A/N: Heads up guys, it was brought to my attention by one of the readers that in the first chapter nothing seemed to be moving. While writing the chapter I had a similar feeling but pushed it away because I was just so excited to get started. After rereading the chapter I realized that while it sets up introducing new characters and rehashes what happened in Chasing the Storm it didn't really go anywhere. And, after some discussing with Vicvic221 it dawned on me that while I have a few plot bunnies I didn't have anything solid. Now, I do. So I am telling you this because I would suggest going back to the first chapter and reading the new part I put in. It's just the very first section and only a few paragraphs long. I'm definitely glad I added it in and I think you guys will be as well.
Disclaimer: I do not own any content in regards to the Marvel Universe.
Chapter Two
In the midst of the Norwegian city of Tønsberg walked an old fisherman. Every Sunday morning he would go to the pier dumping the unused remains of fish he had caught back into the sea. For fifty-eight years he would visit the pier, no bad weather or illness kept him from doing so.
He took his normal route, swinging his bucket back and forth with hunched over shoulders. A few people greeted him, several stopped to ask him how we was. They never mentioned Lydia, his deceased wife. He always saw it in their faces. The way their eyebrows knotted together, and lips pressed firmly into thin smiles. He missed her every day, but the old man knew that Lydia would not want him to stop feeding the fish at sea. She would have been worried if he stopped...were she still alive to worry.
The old fisherman grunted to himself, and pulled his jacket closer together as the wind bit at his neck. It was rather chilly for a spring breeze. He gazed up to the sky with milky-blue eyes, watching with his mouth wide open at the dark, gray clouds that rolled in the distance headed toward Tønsberg. His shaking hands dropped the bucket at his feet, spilling fish guts all over his green rubber boots.
Lightning struck from several directions, shooting across the sky. People stopped their daily duties to look at the incoming storm. Mothers grabbed their children's hands, rushing them to their vehicles. Couples ran inside nearby shops, while others-like the old man-stared in a transfixed awe.
The storm grew bigger, the thunder rumbled angrily. The old fisherman stepped back, sliding in the spilled contents from his bucket. He fell hard on the ground, bruising his tail bone. A silent scream emitted from his frail lips as a sharp pain shot up his side. From his peripheral he saw a young teenage boy with his parents leave their side to help him from his fall.
His parents yelled at him to come back, calling out his name in high shrills that were cut off from the roaring wind. It whipped violently at the old man's face, blowing the bucket away from him. He struggled to stand, pushing on his palms for support when they strained under his weight and he collapsed. The young boy knelt down, reaching for the old man's elbow, his fingers only inches away when he stopped and stood tall.
Bewildered, the old man turned to where the curly haired boy's brown-eyed gaze stared. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he slowly stared up at a white beam of light that shot from the sky several feet from where they stood. The old man struggled to stand again, and the boy was quick to react helping him to his feet. He clutched onto the teenager's hand as they both stared at a black and white figure descending from the ray of light.
"Det er Gud," whispered the young man, his hands trembling beneath the old fisherman's.
The old man squinted at the figure coming from the sky, wishing he had gotten glasses as Lydia insisted numerous times. Whatever it was he did not think it was God. A coldness spread through his bones, eating at the core of his heart. No, whatever it was it was not God.
"Nikolai!" his father shouted to the boy, waving angrily that he go to them now.
The boy reluctantly slipped his hands from the old man's arm, giving him a sympathetic smile. The old man nodded, turning to sky when a bolt of light flashed their way. Without even thinking the old man pushed forward, shoving the boy into the road. The light shot between them, slamming into a parked truck.
BOOM!
Fire and debris fell from the sky. The boy's mother screamed and the father rushed to his sons side, urging him to stand. His dark eyes widened, and the old man turned to see the figure flying toward them.
The old man crinkled his bushy gray brows when he realized it was a white horse with...wings. Though he noted the sheen along the flanks of the flying beast, like metal. Its eyes were a dark red, almost black and smoke billowed from its nostrils. Atop its back rode a man dressed from head to toe in armor the color of trees murdered from the flames. In his hand he held a lance that looked as if it were painted from the darkest thought of mankind.
The horse landed, smashing hard into the ground. Pieces of cobbled road flew around it, crumbling around its massive hooves. Its rider slid from the saddle, his armor clanking together as he landed. He twisted the large weapon in his hand with ease and strode toward the old man. He snorted through the helmet, smoke poured from the holes. The old man swallowed hard, holding his breath as the knight walked toward the boy and his father.
