Do you know what it's like when you're scared to see yourself?
Frera ran through the shadows, her fingers grazing the hard stone as she slipped down the passageways in the near pitch-black. Every second, her instinct expected some Chitauri to throw itself on her from the dark, but she kept moving, eyes searching the tunnels. It has to be down here somewhere…please let it be down here…
Do you know what it's like when you wish you were someone else who didn't need your help to get by?
Fighting down her rising panic, she hurtled down another passageway deeper underground, trying to let her magic mentally guide her to Aron, casting around in wide, echoing circles, but there was no answer, nothing she could sense. Not even a spark. Aron, Aron, Aron..?
In the back of her mind, she wondered where Loki was, if he had found anything yet, and she wished for maybe the tenth time that she had that telepathic link, too. She nearly missed the bottom, it was so dark—focus! But she could not banish the absolute fear tearing at her heart, Aron where are you, Aron, Aron—Ahead was another gloomy stone corridor with doors leading off it, and the stench of fear and death hit her like a toxic cloud. She took a deep breath and plunged in farther, spotting the guard up ahead. Another moment later, it collapsed with the shining silver buried in its neck, and she pulled it back out with grimy fingers, trying to get her bearings, and then her breath caught in her throat as she noticed something on the door behind.
Do you know what it's like to wanna surrender?
Frost. There was frost patterned on the doorway like an address, leaking out from under it, dark with dirt and muck. Heart pounding, she burst through the door, her magic getting the better of her as she tore past it without even unlocking it, the cold metal giving way under her fingers.
I don't wanna feel like this tomorrow
Inside, the stone underneath was slippery with ice, and icicles stabbed from the walls like daggers. She ran forward, her quickened breathing condensing in the stagnant air with chilly clouds, but the smell of blood was overwhelming and there was something else—somebody else—huddled in the corner, chained to the wall—
With a cry, Frera sprang forward across the ice, registering the sudden warmth of blood on her hands as her fingers reached Aron.
He was heaped on the ground in a bloody mess, crystallized scarlet plastering his face and neck and arms. Frera knelt beside him and let her knife tinkle to the ground as she cradled his face in her hands, the icy skin sending alarm bells shivering through her mind.
"Aron…" His lips were blue, eyes closed, and his skin incredibly white; blood leaked onto her fingers from his hair. Frera tried to reach him through her magic, tried to sense him, to see if he was there, as her fingers searched for his heartbeat, but there was no answer, as though he did not exist…
He had no pulse, or if he did, Frera only caught the last strands of life seeping through her fingers like sand, before there was nothing.
"Aron," Frera whispered numbly, feeling his wrist and neck and chest again and again for another spark, but there was nothing…there was nothing…
I don't wanna live like this today
"Aron," Frera repeated brokenly, wanting to scream and shake him and slap him if that would make it better, but it wouldn't, because he was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. Aron Aron no no no no NO—! her mind screamed in her ear. Please don't, don't, don't, please Norns no, don't leave me…
A hot tear dripped from her grimy face onto his, cutting through the blood and ice, and Frera could feel herself shaking and sobbing but she didn't care, because Aron was dead, and how could he be dead—?
Make me feel better
Blind rage enveloped her for a moment and her fingers burned to heal him, heal all the cuts and ice until he was whole, but it would not bring him back, would not restart his heart, and Frera did not care that they were in a Chitauri base and there could be a guard any second and they needed to get out and Loki would be looking for her.
I wanna feel better
Time seemed to blur and stop in a surreal nightmare as she knelt there on the dirty, blood-stained stone with blood-stained fingers in a blood-stained room, and the ice felt cold on her fingers, cold as the shackles pressing against her wrists as she wrenched them off him unconsciously.
Aron, please…please don't leave me…it's my fault, all my fault—
But he had left her, and she knew it.
Stay with me here now
In the end, Frera got them all out, tearing a rip through all of reality and Chitauri magic and darkness until they plummeted like a shooting star through space, and the flames of the Chitauri base followed them like scarlet stains painting the sky.
