Absolution

To absolve or forgive

"Furya", Odin's bellowing voice echoed through the hall. The afternoon sun glinted softly off the gold-encrusted staff he wielded. His one eye watched her with intrigue. She walked at a violently brisk pace that raised the guard's spears. Like she would be so stupid to attack their King. The men in golden helmets watched her like she were a prisoner. One stepped forward to further amplify their distrust of her. His dull brown eyes narrowed at her as Odin spoke.

"How did you-"

"Escape?", She finished the sentence with a strong bitterness. It silenced the hall. Not a single sound bounded off the tall pillars. The king looked at her with contemplation, almost seeming torn or uneasy. She had never seen him so anxious. For a being so old and all-knowing it was aberrant. His mint green-robed form seemed bursting with perplex. Odin bowed his head to the armoured guards, dismissing them from his side as she stopped at the foot of his pedestal.

"My son seems to disagree with my actions. I apologise if you saw them as cruel. But you attacked my warriors and my only Offspring. After course stealing Loki's grace. Naturally, I was not thinking in your favour", Odin justified without sympathy, standing from his throne. "Come", He motioned for her to follow and she did, if only to seek answers. They entered a darkened corridor where his voice didn't echo as it did in the amphitheatre of a hall. "I imagine Loki knew how agonising it would be to transform a half-breed into a Goddess. Your body was meant to decay and die. What you felt was your bones strengthening, your body adapting. I can see already your skin glows and though you were not a burden on the eye before, your beauty is unchallenged as a goddess. A goddess of what is the question...", The grey-haired king shuffled his staff in his grip. Fury breathed out with agitation, she could only assume what he wanted from her. His hands swiped at the dust on the lip of a potted plant that was nestled between two pillars. The pot-bellied pillars shadowed the courtyard below, particularly a stringy leafed tree that piqued her interest. It seemed an ideal place to read. Her focus moved back on the king as he continued.

"The wild people that live within the mountains have forged an uprising. They are a magical community. Outcasts because of their disruptive behaviour. For years they have been trying to infiltrate Asgard, to take the throne. Loki was my negotiator but it seems now I am left without. If you seek absolution you'll go see Myra in the armoury for weapons, but first, you need to learn to use Loki's power. And How to fight without yours. For that, you'll see Thor in the training yards in an hour. "

"Who said I wanted Absolution?", Fury hissed but Odin's face didn't falter.

"Your job will not be to negotiate. Peace has not worked in our favour. Now you must make them fearful of the recompense of their hate", He seemed to altogether ignore her comment. She spoke with her hands on her hips.

"Out of all your warriors, why me?",

"Because you're expendable...because you are the only one who can. If Loki entrusted you with his magic then he trusted you to battle the Wildmen", That one eye fixated on her pout. He wanted to send her because no one would care if she died...she would be a scapegoat. An easily pinned victim. An idiot. Fury bitterly responded, folding her arms at her chest with her cast scratching against her cuts.

"What exactly have they done?",

"Palace staff have been abducted without a trace. Just this morning we found the remains of a young girl who had been reported missing yesterday. Her hair had been turned completely white from fear and her eyes drained of colour. She was brutalised. Her life force was torn from her. Ripped from unwilling hands. Last month we captured a Wildling before he could flee with one of the kitchen staff. It is the same time every occurrence. The sixth day of the new month. Find them. Draw them out and kill them",

Fury's jaw hardened in thought, her mind flickered to the mental picture of the brutalised girl. So fearful and weak. She had to. There was no way she could consciously let these palace staff suffer the same fate.

"When you are prepared enough, see the wildling in the prison. He will speak", Odin's voice faltered with lost thought. He was devastated that his staff had been killed, that his people had been mercilessly brutalised without reason.

"I am doing this for your people. Not for you", She grumbled and set towards the courtyard to find the armoury she knew to be within the right-wing of the palace.

