This has actually been such a fun and challenging chapter to write. Honestly so excited to continue Darcy's story. I'm pretty sure I have the last line of the sequel already squared away!
Jane Foster, Girl Genius
Part II
Jane Foster didn't land on Asgard per se. Not so much as she flew bodily into the rock face of a mountain, slid some meters down the side of it, and crumpled in a daze on a small cliff, thirty some odd feet above the ground.
She lay there for a while, feeling something crack inside her body. She tried to focus on just catching her breath.
And when her breath came back and the pain became a little less tolerable, she heaved herself up on her hands and knees to finally look around.
The drop would be lethal if she fell again. She peeked over the edge to the jagged faced boulders below. Everywhere she looked, Jane was surrounded by trees and breathtaking views. The world had grown more vibrant following her fall and Jane had to wonder if she was concussed. She reached up a hand to her head and felt for a bump but couldn't seem to find one.
"No blood, either" She mumbled to herself. She studied her hands.
The voice in her head was Darcy's when it told her to pull her shit together and think.
"Think," she said softly to herself, fighting the shivers that ran down her spine at the predicament she was in. "Think, Janie. Find a way to get down so you can get back to the—"
Jane's inner voice stuttered to a full stop as she rewound and looked back at her surroundings.
"The tower…" She said, her finger pointing upward as though she were pointing at a very tall building that wasn't where it was supposed to be.
"I was in the tower," She said. "The lab. With Darcy. The lab with Darcy and the ERBSimulator. And then the—"
She spun around to face the mountain wall, grabbing a stick and a rock she tried to carve her thoughts out into the cliff face, tried to process what she had just experienced. The stick broke against the hard surface, so Jane dropped to the ground and started making notes in the dirt.
She should have been focused on getting down, calling for help, seeking shelter, going home. She should have been concerned that she was about to die in the Asgardian wilderness with no hope of rescue or anyone ever discovering where she was.
Well, maybe Heimdall eventually… the Darcy voice in the back of her head mused before Jane told her to be quiet and focus.
The probabilities had just been so low on the Simulator that it hadn't even occurred to her to stabilize it…if she was being generous it was a prototype, if she was being honest it was a junk model of the future real thing.
And yet, the Einstein-Rosen Bridge had been summoned into the heart of Avenger's Tower—into her lab no less – picked her up and dropped her off in the one place she'd been chasing (albeit unintentionally) since before Thor fell in front of her van and nearly died all those years ago.
"Oh god," Jane paused in her scribbling. "I left Thor on earth."
The laugh she emitted was borderline hysterical, but it was genuine, nonetheless. And a small, vindictive part of her was a little thrilled that the shoe was on the other foot for once.
Darcy's voice sounded flat in her head once more as she reminded Jane that she was still stranded and probably going to die so she probably shouldn't be happy that no one knew where she was, but Jane shushed her and focused on the good news instead.
Darcy and her horse were meandering through the higher streets of Asgard, closer to some of the wealthier Asgardian homes. Though…by the looks of things, she determined that all of Asgard's citizens were doing pretty well for themselves.
Bet they pay their interns a livable wage up here, she grumbled internally as she took in all there was to see.
She activated the map on her wrist once again, focusing intently on the location it indicated she was currently standing. She watched as it zoomed in to focus on a more detailed reading of the area. She could not find an inn or a hotel of any kind, and she bit back a curse at the people she'd met along the way.
Heimdall, who apparently could see the soul of every living person in every realm, as well as a giant space tree that connected the universe with its branches, somehow overlooked the fact that she wasn't going to have anywhere to sleep while she was on Asgard. And the Blue Lady didn't say a damn thing about it either.
Where in the hell was she supposed to sleep tonight?
Her inner musings were interrupted by a loud clamoring and shouting of voices, and Sleipnir grew far too excitable for Darcy's comfort. He started prancing in place and snorting with his ears perked and his head held high and proud, giving slight tugs on the lead Darcy held in her fist.
She was so focused on calming the horse, that she didn't register the gaggle of noise getting louder and louder until suddenly and quite violently she was tackled by a horde of little bodies and ended up sprawled out unceremoniously on her back. Her hand was still caught in Sleipnir's lead, her arm and upper body jerked as he pranced in place and a little girl climbed up his body and into his saddle. Darcy watched perplexed as the child hugged the horse tightly around the neck and the horse gave a satisfied snort. He calmed right down. The noise was still present, and Darcy looked away from the odd scene and up at the sky. She let out a cry of alarm when instead of clouds she saw four curious faces gazing down at her in wonder.
"Enough of that my little heathens!" Came a stern shout from farther away. Some of the children groaned, but none looked away from Darcy where she lay sprawled out in the middle of the road.
"But mother," cried out one of the older looking boys who had a speck of dirt on his nose. "She is a mortal!"
"What nonsense are you on about, child. Unhand the lady and help her off the ground," the mother said to the boy, closer now.
"A mortal," She scoffed good-naturedly and the children moved back as a hand came into view, followed by a woman who was eyeballing her kids suspiciously.
"The imagination this one has. No one has seen a mortal on Asgard in—well now that I think about it—no one has ever heard of a mortal being on Asgard. Not if you don't count that incident with Thor."
She said that last part under her breath. The woman looked down at Darcy then. She took in her dark hair, and her short stature, the imperfect way her body had developed, and the distinct lack of glow that everyone else from this realm shared as a common privilege.
"Mortal," She gaped. "You are a mortal."
Darcy opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a tiny voice from above.
"Do mortals not have their wits, mother?" The little girl asked, innocent, from astride Darcy's borrowed horse. A horse who was apparently quite popular among the people of Asgard.
