Chapter 2: Return From Vanaheim
Ciara's dream was the farthest thing from her mind the next day, as she returned the collection of books in her room back to the library.
"Ah, I wondered when you'd be back with these," the librarian took the pile from Ciara and immediately busied himself with returning them to their proper places. "Find anything interesting?" he asked, sounding casual, but Ciara wasn't stupid. She could hear his voice reaching a tone a touch too high. As with most who interacted with her, she knew he was under orders to report anything suspect to Odin.
"Ah you know," Ciara shrugged, and was glad that not everyone was as sharp as Frigga or Loki. "It's all pretty interesting. My world is really separate from the rest," she told him, and he hummed, barely listening to what she said. He, like most, didn't think there was anything particularly special about her, and had spent most of her earlier days in the library hovering suspiciously, expecting her to steal something.
While he put them away, Ciara wandered around, lifting books that caught her interest. As well as an old history book, she did also take other books, including a fairy tale. She always took random books, so that they never noticed any kind of trend.
"Only three this time?" he asked as Ciara walked by.
"I thought I'd worry you less by taking fewer books," she flashed him an innocent smile that he didn't buy at all.
"I see," the tall, older man sniffed, but continued to fuss over the books he had. Ciara chuckled as she walked out, thinking about just how similar Asgardians could be to people on Earth.
As she walked through the corridor, Ciara stopped, hearing a low rumble. It had been almost a week, but she recognised the sound, and raced to a balcony that she knew was nearby. By the time she reached it and looked out across Asgard, the light of the Bifrost was starting to fade.
"That took a while," Ciara murmured, watching as people began to file out and walk slowly down the path that shimmered with the colours of the rainbow in the light. "So slow," she commented. She'd had her power of superspeed almost all of her life, and it still fascinated her how people could be so slow and be content. She'd go mad.
Growing bored quickly at the speed they were walking, Ciara turned and started to make her way back to her room, knowing that if they caught her in the corridors, she'd be dragged off for more training.
And training always ended with Ciara frustrated, bruised and sore.
"You're stronger than most people from Earth, you know," Fandral had been the one to tell Ciara this as he helped her from the ground.
"You don't have to lie to me to soothe my pride," Ciara had grumbled. She wasn't sure which made her happier - that he'd stopped referring to her and others from Earth as 'mortals', or the bruise she'd managed to give him that was only partly hidden by his goatee.
"I know better by now," Fandral chuckled. Ciara still didn't understand just why he was so friendly to her. She'd gone drinking with him and the others twice, and they always encouraged her to go out again. They were as pushy as the X-Men in how accepting they wanted to appear. "I mean it. You are strong, especially now that you have some muscle," his gaze roamed down her body, and Ciara felt her face flush.
"Do not make me use this on you," she warned, gesturing to the knife strapped to her hip. She felt stupid, wearing it, but Fandral had insisted.
"My apologies," Fandral chuckled. He didn't dare say aloud that the only other woman on Asgard who had threatened him when he made any kind of advances was Sif. Ciara probably would use the knife on him if he did. "Let's go again," he told Ciara, who sighed, making her reluctance abundantly clear.
Ciara was pulled from her memories as she turned a corner, and a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist. She gave a cry; the books in her arms tumbling to the ground as she was thrown around and crashed against the wall. Stunned, Ciara didn't speak as she stared at the man who'd grabbed her.
"Where's that speed now, mortal?" the man towered over her, wearing the armour of the guards that she was so used to seeing. He glared down at her with a hatred she hadn't seen from someone since she was back on Earth. Ciara swallowed, her focus on his tight grip on her wrist.
"Have I done something to offend you?" she asked, keeping her voice light despite her pounding heart.
"You threatened my wife," he hissed, and Ciara's eyebrows rose.
"I have? When?" Ciara asked, confusion genuine. She didn't recall threatening anyone recently. Other than the Warriors 3, at least.
"Yesterday," she flinched when his grip tightened. "In the market. She was just minding her own business, and you threatened her," the man hissed. Ciara was quiet for a moment, before realising who he meant.
"Well, I have to say, it's impressive that it took a year for someone to start a witch-hunt against me," she commented, and her words took him by surprise. However, what surprised him more, was the blade that was suddenly at his throat as she pulled it from under her tunic. "I believe my only words yesterday in the market were 'my fragility is deceptive'," Ciara told him. "Now let me go," she warned.
"You little-" his breath caught when he heard loud voices, and Ciara recognised them. Immediately the knife was gone.
"Let me go," Ciara repeated, only this time her words were quiet and rushed. In his own panic over someone coming, he let her go, only to find her pressing a book into his hand. "Play along, dumbass," she hissed as he blinked rapidly.
"Ah, Ciara!" Volstagg greeted cheerfully as he rounded the corner with Fandral.
"What's going on here?" Fandral asked, and the guard spluttered, looking down at Ciara, who was crouched on the ground and grinning at the two.
