Song: Stuff We Did - Up
Heimdall took in a deep breath, blinking his golden eyes to look around at the expanse of the Nine Realms surrounding him. Since the events with Malekith, it seemed he couldn't help but keep his eyes opened a bit more. It was probably the combined effects of how he had let something as dangerous as Malekith get into Asgard unseen and how close all of creation had come to ending, but whatever it was, it made Heimdall appreciate the little things, like the way the fires erupted on Muspelfheim; the way the mist curled its fingers across the mountains of Niflheim; the way the rich, green forests branched across Vanaheim; the way the light elves danced through the beautiful lands of Alfheim; even the way icy spires scraped the skies on Jotunheim.
As for Midgard, his eye always was fixed on one person, on orders of his king.
"How is she?" Odin asked as he walked up beside the Guardian, voice concerned. Heimdall looked down at him briefly.
"She is well. She has met someone, a nice boy who cares very much about her." Odin gave a small smile and nodded.
"What's his name?"
"Will Taylor." Finally, the tall man voiced what was on his mind. "My king…I find it odd that you are watching a mere mortal's life, a snapshot in the grand span of the life of the Nine Realms. Why do you focus so on this girl?" Odin's face grew sad, and the old man sighed.
"We were partly responsible for turning her into a broken young child. I feel responsible for what has happened to her and wish to know how her life is progressing. She deserves to have a long and fruitful life now, without pain or suffering."
"That is not the way my king would normally speak." The Asgardian looked at his subject, face growing hard and uncompromising.
"My own son has grown to care for the people of Midgard as though they were his own. And while I may have been against extending a gesture of friendship to so volatile a people, I am finding a sense of comfort in the lives of others since I lost the queen." Heimdall averted his gaze. "Her compassion is one that I am sorely missing and in honor to her I am dedicating myself to watching over a single person, to try and find a part of Frigga in me."
"I apologize, Allfather," the Guardian said in the silence that followed. "Would you like to know what she is doing right now?" He took a deep breath and blinked his eyes. "Her life is about to change…"
~'*'~
"Will, I swear to god, if I fall off I'm going to kill you!" Stella laughed as she slowly stood up on the bare back of the large plow horse plodding along in the large pasture of Jordan's ranch home in Connecticut. Will walked along next her, leading the black draft horse along in the tall green grass, with a grey Shire plodding along beside him.
"Don't worry, Oka is a sweetheart. She's never thrown anyone in all the time that she was a show horse, so I doubt she'd start with you." Finally, Stella was standing up straight, easily swaying in sync with the horse's gait and looked down at her boyfriend as he smiled up at her.
"One year anniversary of us dating and you decide to bring me out to your sister's ranch, who in fact is the devil reincarnate, and mess around with horses all day," she called down to him, and he shrugged, pulling himself up onto the bare back of the Shire. "You have an interesting idea of celebrating."
"Hey, you're happy," he countered. "The world's peaceful out here. I mean you seriously can't get any more peace that the wide open sky and the stretch of grass and the forest…you don't have to worry about anything –"
"WILL, I WANT OKA AND SASHAY BACK IN THE STABLES BEFORE IT'S PITCH BLACK, YOU HEAR ME?" The couple looked over their shoulders at the small figure glaring at them from the porch, and Stella rolled her eyes, lowering herself safely onto Oka's back once more.
"Except for that." Will scoffed, rubbing Sashay's neck and smiling to himself. "What is it?" He looked at her, taking in the healthy tan to her face, the freckles that were just barely visible, scattered across her nose like scattered seeds. Her smile was radiant, framed by her dark brown hair that was cropped in a slightly jagged bob-cut. She was wearing a burnt orange tube top with a long turquoise skirt decorated with embroidered patterns running down its length. Her bronzed shoulders were nicked and marked with pale strips of almost invisible scars from days long ago. The only mark that, true to his word a little over a year ago, hadn't faded away yet was the long, pinkish scar that ran down the left side of her face, the skin marred permanently.
"What?" she repeated, smile fading and he shook his head, looking ahead of himself again.
"Just thinking of how beautiful you look," he answered, and the woman smiled, nudging her horse close enough to Sashay that she could lean over and kiss her boyfriend.
"You're so sweet," she teased and spurred Oka to a trot, Will following a few moments later. "So, where are we off to?"
"You keep up with me and you'll find out," he called as he spurred the horse to a gallop, pulling away from Stella until she was a good twenty feet behind him, struggling to urge her own mount to a lope to catch up.
"Will! Will, wait up!"
"Catch up, and I'll wait!" After a few minutes of surprisingly intense chasing, guiding the horses after each other through a few hedges and over a few creeks until they were pretty far into the small woods that lay to the south of the ranch. Finally, Stella caught up, Oka pulling up alongside Sashay, and the two of them dropped down to a leisurely walk until Will dismounted, heading over to sit down on a large fallen tree and tying the two horse's lead lines off to a birch tree while giving them enough room to nose around.
"So…what're we doing out here?" she asked, dismounting and sitting down beside Will, leaning her head against his shoulder.
"I just wanted to tell you how much I love you," he began, and Stella smiled, closing her eyes and intertwining their hands. "You've really shaped who I've become as a person, and I am so happy that I met you."