"Wits? Young lady of course they do. The Lady—" She looked down at Darcy with a questioning eye, waiting.
"Darcy," she groaned.
"The Lady Darcy is simply suffering a shock after you and your brothers knocked her off her feet."
A strong hand gripped Darcy's then and hauled her up off the ground with a mother's ease.
"Are you well, Lady Darcy?" The woman asked with a scrutinizing eye.
"Umm, yeah thanks," Darcy gestured awkwardly and gave a half-smile.
"It's not often we have—"
"Visitors," Darcy cut her off with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "It's been mentioned a couple times."
"That bad, hmm?"
Darcy's eyes widened. She tried to backtrack.
"No! No, no, no. People have been very— "
"If you say hospitable, dear girl, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to accuse you of mischaracterizing my people."
"That's not what I—wait what?"
The woman let out a deep, belly laugh that had her children giggling along with her though Darcy couldn't tell if they were actually in on the joke.
"I love my home, Lady Darcy, but it is not welcoming to strangers. And I know a wandering soul when I see one," She took her arm then and guided Darcy back in the direction she had just come from.
Behind them, the children followed obediently albeit loudly – Sleipnir and the little girl brought up the rear at a lazy pace.
"You look as though you have done battle," The woman said bluntly as they veered off the main path and started down a new one.
"Battle? No. Ha. No battle. Just been walking around trying to figure out how to find my friend," She gestured wildly around herself. "This place is…a little overwhelming."
"And you mean to tell me that the fair ladies of Asgard greeted you as a friend, welcomed you with open arms, and bestowed upon you the respect that the presence of a steed such as Sleipnir commands of Asgardians everywhere?"
"Well…no…but I'm a total stranger, why would they—no wait. What is up with you people and this freaking horse?" Darcy stopped walking and gestured at the stubborn beast that had weighed her down mentally and physically all day.
The woman looked at her inquisitively but held her tongue. It was the little girl who spoke then.
"Sleipnir is a royal steed," She said with a voice filled with more reverence than Darcy thought a child could possess.
"Thor?" Darcy asked.
She perked up a little at having a little piece of her friend with her in this strange place.
"No! Silly," The girl's laugh was like the tinkling of bells as she rubbed her fingers through Sleipnir's mane. "Prince Loki's, of course."
Her brothers nodded solemnly.
"Loki?"
"You've heard of him then?" The woman asked her with an air of curiosity and skepticism that had been absent before.
It was odd, the woman thought, for a strange mortal girl to be wandering around the kingdom with a prince's steed and not have the slightest idea of the animal's significance, or even know his master at all.
"Yes," Darcy said. "Yeah. I know him."
The little girl gasped as though she were taking her dying breath and gripped the pommel of the saddle as she leaned toward Darcy. "You do?!"
"No!" Darcy scrambled to correct her statement. "I know of him—I don't know him personally."
She held out her hands before her in a universal gesture for peace and the little girl calmed back down.
"How did you come to be in the company of His Royal Highness's personal horse, might I ask?" The woman's eyes were stern as she searched Darcy's face for better answers.
"Heimdall," Darcy said, scratching the back of her neck. "Heimdall gave him to me, to borrow, while I searched for my friend. He wouldn't have given me Sleipnir by accident, would he?"
Her question was genuine as she awkwardly looked up at the woman who had been so welcoming only moments before.
"And the Witch didn't say anything about it being wrong, but she recognized Sleipnir too," Darcy grimaced and worried her lip.
"Witch?" The woman asked then.
"Yeah, umm. She called herself the Witch of—something. Shit sorry. I can't remember the name of the place," Darcy bopped nervously on the balls of her feet again.
"Witches can prove to be less than favorable company to keep in this realm," She said. And Darcy watched as the woman drew the child nearest her close to her body and away from Darcy.
"No, no, no. She was really nice. Pretty with long golden hair." Darcy gestured to her hips as a way of demonstrating the length of the witch's hair, desperately trying to keep her newfound friend. Friend. All who hear those names will know and treat you as friend.
"Friend! She said that if I told people she was the Blue Lady of Anaheim they would treat me like a friend!" Darcy's voice was a shot of adrenaline through the air as she bounced nervously in place.
"Vanaheim," The woman corrected before looking at Sleipnir thoughtfully. "And that was the only name she gave you?"
"There were two," Darcy assured her. "The Blue Lady of Vanaheim and the Witch of something, but I can't remember—"
"Fensalir," the woman said simply, with a nod of her head.
"Well, you are cracking up to be a most interesting houseguest, Lady Darcy," She said and took the girl's arm once more.
"Houseguest?"
"Unless you have found a place to take your rest this evening…" The woman looked at her with a mother's eye and Darcy knew that she knew Darcy had nowhere to go.
"Then you will dine with us, and share quarters with Eira for the night," She said. The little girl, Eira, gave a small squeak of joy babbling happily about all the things she was going to teach her new mortal friend.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name," Darcy cut in after nodding along gratefully to the woman's plan.
"Brunhilde," She said. "Daughter of Bodil."
Brunhilde's home was in what the woman absently called the Warrior's Keep, though the name gave Darcy a significant amount of pause. It was past two sentry posts and a behemoth of a gate. The first pair of sentries eyed the horde of children with a tired eye, and Brunhilde with a tired respect. They paused on Darcy for a moment, before looking back at her host, and waving them along.
When they reached the second post, they were halted by a guard with an air of young authority about him.
"I do not recognize your face, my lady" He spoke to her, ignoring Brunhilde completely.
"I—"
"She is my guest for the evening, Gosta son of Gudbrand," Brunhilde huffed obstinately at the sentry.
"A guest with a foreign bearing," He said haughtily.
