Ignis and Ardor

Chapter 4: To Prove Oneself

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The confines of the closet grew stagnant around Valr as an hour easily slipped into two, and yet the two men outside her small enclosure continued to converse. The sound of another television over the bar mingled with their words, making their conversation difficult to follow. She grew terribly bored and slipped in and out from a light sleep through the hours, her bottom fixed to the floor and head leaned against the door, Stark's curt banter- as she came to find out his name- amusing and backhandedly insulting all the same.

"I'll get you a plane to Portland for the weekend, Phil." Tony offered, swirling another of his drinks around lazily.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent forced a nervous laugh as he watched the television, breaking news crawling across the bottom of the screen at a snail's pace. "Don't worry about it. Things are a little… tense between us right now." Coulson admitted, having caved in to the offer of a drink regardless the time of day- somewhat unprofessionally.

"All the more reason to go, lover-boy."

"Nice city, as always. Seems your friends are running around again." Agent Coulson pointed to the television when Tony gave him a perplexed look, only to sigh at the news crawl.

"I can't get a day off, can I?" he joked, and walked out from behind the bar counter. "JARVIS, let's get goin'. I've got a meeting at one this afternoon and I'm already behind schedule."

"Right away, sir." The artificial intelligence complied and opened the glass door leading out to a curved balcony positioned away from another, lower portion.

Valr snapped to attention at his words, and sat up in front of the door. Something had gone wrong on Midgard, dared harm the humans and their home, and by her warrior's oath, her rites as an Asgardian, she would not deny the call of battle.

As Tony stepped out onto the balcony a mechanized ring shot from the floor and encircled him. Piece by piece, armour encased his body as he walked steadily toward the edge, his frame stronger and taller with each step, more powerful than the last as he was soon fully covered in the red and gold armour for which he was known worldwide.

Valr peered out from the open closet at the sight and grinned. These mortals, these Midgardians, were fascinating, their technology all the more so. But the danger beckoned her, drew her forth from hiding. She flew from the closet and up the stairs as Tony prepared to dive off, to fly out onto the expanse to face whatever threatened the city.

Agent Coulson was quick to react and drew his gun out of shock. "Hey!" he tried, but received no reply from the sprinting Asgardian, "Wait just a minute! Ma'am!" But Coulson was too late to stop her as she ran out the door and after Tony, jumping bravely from the balcony and onto his back as he lifted off into the air.

"Holy shit, kid! What are you doing?" he exclaimed, shocked by the added weight on his back as he hovered hundreds of feet above the city.

"I want to repay you for destroying your… your box, and damaging your home! And I'm sworn to help those in need, so there's that, too." Valr yelled over the roar of Tony's repulsors.

His face covered by a full helmet and mask, his illuminated eyes cast a glance over his shoulder, the annoyance underneath hidden from her. "I can buy televisions by the millions, kid- I'm not worried about that! Hell, that hole in the ceiling was bound to happen eventually. But I didn't want to have to explain to Coulson, there," he pointed to the large window where the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stood in surprise, "why there's a fully armoured woman in my penthouse, much less one that fell through three stories without so much as a scratch on her."

"I'll explain to him, then. But, please, let me help you. I want to repay you somehow."

Tony growled quietly, but bowed his head in defeat. "Fine. But know I'm not babysitting you."

Valr clung tightly to Tony's neck as he flew quickly away across the city, careful to avoid the small repulsors on his back. The experience of flight was exhilarating no matter how many times he did it, for leisure or otherwise, he always found a way to enjoy the sensation.

Agent Coulson looked out from the penthouse window and raised a cell phone to his ear without blinking, "Sir, we've got a situation."

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Frost licked and twirled around Loki's boots as he tread cautiously through Niflheim, the bluish hue and constant thunder and lightning in the sky flashing against his armour. To be alone in such a realm invited danger, either that of the trolls- rats of the nine realms, he thought of them- or the frost Jotun, the giants of cold and ice that would ultimately be destroyed by their brethren in Muspelheim at Ragnarok.

But Loki continued on without fear in his heart or tension in his step, his only anxiety concerning the dead that roamed the lands under Hel's rule, fearful he would see Valr amongst their ranks. The God of Mischief walked on, no confrontation before him though he remained ever wary, until he stood at a strange, free standing stone structure surrounded by suspended stones, frozen and alive with dark energy.

And there Hel sat, her face a mask of anger at the sight of Loki, that brash, silver tongued Asgardian.

"What do you want?" she hissed from her perch, her legs and arms crossed tightly and lips pulled into a frown.

"I come looking for answers, you half-rotted cur." Loki sneered.

