Chapter 38: Hint of Magic
Darcy wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed, only that time had passed and that she was no longer seated in the same room. It suddenly occurred to her that she had completely blanked out and realized that she was reclined on a large, soft bed with equally soft blankets. She smiled mindlessly at the unusual comfort she now felt absolutely enveloping her and closed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a hand softly brush a lock of hair away from her brow. As she opened her eyes she instinctively gasped and sat upright, scooting away from the new entity. The elf seated beside the bed gazed at her in both concern and disapproval. She cleared her throat and shook herself sternly. "I'm sorry, your majesty, I didn't see you," she said with a sigh. "Or hear you."
"I simply wish to see to it that you rest peacefully, little one," Malekith soothed. She nodded and settled back against the pillows with relief filling her again. He reached out and continued tenderly stroking her head. Darcy felt uneasy for a moment about the gesture, but after the third she felt nothing but contentment of the most exquisite kind. She smiled again and began to close her eyes. "I am concerned that you have been for such a span without rest. It does not do well for a human to struggle so deprived of basic needs."
"It's no big deal, I haven't been for like weeks without things so I think I'm still safe," she replied with a shrug. She thought for a moment about her present state, the ordeal since the Tesseract itself had been activated, being threatened with execution on Asgard, and now finding herself at the mercy of a dark elf. At least the mercy part seems genuine, she thought. But then, how do I know that? For that matter, how do I know he won't try to kill me in my sleep? She suddenly felt his hand brush over her own and then grasp it gently.
"Your mind is whirring with fear and questions, I can hear them as clearly as your voice when you speak," he said. She stared back in disbelief at him. "But I assure you that as much as I hear you, I also mean you no harm."
"Is it because you're psychic or is that just something pointy-ears do?" she asked innocently. He frowned at her. She groaned and clasped her hands over her face. "Oh, that sounded so racist, I mean specie-ist, I mean . . . great, I don't know what I mean. I'm so sorry."
"You mean is it a preternatural sense or is it something innate to all of my kind, light or dark," he interjected kindly. Darcy sighed with relief and nodded. "I believe the only proper answer is both."
"Oh," she said. Through the whirlwind of thoughts and subtle desires at being in a magical realm, a desire that any one of her friends had expressed at exceptional volume with each release of a film, book, or game featuring those of the otherworld, one began to ring out uncontrollably. It's inappropriate; just don't do it, you've already done enough and he still hasn't killed you, part of her chastised. But if you ask and he gives permission then it wouldn't be inappropriate, a childish voice answered. This is the only chance you'll probably ever have, just live in the moment already. She glanced over at the elf and cleared her throat. "Um, your majesty, would you be angry if I asked you something?"
"I suppose that would be entirely contingent upon the question itself," he replied. "I would be quite unsettled if you asked me to relinquish the rulership of my realm."
"And you'd have every right to be," Darcy replied with a smile and nervous laugh. He smiled at her obviously anxious gesture and waited patiently for the real question. "It's just, I've always wondered . . ." she stammered. "Can I touch your ear?"
"What for?" he asked in amusement.
"Well, it's just that I've always wondered about your kind, I mean everyone where I come from would give up a half a vital organ just to talk to an elf, but I've always had this strange curiosity about making physical contact with things and granted it has gotten me into some trouble; case in point I'm kind of stuck with the metaphorical god of mischief, but it's something I really never grew out of," she replied in a single, apprehensive breath. She wrung her hands together anxiously as he stared back, contemplating the request. She sighed and waved both hands dismissively. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid thing to ask. I'm just . . . I still just find it hard to believe all this."
He smiled calmly and seemed to enjoy her innocent, and somewhat ignorant by elf standards, gestures. "Very well, if I can reciprocate the gesture then you may," he said warmly.