"A guest of the Witch of Fensalir," Brunhilde said evenly.
The man stood a little straighter then and looked around him for any sign of the witch herself. It was then he noticed the grey gelding behind them, paled, and let them pass.
"If you'll recall, young Gosta, it was I who changed your nappy when you were just a wee one of fifty years, and I'll not think twice before I strip ya and give ya a whack for taking lip with my guests again," She said sternly as she ushered Darcy past the blushing sentry and his fellow soldier who was trying and failing to hold his laughter at bay.
The gate swung open without another word exchanged between the collected Asgardians and made a dull humming sound when it closed once more.
Brunhilde's home was warm. The hearth burned large and bright, with a fire that easily spanned half the wall. There was a long, oak-like table with sturdy chairs littered around it. It was a house of light chaos, Darcy gathered, with the way each chair was scattered and cockeyed around the room.
Above a fire burning stove, a stew simmered, and the smells of cooking meat and vegetables wafted through the air toward her. Darcy's stomach let out a loud growl, and her new friend Eira squealed in delight at how gross Midgardian hunger sounded to her ears.
Her mother clipped her on the back of the head and smiled apologetically at Darcy who waved her off.
Brunhilde's oldest son, Torben, had been tasked with bedding Sleipnir down for the night in one of the stalls of his father's personal stable.
Darcy offered to help Brunhilde with dinner, though she wondered how much help she would be as the woman took the bread out of the proving drawer to examine its rise with a practiced eye.
Her host waved her off and instructed her to sit and keep warm by the fire.
"The Norns can only imagine the day you've had child," Brunhilde said with a shake of her head as she snapped her finger at her second eldest son and gestured at the basket of fruit. He grumbled but obliged his mother, grabbing the basket from the other side of the room and setting it in front of Darcy for her to munch on while they waited for the food to be ready.
"It will be a little while yet before the bread is done," Brunhilde said. "You're catching me off my regular schedule today, you see. And what with that fool of a child stopping us for a round of insubordinate questioning—" Brunhilde cut herself off to mutter about little boys and their power complexes.
Darcy supposed the woman had seen her fair share of it and had a right to complain as she glanced around at the rambunctious children once more.
"Lady Darcy," Eira called out and clambered into the chair next to her. She plopped a grape from the basket into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed politely before continuing. "How many years have you seen?"
"I'm sorry?"
"She means your age, dear," Brunhilde clarified before shooting her daughter a look. "And she knows that it is impolite to ask such things of another lady, isn't that right Eira."
"Yes, mother," She said, forlorn.
"Oh, well, it's not that big of a deal." Darcy smiled down at Eira. "I'm 25."
Brunhilde dropped the cast iron pan she was holding and turned to look at her guest, face slack.
Eira clapped her hands together in wonder. "Really?!" She turned to her mother in delight. "Did you hear that mother? The Lady Darcy has seen 2500 years."
Darcy nodded at first and then froze and ran back the little girl's words in her head.
"No dear, I am afraid not." Brunhilde had recovered from her shock but did send the occasional glance back toward Darcy. Her forehead creased in concern.
"She has seen only 25 years, Eira."
"But that could not be," She said precociously back. "She is so much older than I am. And I have seen 200."
"The lives of mortals are very different from our own, Eira dear." Her mother said this softly, as though she was delivering a piece of information prematurely to her daughter then.
Darcy looked awkwardly between them as Eira's little face struggled to comprehend her mother's words.
It was Torben, who was at an age where he was old enough to know, and yet young enough to lack the gift of tact, who spoke up then.
"What mother means to say, Eira," He crossed his arms. "Is that the Lady Darcy will only live a matter of decades before she dies. Her life is fleeting as all mortal lives are."
Darcy narrowed her eyes at the little shit and opened her mouth to give him a real mortal education and verbal ass-kicking when a deep booming voice sounded from the doorway.
"What in Odin's name are you saying to your sister, boy?!" The voice was stern and exasperated and sounded all too used to walking in on this sort of thing already.
Torben froze and grimaced as he turned to meet his father. Eira, who looked as though her entire world had been shattered at her brother's words, stared at Darcy with wide, watery eyes that refused to blink. Her lip wobbled and despite the scolding that her brother was receiving from his parents and the chatter of the other three boys as they excitedly welcomed their father home, Eira would not tear her eyes away from Darcy. It was as though the girl thought Darcy would keel over and die in the span of a second and could not look away for fear of missing what was left of her short life.
Darcy supposed, uncomfortably, that was exactly what this interaction would be like for the little girl in the grand scheme of things. Fleeting. Maybe even insignificant, as bigger, and harder life lessons were learned and took the place of the one that happened between the two of them that day.
Darcy gave her a sad smile. Not for herself, but for another innocent who had learned too much too soon.
Torben begrudgingly went to tend his father's horse as punishment for his thoughtlessness and the other boys rushed to the table to wait for their dinner as Brunhilde pulled it off the fire.
A pair of large arms wrapped around Eira then and hoisted her high into the air with a jovial, belly laugh. The girl was solemn still, though a smile tried to break through at her father's antics.
Darcy smiled at the interaction, watching as the little girl was lowered to rest against the man's large belly. She looked up to finally meet Brunhilde's husband and froze at the sight of a familiar face.
"Volstagg?"
"Lady Darcy!" The man exclaimed and placed Eira back in her seat so he could reach over and scoop Darcy up into a strong embrace.
"The two of you know each other?" Brunhilde asked them with an exasperated hand in the air, dumbfounded by the exchange.
Darcy coughed awkwardly as he put her down and turned to his wife with a wide grin.
"Aye, the Lady Darcy was present for Thor's Redemption," he hooked his thumbs into a thick leather belt and looked between Darcy and his wife proudly.