"Hey, that's my job. I'm the one who should be saying that to you," she protested, entirely light hearted, and Will smiled at her.
"Don't we both get to say that? I mean, that's kind of the point of being in a relationship," he pointed out and sat up straight, making Stella sit up as well. "I've got a surprise for you." She looked at him in question. "Close your eyes." Completely innocent and unquestioning, Stella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pressing her palms against her legs and straightening her arms so that she stretched her back. There was the brief sound of Will moving around and then nothing and she waited for a few seconds before laughing nervously.
"Will? What's going on?"
"Okay…open." Stella opened her eyes and blinked rapidly to try and reacclimatize herself to the dim lighting of the woods around them. And that was when her eyes found the man kneeling before her, holding a small box in his hands and looking torn between smiling, puking, and fainting. Her voice was caught in her throat, and she had to clear her throat a few times before she was actually able to speak.
"Oh my god." And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the crickets took over for the cicadas, and the horses began dozing off, Stella clapped her hands over her mouth and screamed in delight, throwing her hands around her fiancé and tackling him to the detritus laden forest floor as he slipped the silver engagement ring over her finger.
~'*'~
"The giving of a ring is symbolic of a pledge to marriage for Midgardians," Heimdall explained, turning to look at his king, noting the small smile that was barely visible on his grim face. "She is happy, sir. Very happy." He nodded, turning around and walked off, nodding to himself.
"Good," he sighed, wrapping his cloak about his shoulders. "That's good." When he was back in the palace, ignoring the looks people were giving him as he went back to his chambers, he closed the heavy golden doors and locked them with a wave of his hand, crossing over to his bed and sitting on the edge, bracing himself against his knees. And suddenly, a shimmering wave of light radiated off of him, and Odin was gone, leaving in his place a quietly smiling Loki.
"She's okay," he whispered to himself, lying back onto the bed, clasping his hands over his stomach as he eased himself down onto the mattress. "Stella's okay." A thought struck him, and he sat up, moving over to pull a heavy book down from one of the shelves he had had installed in the room.
It was old, leather bound, and had clearly been passed down the ages. But what mattered was not its age, but its content. It was about weddings.
~'*'~
"It is another exciting day for your little Midgardian," Heimdall called as Loki-Odin entered the Bifrost chamber once more. There was a smile on the tall man's face as he gazed down into the mass of stars and celestial bodies, watching the young woman as she ran about, excited and frantic and frazzled all at once. He gave a deep laugh. "She is quite an excitable young woman."
"What is it?"
~'*'~
"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening!" she laughed, turning around to face Lily, who was beaming at her, tears of joy in both of their eyes. The ex-agent reached out and started messing with her hair, trying to straighten out some loose strands while still keep the general hairdo straight and perfect.
"You look beautiful, Stella!" she cried, giving the girl a tight hug and spinning her around. "Oh, I can't believe it! You're getting married!"
"Well, I hope you believe it because you're my maid of honor," Coulson told her and took a deep breath, turning around to look at herself in the mirror, running her hands down the skirt of her long satin dress. The off-white garment was lace tiered, with a bodice-like top that was strapless, and on anyone else it may have looked slightly tacky. But on the ex-assassin it looked beautiful. However, as she looked at the people around her, her expression grew sad.
"I've got your bouquet!" Alicia called as she and Simone hurried into the dressing room, the latter carrying her veil. But both stopped, smiles fading slightly as Stella dropped her head into her hands and began crying. Setting the objects to the side, Alicia walked up to Stella, putting her arm around the girl's shaking shoulders.
"Stella, what is it?"
"God…I just…I wish Patrick was here," she finally managed, looking up at her reflection and wiping away the tears. "I wish that Veronica was here…and part of me even wishes that Loki was here. But every time I look at myself, I see why they aren't here!" she sobbed, pointing at the jagged scar running down her face. After a few minutes of silence, the girl took in a deep breath to steady herself, half-heartedly smiling as she imagined what the Frost Giant would be doing during a wedding, surrounded by people he didn't know doing things he wasn't familiar with. And as she looked back at the mirror, she could see Veronica lounging in one of the chairs by the makeup, smiling comfortingly at her while Patrick laughed and picked at her hair, making it stand out in odd directions before patting it carefully back into place.
"Hey…they're always going to be here, okay?" Simone said comfortingly, resting her hands on the young woman's exposed shoulders. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you're seeing them right now." Stella smiled and nodded, looking down. "Oh, here she is!" Simone called out in a sing-songy voice. "Behold your daughter, Mrs. Coulson!" Stella turned around to see her mom standing in the doorway, video camera in her hands.
"Will hasn't seen you has he?" she asked playfully, and Stel laughed.
"No, ma'am. The groom has not seen the bride, and we've made sure of it," came a new voice as Ian came walking in, Barton beside him looking uncomfortable in his black tuxedo.
"Do I have to wear this?" he asked, looking over his shoulder as Romanoff walked in clad in the light green dress that the other bridesmaids in the room were wearing.
