Chapter 9: Cool Breeze of Winter
Flying forms of transportation were recognizable to Eira through books and ships located in the docks of Asgard. Her father mentioned traveling on many planes during his recent trip to Midgard, and Natasha reassured her that it was the safest method of conveyance.
Eira prepared herself for the plane ride at the SHIELD base as the Russian gathered the necessary materials for battle. Unable to focus on the contents of her book, she remembered the appearance of airplanes from the images she was shown. It was similar to a car, she recollected, but larger and more spacious. Planes were much faster than land vehicles, as she was told that she would arrive in Missouri in just under an hour and stay at the Barton's farm for the night.
"Clint is outside with the plane," Natasha exited her office, clothed in a black bodysuit, the belt and cuffs of her sleeves equipped with bullets and electric shooters. "I'll take you out there before I leave with Steve. Are you feeling alright?"
"I think I'm okay," responded Eira, putting her book in her book bag. "Daddy used to go on missions and my grandmother would watch me, so I'm used to it. I'm excited to go on a plane, though. I want to know what it's like."
"Then this won't be difficult," Natasha said as she nodded, inwardly wondering how Eira was scared of social interactions but not heights or unfamiliar transportation. "Let's go."
Eira lifted the bulky backpack — containing clothes, books, and writing materials — over her shoulders and followed Natasha, jade eyes eager to witness an airplane. The roaring spin of a large fan transmitted through the outside of the building, causing Eira to jump in surprise, though the feeling was replaced with curiosity. She ran ahead of Natasha, backpack rhythmically hitting her back.
The wall of the building no longer in sight, Eira stopped her movements, slightly sliding as she stared at the back of the plane. The slowing speed of the fan, the titanium luster of the wings, and the diminishing fire of the engine absorbed all of her attention. Natasha caught up to Eira and scanned her face, smirking at the speculative irises of the child.
A hatch opened, revealing Clint inside when its level was low enough. The archer walked down the steps as he waved his hand.
"I haven't had any missions, and yet this is the most I've used my plane," quipped Clint as he approached Natasha. He glanced at Eira, who gave no greeting nor a signal of recognition. "She must really be fascinated with planes. Does she even know that I'm here."
"I can hear you," Eira said nonchalantly. "I know how to multitask."
Clint eyed Natasha, curious as to how a seven-year-old apprehended the word "multitask" and her sudden brassy attitude. Natasha sighed, looking down at Eira.
"Eira, why don't you go on? Find someplace comfortable to sit; I need to talk to Clint."
"Alright," she acceded simply, jogging to the stair and climbing up without the assistance of the rail.
"I thought she would be more apprehensive," commented Clint, glimpsing at Eira before she disappeared into the jet, then turning to face Natasha. "Are you ready to obey the Captain?"
"I'll follow his orders at the beginning, but Fury has assigned me to receive some intel. Roger doesn't know, but that's spy work."
Clint laughed. "You are pretty good at intel. Have fun on the ship, I'll make sure Eira is safe. Does she have all her stuff."
"She packed a set of pajamas and clothes for tomorrow. She has a book and her favorite stuffed animal."
The archer raised an eyebrow. "A tough cookie like her has a stuffed animal?"
"The toy's name is Hait. It comforts her, helps her sleep. It might be useful for tonight."
"I shouldn't be surprised; I've been a dad for nine years. Alright, I better get her to the farm before Laura finishes dinner. Stay safe, Nat!"
"Coming from the guy who gets injured more than me!" was her goodbye.
Eira stood in the open cockpit, intensely observing the light and neon buttons of the control panel. Her finger hovered over a button, not abreast to its purpose, but curious to learn.
"I'm sorry, Eira, but I got to fly. There's a comfy seat nearby if you want to sit close to the control panel."
Eira turned to Clint, lowering her finger and hand. She adjusted the straps of her backpack as she walked toward the cushioned chair. Clint sat in the captain's chair, hitting the button that closed the hatch before he prepared for take-off. The roars of the engine made him smile, the flicks of the switches satisfying.
"You're the archer Daddy and Uncle mentioned."
Clint glimpsed at the girl, her book bag now at her feet, seat belt securely strapped.
"If the archer they mentioned is nicknamed 'Hawkeye', then yes, I am. Hopefully they said good things."