Darcy stared back at him in disbelief for a moment and then felt the impulsive, childish part of her squeal with joy. Darcy drew in a deep breath and reached out one hand, trembling ever so slightly at the thought of having at her fingertips an ancient and infinitely magical creature. He remained perfectly still as she softly touched, with almost tender affection, the darker side of his face. It made sense that if this was scarred then he would likely not feel much of it and therefore be a little less bound to feel violated. To her surprise, even the dark and strange flesh was soft and warm, not rough or cold which was something she had prepared herself for at remembering he was a dark elf and would probably be vastly different from the creatures she had imagined for so many years. Her heart fluttered as her fingers brushed over the elongated edge of his ear, the blood in her face growing warm at the realization that this was completely real. She then heard a strange sound, something like a purring cat, though much louder. Her eyes widened as she realized that it seemed to be coming from him. She slowly withdrew her hand and sat backwards as the purring disappeared. She was so distracted by trying to compute the sound and the glow that now pulsed in his eyes that she barely noticed him reaching for her in return. She felt him trace a similar pattern, too mesmerized by the incident to pull away or speak. In fact, it took a few seconds for her to remember that this was expressly against the warning Loki had given her.
He was wrong and has been wrong the last three times, there's nothing poisonous about this, she thought. It's too wonderful to be dangerous. She thought back to the strange purring for a beat and felt a wave of contentment wash over her once more coupled with the undemanding presence of his hand on her. "That kind of tickles," she giggled.
"I know," he replied playfully, lingering for a moment until the stream of giggles was accompanied by a pink glow to her cheeks. They must not mature into natural fear any longer on Midgard, he thought. That would be most useful. Darcy felt a strange sense of disappointment as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and withdrew his hand. She frowned a little, but cleared her throat and glanced away to hide it. Perfect, almost completely taken in, he thought triumphantly. Only a few steps left and you'll be utterly helpless, and so will the trickster. "I should like to watch over you while you sleep, if that's acceptable. If it is bothersome, I shall let you sleep alone."
"It's alright," she muttered. This wouldn't have been the case under any other circumstance, of course, but something about all of this despite the smoldering and ever dwindling inner warnings seemed far too pleasant to refute. She was in absolute paradise for the moment and after the last few days paradise was enough to make even the strange and abnormal feel comforting. This was much more than strange and abnormal. This creature, whether his people shared his mannerisms or not, was incredibly and inexplicably kind. Not to mention proper enough to make even the most cool of human royalty blush with excitement. A dream come true for any mortal, she thought for a moment. "Goodnight, your majesty."
"Pleasant dreams, Darcy Lewis," the elf replied. He watched a passive sleep consume her and grinned brightly. This was enjoyable, but made infinitely easier by the trickster's cruelty before. He would be hard-pressed to get the mortal to believe him if this continued for long. Perfect, absolutely perfect. A soft knock on the door caught the elf's attention and he turned, angrily watching as one of the others came in and knelt. It removed its smooth, pale mask meant to look pallid and non-threatening while still seeming otherworldly and imposing; a contradiction to confuse and thwart intruders. Bowing low, the lower creature waited for its master's approval. "Speak, Wulfgar," Malekith said in a low and covertly furious tone. "This interruption must be made worth your life."
"My liege, the Servant of Death sends word that he desires the fetters be delivered to him at once," Wulfgar replied timidly. Malekith turned slowly to the underling and growled softly. Wulfgar shuddered and bowed his head once more. "He sends word that he grows less patient."
"With our craftsmanship he should be grateful we undertook the task to begin with," Malekith snorted. "Go and tell him that the fetters are ready and they will be delivered when he has paid for them. I have other matters to tend to just now, better matters," he said turning back to the sleeping form of Darcy. He grinned and softly stroked her shoulder. "Diplomatic matters."
"Of course, my king," Wulfgar said with a deeper bow. "I shall send every word you have spoken to him."
"Very good," Malekith replied with a dismissive wave. "Go now, and do not interrupt again."
