic made her want to thrash about, but the man said dispassionately, "Don't waste your time. You have only five minutes, so don't waste it on terror." Darcy looked at him disbelievingly, then looked around. They were going higher and higher, but the only thing Darcy could feel was the wind. It felt no different than standing on the ground.
"I thought it'd be different," Darcy said in wonder. "Like I'd be weightless."
"Perhaps if you were falling, yes," the man answered. "Or suspended. But you are neither of those right now."
Darcy looked up and saw the stars coming closer and closer into view, until she was surrounded in darkness. Down below she could vaguely make out the glittering lights of the surface, like insignificant specks.
Then, they stopped. "We are at the very edge of your atmosphere," he announced, glancing up. "You as you are right now cannot go any further. Even my powers can't save you from space."
"How am I breathing this easily?" Darcy asked skeptically. "Doesn't the air thin out the higher we go?"
"I have compensated the air around us for you," said the man absently. "Only a ten meter shield, so don't wander."
"I can walk?" Darcy took a small step, and it felt as if she were walking on a solid surface.
The man looked at her impatiently. "Are you going to ask me questions or gaze at your precious stars?" he snapped. "Four minutes." Darcy nodded quickly and looked up.
It was extraordinarily breathtaking. Everything melted away as she gazed at the space before her. Even this high up, she felt incredibly small; looking down below, however, the world seemed incredibly large as it continued on and on—it was a strange dichotomy, but it left her wanting more. Slowly Darcy crouched down, and tentatively pressed her hands down where her feet were. Solid. She let her knees touch down, then sat, until she was lying on her back like she had been in the small clearing in the forest by her house, gazing up at the stars with a fluttering heart.
"What are you doing?" the man said in disbelief.
"Are you going to ask me questions, or look at the stars with me? I think it's at three minutes now," was Darcy's sardonic reply, looking studiously up at the sky. She could tell she had irked him, but her time was running out and she was going to enjoy the view.
To her greatest surprise, the man took a seat beside her. Darcy glanced at him. He was looking up. She focused her attention back at the sky.
"Can you name them?" he asked her quietly. Darcy suppressed a smile.
"Oh hell yes, I can. It took some practice, but hanging around my boss has given me a real interest in this. I think it was always there, honestly. I just need a push." Darcy began pointing and naming the constellations she knew.
"No, that one is not a star," the man said wryly, and Darcy scowled.
"Then what is it?" she snapped irately.
"That," he leaned closer and pointed in the direction of the large orb in the sky, "Is Venus."
Darcy's eyes widened, and she stared at the planet in awe. "Things like this can really make someone feel small," she breathed, looking at the stranger in wonder. For the first time, she didn't see suspicion or hostility in his gaze. There was something familiar flickering in his eyes, and he looked away.
"I was like you once," he muttered quietly. "Curious. So very curious. I had ambitions of my own."
"You can still have ambitions," Darcy frowned, tearing her eyes away from the sky to gaze at him.
His lips twisted bitterly. "I am undermined, overlooked, a problem to be dealt with. To them, I am nothing. They will repent," he said darkly to himself, and Darcy felt a familiar prickle of fear. She wanted to say his name, but realized he hadn't told her what it was.
Suddenly he looked at her and said coldly, "One minute."
Darcy swallowed and looked away, returning her gaze at the stars. She breathed deeply and was met with an unfamiliar scent. The scent of the clouds, of nothingness and eternity and life. She was at the edge of the atmosphere, and she was breathing in this new scent that would remain in her memories. "You know," she said casually, "in my last year of college, I got an internship with an astrophysicist. I'm a Political Science major, so I knew absolutely nothing about the work she did. And I was reminded of it every day. Nothing mean, nothing malicious—just little things here and there that were subtle, but noticeable, about how I knew nothing; how grossly unqualified I was for the job, how the only reason I got the position was because I was the only applicant."
She looked up and saw him staring at her intently. "In my field, I was amazing. But in theirs, I was worthless. And it makes you start thinking that maybe you are—maybe you're just not good enough. It just gets worse and worse there, and I was going spiraling further and further down." Darcy shook her head fiercely. "But it's not like me to back down, so I didn't. I stood up, I showed them what I was worth—I am intelligent and I am capable, and I refuse to be made to feel inferior."
Passion lighted Darcy's eyes as she stared at the stranger with the dark hair and glowing green eyes. He gazed back with intensity, and said, "You are different from the Midgardians I've met before."
A smile twitched her lips. The man rose to his feet. "Time's up," he said solemnly. He held out his hand, and Darcy looked for any trickery in his gaze. Finding none, she took his hand and let him help her stand. "Take one last look," he urged her to look up, and she gazed at the expansive sky above, "and remember who showed you the stars when the rest of your world wanted to keep you on the ground."
The descent down was equally unexpected. She didn't feel the free fall sensation; she didn't really feel anything to be quite honest—it was as if she was standing still and watching the world move around her.
Finally her feet touched ground, and the strange man released her hand. "I think there are other fates at work here, Darcy Lewis," he declared with a slight smile. "I don't believe in them often, but I do think I was meant to meet you, as you were meant to find me."
Darcy smiled ruefully. "I hardly think—" Darcy paused. "I…how do you know my name? I never…."