"I assume you're Myra", Fury eyed the tall and muscular woman that swaggered toward her with narrowed eyes, her brown orbs stared without concern of offence. She was bound in heavy brown leather armour that clung to her with every step. Her ringlets of chocolate brown hair bounced with defiance from her tightly gathered bun. Fury eyed her tan skin that displayed an array of thin white scars.

"And you are the vampire", Her voice was just as She suspected it would be monotonic and laced with an Asgardian accent, the same smoothness Loki bore in his tone. Fury spoke.

"What gave me away?", Myra smiled underneath her bravado.

"What will it be?", The muscular woman motion to the wall of spears, hatchets, bows and swords.

"I used to opt for a sword or gun...what would you recommend?", Fury's voice was light in memory of her lost magic. Loki's voice infiltrated her mind without warning.

None of these toys will bear my magic

"None of these", Myra smiled and pulled open a compartment within the metal shelving against the wall. She pulled out a sword with an iridescent blade. Its hilt was mounted with a silver flame, swirling around the precious metal. Fury grasped the deep purple grip as Myra handed it to her. It felt light and easily moved in her hand. It was long. About four maybe five feet in length as opposed to her usual small blade. It was something to get used to.

That's better. Now focus your power into the amethyst heart of the hilt.

Fury glanced to the blade, her red eyes fixated on that purple crystal in the centre of the hilt. The dormant flame shape sparked with a stirring light, illuminating the silver hilt in tendrils of purple. The soft cushioned grip jumped in her palm as violet tendrils of light burst from the iridescent blade in a violent urgency. The feeling was euphoric.

"I thought as much", Myra chided, the purple light reflected off her brown eyes. Fury turned her attention back to the Asgardian warrior. "That blade was found amongst the wildmen, A magical people. I figured you would have to be descended from them. No half-breed could ever wield such power as you do.",

Perfect

"It's perfect", Fury spoke in a voice above a whisper.

"Then it's yours", Myra handed over the black scabbard and two matching daggers with accompanying thigh holsters.

"Thank you", Fury nodded her head in thanks. She walked out of the chain-link covered room but halted to speak.

"These wilder people. Do you know much of them?", Myra looked back to Fury, the ghost of a smile played on her thick lips.

"Meet me in the library after my rounds. I'll see what I can help you with", She sighed, gathering her sword by her side.

"Why would you help me?", Fury asked,

"Because like you, I revel in chaos", Myra commented and left the armoury with urgency.

The training yards were not difficult to find at the back of the palace, down the stone steps of the Courtyard and through the garden path she found the fenced area that resembled a football field. An array of weapons sat against the chainlink fencing that was no ordinary chain-link she found acter it zapped at her fingers. Her newly acquired sword sat firmly between her shoulder blades, pressed tightly against her tactical vest. Her mind wandered to the Wildmen. To her task of dominating them. How Odin would have assumed she was a relative. That he was a manipulative liar. But yet again, so was she.

A swoosh of rippling wind queued Thor's arrival.

"Fury", His head bowed in acknowledgement as she eyed his silver armour and red cape. Red. How she despised that colour. Those blue eyes clashed against hers, his face noting surprise, travelling over her face.

"You look...well", He complimented. She hadn't seen this ethereal beauty that she had been informed about. She still couldn't stand those red eyes. If a mirror did pass her by she felt she'd shatter it from her rage.

"Now I can sleep at night", She irritably hissed.

"Fury, you haven't given me a chance to apologise. I am truly sorry for abandoning you. I suppose you did scare me there for a while. But I saw that my fear was unjustified. When I came to your aid, you were fine. You didn't need me.", Thor spoke without fear of being overheard in the empty field surround by forestry.

"You'll be absolved when I know how to use this power",

Thor breathed out, his armoured chest heaved in its might. So muscular and alluring in its glory. His arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I can only teach you what Loki showed me. What I was a victim to", His blonde hair swayed in the breeze as he stepped behind her. He scanned over her form. His breath at her neck sent a chill down her spine. It was uncomfortable. An unwanted voice popped into her mind

Oh how sweet, does he know about your miserable attraction?