Brunhilde looked at Darcy for the millionth time that day with a million questions in her eyes.
"You were present at Thor's Redemption?" She asked Darcy and waited for her to confirm.
"You know, people keep saying that, but Thor's never mentioned anything about a redemption…" She scratched the back of her neck.
"You know Prince Thor?" Eira screeched, fully recovered from her grief, and standing on a chair to get closer to Darcy's height. "Isn't he the kindest, most chivalrous man you have ever known?"
Volstagg glowered uncomfortably at the tone his daughter took when referring to his friend and prince. Darcy bit back a smile.
"I do know Prince Thor," she said. "Though he can be quite grumpy and smelly sometimes." Darcy whispered this in a conspiratorial tone to the little girl, scrunching her nose and waving her hand as though to get rid of a lingering smell.
Eira copied and sat back down in her chair.
"When he fell, child," Brunhilde clarified. "When he passed into the mortal realm at the behest of the Allfather and fought the Destroyer to protect the people of Midgard. When he earned the power of Thor once again. You were a witness to this?"
"OH!" Darcy exclaimed. "That's what you guys are talking about? Yeah! Yeah, I was there for that. Knocked him on his ass with my taser too."
Brunhilde paled and sat on a stool by the stove, staring at Darcy with wide, disbelieving eyes.
"Is this true, Volstagg?" She turned to her husband.
Volstagg looked gravely at his wife before nodding his head.
"Aye, my love, it is true. The Lady Darcy has been known to wield lightning, and from Thor himself, I have heard the tale recounted. She has been credited with a great many things during his time on Midgard. Thor has even claimed her as his lightning sister, though the Allfather does not approve."
When the sky dimmed, Jane could no longer compartmentalize her panic. She pushed herself up from her ramblings to register her impossible surroundings once again. There was no way she was ever going to be able to climb down without getting herself killed, and who knew what kinds of insane things wandered the Asgardian wilderness at night. She could only imagine what with the stories Thor told.
She leaned against the rock face of the mountain and brought her limbs close to her body to preserve her body heat, tucking her hands into her armpits and pressing her face into her arms. Jane closed her eyes, tired and in pain, and tried not to let her reality overwhelm her.
So fixated on her own predicament Jane was, that she didn't register the whisper of sound at first. But when something long and cold ran over her foot, brushing against the exposed skin of her ankle, Jane froze and bit back a disgusted cry of alarm.
The snake hissed a long sound as its tail flicked and it settled next to her foot, coiling lazily, and lifting its head to study her.
Jane was content to ignore it completely. That is…until it began to glow green.
She sucked in a breath and threw any regard for her own personal safety out the window, leaning closer to the serpent to get a better look at its aura.
She released the word fascinating like she was releasing a long-held breath, and everything in her wanted to reach out and touch the creature with her bare hands.
Darcy's voice sounded in the back of her head, and this time she listened enough to keep all extremities away from the little monster before her.
"Jane Foster," the creature spoke then, and his voice sounded smug indeed. "You are a long way from home, aren't you?"
Thor arrived home to Asgard in a way that was both commonplace and grand. As the sky dimmed to signify the passing of the day, he greeted Heimdall with a nod but did not stop to visit with his old friend. He would catch up with the guardian at a later time when his thoughts were no longer weighed down by heavy conjecture. He lifted Mjolnir and relished in the heavy drag of his body as he flew to the heart of the kingdom. His feet were sturdy when they hit the ground, and despite the gasps of delight and bowed heads of his people, his heart was not light as it once would have been.
Thor made his way to the dungeons. An Einherjar scrambled to announce his presence to the king.
All was not well in the kingdom that day, he could tell. A heavy feeling was draped like a blanket over everything. The Allfather was in an irreconcilable mood, to be sure, and the heir to the throne pondered darkly his looming duties. At that moment, regarding whatever was going on with the politics of the realm, Thor couldn't bring himself to care.
His feet barely touched the steps as he descended quickly and deftly into Asgard's vast prison network. The guards pulled themselves to attention as he passed, clasping their forearms to their armor-clad chests in respect for the crown, and deference to the hammer.
Loki stood cleanly in the center of his cell, a silent sentry standing guard over himself and the place he was destined to stay forever. A smile crept slowly across the younger's face, sharp and full of venom at Thor's approach.
"Have you come to miss me in my absence?" Loki's voice was light, but Thor could hear the bitter undertone, the acid he would spit if he so could.
Thor did not respond. He stood tall facing a master of illusion and saw through the spell.
"Show yourself, brother."
"Brother?" Loki scoffed – the smile still firmly set on his face. "We were never brothers. Or have you forgotten your father's deception so easily?"
"I have not," Thor said. "That does not change what is."
"It changes everything."
"Your true form, Loki," Thor gestured to the man in the cell.
A green wave of energy moved across the younger then, and the pristine image of the second Prince of Asgard was washed away to reveal a dirty, tired wreck of a man sitting with his back to a solid wall of stone. His face was gaunt, his eyes heavy from lack of sleep and possibly insanity. But Thor only crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Loki fixed him with an exasperated look but did not move.
"You cannot fool me, brother. Not this time. I was present when father had you bound. No more illusions." Thor gestured to the wreck of a room and Loki's tattered form and waited patiently for the flash of green light once more.
Loki appeared to him truly then, and despite his brother's crimes, Thor felt a deep ache in his chest at the sight. Loki was bound to his seat, arms and hands firmly locked in place at his sides and his mouth sewn shut so that his silver tongue could no longer sow chaos at the trickster's behest.