"Thor said you were a well-rounded fighter with good marksmanship. Daddy said you were a loyal soldier and follower, but I think he didn't like you much. I don't know if what he said was true because of his issues."
He didn't have many interactions with the God of Thunder. Upon their first meeting at the battle-riden, destructive state of Upper Manhattan, they both shared the same lust for revenge against Loki. Thor had the anger toward his brother for lying about his death and indifference of his plans for genocide, while Clint was perplexed by his will being striped from his body, temporarily converted into a mindless assassian. Remembering the night when he aimed an arrow at Thor, attempting, and failing, to lift a stubborn Mjölnir from its rocky confinement, Clint thought the muscled man was simply crazed, not affected by the manipulations and villainous vexings of his younger brother.
Loki denatured the morals of the archer and killed hundreds of innocent to empower his already oversized ego, yet for his little girl - his only biological family, the sole remembrance of Runa - he obtained an out-of-character compassion.
"Well," began his response. "You can form your own opinions. The one thing I'm certain of is that you will have fun with my family. Both Cooper and Lila are excited to show you their Christmas gifts. And my wife, Laura, is a fine cook. She made sure to make plenty for you."
"That sounds like fun," said Eira as she kicked her legs, undisturbed by the increasing velocity of the jet and its descent off the ground. "Natasha told me not to practice magic or mention my family and home. I think it would make them uncomfortable."
"They're aware of your situation, but if you don't feel comfortable talking about it then don't. There is one thing you have to do: my family, no one but Fury and Nat know about that. For their protection, you have to keep it a secret too. Can you do that?"
"Of course I can! I'm good at keeping secrets. You seem nice too, so I don't want to ruin your safety."
"Alright then."
Clint returned his focus to piloting. He straightened the steer and pressed the appropriate controls. Clouds approached the flying vehicle, the ground level becoming less than microscopic.
"We'll be at my place in about forty-five minutes, give or take."
"Okay."
Eira unzipped her backpack, searching for her book. Feeling the hardback on her fingers, he pulled the book out of her bag, flipping to the bookmarked page.
Though the princess wished she was taller - despite being better than the average of her age group - she was surprisingly glad that her feet were unable to reach the floor. Surely the nervous tapping of her foot would annoy Clint.
"Daddy built me this dollhouse himself. He isn't good at building dolls, though, so he and Mommy had to buy some. I wish you could have seen the tree Daddy chopped down, but it started to turn ugly. What did you get for Christmas?"
"Steve and Natasha gave me somes Legos and puzzles," answered Eira, her thumb stroking the wooden floor of Lila's dollhouse, amazed by the craftsmanship curated by a single human. "My family sent me some things to remind me of home. I haven't met Steve and Natasha's friends, but some of them sent me gifts. I got dvds for television shows and movies. Have you heard of the Star Wars movies and Avatar: The Last Airbender?"
"Cooper and Daddy like the Star Wars movies; I've only seen Episode IV, so you should ask Cooper about it. Me and Cooper really like Avatar. It has a lot of action, do you like stuff like that?"
"I guess. I like the battle stories my family tells me, so I might like it. How did your Daddy build this?"
"He has a shed where he builds stuff. He usually fixes broken things at the farm. Cooper thinks he also makes stuff for his work. We have tried to sneak inside, but Daddy locks it whenever he is away. He says it's too dangerous for us to be in there; he doesn't want us to get hurt by the tools."
"Oh, I wanted to go in there. I like building stuff."
"You said you like Legos, so you might like what Cooper got. Want to go see?"
"Yes!" Eira's head shot up, excited by Lila's ancipation.
Lila stood up, running out of her room. Eira followed, her timidness nearly diminished. The room of Cooper was across and about twenty degrees from Lila's, his door ajar. Eira heard the taps of buttons, though she could not determine the source. Reaching the door, Lila used her head to signal Eira to come closer. The raven-haired girl did, placing her head above the other girl's to see inside.
The eldest Barton child laid on his bed, a portable console above his head, the light shining on his forehead as he clicked the buttons, smiling at the contents of the game he was playing. Eira looked down toward Lila, wanting to ask if she could knock on his door.
"Cooper," spoke Lila, her voice purposely annoying.