"Yes, Clint. You weren't going to be wearing your uniform to Coulson's wedding," she reprimanded and sighed, settling in one of the chairs in the increasingly crowded room. Lynne beamed at the two of them, looking around at all the people before fixing her eyes on her daughter.
"Ceremony's in about five minutes," she said, tearing up even though she as ecstatic. "You ready?" Stella took in a deep breath and gave a nervous smile, nodding. "Wonderful! Clint, I need you to go out and get over with the rest of the groomsmen and tell everyone we're about to start." Clint smiled his lopsided grin and turned around, heading for the chapel as he whistled "Here Comes the Bride."
"Alright, are all of the bridesmaids here?" Lynne asked, looking around and counting heads as the green-clad women picked up their respective bouquets of calla lilies, lining up in the order they were walking in at. "Natasha, Lily, Alicia, Simone, good!" An annoyed voice cleared her throat noisily, and Lynne looked around to the young woman with long, straight brunette hair staring at her with a superior and expectant expression. "Yes, yes, Jordan, you're here, too." Lynne turned back around, smiling once again after Jordan was out of her line of sight.
"Wonderful! Let me just go and check on the boys, make sure they're all together and ready. You know how they can get." Before leaving though, the mother took the veil from the seat it had been set aside on and gently set it on her daughter's head, using bobby pins to fasten it to her hair and kissed Stella's forehead. "I'm so happy for you sweetheart," she whispered and giving her another quick kiss swept from the room heading down the hall to where Will and the groomsmen were.
"Will? It's Lynne, can I come in?" The door quickly opened and she stepped in, rolling her eyes as she watched everyone scamper around trying to get everything together at the last second. "I swear to god it is always the same with you men! Phil was doing the same thing at our wedding!"
"Well, it's not my fault that Stark decided it would be fun to hide the boutonnieres!" Will snapped, and the billionaire, noting the stern gaze Mrs. Coulson was shooting him, quickly dove for the bureau in the corner and pulled the hidden pins out from underneath it.
"Now, if you could please hurry up and put those on? Stella's ready to go, and I don't want her to walk up to the altar and not have you waiting for her!" Glaring daggers at Stark, Will walked out of the small room, pinning on the boutonniere as he went. And as Stark filed out, followed closely by Ian, Clint, one of Will's cousins, and Steve, Lynne sighed in relief, having reassured herself with the comforting fact that everyone was here and ready to go.
"Well, this is already going better than my wedding, congratulations."
"What happened at your wedding?" Steve asked, falling back in step with his daughter, and she looked up at him, looping her arm in his as they walked and leaning her head against his shoulder as Stella often did with her father.
"Oh, nothing much…Phil was almost late and ran up to the altar bleeding from a gunshot wound to his arm, but he got through the vows before passing out." She looked up at her dad's shocked expression and hurried to reassure him. "Oh no, don't worry! The bullet had just skimmed him, nothing more than a flesh wound. And we had an ambulance waiting for him."
"I swear to god sometimes I'm glad I was out of it for seventy years and wasn't there to witness that," he admitted, and Lynne laughed, leaving his side and hurrying to sit by her husband.
"What's so funny?" he asked, noting her smirking mouth and shining eyes, and she shook her head.
"Oh nothing. I was just telling Steve about our wedding."
"For the last time, I swear I didn't know I was going to be on call that day! I had signed up for vacation, I wasn't supposed to be called out onto the field!"
"Yes, I know! It just makes for a good story, now shut up and get over there to give Stella away!" she hissed, and Phil quickly got up, nearly running to get to his position as Will walked up to the aisle and waited nervously with the priest.
And just as everyone got into position, the music started, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen started walking down the aisle to their positions at either side of the aisle. Alicia walked with Ian, Jordan with Will's cousin Nicolas, Clint with Natasha, Simone with Stark, and Lily and Steve walked together as maid of honor and best man.
The ceremony was quiet, simple, and ordinary. The ring-bearer and flower girl (who were Will's cousin's kids) made people smile with their adorableness. Stella made people gasp at her beauty; Steve made people cry with his speech; Tony and Clint made people laugh with their subtle miming of the trembling priest with the speech impediment (and when Lynne almost stood up to yell at him for making a fool of himself, Coulson stopped her and pointed at the nearly-weds who were looking at each other and trying hard not to laugh). When groom and bride kissed, and the latter officially became Stella Taylor, people cheered. Phil cried, and Lynne did, too, but they were tears of joy and happiness. Overall, it was normal and exactly what they wanted.
Back in the Bifrost, Odin looked up at Heimdall, a confuse expression on his face.
"Something wrong, Sire?"
"What is a reception?"
"It is when the people who attended the wedding go to a celebration, much like the ones that we have after battle." Odin nodded and sighed.
"Well. I shall not be back here for a while; I have seen all I need to see to ensure that she is happy. Thank you, Heimdall." With that, he left. But within a few hours, Loki had discarded his Odin disguise and was preparing himself for an act of magic, wearing the simplest of Asgardian clothing that he could find. This left him in a black cloak, dark green tunic and black pants; essentially, his prison garments. Pulling the hood up over his head, he vanished, portal opening around him as he had done for Stella.