The pleasant expression on the stranger's face did not change, and it began to frighten her. She took a step back, but he advanced immediately. "You see," he began, carefully folding his hands in front of him, "As an Asgardian prince—or for that matter, as an Asgardian—I am bound to repay any lesser being who comes to my aid willingly." His lips spread in a wide grin. "And you, Darcy; you showed me mercy where others would have recoiled in fear and hatred. I know of this realm perfectly in terms of diplomacy, but especially in fear. Your kind reeks of it. Your rivers and roads and castles are built on the foundation of fear of others; so naturally when one does as you did, I cannot leave you until the debt is repaid. Nor can I harm you. That is, before your wish is granted."
"You said Asgardian prince," Darcy's voice trembled as the pieces fit together in her mind. "But Thor is the…oh...oh…shit…" Darcy's mind flipped back to the week of research and disaster when Thor had crashed in Puente Antiguo, the books she had read and the last thing she'd researched: Loki, the Trickster God.
"Hush now," Loki shook his head soothingly and pressed his fingers to either side of her temples. "Hush, little one…that's right.…" Darcy felt herself stiffen again, and she knew this time that it was Loki's magic that had been immobilizing her before, and now again. A thousand thoughts sifted in her mind, blazing with fire and fear. "Now that I've fulfilled my duty to you, there is no barrier to the telepathic link—mind you, I was still able to pick on bits and pieces, like your name and your job. Oh yes," Loki smiled reassuringly, "I knew long before your story that you worked under Jane Foster, whom I have much interest in at present."
Darcy struggled to get away, but Loki shook his head reprovingly. "Enough of that. I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'm quite fond of you, Darcy, a surprise even to myself! Now hold still," Darcy's eyes closed when she felt a tug in her mind, and she saw memories flashing in her consciousness. It was of her time working under Jane, the Thor incident, the Destroyer—"I am sorry you had to see that," said Loki with genuine grief—the departure of Erik Selvig just yesterday to New York City, with the brief mention of something Darcy hadn't quite caught—the Tess…Tessa….
With a sharp intake of breath, Loki murmured in amazement, "Ah, there it is…oh Darcy, you have been of such use to me. I am truly blessed by the fates for you to find me tonight. You have cut my work in half." Loki's fingers slipped from her hair as he left her mind, and Darcy buckled to the ground and fell to her knees. Tears were running from her eyes and she was shaking, feeling utterly violated by his probing.
She felt cool fingers wipe the moisture from her cheeks, and she slapped the hand away. "Don't touch me," she shrieked. Loki stilled as a look of hurt crossed his features. He blinked rapidly, and then his expression hardened once more.
"I am sorry," he said tonelessly. "But it had to be done. And I thank you."
"You used me," Darcy whispered fiercely.
"And you used me," Loki shot back harshly. He leaned forward, close enough that their foreheads were almost touching. "You didn't have to accept my offer when I asked if you would confirm again. You could have declined and I would have been released from my debt. All I did was say a few words—no trickery, no magic—just words." He sneered down at her. "There is always a choice, Darcy. Never forget this."
"You have a choice too," said Darcy, attempting a strong voice. "I know who you are now, and I have an idea of what you're going after. You don't have to do this."
Loki looked at her quietly, and shook his head. "You said it yourself, Darcy. I refuse to be made to feel inferior. It is not in my nature to forfeit."
He lifted his hand hesitantly, and brushed his fingers through the length of his hair. "Upon my divine rule over this realm, I will ensure no harm will come to you." An ironic smile lifted his lips. "Your council may be useful once I am King." His hand ghosted over her cheek, and with one final grin, he disappeared.
Darcy blinked rapidly, and looked around. Gone. Definitely gone. Darcy scrambled to her feet and ran down the trail, bounding for her house and throwing the door open. Gasping for breath, she reached for the house phone and dialed Jane's personal cell number.
"Come on, come on," she muttered anxiously. She began to speak when she heard the line click, but the words died on her lips when she heard Jane's answering machine.
"Hey, it's Jane. I'm away for business in New York right now. It's last minute, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Leave a message and I'll get back to you when I come back."
"What?" Darcy yelled incredulously. What the hell was she doing in New York?! She heard the line beep and Darcy began speaking quickly. "Jane, it's Darcy. I seriously hope you check your voicemail before you get here—you need to contact Shield. Loki is here. Thor's brother, the same guy who sent the metal robot and destroyed our town, is here on Earth. I just met him, and he fucked with my mind and now he's—oh god, I think he's heading straight for New York City. Please, please let Erik know, this is bad news. He—he was talking about ruling this realm."
The line ended and Darcy held the receiver in her trembling hand. Later, Darcy would try to reach government officials and went to the police, but her story was laughable and they had never heard of the Shield division. Jane's phone, incidentally, was currently uncharged and unchecked, and remained as such while she did her research with the Shield Department.
When she charged the phone and listened to the message, Loki was escaping Shield HQ with the Tesseract.
x
This fic is dedicated towards the amazing, fantastical, legendary Sigridhr. She has been the best friend and most wonderful inspiration to me, and I do not deserve her.
Also, the first proper fic I've written for them in months! I feel rejuvenated.
Let me know what you thought! And the throwaway line of 'show me the stars' was a definite nod to Doctor Who, as I've been watching it religiously for the past three months.