Thor's shadow moved quickly behind her, that hulking body struck quickly. Fury leapt from his range, spinning to face his oncoming attack. She was mad. So mad. At him, at Loki. At herself. She ducked his blow and swung her leg into the back of his knee, jamming her shoulder into his waist. His back collided into the grass sounding a damp thud with Fury atop him in her vicious tackle. Her rage had knocked a God on his back. She hovered above his childish smile that taunted her, her forearm was pressed viciously against his windpipe, her cast holding down Mjolnir at his side. She pinned him underneath her muscled body that trembled from the effort. The air was thick with tension. She was so close to his unshaven face, such a handsome man, yet all she wanted to do was hit him. To send her magic to pin him down while she punched. Her body quivered with rage above him. She was sure he felt it, sure he saw it on her face.

"I thought you left", She spat with a heaving chest, pinning him to the dirt. He didn't flail or push her off. His eyebrow raised, that deep voice vibrated under his armour, under her knee against his sternum.

"I couldn't leave...not when Asgard was in such panic", His voice queued a deep fog to roll in from the neighbouring mountains. Fury breathed out a stilted sigh, releasing him from her grasp. She fell flat beside him, the sword against her back dug in deep into the grass. The lowering sun revealed to them the dim stars above in a sky painted in blue, pink and purple rays of colours. She felt his hand rest against her wrist with reassurance.

"You have the strength of a god", His hand rubbed against his throat, scrunching his face in discomfort. A chuckle escaped her lips as she sat up from the grass. She held one knee to her chest with the other leg splayed in front of her. Her arms propped behind her back. He mirrored her action, swiping the sword from between her shoulder blades. His heavy fingers lightly stroked the metal blade.

"It's a nice blade", Thor commented lightly.

"It's not just a blade", She took the silver hilt from his hands, summoning the purple mist with more ease than before. Yet still, she hadn't become familiar to the recoil of the magic that jumped against her grip. The glowing light illuminated his eyes that sparkled with a child-like wonder. He spoke an idea.

"Summon the mist without your sword",

"How?", Fury sheathed the weapon and met those piercing blue eyes.

"Loki had this annoying habit of staring straight into my eyes while summoning a decoy of himself to stab me", Thor explained with more normalcy than she expected, she assumed he had become acquainted with Loki's tricks.

"...Okay", She breathed out and met his crushing blue orbs. So far she was just staring at him. Nothing happened. Her eyebrow raised after a moment passed and still no magic. She thought of exactly what she wanted her magic to do and then...nothing.

"Perhaps it only works a certain way for different beholders.", Thor shrugged off the disappointing attempt only to speak again.

"I would, however, appreciate it if you showed me what manoeuvre you used to apprehend me",

"Sure", Fury leapt off the grass and taught him her evasive technique. For a man so bulky and heavy he moved quicker than she expected, it made him easier to teach than if he were dumb and slow. They sparred in hand to hand combat for a few rounds then switched to their magically possessed weaponry. Using only precautionary blows. She imagined the sword would be easier to manoeuvre once she could use both hands to wield it. The first strike of her sword against Mjolnir sent Thor stumbling a few steps but he came back at her with that childish smile, adapting to its might. They fought until well into the darkness of night with only a few sources of light to guide them, by the time they had both had their fill Fury was trembling with exhaustion. Her chest pounded and her limbs ached from the workout.

"We meet here tomorrow at midday", Thor breathed out with exhaustion, patting her shoulder as he departed from the field. He had to be back at the palace but she had refused his offer to walk her back to the golden building. She waited until he was out of view behind the cover of the hedging.

"Loki", She breathed out, slumping onto the grass with exhaustion, her eyes drifted to the sparkling stars above.

"What?", That smooth yet irritated voice asked with annoyance. His ghost drifted to her, appearing from the darkness.