Wulfgar nodded and hurried out of the room, frowning at the sight of another innocent mortal at the hands of the wicked sorcerer. Even the trickster of Asgard was not nearly this depraved and he had better reason to be. Wulfgar sighed heavily with resignation and pondered how best to send word back to Thanos that the promised artifact would not just yet be delivered. It was unclear at all times who to fear more, Malekith or any of the foul allies that he often gathered to himself, but in the end it always paid off to fear the one closest at hand and that was, for the time being, Malekith himself. Wulfgar hurried down the passageways leading to a chamber used for such messages. He paused briefly and glanced into the hallway leading to the healers' quarters. No doubt the trickster was still there and still struggling to recover. Rumors had already spread that his wound was vast and inflicted by Mjolnir which meant it would take the healers' skills, but only Malekith's power could fully heal it when he was this far from Asgard. Wulfgar shook his head sadly and continued on. The wishes of the king came first, painfully so, and at the moment that meant something more pressing than any apprehension or curiosity about the trickster's condition, or the mortal's. In the meantime, Malekith turned his attention back to Darcy and he gazed peacefully at his new pet. She would prove most useful in so many ways, but at the moment she served only as amusement. That was soon to end.
(*)
"Did you have to let the rest of us land on our heads like an albatross?!" Stark shouted angrily as the group brushed themselves off. The only one not struggling to stand at the moment was Jane who had been safely pulled to Thor's side during the trip. Thor turned and stared at his new friends in triumph. They had demanded to come along, but the prince's disapproval would not be ignored. "You could've killed some of us!"
"Then you should go back to Midgard where it is safe, Man of Iron," he replied casually. "There are things far worse than a bump on the head or a slighted landing to worry about here."
"Noted," Rogers replied flatly, helping Stark to stand more upright as the group collected their bearings. "When can we speak to your father?"
"Immediately," Thor replied. He wasn't going to bear this nonsense any longer without his father bearing some the frustration as well. In truth, Thor wanted desperately to throw back at his father the majority of the burden he had just faced in retrieving Loki and the Tesseract. Now was a perfect opportunity to let the old man deal with what was rightfully his own battle. Jane shook terribly in fear and anxiousness, she had never been so far away from her home before and even with Thor's strength and protective presence, she felt overwhelmingly vulnerable to even the hint of danger.
"You know, I never bought in to the whole energy centers and chakra alignment stuff," Jane said as they began to move forward. "But now I can swear I feel each and every one . . . just flickering in and out erratically. I think I might've broken my spirit energy on the way here, or ruptured a karma tendon or something."
"How does one break energy?" Thor asked in confusion.
"The CERN Supercollider, but that's not the point," she replied, attempting to soothe herself with an inside bit of humor as well as some familiar jargon. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to be here."
"I concur. Your presence is acceptable but I cannot protect all of you the way I was able to in your own world," he remarked unhappily. "This may not end well for all of them."
"They probably knew that before Stark gave the order," Jane said with a heavy sigh. "Besides, they don't have as many reasons as I do to be afraid."
"What would you need to be afraid of?" he asked in earnest apprehension.
"Are you kidding? This is what every girl is afraid of," she said glancing around the gorgeous landscape with an unbecoming frown. "Meeting the boyfriend's parents."
(*)
Loki heard the arguing going on above him. He heard the single healer set to watch over him call for help. The two became three, then four, then five all discussing how best to address the strange fever overtaking him and setting the wound properly after being so completely battered. The final decision was to alert the king to this predicament to which one of the five promptly stated that most recently he had given the order to not be disturbed as he looked toward healing a mortal. The trickster's heart raced at those words. What had happened to Darcy? She had been fine when he had collapsed, not wounded at all. In fact, in all of the time she had spent with the trickster she was most whole and at her peak when he had drifted off into unconsciousness. What had changed that? One of two things, you fool, he hissed at himself. Either she angered someone or they have decided to interrogate her in your absence. Neither will go unpunished no matter who dealt the final blow. He groaned and tried to raise his voice enough to complain or make a demand as he felt them move him to a cold, hard surface. Oh no, he thought. This isn't a bed in the healing chamber, it's a surgeon's table.