Never mind was the answer to Eira's question.
"What is it, Lila?" said Cooper after he sighed, placing his console beside him.
Lila opened the door and ran in. Eira stood back, glancing between the Barton siblings. Skeptical of causing Cooper trouble - Lady Saga taught her to act courteously whenever she presumed the position of a guest - Eira almost returned to Lila's room, but upon observing the calming expression of Cooper when he noticed her, she walked into his room.
"Eira wanted to see your Lego Millenium Falcon," Lila answered.
Cooper turned to Eira, his right eyebrow raised. "Really? You like Star Wars?"
Eira looked down at the carpeted floor, twiddling her thumbs behind her back. "I like Legos, and I'm interested in what you're building. You don't have to show me if you don't want to."
"No, it's alright."
Cooper lifted himself off his bed, moving toward his bookshelf where a fragmentary ship sat. He put its box on the ground and took the incomplete structure in his arms.
"I've been building this since the day after Christmas. It's over seven thousand pieces. I don't even think I'm a quarter of the way done. Do you want to help me build it?"
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Of course I am. You seem to like things like this, and it will help me build this faster."
"What am I supposed to do?" Lila asked precipitously, stomping her foot in emphasis.
"Bring up the laptop and watch one of your shows. Give me and Eira some background noise."
Lila sighed. "Fine."
Eira giggled at the theatrics of her friend. She diverted her focus to the instruction booklet while her ears sensed the purposefully heavy footsteps of Lila.
"Sorry about my sister," said Cooper. "She's a bit dramatic."
"I think everyone is dramatic in their own way," Eira responded. "What part were you on?"
"I think I'm on the fourth bag. Let's start!"
Lila grabbed the laptop from the desk in the living room, holding it against her chest as she traveled up the stairs. She passed her mother who was watching Eira and Cooper build a lego set. Her maternal hands held a mug, her fingers unfazed as her daughter ran past her.
"I got it Cooper!" yelled Lila. "I'm gonna play something you don't like!"
Laura hid her laugh, not wanting to interrupt the banter between her children. Eira giggled, making Laura smile.
Shaking her head while maintaining her grin, Laura went down the stairs and walked to the kitchen, witnessing her husband reading a newspaper by the stove.
"It's nice seeing the kids having so much fun," she said. "We agreed to not have any guests here - well, except Nat - but I like the kids playing with someone their age."
"Eira's a good kid," spoke Clint, setting the newspaper down on the table. "Very respectful towards others. Very shy, but kind."
"When you described your visit with her and Nat a few weeks ago, I thought she would cry the moment she stepped her foot in our house. She had trouble talking to me at first, but she warms up quickly. I like her, and, more importantly, so do the kids."
"I think Cooper and Lila are glad to have someone their age visit the farm. She agreed not to show her powers around them, since she knows it could be dangerous."
Laura sighed from her thoughts, using two of her fingers to grab a loose strand of her hair and putting it behind her ear.
"Clint, I know you're not the type of man who considers a group of people as the same, but I was worried that after everything you went through with Loki, you wouldn't want anything to do with his daughter."
"It's not her fault that she is related to him. She's just a child, and every child deserves the best. She lost her mother when she was only an infant and she loves Loki more than anything, and no one knows where he is. Her family is complicated, but it shouldn't affect her wellbeing."
"I've always loved how caring you are, even to people you don't know."
The chair scraped against the tiled floor as Laura moved it closer to her husband. She put her hand on his shoulder, kissing him on the lips. His eyes closed in response, his arm wrapping around her neck. The kiss was terminated by Laura as she removed her lips from Clint's.
"I'm feeling very aroused right now, but I think we should wait until tomorrow night. It's probably best - and safer - if we do it when Eira has left, the kids are asleep, and there isn't a beef stew being prepared in the oven. Hopefully we feel the same as we do now."
"Let's hope so," Clint said with a smile.
Sleeping in her own bed or resting beside her father were the methods of slumber for Eira. As a baby she slept in a crib located next to Loki's bed, which continued as the cradle was replaced with a toddler fit for a princess. Occurrences of nightmares were treated with spending the remaining night cuddled on his chest or curled by his hip. When their room became just hers she fell asleep by herself or with bedtime stories from Thor, Frigga, or an apparition of Loki. Whatever method transpired, she was alone once she awoke. Hati in her grasp was the single tradition preserved.