Thor had expected the cell of his father, and for Loki's magic to perhaps be contained in some form. But he had given pause that day when the needle and thread had appeared in the prison keep's hands. Had raised his concern with the Allfather who fixed him with a sharp look, baring his teeth and gripping his staff in anger. He would not be challenged in this moment of all moments; as they silenced his brother forever, Thor had no choice but to hold his tongue or commit treason.
Loki's face was dull. He was so unlike the once bright-eyed younger brother Thor had once known. He barely recognized him anymore. Thor had to look away.
"I know the Allfather could not contain your magic in its entirety. Not without killing you, which he would have done if not for our mother."
Loki could not speak in this form, and Thor had already rid him of his spectres.
"I've come to help you," Thor said gravely. "But first, I have need of your assistance."
Darcy woke up to an empty room. An extra blanket had been piled on top of her. Eira, Darcy thought to herself with a small smile. The little girl had insisted on treating her new visitor, and temporary roommate, to the highest of honors – a long intricate braid that trailed down her back. It was beautiful, Darcy had to admit to herself when Eira had first spun her around to get a look at it in the mirror. The little girl's skills with hair put Darcy to shame.
Heaving her body up to a sitting position, she carefully pulled back the strands of hair that remained to frame her face and twisted them to blend with her new hairdo, fastening the charmed pin as she did. Darcy tapped the beads on her wrist and watched with a satisfied look as the map came to life before her, and she could still read all that it had to say.
In the hall, Volstagg and Brunhilde whispered to each other. Darcy cleared her throat, feeling awkward, and tried not to overhear.
She had told them everything the night before after the children had been sent away from the table. She had laid out the journey so far, the cause of it, as well as Heimdall and the Witch's words.
Darcy had looked to Volstagg awkwardly when she told him that she needed to find Jane. Was too nervous to ask for help once more only to be rejected again. She was genuinely surprised and even more relieved when he looked for a moment at Brunhilde, who grunted disdainfully before softening and fixing her warm gaze on Darcy.
"Well, we can't very well have the child go about on her own and get herself killed," She said before sweeping up out of her chair to collect the mess from dinner and fidget around in the kitchen once more.
"I know it's a lot to ask; I don't want to make things difficult for anyone," Darcy started but Volstagg held up a quieting hand and nodded once.
"We depart in the morning," He said. "It is time now for rest, the wilds are a trying place for inexperienced Asgardians. I can only imagine the trials ahead of you, Lady Darcy."
He stood and gestured for her to do the same.
"You have my counsel, and my sword," He said. Then he showed her to Eira's room before returning to his wife.
The door opened when Darcy's feet hit the cold floor. She hissed as Brunhilde entered and studied her with a mother's eye. Clucking her tongue at the disgruntled human girl and closing the door behind her.
"Up now, or you'll not have time to break your fast before leaving," Brunhilde said.
Darcy obeyed.
"Here are your trousers, and your tunic," Brunhilde set down the folded items on a chair in the corner of the room. "I always say such things aren't for a young lady, but that great brute I call a husband says that Midgardian wear is significantly less…proper."
Darcy bit back a laugh and smiled apologetically at her staunch new friend.
"He isn't wrong exactly," she said. "Trousers are greatly appreciated."
Brunhilde hmphed and held out a belt to the girl after she pulled on the garments.
"Secure it tightly now," she said. "And your boots." She gestured to the brown leather boots that were settled at the foot of the bed. Heimdall had let her keep her Nikes when he gave her the gown, but they were nowhere to be found, she realized, as she glanced around the room.
"Eira took the liberty of packing your Midgardian footwear into your saddlebags in the event that you need them. Although, Volstagg is of the opinion that your feet will thank you for a sturdier tread," she gestured to the boots in explanation.
Darcy thanked her and pulled them on. Following her out the door when she did. The boys of the family were out doing their chores, Darcy figured. And Eira was helping Brunhilde by hanging the family laundry on a line. Her efforts looked less than successful though, judging by the way the linens engulfed the girl's tiny form every time they picked up the breeze. Even on her stool, Eira had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the wire itself.
"Not so easily defeated, that daughter of mine," Volstagg exclaimed proudly, coming to stand beside Darcy and clapping her on her shoulder.
He was dressed, not in full metal regalia as she had so often seen him, but in sturdy linen garments and leather body armor. Noticing her look, he explained that this journey required breathable and flexible clothing rather than the heavy battle armor he wore when they met.
"Father," Torben called from the doorway. They turned. "I have finished preparing your and the Lady Darcy's steeds."
"Good boy," he said gruffly before taking Darcy by the arm and leading her out the door.
As they approached their horses, Brunhilde handed them both a small cup of tea to drink as well as great chunks of honeyed bread. She showed Darcy the contents of her saddlebags, including a waterskin, dried fruit, nuts, and bread. There were vials in there with small pieces of paper twined around them. Volstagg told her that he would explain more about them after they departed. There were her Nikes and a linen change of clothes. Just in case, Brunhilde had said to her, looking her up and down worriedly before forcing a smile and pulling Eira and Torben away from the pair.
After a few failed attempts, much to the amusement of the Asgardians gathered around her, Darcy finally managed to mount Sleipnir once more. She looked from Brunhilde to Volstagg nervously before gesturing awkwardly to her horse.
"I'm not that great at this ya know…" She said.
"Bah," Volstagg gave a sarcastic gasp. "You don't say, girl?"
She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to tell the loud warrior to go shove it, but he continued.
"You're astride Sleipnir, Lady Darcy. He will neither let you fall nor lead you astray."
"He's a horse, not a miracle worker. I don't ride horses, not since I was six and fell off that stupid pony." She crossed her arms at him, yelping when the horse shifted on his feet below her. She clutched the pommel and glowered at Volstagg when he let out a hearty laugh.