"You were awfully quiet while Thor tried to teach me to use your magic". She commented with a smirk, noting the scowl on his face.

"I was simply seeing what he had learned from me, which was not much", His emerald eyes squinted at her with a studying glance

"You look...different", He added in a voice as if ordering her to change back to how she used to appear.

"So I've been told" Fury breathed out, crossing her arms and folding her legs against the grass. He was silent. Oddly silent.

"As fun as this is, I've got to be back at the palace in half an hour, any help you have to give would be much appreciated.", She bit back the annoyed tone in her voice that cursed his existence. He furrowed his brow in an expression that asked 'Why should I help you?'.

"You know since you don't want Thor teaching me to use your magic". She added. His eyes rolled in his head and arms crossed over his chest.

"You already know how to use magic. You need to find what triggers it", He breathed out a sigh of defiance, staring at her form on the ground.

"What triggers you?", Her question was taken aback by him. He didn't want to answer.

"...Pain", She barely heard his weak response through his sorrowful eyes that tore away from her toward the forestry. "Yours, however, would seem to be anger or maybe it's just me that triggers you", That wicked smile returned to his lips.

"Maybe it is that you are indescribably infatuated with me. Without me who would you hate? Who would you loathe with such vigour, such obsession.", Loki knelt before her with uncomfortable closeness. Had he been in a corporeal form she imagined his parchment and leather tainted scent filling her senses as it had. His ghostly form was annoyingly unsatisfying to argue with. She closed her eyes and suddenly she felt the breath at her neck, she smelt that scent of leather and old books. She had him where she wanted him. Corporeal and mortally punchable. She pounced, pinning his body to the grass with her elbow pressed firmly against his paperwhite throat. Her dagger appeared in her palm without thought. No. She wanted to hit him. Wounding him was too easy. A surprised grunt came from the slender God who halved the muscle mass of his brother. Though he was seemingly weak he slipped out from her grip with stealth and strength that tossed her to the side. He was stronger than she thought.

"Hmmm...", Loki growled with excitement lighting his emerald orbs. Fury leapt to her feet to face the God, he circled her that sinister grin playing on his lips. She hated the man bound in tightly fitted leather. The God who caused her a week of agonising pain. Who branded her with red eyes. Her fist flew at his jaw, it missed but her knee connected forcefully with his ribcage. His groan of pain comforted her burning rage. Before she could kick again he blasted her back with a green forcefield.

Agonising pain rippled from her wrist and she screamed out a high pitched wail. Her cast hit the ground first, taking in the brunt of her weight on top of it.

"Argh", Tears pricked at her eyes from the breathlessness that enveloped her chest. She hated him. She hated the slender fingers that curled at her throat, that raised her to her feet. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she glared into those green eyes that tormented her. Once again that scent of leather reached her in his taunting grasp that reefed her against his chest. Those orbs darted over her face silently while his hand softly brushed against her jaw. The soreness told her he had trailed over the cut on her face. His expression was sharp and unmoving. Void of any feeling. Excitement raised in her chest but it didn't corrupt the loathing that pulsed in her veins.

She imagined him impaled on the end on her sword and suddenly she felt the long blade jump in her hand, straight through his stomach. No. The weapon quivered in her hand. What had she done?

Blood seeped from his abdomen but he didn't cry out in pain. His hand released her, his face was calm, expecting of her violence. Purple magic escaped the blade in tendrils that soothingly caressed his skin.

She didn't feel satisfied with her revenge. Fear gripped her heart as his slender body plummeted to the grass, off the end of her sword, and like she had been woken from a daydream she rushed to him. Why did she feel so scared? So worried?

"No", She whispered, dropping her sword onto the soft ground.

Her quivering hand patched his bloodied abdomen with haphazard forcefulness like she knew exactly what she was doing. Loki furrowed his brow with an out of place expression.

"Shit", Her red eyes matched the horrendous crimson liquid that spilt from the ugly wound.