"You Asgardians are built like walls, I keep telling you," she said, standing and holding the other two books. "I walked into him and he was helping with the books I dropped," Ciara said cheerfully, and the guard tried not to stare at her for the lie.
"Perhaps it's less us being built that way, and your inability to pay attention to where you're going?" Fandral teased.
"And don't you have prisoners to take care of?" Ciara rolled her eyes.
"Indeed! We're just moving ahead to ensure the cells are ready," Volstagg said with a bright smile. "We have quite the tales to tell of our time in Vanaheim," he exclaimed, and Ciara met Fandral's gaze, both hiding their laughs. Somehow, Volstagg always had tales to tell.
"I look forward to it," Ciara managed to say with a straight face, and the two continued on to get to the dungeons. As soon as Volstagg's booming voice had faded, Ciara sighed, and turned back to the guard, taking the book from him.
"Why did you lie for me?" he asked, still very confused. Ciara shrugged.
"I wasn't in the mood for drama. Just...next time, fact check before you come hunting me down. I'm guilty of a lot, but threatening random people doesn't really hold any appeal to me," after her short words, Ciara turned and walked off. As soon as she turned the corner, she took a deep breath and vanished in a flash of blue.
Ciara reappeared in her room, dropping the books on the desk, before backing up against a wall and slumping down to the ground. A dull ache remained in her wrist, making her feel sick. "Dammit," she hissed, pulling her legs in close and pressing her face to her knees. Years had passed, and she still hated anything restraining around her wrists. It brought up memories she wished she could forget.
"What's going on? Daddy!" Ciara pleaded for the one person she knew in the room, struggling uselessly against the much bigger man who held her in place. There was a loud click, and she stopped crying for a moment to stare at the metal cuffs that were now wrapped around her wrists. They were tight, hurting if she moved, and if she moved, they rattled the chains that kept her against the wall.
"Doctor Trask, what do you want us to do with it?" It took Ciara a moment longer to realise they were referring to her. Confusion now mixed in with her fear. Why were they calling her an it? The man they were talking to her was her father, why were they treating her in such a way?
"Blood samples first. I need a way to track down the woman who tried to curse my family," the stern man in the suit told them, not looking at Ciara.
"Of course Sir," a scientist walked over to Ciara with a large needle, and fear seized her again.
"No!" Ciara thrashed in her chains, causing them to rattle even louder as she used her superspeed without meaning to. "Daddy!" she screamed.
Pain exploded across her cheek, and she slumped, stunned by the blow. Dr. Trask stood over her, using his handkerchief to clean his hand after striking her. He then looked down at her with the same cold look he'd given her when he'd first seen her change.
"You are not to call me that. You are a monster, and you are not affiliated with me," he warned, before nodding to the scientist who looked concerned. Ciara just stared up at him, before flinching as a needle jabbed into her arm roughly. She looked down to see the dark red liquid of her blood filling the vial, before the needle was removed from her arm. "Get to work," Bolivar Trask ordered, and they filed out of the room, closing the door and leaving Ciara in the dark.
Only when she heard the bolt close, did Ciara's tears return.
Recalling the memory, her own terrified screams echoed in her mind, making Ciara wince. She pressed her face harder to her knees, as the tears managed to slip free and run down her face.
The taverns were bustling by the time that Ciara managed to bring herself to go down. Filled to the brim with not only the people who had returned from Vanaheim after defeating the piliging marauders, but others who were excited by their return. Ciara weaved her way around them, almost bumping into a bulky man with a shaved head and tattoos across it. He barely even acknowledged her, carrying drinks for himself and the women waiting for him. Ciara rolled her eyes, still irritated, but pushed forwards as she spotted the ones who had asked for her to come.
"Oh, I see Volstagg's well into his stories," Ciara said as she took a seat beside Fandral.
"Ah Ciara! I'm glad to see our absence hasn't reduced you to a complete hermit," Thor greeted her, sitting nearby. Sif ignored her arrival, and Ciara ignored her in return.
"I bumped into Volstagg and Fandral earlier. Couldn't get out of it," she answered him, making the man laugh lightly.
"And you're looking lovely," Fandral told her as he passed her a tankard.
"Do not make me stab you," Ciara warned him, all too aware of his eyes on the dress that Astrid had pushed on her. It was a pretty blue dress that she wore under a warm cloak that Astrid had flung at her to help with the cold, Ciara had to admit, but she knew all about his womanising ways. As she took a drink, she missed Sif's faint smirk. "No Hogun?" she asked, noticing that they were missing a member of their group.
"He stayed on Vanaheim to help his people with recovering," Fandral explained, his attention already starting to flit to a pretty woman nearby. Ciara chuckled, taking a drink. It was stronger than anything on Earth, as she had already learned, and gave her a buzz that she needed. "And what is the cause of this?" Ciara jumped as Fandral's finger prodded the bruise on her wrist, and she almost dropped her drink.