Preparation for sleep on Midgard did not differ much: sometimes she aided herself to slumber, or, when the proceeding moments were troublesome, Steve or Natasha stayed by her side until her eyes became heavy. As a deep sleeper, she woke up from the percisting beep of her alarm clock or a gentle shove of her human caretakers.
The Barton family readied their guest room for her; the pillows plush and the blankets properly washed. Tired from building the Lego ship with Cooper and the delicious, heavy beef stew she had for dinner, she forgot about her typical stubborn desire to remain awake and invited herself into the guest room. She read the third of The Philosopher's Stone before wrapped herself in her father's blanket - a slight sense of guilt arising as she discarded the provided sheets - and fell asleep.
Her deep breaths maintained themselves when Laura slightly opened her door, looking at the girl's sleeping form between the small sliver from the doorframe and the entrance itself. An unconscious Eira did not notice Laura shutting the door and whispering "she's asleep" to Clint.
She even failed to detect when Loki appeared behind her.
Wearing luxurious pajamas, his gaze was immediately cast toward his slumbering daughter. He knelt down, his arms nanometers away from Eira. He rubbed the rambunctious, raven curls sprawled on the pillow, lightly moving in tandem with her breaths.
He transferred himself to his first days as a father. The loneliness and depression over Runa's sudden death flowing within him after the bittersweet birth of his daughter. He traversed through the stages of grief by caring for Eira. His soul warmed whenever Eira's cries diminished after entering his hold, her stress disappearing upon hearing the tranquil beat of his heart. The happiest moments were when his finger traveled over her infant head, somehow covered in his ebony locks combined with the texture of Runa's.
Loki wished those days would return. The days where Eira was dependent on him, the days she was only pleased if he was nearby, the days where it was just them together.
Loki spent his day forming a peace treaty with fractured citizens of Svartalfheim, wanting forgiveness for the acts of Malekith the Accursed. If not disguised as Odin, Loki would have slit their necks the moment they made eye contact, smiling with the utmost delight as he observed their black blood abandoning their mimble bodies. With the members closest to Malekith, he would have extended their pain and the time they felt it. Maybe he would stab their eyes, slit their arms and legs, or beat them with his own fists. Loki enjoyed the screams and cries of his enemies, watching him beg for life that would be terminated in mere moments. He would savour it more with the Dökkálfar, the killers of his mother. His reasons for hunting Malekith and his lackey followers were to become closer to his daughter and in revenge for Frigga's untimely end. But as the Warrior's Three stood behind him, he realized breaking character would ruin his power as King. Even pretending to be Frigga's life, he could only politely discuss matters of politics and not committing murder.
The hours he initially hypothesised the meeting would last turned into the majority of his day. He wished to visit Eira before her body gave in for the night. After it ended more dreadfully than it started, Loki ate a five-thousand calorie meal before retreating to his chambers.
Loki advocated himself to see Eira whenever he could, both to embrace her and secure her safety on Earth. Eira told him about her planned visits to the Barton farm a week ago. He remembered Clint mentioning his son and daughter when he was under control of the Mind Stone; he remembered the shortest feeling of guilt when he recognized that the archer was also a father with a daughter four months older than his own.
He hated the thought of his special little one playing with feeble Midgardian children. But upon hearing word that Eira enjoyed the presence of the Barton children, his stance softened, but his stubborn hubris was not deterred.
It eventually realized the playtime between his daughter and the children of Clint were necessary for her mental health. She was the youngest of the noble children, separated by Holstagg's twins by three years. She unhealthily clung to him and still wanted to continue that behavior.
Even if she preferred him over anyone else, she was expected to interact with others her age. Cooper and Lila Barton supplied that necessity.
Although he wished for his daughter to wake and discuss her day with him, he realized that she needed sleep. His seven years of paternal experience made him recognize the essentials of a child's wellbeing, which included sleep.
Loki was exhausted from his boring meeting, but he could spend several moments watching the peaceful state of his daughter. Maybe he could leave her a letter or gift.