With gloves made to look like claws he reached out grabbing the boy by the shirt. The father tried to reach for him but was too slow. His mother cried out, sobbing loudly. Turning his head the knight looked to the mother and extended his arm forward, pointing the lance directly at her. A beam of red light shot out, hitting the woman directly in her chest. Silently, she collapsed to the ground.
The father and boy simultaneously stifled gasps, tears streamed down the father's face. However, the young teenage boy stared the knight directly in his covered face. And then he spat.
A low chuckle rumbled from inside the knights armor. "Where is Doctor Connor Waltham?" His voice grated, sounding almost robotic. The boy remained quiet. "It is unwise to not answer me."
"I-I don't know who that is," replied the boy in English, gripping onto the metal hands of the knight.
"He left Tønsberg almost thirty years ago!" shouted the father, his accent thick that he had to repeat himself slower so the knight would understand. "He is not here."
The man dug in his panicked mind, curious as to why the name sounded familiar. He had lived in Tønsberg his entire life, but it was a small city. It would be impossible to know who everyone was. Still the name buzzed in the back of his mind like a persistent fly.
"Then I suppose I have no use for any of you."
The knight pointed the lance at the boys father. A blast of light shot out, hitting the man in his chest. He crumpled to the ground. The teenage boy cried out, but the knight ignored him, turning his lance on to the old man.
"This shall be his sign to come to me," he told the boy, shooting another ray of light directed at the old man.
"Come on, come on, we've got to go," hurried Ward taking the uneaten bagel from my open mouth and tossing it into the trash. Skye quickly moved her coffee out of his reach as he passed by her, storming toward the hotel lobby doors. He looked over his shoulder and stopped to stare at us with raised brows. "Did you not hear me? We've got to hustle."
"Okay, Rambo, relax," mocked Skye grabbing a bagel off the continental breakfast platter and tossed it my way.
I clumsily caught it, holding the bagel against my chest to keep from dropping it. Smiling, I thanked her. Skye nodded, turning to Ward and shrugged, "it's not like anyone died."
Ward started to speak when the doors behind him swung open and Agent Coulson stepped inside. "Actually someone did die," he informed us. Behind him trailed the remaining members of our team, Agent Fitz, Agent Simmons and Agent May. All of them wore the exactly grim expressions as Coulson continued, "Over 15,000 someones and counting."
Skye instantly pursed her lips together, dropping her gaze into her coffee cup. "I'm sorry," she muttered, tracing her fingers along the rim of the styrofoam cup. "What happened?"
"Early this morning a storm cloud brewed in and from it came a white light. Citizens have explained a winged horse and a man in armor coming from it. He set the entire village of Tønsberg, Norway in flames."
Ward stepped forward, his brows crinkling. "Any idea who it is sir?" He glanced my way then quickly asked, "was it Loki?" I tried my hardest not to scoff but it came out like a choke. Everyone turned their attention on to me. "Do you have anything to say, Agent Waltham?"
I set my bagel down, and swallowed hard. Now was not the time to remain quiet. "Loki wouldn't burn a town down," I told them thinking of the preferred weapon that the deceased sorceress Karnilla had used against I grabbed at my arm, adding, "besides the citizens described him as a man in armor riding a winged horse."
"Odin's horse was a winged horse," pointed out Ward, "and Loki wears armor, we've seen it."
It took all my energy not to roll my eyes to the back of my head. " Sleipnir does not have wings and he had eight legs. I am pretty sure if it was Odin's horse someone would have mentioned that. Also, Thor wears armor, and he is also Odin's son, why not accuse him?"
"Because Thor didn't destroy New York city in an attempt to take over the world."
"Whoa, bad blood here and getting way off topic," muttered Skye through sips of her coffee.
Coulson nodded, "Skye's right. You guys can hash this out later while you're in Tønsberg to figure out what happened. The rest of us will continue to scourge England in search of the Ebony Blade."
"What!?" Ward and I asked in unison.
"I thought that wasn't our jurisdiction," I frantically spoke, trying to think of how to get out of this position. "That's why we won't help with the attacks in Germany, and the only reason we're here is because we have permission."
Coulson smirked, nodding his balding head once. "We have permission."
Ward began to shake his head. "No, no, no, send me with Agent May then. She has way more field experience than Agent Waltham does, especially if it's going to be dangerous in Tønsberg."
I murmured in agreement. "I also would be more use to you in England with my knowledge of Arthurian legends." Okay, so I didn't know as much as I did when it came to Norse Mythology but it was apparent that I knew more than the rest of the team. "I can-"
"Yes, but you are also the only one who can speak Norsk," pointed out Coulson with a smile.