"That is Prince Loki's horse," he said this as though somehow that explained it all.
"Yeah, so I've been freaking told, but what in the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"The boy was terrified of the great beasts as a child. Didn't like how out of control they made him feel when he was in the saddle. Much preferred the feel of his own two feet on the ground."
Darcy waved her hand impatiently for Volstagg to continue.
"One day, after Odin bade him mount an old, retired warrior's stallion – a stallion that was truly the piss of the pack let me tell you," Volstagg curled his lip and shuddered at the memory. "Prince Loki was thrown and nearly trampled. But the king bade him stand and do so again, and again, until the steed no longer ruled the boy. It was a long day in the corral for all who were there to witness it, and the young prince endured quite a bit at the hands of the young would-be warriors of Asgard. But Loki did eventually master the steed at his father's behest. When he was free once more to go off on his own, Thor made a fuss to the king. Claimed that his father was playing favorites with Loki by allowing him such a mighty steed. Asked his father how he could allow the heir to his throne a gentle gelding such as Sleipnir when Loki was given the true gift of a spirited beast."
"So…Loki's dad is a…"
She looked around and decided it was probably best not to voice her opinions about the king publicly in his own kingdom.
"So, Thor pitched a fit because he wanted what his brother had, even though Loki obviously didn't want that horse either. What does that have to do with me not being able to ride a horse properly?"
"What my husband means to say," Brunhilde cut in then. "Is that Thor knew Sleipnir to be of a kind and gentle temperament, and he knew Loki had no true desire to ever ride a steed meant for battle. If he were to say so in such a way, Loki would have been viewed as weaker than would be expected of a prince of Asgard. So, he invoked his birthright in the hope that the Allfather would allow himself and Loki to trade horses, thus leaving Loki with Sleipnir who was gentle and knowing and loving of children."
Brunhilde smiled and gestured to Eira. "By Prince Loki's leave, Sleipnir has been the learning horse for many a child in the kingdom. Including our Eira. On a typical day in Asgard, not so long ago, if one were to see Loki and Sleipnir, there was usually a trail of children waiting for their turn to ride this very horse."
Darcy's heart softened at the story, trying and failing still to reconcile it with the deranged man she had come to know as a would-be conqueror of earth. It just didn't make sense. Despite her reservations, she nodded her thanks for the explanation. Took a deep breath and decided to trust Sleipnir. She turned to Volstagg and told him to lead the way.
They weren't very long into their journey when a tall, brown-haired Asgardian woman strode up to them, keeping pace with their horses as she spoke.
"Rumor has it, you're going on an adventure."
"Lady Siff!" Darcy called out recognizing her voice instantly. Siff turned to look at Darcy then in surprise, mouth agape.
"Lady Darcy, how have you come to be here?"
"Oh, that old story?" Darcy waved her hand dismissively "Super boring. The question you should be asking is where we are headed on this fine Asgardian morn."
Siff looked at Volstagg.
"Why is she talking like that, then?"
He shrugged. Darcy huffed.
"We are on a mission to save the future queen," Volstagg said lightly, though there was a tension in him as though he worried someone would overhear him as he spoke. "Best not mention it too busy ears though, Siff." He fixed her with a long look and Siff raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath, comprehending the gravity of the statement.
"And do other busy ears know about this turn of events?"
"Aye, they do."
"And do these busy ears wield a hammer?"
Volstagg shook his head. "The Blue Lady of Vanaheim has blessed this mission."
Siff nodded then, turned to whistle at something behind her, and kept walking with the two companions.
"Right then," she turned to Darcy with a smile and a wink. "Where are we headed on this fine Asgardian morn?"
Darcy smiled brightly at her.
"Frigga's Friggin Sorrow."
Siff stopped and looked between the two of them, not caring that she was being left behind.
Her horse appeared just seconds later, she mounted and caught up once more, speaking roughly to Volstagg from the saddle.
"A mortal girl?!" She asked him exasperatedly. "You've deemed it safe and proper to drag a mortal girl into the wilds? To the Sorrow?"
Volstagg's face was grim but he nodded.
"Volstagg didn't…" Darcy trailed off when Siff sent a sharp glare her way.
"Who then?"
"Heimdall," Darcy grimaced. "He said something about Norns?"
Siff's lips were a flat angry line. She jutted her chin and checked her sword reflexively.
"Well then," She said. "The wilds it is. But we will approach from the southeast, I don't care if the route is longer. I refuse to lose a human in the Valley of the Crystals like an incompetent fool."
"Agreed," Volstagg said, his voice grave.
Darcy didn't say anything but silently thanked Heimdall that Thor's friends wouldn't let her walk ignorantly into her own death.
The three wanderers had gone forth bravely past the final outlook over the city, past the gates and their bored sentries who stood taller only briefly as two members of the Warrior's Three passed their posts. They made their way down the winding trail that navigated the rocky terrain upon which the city of Asgard had been fortified.
They entered the trees and Darcy was overwhelmed by the bright colored beauty that surrounded her on all ends. Deep green hues mixed with vibrant, otherworldly blues and purples. The rustling of creatures going about their lives sounded in the bushes. Somewhere in the distance, a brook babbled contentedly, and a bird called overhead.
Siff and Volstagg were alert, and Darcy wondered at that. They were in their own home, with no foreign invaders to hear of. Heimdall was quite literally standing guard over the realm.
A few hours later, they had stopped to water the horses and stretch their legs. Siff helped Darcy with a cramp in her calf that had sent her careening to the ground when she tried to stand.
The hilt of a dagger appeared in front of her then. She looked up at Volstagg.