"What are you doing?", The words fell softly against her ears. A sickly weak voice.

She handled his fallen form with a tenderness he would have never shown her.

"I'm not you", The words flowed like a stream. A steady reassurance of what she was made of. She met the green eyes that didn't plead or beg for her help, that looked at her with a small fascination. The lowly creature that haunted her. There was no hesitancy in her action.

Against the darkness of the night, her palm glowed with iridescence that she pressed against his gushing wound. A soft groan escaped his lips and as she took her palm away, feeling the softness of his healed flesh.

He didn't deserve it, her pity. Hell, he didn't deserve any grief over killing him. Not from her. But she did, she pitied him. She cared if he died, even if he were not there. Now he knew it. Now he would revel in the fact.

Fury retreated to her feet, spinning on her heel to walk away. The man wasn't worthy of any more of her regret, her fear in seeing him wounded, But To kill him would be to become the monster he had branded her. It hurt. Everything hurt.

A gentle tear warmed her cheek as her boots clattered against the cobblestone. It queued an uncomfortable pressure to form in her chest. It hurt to breathe against it as she wiped away her stray tears in proximity to the dark figure that lurked in the palace garden.

"You didn't let me die", Loki spoke in a higher pitch than usual as if it were a question. She breathed in through her teeth.

"My mistake",

She collected the God Of Mischief by her side in her quick walk past him. He mirrored her deep breath of air at her shoulder, halting her instantaneously as his hand gripped the skin just above her cast. Her glare warned him to let go.

The dull garden lights were put to shame by the deep green tendrils of light that licked at her skin, diving through the black cast on her wrist. The cast groaned then shattered into ribbons onto the cobblestone. Loki tapped her wrist with his finger. She cursed him thoroughly, expecting an on slaw of pain. But she felt nothing. No aches. No pains. Her wrist moved without agony. He healed her.

"I apologise, dear Fury", His well-educated speech left her silent. She had nothing. No response to that. Before she could think he disappeared.

"Fury", Myra waved to the silver-haired woman who had sauntered into the dim library. Fury snapped her head to the warrior at the darkened corner of the place as she patted the blue sofa beside her. Myra's spot was perfectly discreet and out of the range of any listening ears. She sank her aching muscles into the softness of the single sofa, relaxing her wrists against the armrests. Myra sipped at her piping hot concoction that sent waves of steam off its heat.

"You look like you went a round with Hades himself", She commented with a side glance. Fury chuckled at her observation. It wasn't exactly untrue. She looked down to the dirt and grime that covered her clothes and skin. A shower was much longed for.

"I won't keep you any longer than need be", Myra added, noting Fury's exhausted demeanour. "The Wildmen were once Asgardian people who possessed unimaginable power about 900 years ago. In the height of their power, they tried to knock Odin off his throne and with the leadership of their most powerful pawn. It was the closest we ever came to being conquered.",

Fury nodded her head in understanding, noting the hesitance on the woman's freckled face. Myra loosed a sigh, sweeping back a bouncing ringlet of hair from her brown eyes.

"How did Odin win?", Fury prodded with an unwavering interest as her hands skimmed over the mahogany bookcase that lined the library in rows of colourful novels.

"...Loki defeated them. He had a strange affinity for the Wildmen, he bonded with them in a way no one could. The prince fought few battles but this was one he lead and conquered. Though powerful, the Wildmen were no match for a God. Loki bound their power to an object of no real value and hid it within the palace. Instead of killing the remaining people he banished them to the mountains, where they have stayed until now.",

Immediately a harrowing thought crossed her mind. The Asgardians that were taken were all staff, people that may have seen the object. Someone was trying to take back what was theirs.

"Myra, who does Odin refer to when he speaks of his 'Staff'?", Fury questioned with more interest than she had shown, standing briskly from her seat.

"The cleaners, kitchen help, Guards, warriors and now You", Myra answered without hesitance, painting a smile on Fury's lips.