"A lot of the people in Norway speak English," I informed him crossing my arms against my chest.
Coulson shrugged, pursing his lips into a small smile. "Still, it's an order."
Skye gave me a sympathetic glance and I nodded a silent thank you. Holding out my arms I asked, "what do you need us to do?"
Agent Ward and I boarded one of S.H.I.E.L.D's private jets. It wasn't as impressive or as big as the one given to Agent Coulson but it was much nicer than taking a commercial flight. I nestled into the leather couch, pulling my feet up into my lap and began to read the file report Coulson had given us for the tenth time.
Just as I began to start from the beginning Ward plopped beside me, staring hard into his phone. "So, it looks like we'll need to fly to Moss Airport in...R..Ryg-Rig-gee," he lamely finished hurrying on with the rest if the directions that Coulson had sent him, "then we'll take a rented car to Lork...Lork-o-eye-leen..." he furrowed his dark brows together, "Lork-ooh-elle-ellen."
I snatched his phone from his limp grasp and read the text outloud. " We need to fly to Moss Airport in Rygee and from there we rent a car to Lorkollen where we can take a ferry to Tønsberg." I exhaled loudly and tossed him his phone, returning to the files in my lap.
"Thanks," he muttered slipping his phone into the breast of his leather jacket. "How did you even learn to speak Nordic?"
"Nordic isn't a language," I told him, realizing my voice was much more acidic than I meant it. Blowing out a puff of air I faced him, continuing in a much softer tone, "my father and mother study Norse mythology and they insisted that I learn the languages of Nordic countries like Norwegian for example. I also did a lot of traveling with my father throughout Europe so that helped."
I lowered my gaze and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. My father's death still hadn't settled and talking about him for too long tended to upset me. I still was angry with myself that I wasn't able to say goodbye to him.
Blinking back the tears, I turned back to Ward and continued, "I also picked up a few on my own in college and did a lot of studying abroad."
Ward pulled a face, raising his brows to his forehead. "Do you think it's weird that we've been working together for three months and everyone is still a stranger to one another?"
I frowned at his sudden question, pondering on it considering it hadn't really crossed my mind before. "I think we're all a little too busy looking for the bad guy to bond over vodka."
"Vodka drinker, you?"
My face flushed and I quickly looked back to the files, clearing my throat. "N-no," I stuttered, "I just said the first thing to came to my mind."
Images raced through my mind like a film reel flickering across a giant, white screen. Loki and I had shared a few drinks when he came to stay with me on Midgard before my father had passed away. His choice of poison had been vodka that night and needless to say it didn't end well.
Though thinking of vodka made me think of Loki and when I thought of Loki my heart would cringe, then a sour taste would fill my mouth. My mind would burn with the same questions over and over again like a video set to loop. Why didn't he make contact like he promised? Why didn't he show when I called for him? Had he already moved on to someone else? And, then soon followed the reprimanding voice that sounded an awful lot like my mother. I was being foolish to think that Loki would actually care.
I swallowed hard, thumbing at the edges of the folder in my lap. I was being over-emotional, of course I knew that he cared. He had asked me to stay on Asgard with him, and sacrificed getting his powers back in order to protect me. It wasn't as if they exactly had telephones in Asgard.
"...and that's what I think." I blinked, not realizing that Ward had been talking in the first place. "But, let's see what your take is on this."
"Uh-"
Boom!
"What was that!?" I cried out, scrambling alongside Ward to the window.
We both peered outside the thick glass, staring down at the sky below us. Though it was hard to see a distinct cloud of red and black rose from the ground. Another explosion shot off nearby, then another.
Ward pulled out his cellphone and punched in a few numbers on the dial pad. He brought it to his ear, keeping his gaze on the exploding city below us. There was a muffled greeting on the other line followed by Ward's imperious tone, "where are we?"
I leaned in closer to hear the pilot answer, "we're just above Kristiansand."
Ward looked at me and I shrugged. Just because I spoke the language didn't mean I knew where every city was. "How far are we from Rygge?"
"Not long but if these explosions continue we may have to land."
"No, we cannot land. We we're given specific orders to fly to Rygge," Ward hissed into the phone.
"Look Ward I'm not about to let us all go down because of your penchant for being a brown noser. If we land, we land."
The line went dead and Ward tightened his grip on his phone. He inhaled deeply, and slipped it back into the pocket of his coat. Licking his lips he turned from the explosions below and plopped down onto the couch, rubbing his temples.