But Hel was all too amused at his words, impressed by his lack of carefulness, "What makes you think I have the answers you seek? I do not meddle in the affairs of the living, nor do I wish to, so mind your tongue." Loki laughed under his breath, his head bowed as he stood tall to confront the aptly named Queen of the Dead.

Dark forces gathered around him at her silent beckon, the ground quaking with activity. "Oh, but this is not a concern of the living, Hel. Far from such. Valr was very much dead when she was taken, and I have no doubt you had a hand in such affairs."

Hel's mask of confidence shattered then, and she stood to confront the bold prince. "And what do I care what happened to your toy? Your sometimes obsession, sometimes desire?" she mocked him, spat at his boots with disgust.

The words were degrading, they were wrong, and most importantly… they stung. Valr, his most dear friend, could not stand for herself against such insult, but for Hel to stoop so low as to harm him with words that cut and curses that tore, the God of Mischief would not stand idly by and allow such derision.

A scream erupted from Hel as she was thrown to the ground, ice weighed on her armour and skin, pinning her under the Master of Magic's power. She swore aloud and cursed his name, but Loki remained unfazed at her attempts to break free of his hold. "Perhaps we should try this again? From the beginning?" he seethed, his voice like ice, jagged and cold like a tundra. "Where is Valr Battle-Slain?"

Hel gazed up with pure, unmitigated rage as she lay pinned and helpless, though felt the call of her dead beneath her. "Fine." She spat, the game long since grown boring to her. She needed a new pawn in her game, a new cog in her machine, "Your little 'friend', the girl. I brought her here, stole her. And believe me, she's quite alive... sadly. You should thank me for bringing her back, at the very least."

Loki stared down with distaste at the 'woman' held firmly on the ground, and clenched and loosened his fists at her words. "Where is she now?" he questioned, the ice on Hel growing thicker and more heavy by the second at his whim.

"Midgard. Where, exactly, I do not know. But there you will find her."

Loki breathed deep at her words, his mouth agape to calm himself.

Valr was alive! On Midgard, no less. Yet still hidden from his Father and the gaze of Heimdall.

"What had you planned? Why did you send her there?"

Hel laughed heartily at his words, enjoying the god's ignorance. "Oh, but that would spoil the fun! I'll not have you ruin my game, no matter what method you try to use against me. You'll have to wait and see."

Loki released Hel from her binds and stepped back to put distance between them, her anger felt like flame through his armour. "You have what you need, Odinson. Leave now whilst my patience still stands."

The God of Mischief glared as lines of the dead rose from the ground, a veritable wall, an army set betwixt them. He could not hope to match their numbers with his magic and trickery alone, and relinquished his hold on the situation. "Heimdall!" he called to the heavens, and waited.

A plume of light appeared moments later, a beam of energy shot forth to engulf him, and within seconds he was gone to Asgard, far from Niflheim.

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Loki strode from the Bifrost without a word and away toward the palace, a deep sadness lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't the chance to bid Valr goodbye, to cradle her in her final moments, give her hope when there was none. But now there was a chance to bring her home, return things to how they were, when they were simpler.

He knew not where to find her on Midgard, but he would be damned to give up so easily.

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The experience of flying was one Valr only felt a few rare times. Thor would kneel and take her on his back, launching into the air with Mjolnir in hand. Asgard was beautiful from the sky, a city of glimmering bronze and gold, ancient and magical made all the better from above.

Thor was a master at flying, practised and trained. Valr watched him amazed as he shot through enemies with such incredible speed and force, fast as lightning and as loud and powerful as thunder. Loki, similarly, had flown before, tested and meddled with his mastery of all things magical, but could not achieve the skill with which his brother flew.

Valr would laugh as Loki's concentration shattered, sending him falling to the ground in a heap, laid on his back like an overturned turtle. The breath knocked from his lungs, she would hoist him up and brush off his shoulders, urging him to stay put on the ground. "You should wear that helmet when you fly, Loki." She would tell him, "I'm not dragging you home if you knock yourself out- no matter how many times you've done it for me." He would slap at her hands as she poked him in the ribs, always a joke to her how thin and frail he looked in his younger years.

"What's your name?" Tony asked over the roar of the wind, "I can't just call you 'kid'. Especially since Coulson saw you, jumping off the balcony like a damned crazy person."

"Valr Battle-Slain of Asgard. Your name's Tony, right?"

"Tony Stark. I take it you haven't heard of me." He began to descend, his speed lessening with his decline.

"Sorry, no. I don't know a thing about Midgard."