~'*'~
"How does it feel to be a Taylor?" Will asked as he danced with Stella, looking down into his wife's eyes as they wove in and out of the intricate pattern of everyone else dancing.
"It's wonderful," she answered and as the song ended she pulled off to the side, sitting down. "Sorry…I just haven't had a lot of time to readjust to wearing heels. Working in a small coffee shop exactly the best place to wear them, and before that I was accustomed to combat boots."
"I still say you should have worn your combat boots," Will offered, sitting across from her. "Would have made my family scared to death of you."
"I'm pretty sure they are anyways," she responded. "I mean, I'm friends with the Avengers. I'm literally blood related to them." She took a quick drink from her glass of champagne before getting up. "I'm going to go and walk around a little bit. Say hi to some of your cousins and go and see my parents. I haven't really had any time to talk to them since this whole thing started."
"Go ahead. My family is really the majority of the people here, what with my fifteen first cousins, twelve second cousins, and all their spouses, extended family, and children. That's a lot of names to get to know for a night and then never have to remember again."
"Oh stop it, they're not that bad," she chastised before moving off, waving to a few people she had met over the course of the last year and a half, before approaching Jordan and her posse of distant relations huddled over by the buffet.
"I heard that she was in some kind of legal trouble. You know, like drug rings and criminal activity and stuff like that," came one voice, and Stella slowed her approach, frowning slightly.
"No, I heard she was some psycho drug addict off the street."
"I don't know guys, she's related to Steve Rogers of all people…" came a younger voice, one that Stella pinpointed as one of Nicolas' kids, Sarah. "I don't think she can be bad…"
"Are you kidding me? Have you seen that scar on her face? That's like a total indicator that she's done something wrong. There's black on that girl's history and I'm going to find out what it is," Jordan said firmly. "I don't like her. And my brother won't tell me what's going on, as if I have no say in who he marries and spends the rest of his life with! I'm just trying to protect him!"
"So do you really think that she was tangled up in something?"
"Definitely. Do you think she got that scar in a fight? Like a knife fight?"
"Maybe it was just a car accident, guys –"
"Oh, a car accident that bad couldn't leave just one scar, Sarah," Jordan countered. "I think Stacy's right. I think she got it fighting, that good for nothing –" Finally someone seemed to realize that Stella was standing within earshot, and Sarah poked Jordan in the arm, nodding her head in the bride's direction. "Oh. Stella, hi!" she began, voice sugary and overly surprised. "We didn't notice you –"
But Stella just shook her head, took in a shaky breath, and walked towards the group of women with her hands clenched into tight fists, fighting to push down the rage building in her, the urge to lash out and beat them all down. Instead, she resorted to shoving through them, avoiding their gaze as her eyes burned with tears that she furtively tried to wipe away. Dimly she heard the women start talking again in shock, but she ignored it, too preoccupied with trying to find a safe spot, a sanctuary where she could break down and cry without drawing attention to herself. People called out to her, waved, tried talking, but she blocked them out, speed walking towards a balcony and shoving the doors open, closing them behind her and bracing herself on the railing as she sobbed.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" she sobbed, clenching her jaw. "Why can't you ever leave me alone!" In anger, she brought her fist smashing down on the marble banister, her strength cracking the heavy stone. And as she stood there, nearly doubled over the balcony's edge, a thought whispered in her head.
Jump. Jump if you really want to be free of her. But just as she started changing her grip on the balcony, preparing to vault over the edge, the double doors opened briefly and closed again as someone else joined her out in the night air. She waited in silence, waited for someone to speak, but instead a warm hand rested on her back, comforting and safe.
"What do you want?" she demanded, wiping away her tears and trying to bring herself back under control.
"Nothing more than to help," a soft voice answered, and Stella stopped, blinking to clear her eyes of tears as she tried to see the face of the man behind her. "Your bouquet and your hair decorations…they were made of lavender and calla lilies, were they not?" The British accent was soft, lilting in the night, and Stella put her hands over her mouth, trying not to pass out. "Lavender, for my people, is symbolic of purity, silence, and caution…and the promise of new adventure. The calla lily is one of divinity, marital bliss, true devotion…and represents sympathy and the purification of a departed soul. Rather fitting after everything don't you think?"
"Loki?" she whispered, and the man stepped into the half-light provided by the filtered glow of the ballroom inside through the sheer fabric curtains that sheltered them from unwelcome eyes. Loki smiled gently and was about to say something else when Stella ran at him, tackling him in a hug that almost sent him crashing through the glass doors leading out to the balcony. "Oh my god!" she whispered and held him tightly, not letting go until he managed to squeak out something about not being able to breathe.
"Sorry! Sorry, I – they told me you were dead," she gasped as she pulled away and held him at arms length. He scoffed and shook his head.
"Clever bit of magic on my behalf. Now, I am wandering Asgard disguised as…" He hesitated, and then, despite the churning in his gut, he lied. "Various people. I've been asking after you under the guise of Odin, and Heimdall has been keeping me updating as to your status. I heard you were getting married and wanted to congratulate you in person."
"Why didn't you come over to me at the beginning of the reception? I'm sure everyone would have been happy to see you."
"Happy?" he asked dubiously, and she sighed, rolling her eyes as she wiped away tears.