I took one last glance out the window, and walked to join him. He dropped his hands into his lap and looked at me from the side. "If you are so certain that these attacks aren't from Loki then who do you think is behind this?" Chewing on the bottom of my lip I handed him the files that Coulson had given us. "I've read this like ten times."
"I think you should probably call Coulson."
"Why?"
"Because I'm positive that the Black Knight already has the Ebony Blade." I inhaled deeply trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. "And, I think he's using it for these attacks."
Ward shook his head rummaging through the papers. "Not possible. Coulson said that the sword was spotted-"
"Spotted," I insisted, "but not actually seen. Rumors, hearsay, what have you but these attacks sound an awful lot a like what would happen if the true owner of the sword was in possession of it."
Ward leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He tossed the files onto the table and spread his arms against the couch's back. Shrugging, he made a face then taunted, "tell me what you know."
"I thought you read the file ten times already," I glared, resisting the urge to smirk.
Agent Ward held up his hands in defense. "Yeah but I want to know what a mythology expert has to say on the subject."
I chewed on my lip deciding not to correct him on the fact that I wasn't an expert on all mythologies. Hell, after visiting Asgard I felt like a sham calling myself one in regards to Norse Mythology. Shaking my head to clear my mind, I delved into what I thought Ward might need to know.
"Okay," I breathed leaning forward and spreading out the files onto the table, "when Arthur became King of Camelot he created the Knights of the Round Table. A lot of scholars argue how many knights were seated at the table. The number ranges anywhere from twelve to a hundred-and-fifty, but it is a general agreement that because it was a round table the number of loyal knights was considered infinite."
"How poetic," grunted Ward.
I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. "History is poetic," I told him, shuffling through the stack of pages until I found a crude drawing of a man with a large nose and curly hair to his shoulders. "So, this is Sir Percy of Scandia, one of Arthur's knights and the first Black Knight."
Ward frowned, staring hard at the photo. "So, he betrayed Arthur?"
I shook my head. "He found the Holy Grail and died protecting Camelot when Arthur's cousin, the son of Morgan Le Fay, Mordred stabbed him in the back."
"So he was an honorable man?" Ward sighed, rubbing his hands against his face. "These attacks don't sound like the work of a man who found the Holy Grail."
"Stay with me," I urged, sifting through the files until I found a photo of what the Ebony Blade might have looked like. "So, Merlin crafted the sword from a meteorite, enchanting it so that it was indestructible. Legends also say that it can slice through generally any physical form, cut through mystical barriers and it has been said to absorb all forms of energy."
"But you don't know if that's true or not?" he asked, scratching the back of his head.
I sucked on the inside of my cheek. "Not really. It's sort of hard to tell what is myth and what is history now. But, I'm thinking that someone found the blade and is using it for evil rather than good like Sir Percy did."
"Let me get this straight, you are telling me that someone else is posing as the Black Knight?"
I nodded, then frowned. "Well, more like they took on the name of the Black Knight."
Ward rubbed the side of his jaw with his knuckles, his gaze hard on the papers spread out on the table before us. "I'll let Coulson know what you pieced together but I think we should head to Tønsberg and gather what we can before making any rash decisions."
I nodded, gathering the files and stacking them neatly together. "Fair enough," I replied though I couldn't help but worry that if we didn't act soon something bigger than the last attack would happen next.
A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews and I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as you did Chasing the Storm. Also, special shoutout to OhHaiSerah for making the beautiful front cover!
Reviews
Marie Allen: No worries, it happens! Haha and don't worry, Loki always has something up his sleeve. ;)
Shibbielove: Thank you for letting me ruin your life. Haha and that's great! Congrats!
kieekaa: You'll get your chapters when you get your chapters who'ore.
boca3: Thank you for sticking with it!
ReadingConundrum: oh thanks so much! And don't worry I have no plans on doing that because well you said it perfectly.
Hayden: Thanks! And you don't really have to watch it. I just like the characters from the show and incorporated them into this story, but other than that it's not really that tied in. Still, it's a great show. I love it.
OhHaiSerah: Ugh. So would I.
StarletSpotlight: haha I guess you could say that.
titaniumalloyman: First of all, love the name haha second of all, thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully you like ITEOS just as much. (:
Why Fireflies Flash: I have no self control and just couldn't leave Loki and Hayden just yet. Though I am having fun with When They Fall. Haha, maybe I'm just psychic and don't want you to be bored. Spoiler alert: I'm not.