"Umm, no thank you." She smiled wide at him and blinked a few times innocently.
"It is the least we can offer you," Siff said from where she squatted checking Sleipnir's hooves. "Even a lady need be armed in the wilds."
"Well, this lady need not be armed in these wilds, Lady Siff," Darcy said smartly, turning away from the dagger with an awkward shrug.
"How are you to defend yourself then?" She scolded her.
"I'll be fine, I know how to defend myself enough to handle a stray bunny or two."
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, temporarily immobilizing her before spinning her around. Darcy threw her arms up to block the strike she anticipated coming, before striking out at her attacker's elbow until it gave, and the hand released her shoulder.
Darcy dropped down to swipe at Siff's feet, but the warrior jumped and pivoted landing behind Darcy when the girl popped up from the ground. She locked her younger in a vice grip around her neck, simulating a chokehold though she applied no harmful pressure. Darcy gripped Siff's forearm, relaxed her body, and dropped all of her weight, hoping Siff's arm would release her from the strain of it. Siff did not budge.
"Lady Darcy," she said. "You have the correct intentions, but your strength is no match for a soldier of Asgard. Do you yield?"
Darcy grunted and twisted in Siff's grip, standing to her full height once more and jabbing her elbow into the woman's ribs, only to wince when her funny bone caught the sheath of Siff's sword. The warrior gave a grim laugh.
"Yield, my lady."
Siff squeezed her arm around Darcy's throat a bit for effect.
"Fine," Darcy bit out. "Fine. I yield."
Siff released her. Volstagg's smile was wide and though Siff looked more disapproving than impressed, there was a slight glimmer of humor in the older woman's eyes as well.
"Needs some improvement," She said. "But I admit, I had not expected the response I received."
Darcy beamed.
"And now you will take this dagger and learn how to use it."
Darcy opened her mouth to protest but was silenced by her elder.
"Whether you choose to use it or not, I cannot allow you to continue this path without any instrument of protection on your person, Lady Darcy. This journey is not for the faint of heart."
Darcy rolled her eyes.
They rode for some time before a plume of toxic gas rose from the ground, spooking the horses and causing them to bolt. Both animals and riders burst through the wood with a panicked ferocity. The Asgardians quickly regained control. Darcy had no such luck, sliding sideways in the saddle and screaming bloody murder. They hurried to catch up, hoping to grab hold of her before Sleipnir accidentally got her killed.
For a while after that, Sleipnir's reins had been fastened to Volstagg's saddle to ensure Darcy would not go flying once again.
They encountered a squirrel looking thing not long after that. Darcy had thought the little guy was cute, but Siff had tugged her away with a fearful look in her eyes. Exasperated, the human gestured at the cute little animal and told Siff she was a paranoid old crone. Then the squirrel monster spat acid at them, disintegrating a patch of grass next to their feet. Darcy screamed and Sleipnir stomped at the animal in indignation. The squirrel monster scattered, and Darcy climbed back into the gelding's saddle, grateful for the first time since she arrived that she was given this horse of all horses.
By the time they reached their first resting place for the night, located in the shadow of some sacred rock Darcy forgot the name of, she had been armed with a dagger, spooked and nearly thrown, spit at, trampled, attacked by an –up until that moment dormant – human-eating plant, and stung by a blue and black bee-creature.
Her eyes were swollen almost entirely shut. Her thighs had saddle burn from trying to hold onto Sleipnir in his panic. Her hand was purple from the stray hoof of Siff's angry mare. And her hair was coated in a foul-smelling plant goo that Volstagg had jovially informed her was meant to break down the cellular structure of humans so that the plant could better digest its meal.
Near their camp was a small stream, it was there that Siff accompanied her and instructed her to dunk her head. Together they worked to remove all the slime from her hair before returning to Volstagg and the horses.
Just as her guides were debating on how best to lessen the swelling in the girl's face, a branch cracked in the darkness. Siff and Volstagg kept talking to each other, but by the set of their shoulders, they heard it too. Darcy watched as their tone became significantly more amicable toward each other. They moved strategically about the camp then. Siff's hand was on her blade as she disappeared into shadow, and Volstagg's form loomed over Darcy as he faced the woods but acted as though he was gazing at the stars.
There was one long, tense moment of quiet. Volstagg's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword and Siff's absence screamed to Darcy that maybe she should grab her own knife.
Then a shadow appeared along the tree line.
"All is well," Siff said with a warm smile as she emerged. A cloaked figure trailed a couple of steps behind her.
The woman removed her hood, but Darcy's eyes were too swollen to see much more past the blur of motion.
"My lady," Volstagg said solemnly before moving aside to allow the newcomer access to their charge.
"Asgard has not been kind to you, dear girl," The woman's voice was light and familiar though, through the fog of her mind, Darcy could not place it.
"Drink this, child," The woman said, holding a stopper to her lips and tilting up her chin.
Darcy obliged skeptically. Coughing at the bitter licorice taste of the liquid as it hit her tongue.
Within moments, Darcy's eyes had cleared, and she blinked to find that the newcomer was the Witch she had met at Thor's Well.
"Now...what news of your friend, Jane?" The woman asked, settling down next to the fire and gesturing for the others to do the same.
While Darcy was in the company of Eira, daughter of Brunhilde, Jane passed the night on the cliff edge with the glowing snake.
She had hissed back at it suspiciously when it spoke to her but had no real choice but to stay where she was. She had endeavored to keep her eyes on the creature for the entirety of the night. But had found that within moments of its appearance, her body had grown impossibly warm and her eyelids drooped, heavy with sleep.
When she woke the next morning, the snake was gone.