"Fine. Fine, maybe not happy. But they'd have been at least thankful to you. After what you did." Here her voice grew harder, and Loki looked down. "How could you do that to me?"
"So that you could have this," he answered, gesturing around them, at her in her wedding dress. "So that you could experience all of this: falling in love, getting married, having a true life." Thankfully for him, Stella didn't have a response to that. Instead, she just smiled at him and hugged him once more. "Oh, alright…we're doing this again."
"Of course we are. I thought you died and instead you're alive and show up on my wedding day to congratulate me." She pulled away again and cleared her throat as Loki reached out and brushed away a tear, brow furrowed, perplexed. "Admittedly, you could have picked a better time."
"What happened?"
"Nothing you need to worry yourself with," she explained and took in a deep breath, smile breaking out over her face. "I'm so happy to see you, to know you're okay."
"I must say the same about you." He looked around themselves and smiled at her again. "I should get going."
"What? No, stay! At least come and see my father – okay, maybe not my father, that wouldn't go over well. At least wait here until I come back with Will. I want you to meet him." Before Loki could say anything, she opened the door to the ballroom and ran out into the throng of people, heading back over to her husband and pulling him to his feet, gesturing to the door he was lurking behind and speaking urgently. But as he watched them come closer, Loki sighed, backing away from the door and turning instead to face the world before him. Midgard.
"Whatever you do, don't scare him okay? You know what this man means to me, what he did for me, so please just –"
"Stella, I get it. Don't be cruel to him." They opened the doors to a large blast of cold air, and the newly weds just barely caught the aftermath of the fabric of space rippling back into place. And as they stood there in stunned silence, Stella saw a slip of paper and a package left on the edge of the balcony. With her husband guiding her, she walked over to the object, picking up the paper first and reading it in the light flooding in from the ballroom.
Stella and Will Taylor,
I know you will both be mad at me for leaving without warning. Stella you will be mad because this is the second time I have done this, and you truly wanted to share your life with me. Will, you will be mad because I have caused your wife distress. But I want you to understand that I am doing this for you because I care about you Stella. I want you to have the best life you possibly can, and that is one that does not include me. I know you will be angry; I know that you will want to hunt me down and probably try to strangle me in another embrace. But you will not hear from me again. I leave this as a token of my congratulations and hope that it is a gift that will continue on in your family for generations.
I do have one request though. Do not let anyone know that I was here. Especially Thor.
With the greatest respect, admiration, and care,
Loki Laufeyson
And Will. As I am sure many have already told you, if you hurt her in any way, I will kill you. However, should this occasion arise, I am sure that there will be a line.
With trembling hands, Stella reached out and untied the golden ribbon that held the box closed and unwrapped the gift Loki had left for her and her husband. At first, when the lid opened, they were confused. But then Stella's eyes widened, and she smiled in wonder, pulling a large blanket of the softest fabric she'd ever felt from the container. It felt like water running between her fingers, like a cold breeze against her skin. It was green, with a literal family tree embroidered in gold and silver lettering, both their families traced out for generations with names written so small that they would be able to fit more on for generations to come. And as they sat there, admiring the workmanship and the care and effort that had been put into it, another slip of paper drifted to the floor.
Yes, I made this. It is enchanted to add a new name every time a new member of your line is born. It is extremely resistant to flame, water, and all other forms of physical abuse and damage. Please, do not stow it away in some chest out of fear of damaging it. Use it.
Despite Jordan's words and the looks people gave her the rest of the night as rumors and speculation spread about the poor groom's wife, nothing could dampen Stella's spirit. And that night when the two of them went to bed on the first night of their honeymoon, they slept with the Frost Giant's gift keeping them warm.
~'*'~
And as the years went by, Heimdall kept giving updates to his king of anything consequential that happened to the Midgardian, key moments that he claimed would shape her life. And every day, after he heard the story of Stella's life unfold, Loki would retreat to Odin's quarters and write down everything that he had heard, reflect and ponder what would happen next or what that would hold in store for the human.
~'*'~
Year 1 of marriage, April 14th
Stella smiled as she looked around herself. She had finally finished moving out of her own apartment into Will's house that his parents had left him, and they were in the process of incorporating Stella's decorations and belongings into the preexisting minimalistic style that Will had going on. Not to mention they had to sift through the wedding gifts.
"What do you think?" Will called, and Stella followed his voice into the kitchen where he had just finished organizing and placing all their pots, pans, utensils, plates, bowls, etc. where they would best fit.
"I think it'll work great. And we have enough for guests when they come over?" He nodded in affirmation. "Wonderful. So we can cross off the kitchen from our list. What does that leave?"
"All the backyard stuff." Stella rolled her eyes. "I know right?"
"Well, let's get to that. And afterwards we can do the bedrooms," she suggested pointedly, and he smiled.
Seven hours later the two of them collapsed on the deck outside, Will having finished planting perennial gardens along the outside of the fence while Stella took a machete – a wedding gift, courtesy of Clint – to the jungle of undergrowth that took up the bottom of the sloped, half-acre backyard. She hadn't hacked back everything, instead sculpting what she had left to follow the small creek that ran through the basin of the small ravine and surround the few birch trees and eight massive oaks that grew on either side of the small creek. By the time she was done, all the yard waste crammed into their respective bins and dragged out into the street by her super soldier strength, the backyard looked a bit more like Lothlorien instead of Mirkwood.
