Disclaimer: I do not own MCU or Tolkien Enterprises, and I am not making any money off of this work.
Well, here it is: the start of my first story on the site! I've never written Carol before, so here goes nothing!
If Hell existed, it would look something like this.
Carol didn't know how ironic this thought was, and continued through the dark iron halls in relatively blissful ignorance. She shivered as a long, agonized howl echoed through the shadows. Even during her stay with the Kree, she'd never seen anything like this. The smell of decay hung heavily in the air, and so far, she had had to breathe through her mouth.
"What's this?" The shadows to her right purred gleefully. Carol spun, ready to defend herself. The shape of a woman materialized from the darkness, fangs bared in a feral grin. "You don't look like an Elf," the woman murmured silkily, unfurling her two leathery wings. "Are you lost? If you'd follow me, I'll show you the way out, little one." Something in her gleaming red eyes told Carol that she was in danger. The Captain gulped.
"Um, no thanks, I'm fine! I'll just hope the exit's marked with a big red sign or… something…" she trailed off as the woman's face drew near hers with startling quickness. Her hands were seized by spindly pale claws.
"Wrong answer!" Flashing teeth snapped at her neck. Carol cried out in surprise and jerked backwards, her heart pounding.
"Thuringwethil! Leave her," a voice commanded from down the hall. The woman released Carol with a childish pout, spreading her wings in preparation to fly. "You're lucky the Lieutenant's been feeling soft," she told Carol mockingly, and took flight. The Captain was nearly knocked down by the resulting gust of air. She breathed a deep sigh of relief, forgetting to inhale through her mouth, and choked on the smell of death.
A gentle hand steadied her as she doubled over coughing. "Easy," someone said quietly. "The smell takes some getting used to." Carol looked up, ready to thank her rescuer, and gasped – through her mouth this time, thankfully.
His eyes were orange and slitted like a cat's. Fiery gold hair cascaded down his shoulders in tumbling, molten curls, bright against his pale skin, and his features were somehow masculine and feminine – androgynous, a part her mind said informatively.
He smiled – it looked like a small, sad shadow across his face – and asked, "That good, huh?" She couldn't tell if he was joking or not, so she responded with a question of her own. "Do you always flirt with people who wander into this hellhole?"
The man threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, I guess that wasn't the best thing to say, was it?" He offered her another smile, but this time it was a bit brighter. "Where are my manners? I'm – my name is Mairon." Carol noted the uncertainty in his voice, but made no comment.
"Well, I'm Carol Danvers," she told him instead. "Anyone know where the exit is? I've been down here for too long." Mairon looked upset by this, but he helped her up.
"You can't stay? No, silly me, of course you cannot stay, Melkor would – he'd kill you, and then I would be in trouble for helping you." He shook his head angrily. "Thuringwethil will report this, anyway. I had better get you somewhere safe." He starred to pull her down the hall, ignoring her protests of "Wait, who's Melkor? If you're in danger, then let me help you!"
He ignored her, but she caught his expression, and felt a chill running down her spine. Her rescuer looked terrified.
A beam of sunlight shone at the end of a narrow corridor, and Mairon shoved her towards it. "Go!" he shouted. "If you value your life, please go far away from here!" Carol stood her ground, looking him in the eyes.
"Come with me," she insisted, and held out her hand. A swirl of energy wound its way down her index finger, and Mairon's cat-like eyes were drawn towards the movement. He stood silently, and the Captain could see that he was thinking. Scientific curiosity showed plainly in his expression, alongside a tiny spark of hope. He lifted his chin.
With determined eyes, Mairon took her hand.
They started to run.
This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. It should be illegal for me to write at 11:00 PM.
I will edit this later, so that it isn't as awful. Hopefully, I won't forget.