Natasha had an impressive skill in hiding her troubled emotions by utilizing a serious, occasionally jestful, expression, Eira noticed. Loki used the same ability whenever he secrets to hide from his family and friends and began teaching it to his daughter when she was only five. He recreated situations to aid her in recognizing patterns of inconsistency and the briefest changes in reactions, implusies, and emotions during the moments she visited him in his cell and later their secret meetings. The Skriver genes in Eira - curiosity of her mother - helped her learn briskly, though she was not prepared to practice it in the presence of those with the same, albeit advanced, skill.
After Natasha finished from her mission near the coast of India with Rogers and the STRIKE team, she took a SHIELD jet to return Eira to her apartment with her stoic, yet relaxed, demeanour. The jet's fans slowed and the fire from its engine quelled as Eira ran out of the Barton farm, book bag bouncing against her back. Clint and Laura also went outside though they stood back by the doorframe.
The Russian walked halfway down the stairs of the plane, waving her thanks at Clint and Laura before greeting Eira. Her smile was warm from a distance, but as Eira moved closer she saw the emotional stress at the edge of the left side of her lip. Moving up her face, she noted the guilt in her eyes. The remorse was directed to - what Eira presumed based on Natasha's location the previous night - Steve.
Eira asked about Natasha's poignant state, although the question itself was rather simple, when they entered the plane, which she responded with "I'm fine".
She chose not to pester and opted silence as the response.
The ride to the capital would have been quiet if Natasha did not ask about Eira's first visit to the Barton residence. Eira answered, briefly describing how Lila demonstrated her Christmas gifts, building a Lego set with Cooper, and the delicious beef stew cooked by Laura.
The jet landed on the SHIELD base, and the guilt left Natasha's face.
"I'll give Fury a report on the mission when we're back at my place," said Natasha, lowering the stairs of the jet as she stood from her chair. "Let's get out of here. I have a treat for you."
Eira widened her eyes as she lifted herself from the chair. She was curious to Natasha's surprise for her but also glad that she would not stay at the base for long. Impatience was a genetic trait in her family; she remembered her father and uncle describing their attempts at not rolling their eyes and fighting against the urge to tap their feet.
Even if she did wait for Natasha to finish her briefing with Fury, reading the letter written by her father as she was surrounded by observant and apprehensive government workers and the forever-watching security cameras was dangerously unwise.
The Barton farm reminded Eira of the Asgardian palace. Its spacious and multi-level design brought some sentiment (as much sentiment a seven-year-old could have.) Eira was growing accustomed to the apartments of Natasha and Steve, but interrupting the pattern by one-night visit to Clint and his family recreated the pettiness within Eira that was well associated with royalty. Therefore her enthusiasm of arriving home was diminished by Natasha opening the door to her compact apartment.
Natasha threw her keys, without looking, onto the kitchen countertop. Eira stood by the entrance, removing her shoes and placing them by the mat. Her head tilted in search of the surprise, squinting when she could not find any unusual object or person. Averting her gaze to Natasha, Eira noticed that her eyes were also locating something.
She decided to let Natasha look for the surprise and walked into her room, setting her backpack against her desk. The zip swiftly opened with the stride of her hand, which then removed the stationary objects, placing them on the table, and her clothes, folded neatly and put into the appropriate shelves of her dresser.
A thick-rimmed book was lightly placed on a coffee table, followed by a slightly thinner book. Eira heard the two books settle against the table from her room, witnessing the third when she exited and moved toward Natasha.
Books? That was the surprise? Eira had plenty of books, as evidenced by her bookshelf, filled with stories of Asgardian and Midgardian origin. Although she enjoyed reading, she knew that after her birthday and the holidays that her probability of receiving new tales was slim.
Upon moving closer to the table, she saw the titles of the books: Mathematics: K-2, Basics of English Grammar, Civics for First Graders, and the multitude of science books lacking a sharing subject.
"You haven't had a formal learning experience since you got here," said Natasha, setting down the final text as she looked down at Eira. "It's been a couple of weeks, and since you are seven, we can't stop your education. I don't know how long you'll be living on Earth, but I assume it may be a couple of years, so you will definitely need to be prepared to go to school."
"You want me… you want me to go to school? W-with other kids?"
Eira's right hand tightened while her left gripped a chair beside her.