Tony shook his head at her words and chuckled, "You're a weird one, I'll give you that. Just know you're going to be put on the spot when we get back. I bet Fury will love your jokes just as much as he loves mine."

"Fury? Is he a king or something? A god?"

Tony laughed even louder, "He might as well be!"

Tony landed firmly on the ground and allowed Valr to slide from his back. "JARVIS, update."

Valr took in Tony's armour then and compared it to her own. The plates on his arms and chest slid under one another, moved fluidly, whilst her armour encumbered and limited her movement, her pauldrons larger and more prominent than that of his own. The light once hidden under his shirt now illuminated his chest plate, beautifully luminescent, where as her armour was engraved and embossed with traditional knots and designs.

"Ahead, sir, approximately twenty-three yards."

Before one of Stark's many offices scattered through the city, all about the block, stood several men, all unassuming and unmasked, but armed and considerably dangerous to those around them. Tony laughed at the sight and pivoted his leg, his irritation felt by the young woman beside him. She said nothing as he sighed, forced to explain to her the situation.

"Third time this week. These guys are getting pretty unoriginal." He drawled and lifted the mask of his helmet, his eyes set on Valr.

"What are they after?" she asked curiously, her hand on the sword at her hip- one she hoped she would not have to use against their opponents.

Tony pursed his lips and rotated his shoulders, doing a small jump afterwards as though to prepare himself. "Don't know. Don't care. But no one takes my stuff. Come on."

His suit whirred to life and in a flash he was off like a bullet through the air, closing the gap between him and the would-be intruders in a matter of seconds. At first, Valr stood motionless and took in the buildings around her the monstrously massive and terribly tall scrapers, the thousands of reflective windows shining brightly in the midday sun. Denizens of the city stopped and gazed at the spectacle that was the renowned Tony Stark- the Iron Man- in all his glory, but cautious of the armour clad woman in the centre of the street.

Valr ran forward into the fray, Tony already having dispatched quite a few of the men without difficulty. With the pommel of her sword she knocked out a single intruder and two more by kicking them toward Tony. If she did not wish to kill them she would certainly find a way to make them wish she had.

"Kid, look out!" Tony yelled as Valr's back was turned, too busy a few others to aid her in time. She spun around, sword drawn and readied, and thrust it forward out of fright. She closed her eyes to the sight, the weight that pulled her sword downward, and only dared to peek upon realising she'd ended him. Her fallen opponent lay on the ground, still and quite dead, but what shocked her most was the blood.

Violet and viscous, the blood pooled at her boots and caked her sword in a disgusting goop. This was no human, whose blood ran sanguine- this was something different, something strange, something… alien.

Valr kicked the body away from her and scarpered off toward Tony, anything to put the image of the inhuman being from her mind. But Tony stood face to face with another adversary, his hands up in front of him and palms ablaze with a powerful light. The man drew forth a bizarre device, a most sinister silver shining in the sun.

Valr looked at the hand-held… she wasn't sure what to call it, with suspicion, but jumped, startled as Tony stepped in front of her. An ear-shattering noise filled the air, a round from the gun ricocheting off his chest plate and into the concrete. Angered at the attack, he sent out a single blast from his repulsors and hit the man square in the shoulder, sending him flying to the ground on his back.

An inhuman yell garbled in his throat as he convulsed, the skin beneath his hand a sickly pale—most certainly not human, Valr concluded. But the others remaining took heed to Tony's attack and scattered every which way, into the alleys and even up the sides of buildings with unnatural agility.

"Well… that ain't something you see every day." Tony joked, and strode forward with Valr at his side, toward the now motionless man on the ground.

"What was that thing he used? That loud noise?" Valr questioned, intrigued by the strange weaponry found on Midgard.

"Really, kid… Valr?" he corrected himself. "A gun? They don't have those where 'you're from'?"

"Not on Asgard, no. I've seen beam weapons, kind of like what the Destroyer has, but nothing like that."

Tony lifted his face plate and ran a hand down his neatly trimmed goatee, unprepared for what he saw next.

What lay at their feet was far from human, and most definitely something Tony had never encountered. Its visage was contorted and bug-like, its small, sunken eyes opened forever as its body refused to breathe. "What the hell is this thing?" he snorted, kicking it in the shoulder with his boot, the same purple blood stuck to his armour just as it clung to Valr's sword.

"I know." Valr started and stared down wide-eyed to the creature at their feet. Tony eyed her skeptically, his mouth twitching and eyes wide. "I've only heard stories the Alfdaur- the All Father- has told us, but I know what it is."

"Well?" Tony asked, sick of the suspense.

"It's a Chitauri."

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