"I call the working shower," Stella groaned, getting up and entering the two-story house, painfully climbing up the stairs and entering their master bathroom. She felt more mud than skin on her body, and it was making her uncomfortable.
Downstairs, Will washed off his hands and went upstairs, quickly changing and taking a quick shower in the slightly broken one in the guest bathroom that more intermittently spit water at you instead of showering you in a steady stream. Once he was done, he went back downstairs and started organizing the living room, repositioning the couch so that it faced the fireplace and dragged the club chair to face the leather sofa at an angle. Finally, he pulled a rocking chair over in the exact same position across from the chair he had just moved. There was a low coffee table between all three pieces of furniture, and Will opened one of the boxes to reveal candles and pictures that he set up on the mantelpiece and the two side tables to either side of the sofa. There was a lamp on top of the one on the left, and as he finished setting up the last of the many knickknacks and ornaments around the living room he threw a few pillows onto the couch.
"I like that lay out," Stella commented, and Will looked around to see his wife coming down the stairs, rubbing at her soaking hair with a towel. "We have a hamper yet?"
"Yes, it's in the garage next to the washer and drier." She waved her hand in acknowledgement and vanished briefly before coming back in and wrapping her arms around her spouse. "Ready to tackle the bedrooms?"
"Whenever you are. I'll start moving boxes up." And without further hesitation, she picked up two heavy containers, stacked them upon each other and walked up the stairs without hesitation. Marveling at her strength, Will picked up a box of his own and followed her up.
"Hey, about this super soldier strength thing," he began, nearly tripping and falling flat on his face. "Will our kids have it?"
"Skips a generation," she called down. "Our grandkids will though."
"Wonderful…imagine the babysitting," he muttered, and Stella laughed, entering their bedroom and setting her burden down while her husband practically face-planted into the carpet.
"I'll be able to keep up. Question is will you be able to?" He rolled his eyes at her teasing.
"Seeing as I can't even keep up with moving boxes I highly doubt it," he answered and flopped down on the bed to let his legs rest for a little. There was a shift of pressure beside him as Stella joined him and they sat there, staring up at the ceiling. "I can't believe this is it."
"What's it?"
"We're living together; you've got a new job as a personal trainer; I'm working at a new hospital…it's really a new life."
"Yeah. Fresh page." And they laid there in silence.
~'*'~
Year 2 of marriage, June 3
"So you have been unable to conceive for the past two years was it?"
"Yes."
"And both of you have taken fertility tests?" Stella nodded in response to the doctor's question, hand subconsciously tightening its grip on her husband's. "Well, your exams came back, and I have one last question for you, Mrs. Taylor, that you can answer in as little or as much detail as you wish." The doctor paused, looking uncomfortable. "Have you been subject to any severe physical trauma in your life?"
And there it was. Tears started to well up in Stella's eyes, and she looked down, unable to answer.
"If you like, a nod will suffice as –"
"Yes. The answer is yes, you can tell just by looking at her," Will interrupted, voice hard and angry as Stella nodded, a tear splashing down to leave a dark stain on her jeans.
"I'm sorry, but we believe that the reason you are having difficulty becoming pregnant is that your body underwent severe stress and as a result isn't able to carry a child." Will asked a few more questions and the doctor gave a few more answers, but Stella didn't hear them. Instead, she seemed to have gone catatonic, moving only when Will put his arm around her and helped her stand up.
"Again, I'm very sorry –"
"Thanks for your time," Will said shortly, and they left the clinic. The car ride home was slow and silent, burdened with things that weren't said and things that needed to be said. When they got home, Stella nearly shouldered through the door and hurried up stairs without another word, heading to the guest room that was plastered with her and her husband's colorful handprints in reds, greens, blues, purples, and yellows. As the door slammed behind her, Will tried to close the front door, only to find that the metal of the doorknob was slightly warped, bent out of shape by the strength of the devastated woman sobbing upstairs. After body-slamming the door back shut, Will sighed, climbing upstairs to what would have been their child's room.
"Stella?" he called, and there was no response save sobbing. "Stel…I'm coming in." The door creaked open to reveal Stella on her knees in the middle of the room, doubled over and crying. He slowly lowered himself onto the ground beside her and wrapped her in a hug. "We could always adopt –"
"No! No children…" she sobbed, angry and bitter. "No children…it's all my fault. If we adopt I'll never be able to look at the kid without seeing where I went wrong, where I –" And as she dissolved into near hysteria, Will held her close, trying and failing to hide his own tears as they sat there in the empty silence of the nursery.
That night, Stella took the blanket Loki had given them and hid it away.
~ '*'~
Year 3 of marriage, February 29th
Stella was outside gardening, silent and subdued as she had been since the news about no children about a year back. Lynne and Phil were over visiting, talking with Will in the living room about how she had been handling the news when Lynne asked if there were any spare blankets.