She began to overcome her social anxiety by playing with Lila and Cooper and spending a night at their farm, but suddenly increasing from two to twenty, thirty, perhaps more? It was too much. She wasn't ready. She needed a lot more time. So much more time-
The stile was forcibly, though accidently, removed from the chair. Eira, abstracted from her panicked thoughts, jumped back, letting go of the piece of wood.
"Eira!" Natasha yelled with concern.
She knelt down, quickly, yet gently, grabbing Eira's wrist to inspect her hand for injury. The palm was a dark pink, stressed from the hold of its owner. No visible splinters or bleedings.
"Nat, I'm sorry," Eira spoke between panicked, uneven breaths. "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't know how much of my strength I was using. I- I…"
"Eira, you're okay," Natasha pulled the distressed girl into a hug. "You're scared, and I understand. Steve understands too. We'll help you get through it. It's alright."
Removing Eira's back from her hold, Natasha stood up, glancing at the chair, its cross rail awkwardly diagonal and the sharp disconnect of the stile.
"That chair was the cheapest thing here," she said. "I won't miss it. Let's buy one tomorrow."
"You're not mad?"
"Mad? No. I was just worried how hurt you were. Your uncle would threaten me, and your father would come out of his disappearance."
"But it's not your fault that I broke it. My strength is growing too quickly. I think it's because I'm a half-breed."
"Then we will also work on that before you go to school. I'll ask your uncle about it. Now, do you want to skim these books and pretend they're interesting?"
Her shoulders relaxing, Eira glanced at the books and then at Natasha's kindly cunning smile. She nodded with her father's grin.
Six and a half hours of sleep was not enough, Natasha realized as she woke up. The statement wasn't entirely true, as she was awoken by a call of Fury's critical state, watched as his heart gave up its will to live, and struggled to fall asleep, her thoughts occupied by the description of her mentor's brutal death. She felt her body embrace sleep moments before the beeping of her alarm clock.
The snooze button was an excuse to act snobbishly lazily, which Natasha would never succumb to. But those ear-piercing beeps in tandem with the weight of her exhausted eyes almost made her give in. Almost.
The orange hue of the sky brightened the unlight living room. A laptop sat on the coffee table, uncharged but still operational. It almost appeared like the laptop was destined to be the first object used by Natasha for the day, as the dim rays from the rising sun angled themselves away from the computer.
Steve was lying a few hours ago, she knew the moment the words left his mouth. His tone hinted at a clueless knowledge for the cause of Fury's death, and her eyes kept diverting to a thin object in his jacket pocket. She couldn't determine the truth by recalling his lies, she had to conduct extensive, swift research.
Hacking into security cameras for an apartment complex was child's play for Natasha, or so she thought. A few lines of typing should have successful for her to see Steve's place the night of Fury's murder, but she was meant with resistance. Typing further, along with the frustrated tapping of her fingers against the keys, she wondered about the unusual level of security. Sure, Captain America himself lived there, but she knew he didn't participate in any dangerous activities, and he had the protection of Agent 13.
Finally getting access to the current footage, Natasha sighed in satisfaction as she scanned for the date from the night before. She paused on a frame of Steve talking to Fury, the latter bloody but determined.
Fury was speaking normally, but the blurry contents of his phone. She pressed the spacebar and enhanced the frame, adjusting the texture so she could see the text.
"SHIELD compromised," the text ultimately read.
"Shit," was all Natasha said as she continued watching.
Steve asked more questions, only to be meant with vague answers from Fury. As the SHIELD director adjusted his position on his seat, three rapid bullets entered through the wall and went in and out his chest.
Steve knelt to check the severity of his injuries. Fury's eyes were stubbornly opened as his shaky hand gave Steve a thumbdrive. The Captain accepted it, Fury fainting seconds afterward. His focus kept changing to helping Fury to finding the shooter, the addition of his neighbor, whom he was unaware that her true career was as a SHIELD agent.
His head turned toward a window and he stood up running moments after. Natasha changed the camera perspective multiple times, following every step Steve took as he went after the shooter. She almost made a comment to herself about the destruction of property by his shield, but she was distracted when she saw the shooter.
The Winter Soldier.
This was deeper than she initially thought, even with the knowledge of corruption within SHIELD.