"Bleeding him is the only way for the moment. All we have to do is keep him alive until the king has finished with the girl," one of the elves said to his companions. "Just make sure the cut is small enough to not bleed him thin."
"I didn't think Asgardians bled at all," another elf scoffed. "You would think with all their feigned strength and hollow, feeble minds that there would hardly be a drop of blood in them."
"And yet eons ago it was their blood that nearly covered the plain near the camp of the Einherjar. Fools; they will die for just about any cause," the first remarked as Loki felt the tip of a dagger dig deeply into his good shoulder near its attachment. He groaned more loudly, desperately, trying to make it known that though he could not fully respond he felt every bit of this. The elf chuckled and withdrew the blade, grasping his arm and clutching it tightly so that a stream of blood began to trickle softly into a cloth. Loki began to shudder and feel infinitely more cold than he had ever felt in his life. How could anyone with Jotun blood feel this cold? For that matter, how could anyone with Jotun blood bleed so easily, he thought. "He's not asleep," the elf observed with disdain. "Bring me an elixir of easement."
He heard some shuffling overhead and then felt two of them lift him forward, pulling his head backwards and opening his mouth. "Let us hope he has more strength in him than what he seems to. The king will be very displeased if he begins to fade during the night," another elf added unhappily. "Mind his breathing, don't let him suffocate on that."
"He'll be under soon enough. Then we'll just have to mind his breath and beating heart until morning," another said with a sigh of relief.
Relief was slow in coming to him. The elixir was something he had not been familiar with on the visit he had made with his mother. Then again, what he knew of the realm and its medicine was limited. There were, after all, no real or pressing issues presented by Svartalfheim or any of its peoples since Odin first banished Malekith to the darkest part of their universe. Once the elixir took effect, Loki felt the cold swallow him like a layer of thin ice over water. His breath grew shallow and slow while, to his relief, the waters beneath the ice seemed to grow much warmer than their surface and the welcome shadow of a dream was cast over him. Once he had drifted through the rungs of consciousness and settled on the floor of his mind, he gathered his senses and tried to stand. He looked around from side to side and was relieved to see that the verdant plain in Darcy's mind was only a few strides away, past the edge of gold and marble floor that led into his own sanctuary. He smiled and hurried forward, making his way into the girl's mind and thinking to himself that this was the first time he had felt such relief and joy to be in so irritating a landscape. He felt Darcy's mind whirring more slowly in its dream than her waking moments. It must've been truly comforting to be so relaxed for her after whatever she had been through. He looked around, still unable to see himself as per the custom of her dreams, and wondered if she was too exhausted to come and speak to him like this. He frowned at noticing the sight of heavy gray clouds clinging to one another in the distance as a slight breeze began to pick up once more. He heard the familiar sound of a sign rising out of the ground behind him. As he turned, he noticed that Darcy seemed to be sleeping at the base of the sign, a strange glow surrounding her. He frowned and knelt beside her while looking up at the sign.
"What in the nine realms is that about?" he asked, not truly expecting an immediate answer.
None came. He reached down and put a hand on her shoulder, glancing back at the sign once more. You have 1 memory(ies) waiting to be processed into long-term, it read. The sign suddenly warped and groaned, growing a large canvas between its posts. A light flickered over the canvas and then began to play a set of moving pictures over it. He watched in confusion as the images began to make sounds and produced images of people he had seen recently. He furrowed his brow and watched the visage of Darcy and another of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents speaking softly to her.
"Alright, I know what you've said and for the record I don't buy it," the man in the image said. Loki put a name immediately with the face and voice; Agent Barton. "And I can't tell you enough how sorry I am for my part, but I think I have something that might help you while you're up there."
Darcy seemed to be disconnected somehow and Loki noted that she didn't seem to be conscious of the moment in the images. She sighed and looked away. "What is it?" she asked sadly.
"It's kind of important," he said with a wink. "And it just happens to be my secret weapon."