"Excellent", She chided and flew from the library in her fast step.

The route from to her accommodation was either a long journey up a flight of stairs and through the hall or she could halve her travel by trapesing through the courtyard of the east wing and around the side of the palace. She chose the shorter route after the aching of her thigh muscles groaned at the thought of stairs.

It was dark in the courtyard, a few lights were nestled in the bushes to guide her path. She looked up to the star-filled sky with a sigh, it was breathtakingly clear and so bright she felt the lighting to be a mocking statement. Her boot shuffled the cobblestone in light patters of crunching rock that turned into a tapping as she mounted the polished stone floor of the open-aired corridor which lead to that door with the diamond windows. Shadows danced around her, slowing her fast pace. Her ears held out for any movement or speech.

Behind you

What?

Behind you!

Fury dropped just in time to see a limb fly over her head, she kicked out her leg into her attacker's knee making them groan. But they were not alone, she found that out by the closed fist that punted into her jaw. Her neck snapped violently to the right as aching consumed the latter side of her face. Huge hands gripped around her bare arms, holding her back. They lifted her to her feet and she glared into the darkness, waiting to see the other attacker under the moonlight.

They stepped into view, causing her brow to raise in surprise. She didn't recognise the short but bulky man who felt it necessary to assault a stranger. It made her mad. It burned the frustration in her chest. The man's dull black eyes glared at her as he sauntered closer, too close. His stubby fingers softly caressed her cheek, running down her neck and to her clavicle. It was vomit-inducing. It made her writhe under the concrete grip that held her. The greying man's eyes roamed over her where his hand had stopped.

Anger is a terrible thing

God. She imagined that stubby man squirming on the edge of her sword, pleading with her. She imagined being consumed in a burning flame that made the creature that held her flee in terror. She was fire. Flame. Burning eternally and without restraint. That calloused hand against her skin roamed to the top of her breast and she was Hellfire. A tingle ran through her fingers, she didn't have to touch the blade to feel it burst through the man's body and implode him into a pile of blood and sinew.

"Fury", Someone called her as those hulking hands loosened from her bicep and he tossed her to the cobblestone to run. No. He wouldn't get away. Her eyes shot up from the ground and she motioned her fingers, sending arrows in the form of a violet flame. They hit his back and suddenly he was dancing to rid himself of the magical fire. Then he was not.

She breathed out against the cobblestone that indented her shoulder and palms. Hurried footsteps dramatically slid to her side. Her orbs crashed onto Fandral who theatrically swept her into his arms on the ground. His warm hand tenderly wiped away the drop of blood that came from her sore jaw. He held her close and tightly against his body. Those dark blue eyes surveyed her expressionless face that questioned him. His golden tunic clung to his torso in an appealing tightness. She shifted in his arms, groaning at the ache of her limbs. Her arm strung over the mass of his shoulder, softly sweeping the blonde locks at his neck. Wondering where he had come from and why he was out so late. She had almost forgotten about the murders in the palace. Security was constant and even the warriors had been recruited to protect the golden building in the early hours of the morning to late at night. At that point, she couldn't tell if it were early morning or later in the night. Her sight focused on Fandral, his grey armour flickered with life under the path lights. He appeared to have encountered some sort of struggle during his shift from the dirt and sweat that coated his face. Yet it was still such a beautiful face. Her hand shot to her own face to swipe at the dirt that coated her own cheek. She was filthy.

"You look ravishing, beautiful Fury", The words struck her with their sincerity that came from behind those white teeth. His chiselled face held a contemplative pout. He was worried, Fearful and so indescribably beautiful under the moonlight. It was perhaps why she met his lips with her own in a heated kiss. He hesitated a moment but welcomed her into his mouth with a soft growl, dismissing any courteous behaviour he had displayed. His hands tightened around her back and waist, luring her closer. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips against hers. It was perhaps why she brought him to her bedroom.