"Why am I up this early?" said an exhausted voice.
Natasha turned off her laptop and put the screen down.
Eira walked into the hall with a yawn, her hair uneven and in need of brushing.
"Oh, hi Natasha."
"Good morning, Eira. You are up earlier than your alarm. Is everything alright?"
"I think so? I felt something strange this morning, like something was slightly off. Did you leave last night? In my dreams I heard heavy footsteps."
Never heard of a seven-year-old sensing negative emotions while they sleep, Natasha thought. But I guess magic changes all of that.
"I had to go to the hospital," she lied. "A friend of mine was hurt. Don't worry, you weren't alone. You know that neighbor of ours that is secretly a SHIELD agent, he was alerted and made sure you were safe."
"Are you going to visit your friend today?"
"Maybe. I have some work to do. Wait..."
A flash drive had the same shape as the object in Steve's pocket. He was at SHIELD, so she couldn't go after him. She might be attacked and she had to take Eira with her; she couldn't leave a child alone when the organization tasked with caring for her was compromised.
But as she walked away from Steve at the hospital, she took one last look at him as he talked to a hospital janitor or some kind of nonmedical worker.
He doesn't have the flash drive.
"Natasha? What happened? Is it some Avengers stuff?"
"Um, yes. Now, how quickly can you get changed?"
"Pretty quick if I can find what I want to wear."
"Alright. Go change. I'll make breakfast and then we'll go to the hospital. I'll make sure you're safe."
Eira raised her eyebrow and maintained it as she walked to her bedroom.
Natasha sighed as she went toward the kitchen, grabbing two bowls from her cabinet.
Shit is about to hit the fan, she thought.
Eira played with the zipper of her moss linen jacket, not interested in the piece of gum Natasha gave her before leaving the room. She knew something dangerous happened based off of the spy's behavior in the morning, and she formed her own situation from the comments Natasha made during breakfast.
Bragi, her secondary tutor on Asgard, briefly mentioned the terms "compromised" and "corrupt" and gave simple definitions during a government and civics lesson, stating that she would learn more about those concepts later in her education. The terms were not positive, she deduced from the meanings and tone of his voice.
SHIELD was compromised, but to which extent? Stories with themes of corruption all ended in triumph, with the venal individuals were small in number overthrown and replaced with responsible people. Loki finished telling those tales with a smile, his eyes kind as he tucked Eira into bed, but perhaps his warmth hid the truth.
All she knew was that she would find the severity of the accuracy today.
Natasha entered the room again, albeit unwillingly. A man with a grey cap pushed her against the wall. Eira almost created a blunt object with her magic to protect Natasha, but her hand relaxed when she recognized the voice as Steve's.
His tone was fiercely anxious as he pushed Natasha to answer his suspicions. So he also was aware of the possible corruption.
Then she began talking about some assassin named "the Winter Soldier" who scarred her and was untraceable. Apparently he killed Fury. So was Fury the one Natasha visited last night? Maybe. Eira couldn't ponder in her thoughts longer, as their conversation ended.
"Well, let's find out what the ghost wants," spoke Steve, removing his hands from the wall as his stance mellowed.
"We'll have to take her with us," Natasha said, her head gesturing to Eira. "She won't be safe alone."
Steve turned around, surprised to see the girl simply sitting in a chair who heard every word.
"You're bad at noticing people," said Eira with a cheeky grin.
"Eira, can your magic disguise me and Steve?" asked Natasha.
The perkiness was replaced with embarrassment.
"I can change my own appearance, but I'm not powerful enough to change yours. I'm sorry. I am still working on it."
"It's alright, Eira," Steve reassured. "Natasha and I can handle ourselves. She is a spy after all. Can probably give me some tips."
"That I can. Eira, come with us. When we get outside, I'll take you to a corner where you can disguise yourself. Make yourself look like our daughter."
"Wait, what?" Steve looked to Natasha.
"We're gonna go to the mall and pretend we're a couple. I have civilian clothes in my car. It will be fine, unless you have any objections?"
Steve glanced to the floor in an awkward response. Eira looked to Natasha and nodded before smiling at the Captain's unease.