"Nothing important," Ciara said quickly, taking another drink as she pulled her arm away.
"So nothing to do with that guard earlier?" Fandral's voice was barely audible over the shouting around them. Ciara coloured red. She really was a bad liar.
"It's nothing important," she repeated, a little more insistent this time. She couldn't meet his gaze, not wanting to see the concern. She heard the man sigh, and he patted her head suddenly, messing up her silver hair. He chuckled at her startled look.
"Make sure you're paying attention. I wager the next time you hear this story, Volstagg will have been fighting twice as many," he warned her, making Ciara giggle.
As the night went on, Ciara continued to listen to Volstagg's tales, telling of how he saved a small family from a group of men, with nothing but his fists. Fandral had his arms around two ladies, regaling them with his own stories, and Astrid had joined Ciara, robbing her of a reason to slip out while nobody was paying attention.
"Oh?" Ciara hummed to herself when she noticed Thor excuse himself and make for the door. Sif followed, and Ciara shook her head, taking another drink.
"Prince Thor is leaving already?" Astrid asked, noticing where Ciara's attention had gone. "He used to cause these celebrations to last for days," she considered.
"He never stays out too late anymore. Sounds like he's getting old," Ciara considered, and Astrid laughed as they both continued to drink.
"For that to come from you is a lot," Astrid said.
"Well, Volstagg won't let me hear the end of it if I leave before he finishes his tale, so I think I'm going to be stuck here for a while," Ciara told her, making Astrid smile. However, as Astrid's attention returned to the large warrior, Ciara glanced back over to where Thor and Sif were talking. She watched as Thor smiled, saying something, before turning and leaving, and Sif's expression turned sad. "I guess the big guy is still thinking about the pretty scientist," Ciara murmured to herself, wondering if he would ever go back to Jane.
Ciara woke far earlier than she expected the next morning.
Only a handful of hours had passed since she had finally been able to slip away from the festivities, and she'd expected to sleep at least until noon to work off most of the potent mead that she'd put away. But instead, Ciara woke in a cold sweat, heart racing as something urged her to run.
"Dreams?" Ciara wondered, not moving despite the urge to. However, she couldn't recall any particularly nasty dreams that would have made her react in such a way. She flung her arm over her face to block out the small amount of sunlight that had made its way in, but even as her heart rate started to settle, she still remained uneasy. When it became clear to her that she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, Ciara sighed heavily and got up, cursing when her head swam. "Hangovers suck," she declared.
Once Ciara was dressed, donning a pale blue tunic over a white long-sleeved shirt and tanned soft trousers, she lifted her cloak and made her way out of her room. The uneasy feeling still hadn't faded, and instead had grown a little stronger, and Ciara found herself approaching it, curious to see what the cause of her unease was.
As she walked, she found herself rubbing her wrist; the bruise turning dark purple and standing out against her skin. Ciara cursed, tugging her sleeve down to hide it. She didn't normally bruise easily, and she didn't want more people asking about it. To her relief, Fandral hadn't pushed the topic the night before - too busy eyeing up the pretty women nearby who fell prey to his charms, and Astrid wasn't the most observant person. Ciara was a little relieved at that, knowing that it would be something that would have gotten back to whoever she reported to.
She wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't ratted out the man who had attacked her. He reminded her of plenty of Anti-Mutant bullies, and she'd never had a problem putting them in their place. "Maybe I'm just getting soft," Ciara muttered under her breath, and she didn't like it. Asgard was making her too relaxed.
Maybe that was why she was actively searching for whatever was making her uncomfortable. It wasn't easy trying to narrow it down, as she was searching off a feeling. After another dead-end, Ciara cursed and slumped back against a wall to sink to the ground, giving up. "What am I even doing?" she wondered, rubbing her wrist again.
"This place is incredible," a voice reached Ciara, and her head lifted in shock. She knew that voice. It was American, not someone from Asgard. "Where are we going?" she asked, and Ciara stood quickly.
"The Healing Room. I hope they would know what is afflicting you," Thor responded to the question with gentle patience. Managing to figure out just where they were, Ciara broke into a run.
Jane Foster gasped as there was a sudden gust of wind, and both she and Thor stopped. Jane's eyes then widened as she found herself face-to-face with Ciara, someone who she hadn't seen since Thor had first returned to Asgard.
Ciara was just as stunned to see Jane standing there, wearing a pretty blouse and skirt. But while Jane hadn't expected to see another mortal, let alone the silver-haired speedster, Ciara was stunned for another reason.
The uneasy feeling; the strange sensation that made Ciara's instincts to run as far away as possible, was coming from Jane.
I've decided to start updating on an actual schedule and aim to update this story every Friday, so I don't end up falling too behind with the story.
Also every time I write Fandral and Ciara I have to cut parts out because they insist on diverting the plot with their flirting. Help me.
Let me know what you think!
Please review!