"Sorry, our heater's down again. We don't know why, but it's been on the fritz the last few months," Will explained, gesturing to the closet under the staircase. "There should be some in there." And as she started rummaging around, her fingers found a miraculously soft fabric shoved away in the back of the cramped closet, hidden from view by old towels that hadn't been touched in what looked like years. Curious at the unfamiliar object, Lynne pulled back, gasping at the craftsmanship of the fabric. It was essentially a tapestry.
"I don't think she's going to just spring back from this one. Not having a family is going to remind her day after day of everything she's been through."
"Will, where did you get this?" she asked, interrupting her husband's response before he managed to start talking. Will turned around on the sofa, eyes lighting on the wedding gift.
"It was a wedding gift left for us by…by Odin," he supplemented, hating the way he hesitated.
"Odin?" Phil asked, standing and moving over beside his wife to look at it.
"Yes," he lied. "Uh, he worked with Heimdall to create a literal family tree for us as a blanket. It's got everyone on there. Dead are in silver, living are in gold. It changes as the family changes," he explained. "I guess he gave it to us because he felt guilty about what happened to Stella." His mother and father – in – law nodded, but then Lynne frowned, pointing at a name.
"Who's Angela?"
"She was the victim of my drunk driving accident I told you about," he answered, throat gumming up. "She was just a kid. Stella and I were planning to name our daughter after her; that is, if the child ended up being a girl." He started turning back around when a thought struck him. "Why do you ask?"
"Because her name's on the tree," Coulson answered, pointing to the golden name embroidered in cursive below his and Stella's. Confused, Will got to his feet, taking the blanket in his hands.
"Well, that doesn't make sense," he began, peering at the name staring him in the face. "She's not living, she technically doesn't even ex–" He stopped mid-word, face slack and slowly looked up, not daring to breathe.
"Will, what is it?" Lynne asked and suddenly her son – in – law's face broke into a wide grin. "Will –"
"STELLA!" he screamed, snatching the blanket from their startled hands and running outside, brandishing the fabric at her as he jumped down the stairs, heading to where she was by the far fence. "STELLA, YOU NEED TO TAKE A PREGNANCY TEST!"
"Will, is this some kind of sick joke to you?" she demanded, standing up with eyes blazing with angry tears. He came jogging to a stop, shaking his head with that same wide grin.
"No. No, Stel the blanket! The tree, it has Angela's name on it! In gold! Not in silver, in gold! Stel, that means that she's alive and that she's our daughter and you need to take a pregnancy test!"
A few minutes later, Will was reflecting on how odd would have looked to an outsider that he, Lynne, and Phil were all crammed together outside the downstairs bathroom, Will clutching the blanket to himself and running every single prayer he knew through his head as they waited for Stella to come out with the news.
And finally the door swung open, revealing a shaken and pale Stella standing there, holding the small plastic stick in her trembling hand.
"Is it –" she nodded, and Will screamed again, wrapping her in a hug and lifting her off her feet, accidentally wrapping the two of them up in the blanket as he did so and the house erupted in pandemonium and phone calls and inarticulate shrieks of unbridled joy.
~ '*'~
Nine months later
"I swear to god getting stabbed hurt less than this!" Stella groaned as she slammed her head back into the pillows. "I have to be thankful though that she isn't a super soldier because if she were I think I'd just die right now."
"Let's just be thankful that you are a super soldier," Will offered, wincing as he swore a few of the bones in his hand cracked under the pressure his wife was putting on them as she clenched her own hand around his. "OW!"
"YOU'RE SAYING OW?!" she screamed just as another contraction hit, and she groaned, not even feeling the soothing touch of her husband's hand on her brow. "I swear to god I already want to kill this kid!"
"Now, Stella that's not something we want to –"
"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WILL, JUST SHUT UP!"
Outside, Lynne, Phil, and Steve were waiting anxiously, watching from the observation window and their granddaughter and great-granddaughter came closer to being born.
"Does it usually take this long?" Steve asked nervously, and Lynne looked down at her watch.
"Well, she's been at the transition phase for about two hours now, that's over time. It usually only takes 10 – 45 minutes. But the doctors don't want to do a C-section, something about it being too risky on Stella after everything she's been through."
"Okay, that's it, Stella, you're at the end now. This is the last bit –"
"YOU SAID THAT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO!" the woman screamed at her nurse, who didn't seem to take the verbal assault personally.
"This time I mean it, Stella, I can see the baby's head. I need you to push now."
"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN DOING?!" she hollered but within the next few minutes, the air was filled with the sound of a baby crying, and Stella reached out to take her daughter into her arms, laughing through her tears as she looked down into their baby's face.
"Look at her, Will," she whispered, and her husband leaned down over her to kiss the baby's forehead. "She's beautiful…" The door opened, and Stella looked up at her parents and at her grandfather, smiling tiredly at them. "Guess you're the world's youngest great-grandfather, Steve," she joked and passed the baby onto Will, watching with loving eyes as he rocked the still screaming child, smiling despite its shrill pitch. Then, without any warning, the man walked over to Steve and held the child out to him.