And never surrender
Afterwards, Pepper would say, it's not your fault Frera, it isn't.
Leave me alone, please, Frera would say, turning away her face.
Afterwards, Jane would say, Frera, please, it's not your fault, Frera…
It is my fault. It is my fault and it is our fault and we could have come sooner, Frera replied.
At the funeral Sigyn never said anything to her. In fact, she rarely ever saw Sigyn anymore. Probably she was taking care of Loki. Maybe she should go talk to him but she didn't want to now because he even looked like Aron and that would make her start shaking all over again.
Do you know what it's like when you're not who you wanna be?
And Thor would find her when she hid herself in her bedroom closet or air vent and wrapped her head in her arms and let her heart scream until all she could think about was the scream but never a sound. Thor would find her when she would throw herself on her bed and stride around the room and rip up the notebook paper and break the mirror and laugh hysterically and then sob bitterly and he would hold her back as she fought to get away so she wouldn't hurt anyone anymore, can't they see I'm dangerous?!, until she would collapse in his arms and weep for hours. And from the shadows under his eyes and Sigyn's and Jane's she knew that he was probably dealing with worse, a hundred thousand times worse, from Loki. Loki…who looked like Aron and now Aron was gone, too.
"You've got to let him go, Frera," Thor said. "Not forget. Never forget. But you've got to let Aron go."
But I did, Frera would say. I let him go and get himself killed.
Do you know what it's like to be your own worst enemy
Afterwards, Frera stood on Vanaheim beside the gravestone. It was a quiet spot. Calm. Secluded. Peaceful. A tree with vines over-canopied almost the entire spot, the roots and branches overgrown with wildflowers and reaching down from above, digging into the dirt.
Sigyn had wanted it. And no one had argued with Sigyn.
Frera looked up at the grey slab of rock, almost on eye-level with her, eyes adjusting to the slight darkness of the spot, breathing in the scented air.
Everyone, just please. Let me alone for a second, she had said. Now she shuffled her foot slightly awkwardly and cast her eyes on the ground. She knew what the stone said, and she did not want to read it. She only wanted to say something, to explain…
"Aron," she managed finally, breaking eye contact with her shoe. His name quivered on the air, strange, almost foreign. Frera swallowed and forced her tongue to keep moving.
"Look, I know you're not really here," she said forcedly. "I know you're not under this…this rock. Not really."
Her voice choked for a moment, but she kept going, forcing her green eyes on the base of the rock. Dead, inanimate rock. "But if you're listening, please, just…hear me out on this."
She took a breath to steady herself, then proceeded. "Aron, I—I just…I can't tell myself it's not my fault. You gone. It's not that I…didn't try, Aron, I did. I tried. But it didn't work out."
A tear ran down her face, hit the dirt like a shattering jewel, but she ignored it and kept going.
"It's just…the wrongness of it. I told you about Loki. I let you take us there. I could have healed Loki—I mean, your father—quicker. But it's still so wrong. You didn't deserve it."
The tears were flowing freely again now, but she wiped her nose on her sleeve and kept going. Like Aron was actually there (the rock was there). "I don't think I ever told you…how much I appreciated you. I did. By all rights now it should be you here, alive, and, and, fixing Loki, because I can't, Aron."
Her finger traced the slight dust on the stone and she let it sink lower and lower. "I don't know what to do, Aron. I just don't want to keep going anymore. You may not be here—you may not even be listening—" she sank to her heels and the finger reached the soft earth. "You're gone, and you aren't this rock, you can't be this rock, and you don't have to forgive me, but I'm sorry anyway Aron, I'm sorry, so sorry…"
And she let herself cry yet again, the tears dripping from her eyes onto the ground, but nobody was there to see it, and it was like she had done this before (dying again).
Who sees the things in me I can't hide?