Eira awoke in a car, her head facing the greying sky. She remembered holding Steve's hand as Natasha guided them away from Rumlow and his STRIKE team, breaking the hold when Steve had to steal a car. They needed to go to New Jersey and would certainly be detected if they used Natasha's car. She fell asleep after an hour in the "rented" car.
She made her awakened presence known by asking the adults how close they were to New Jersey. Natasha turned in her seat with a smile as Steve answered by stating that she awoke at the right time, as they were thirty minutes away from their destination.
The streets and houses of New Jersey were similar, the only differences were the materials and colors of the houses. She saw businesses and government buildings, but nothing as extravagant as the buildings in Washington D.C.
Soon the landscape was swallowed by grass, no structures in sight until a gate entered Eira's view. It was fenced around several brick buildings, the sign reading "Camp Leigh".
"This is where I'm from," Steve said to himself.
They exited the car and entered the base. The base itself was larger than Eira initially thought. The multiple buildings wide in length and a copious amount of space between them.
Steve invited her to sit on his shoulders, suggesting that walking around might make her tired and that she could notice something higher. She complied.
For the next hour she gazed at every structure for any irregularities, disappointed when she noticed nothing. Steve and Natasha were looking for a signal but also found nothing.
Growing bored, she rested her head against his and stared blankly into the landscape.
"How dangerous will this get, Steve?" she asked.
"It's not as safe as I would like, but the level might rise. Why did we bring you into this?"
"You and Natasha said you would protect me, and that's what you are doing. If it gets too dangerous, then Heimdall can send me back to Asgard."
"That's a good deal. I want to keep you safe, and being with us right now might not be the right direction."
"Then it's a plan." Eira lifted her head and pointed to the sky. "You hear that Heimdall? You better send me back home the moment it gets rough!"
Steve laughed along with her, and she could hear Natasha giggle from far away. His laughter ended abruptly as he looked ahead, an unfamiliar building initiating into his view.
"Natasha! Look ahead! Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. That building is in the wrong place. Eira, you might want to get down."
Steve knelt to allow Eira to get off his shoulders. She followed him to the unregulated building. It was locked, but the shield gave them entry.
Darkly lit and dusty, the inside was uninhabited and eldery, the furniture decades old and largely unused in the modern world. Three silhouettes were placed in the center of a wall. Eira recognized two of the people inside: Stark's father and the woman Steve pretended he was not a former lover of his (she knew he had some hidden feelings for Natasha.)
A crooked bookshelf stood by itself, Eira noticed, and so did Steve, as he moved it to reveal a secret room.
Entering the room, Eira assumed it was the source of the signal, but Natasha's comment of the outdated technology proved her wrong, until she approached a big computer and put in the flash drive, making a virtual voice echo through the room.
The green-pixelated avatar was plump with large-rounded glasses and a receding hairline. It spoke Steve's name and date of birth before mentioning details about Natasha.
His gaze was temporarily on Eira, and she stared at it for an answer. The avatar diverted itself, meaning that the system was unaware of Eira's origin and existence. As it talked about Hydra, she realized that the program only had knowledge of human figures and situations on Earth. They planned political and influential events, but no mention was made toward the events caused by her uncle and father.
The doors and windows shut around them, a red light in tandem with a loud beep tracing every inch of the room.
"Steve, we got a bogey," said a panicked Natasha. "Short range ballistic. 30 seconds top."
A bogey? Eira was not familiar with that object, but from what she gathered from Natasha's tone, it was probably a highly-destructive weapon. The building was eighty years old, so the chance of injury was high.
Eira did not have the time to see the damage. A rainbow light surrounded her, and soon she was travelling upward. The lights became dimmer as she ascended; she found comfort in the starry sky behind the bars of color. Her body stopped moving, making her fail on an unknown surface. The brightence heightened and then promptly darkened.
Blinking her eyes, she saw Heimdall placing down his sword. Uncharacteristically, he had a smile.
"Welcome back, princess."
Eira stood up, adjusting the position of her pants and wiping the nonexistent dust off her jacket. Her back went straight as she giggled.
"I thought I was supposed to go to Earth for my protection."
Heimdall laughed back. "So did I. Let me get your grandfather. He'll guide you back to your chambers."
Her smile grew as Heimdall signaled for the All-Father, excited to see Loki in their home.