"Come on. You missed out on this with your daughter and your granddaughter. Might as well get to do it with your great-granddaughter." Swallowing painfully, Steve reached out and took the small form into his arms, tucking her in gently against his chest. And almost instantly, she stopped crying, looking up at him with wide brown eyes.
And for the first time in a long time, everyone felt at peace.
~ '*'~
Year 7 of marriage, August 26th
"Stel? Stel, you're okay. You're okay, do you hear me?" Will said firmly, gripping his wife's forearms as her hands pulled at her tangled hair, and she screamed wordlessly, turning herself around and slamming her head against their dresser. "STELLA!" he shouted, reaching out and cupping her tear-stained face in his hands. "Stella, baby, listen to me. It's me; it's Will. Everything's fine now, you're fine, you're safe," he whispered desperately, gently smoothing away her hair. The wild, dead eyes that stared at him once shook him to his very core, but now they were a common sight, something he had to deal with almost every night. "It's me, Will. It's your husband…it's over, sweetheart…it's all over; you don't have to worry any more," he gently told her and reached out to put his hands on her shoulders. At the physical touch combined with his continued soothing words, the young woman stopped screaming, reducing her displays of trauma to violent shivering.
"Stella, you're safe, I promise. No one's going to touch you; no one's going to hurt you. And you're not going to hurt anyone. You're going to be okay." Faintly, Will heard a door open and close and soft footsteps padded down the hallway, but he pushed the noise out of his head, running his hands over her shoulder blades to gently rub circles into her shaking back.
"Come here, sweetheart," he whispered gently, pulling her trembling form into his arms, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed into his shoulder, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.
"Daddy?" a small voice called, and the nurse looked over his shoulder to the door where their daughter was standing, looking fearful.
"Go back to bed, Angela," he ordered, internally wincing as the words came out harsher than he meant.
"What's wrong with mommy?" the four year old asked, voice trembling and shaking with all the fear of a toddler seeing her mom like that.
"I said go to bed!" And as the child quickly retreated to her room, Will sighed in defeat, pulling a drawer open and procuring a hypodermic needle.
"Will…Will, please –" Ignoring her whispers, the man quickly eased the needle into his wife's arm, releasing the sedative into her blood stream. Within a few minutes, she was asleep again, and he stood up, picking her up and getting her back in bed. He walked over to the whiteboard they had put up on their wall and crossed off the new combo of medication they had put up there. Ever since Stella had stopped responding to her old treatment, it had been getting harder and harder to find the proper dosage and meds to treat her with. Running his hands over his face, he left the room, heading for Angela's. But before he opened his daughter's door, he traced out the paint handprints that were plastered all over it, remembering how they had been made, the joy that had gone behind them. He wished it were still like those days.
"Angela?" he asked, opening the door and finding his daughter sitting in her bed with her sheets pulled up around her, scared. "Angela, it's okay. Mommy's just sick," he explained, closing the door behind him and walking over to lay down next to her, letting his child burrow into his side and rest her head on his shoulder. "See, mommy went through some scary things when she was younger. Now she has nightmares."
"Like the ones I have after I hear a scary story?"
"Yeah. Yeah, like those. But see, mommy's nightmares also happen when she's awake…and she sees those scary things but she can't wake up." And as Will tried to explain the unexplainable to the toddler beside him, he could see the innocence in her eyes dying and fading away.
~'*'~
Year 8 of marriage, May 8th
"Angela, come one! You're going to be late for school!" Stella called, and smiled as her daughter came scampering down the stairs, trying not to trip and fall as she went. "Okay, daddy is going to take you to school today. Do you have your lunch?"
"Yep!"
"Homework?"
"Yep."
"Backpack?"
"Yep." She eyed her child carefully.
"Shoes?" Her voice was mockingly tired, exasperated, and the little girl looked down at her sock clad feet in horror. "They're under the chair, where you always leave them," Stella called as her daughter dashed from the kitchen, pulling her Velcro sneakers over her knee high white stockings. Just as she finished getting herself together, Will walked down the stairs, stethoscope draped around his neck and messenger bag slung over his shoulder.
"Ready to go, Angela?" he called and the little girl squeaked in delight, scampering over to him and wrapping herself around his leg so that he could walk and carry her simultaneously. Stella walked over to him and quickly kissed him on the lips as he grabbed the car keys from a hook on the wall. "Sleep well?"
"Perfectly," she answered and smiled. "Just like the last eight months."
"Good. You're going to be okay today?"
"Yes!" she laughed, bending down to kiss her daughter goodbye. "Have a good time at work, and you, little lady," Angela giggled, "try not to get sent to the principle's office for fighting today?"
"Yes, momma."
"I mean it! I don't care if you think they're asking for it, or if you're trying to be like Aunt Natasha or Uncle Clint!" The girl blushed as her dad walked out, carrying her on his leg still, and Stella closed the door after them, waving goodbye as they pulled out of the driveway. Life was good, she reflected as she went about her chores that day. No one had an appointment with her so she didn't have to be at the gym, but it was nice to have a day off once in a while.
She took in a deep breath as she sat on the couch, organizing the wicker basket that held her daughter's books and blankets.
Yes…life was good.
That was when the doorbell rang, and, without thinking, Stella opened it.
What she saw made her throat go dry.