Afterwards, when she had raged through everything else, Frera would lie on her bed, flat on her back, eyes unfocused, and just let the world slip by her in a grey haze for hours on end until she would wake up when it was dark and cold and she would rebuke herself because she needed to stop this, stop doing nothing, she needed to get up and brush her hair and go to breakfast and dinner and SHIELD practice and who knew what else, go through the motions like it mattered and maybe it would matter again after a while.
Do you know what it's like to wanna surrender?
But in the night the nightmares would come back to haunt her until Frera took to sitting up, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, letting orbs of light blossom between her knees like exploding stars just to keep the darkness off. And in the morning she knew there would be shadows under her eyes and Thor would look even more crushed every time he glanced at her face, but the shadows had always been there, hadn't they?
Make me feel better
"How can I ever let you go, Aron?" she asked. "Just tell me how."
You make me feel better
Frera was back on Vanaheim, back at the gravestone, but there was no gravestone, instead it was just Aron. Aron with no blood. Aron like he always was, hair out of place, cocky grin, looking around like nothing was going on, and for all Frera knew there wasn't, because the only thing that mattered to her in that moment was to reach him, and nothing else.
You make me feel better
Wordlessly, she flung herself forward, not caring if she tripped over a rock, scuffing her feet, arms free, and before Aron looked like he knew what was happening Frera had run through the meadow, every muscle straining to reach him, and this time he did not vanish, and this time she threw her arms around him and seized him so tightly she thought she might choke him but she did not care.
Put me back together
She thought he might be trying to free himself and only clung to him more tightly, hands clamped tightly around his shoulders and in that moment everything felt fulfilled.
Put me back together
Suddenly, she pulled back, still keeping her hands locked behind him but facing him, and she saw his face was burning with embarrassment but she didn't care and she knew he didn't. "How—DARE—you," she managed finally, punching him in the shoulder. "How dare you scare me like that, how dare you leave me, how dare you—ever—"
Never surrender
She finally stopped, overcome and confused, and sudden tears blurred her eyesight. "How dare you leave us," she choked, looking down at the grass to cover the tears.
Make me feel better
"Frera—Frera—" Aron managed, rubbing his shoulder where she had hit him and pulling her closer. "And how dare you think it was all your fault?"
"Can you forgive me then?" she asked quietly, turning away.
"Forgive you?" Aron demanded, eyes flashing, but she knew he was trying to keep looking angry to keep from breaking down. "It—was—not—your—fault, it was never your fault, if you ever say it was your fault again—if anything it was mine. 'Kay?"
You make me feel better
Frera nodded numbly, burrowing her head in his shoulder, and she hadn't done it in forever—she had never liked to hug people, and she had wondered how many times she could have done it and didn't, and she wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
Stay with me here now
"Loki?" she asked finally, and she knew he understood the rest of the question.
"Frera…you've got to be there now. For him. Just try. Please," he added, with a note of pleading. "For me."
Frera nodded numbly again. "Does this mean I have to let you go?" she questioned softly.
"For the immediate moment, yes," Aron said, flashing her his old grin, and she hadn't seen it in so many weeks she felt like shattering. "I swear you're cutting off the bloodstream from my hand."
"Sorry," she apologized quickly, but reluctant to let go. To delay the conversation, she asked, "Is this Vanaheim?" It looked like Vanaheim, but brighter. Fresher, in a way.
"This?" Aron asked. "I don't know. Maybe Vanaheim, but not. It seems different. Like…it's a place to heal the broken."
Frera glanced around, and suddenly the world seemed to blur, warp, spin, and she suddenly gripped his wrist furiously, determined not to be flung out into the empty world out there.
"Hey-you never have to let me go, Frera," he said gently as the world blurred even more, and his voice stayed solid even as everything faded. "You never have to let me go..."
...go...
...go...
Afterwards, the sunlight hit her eyes as she jerked forward off the bed, and it was morning. For a moment, Frera felt sickeningly disappointed at being woken when she had finally fallen asleep, but then the dream rushed back to her.
You never have to let me go.
It was just a dream.
But it was a place to heal the broken, and it was here, where she could start.
And never surrender.