Thor found Jane when she was attempting to rappel down the base of the mountain. He had flown by way of Mjolnir to the location that Loki's snake had whispered in his ear, landing beneath the ledge, and looking up in utter bewilderment at the display she presented.
Her hair was still tied up in a ponytail though a few stray twigs were sticking out of it now as well. Her jeans were mud-stained and torn in some places, and her shirt had small patches of blood littered across the back.
What really took him aback (i.e., nearly gave him a heart attack and sent him into an early grave) was the fact that she was no longer safely nestled on the surface the serpent had left her on. Her feet were gripping different holds in the rock desperately, stretched too far away from one another to give the woman any center of gravity. One hand was held tightly to the ledge of the place she had once been sitting, the other was grasping frantically for anything else to hold onto.
With a jolt of panic, Thor registered that she would fall. He had not even taken a breath when she did exactly that.
Jane did not scream, instead, she released a breath that she feared would be her last. She heard a shout but could look at nothing but the rock face she had been determined to hold onto only seconds before.
And then, instead of the ground, Jane found herself nestled safely in a pair of familiar arms.
Asgard did not have a sun, but the light in the sky blinded her then as she squinted up at her savior. Thor eased her to the ground, settling her in a patch of grass before kneeling and taking her face in his hands.
"You are injured," he said and studied her with a practiced eye.
Jane grimaced.
"We must away," he wiped away some blood. "We must see to your wounds before they fester."
He stood then and looked around, backed up, and tried to get a view of the place she had spent the night.
"Where is Lady Darcy?" He asked.
Jane recovered her voice then. "Darcy? What do you mean?"
"Your invention worked twice," He said to her slowly then, there was a gravity to his gaze that betrayed the lighthearted, jovial spirit he so often portrayed. "Once with you, then again with Darcy."
"Darcy isn't here, Thor." She could feel the panic bubbling up in her chest then, and a sudden urge to vomit. "You mean she's not at the tower?"
He was silent.
"We have to find her," She forced herself to stand, ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribs. "What are you waiting for, whatever you did to find me… we have to do that with her."
Thor studied her, looked away once more, and nodded.
They didn't notice the herd of young bilgesnipe until it was far too late. Coming upon a field around midday, the group of travelers dismounted their horses to allow them to rest. Choosing to walk for a while in the warm light.
The night had passed without further incident, the Witch had used her magic to cure Darcy of some of her baser ailments from the day before and they had all slept peacefully. Siff and Volstagg traded watch during the night, while the other two took advantage of all the rest they could get.
But in the field, Darcy felt herself relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Not that she voiced that thought aloud…saying three days was an eternity to a group of immortal beings would have been…awkward to say the least.
Volstagg told her stories of the Warriors Three from centuries before Darcy had been born, told her of faraway planets and extraordinary peoples. He explained the politics and strategy behind the epic battles they had fought together. Siff had added her two cents…mostly when she thought the man was exaggerating…though she mainly watched the horizon for threats.
And the Witch, who said very little but had a keen eye and a calming presence, the Witch watched the sky with a frown.
"Has something unsettled you, My Lady?" Siff asked the Witch quietly as she slowed to walk with her behind Darcy.
Their voices got lower as they spoke, and Darcy strained to make out their words. Volstagg rambled on.
It was when they switched to a new language all together that the calm unraveled in Darcy's gut and left her feeling giddy and alert instead.
The last time they spoke a language Darcy didn't understand, she'd ended up in the belly of a man-eating plant.
Darcy pulled Sleipnir close and bit her tongue. If it were truly important, Siff and the Witch would share it with the class.
Right?
Darcy was startled by a loud wet snort, stopping short but not quick enough to prevent herself from ramming into Volstagg's back. He had come to a sudden stop as well.
The two women behind her were silent. Still.
But Darcy couldn't see. Not beyond the behemoth of a man in front of her.
She tried to peek around him, but a hand – Siff – grabbed her by the braid and pulled her back out of sight, keeping her directly behind the large warrior.
The creature snorted again, before letting out a loud snotty snarl that turned into a bellow. A bellow that gave Darcy vertigo. Literally. It rattled her brain, made the world spin; Darcy felt as though she was going to fall over and vomit and see double for the rest of her life. Siff still had a firm grip in her braid, somehow keeping her steady in that awkward position.
Volstagg remained still.
The Witch remained silent.
But when the one bellow turned into a cacophony, Siff jerked the human girl backward and hissed that they must run. Adjusting her grip on Darcy, Siff hauled herself and the human up into the saddle of Siff's warhorse. The Witch and Volstagg were astride their own mounts and galloping at full speed behind them.
In a wave of panic, Darcy found her voice enough to shout at Siff that they needed to go back for Sleipnir, but Siff hushed her and told her to hold onto the pommel tighter. She assured her that Sleipnir could more than take care of himself. Darcy didn't see how that was possible. But a doubtful and desperate glance over her shoulder told her that the older woman was right.
Sleipnir was bringing up the rear, but her horse...her normal ass horse that she had been schlepping around for three days – that horse – now had eight legs and glowing eyes. She would have fallen out of the saddle if Siff's grip hadn't been composed of the same strength as Thor.
What she saw behind the now eight-legged horse though, that shot ice through Darcy's veins. There were more than she could count when her adrenaline was up, and she was pretty sure she was going to die. The one nearest behind them was the smallest of the herd and its head could only be likened to that of a T-Rex. The bilgesnipe had massive arms, each the height of Darcy's horse and thicker than a pair of tree trunks. He had claws that curved up from his toes that were easily the size of Darcy's face, a forked tongue, and a set of razor-sharp teeth that were gnashing angrily at Sleipnir's flank.
If Darcy could talk, she'd be screaming. But she was silent and hyperventilating instead. Before she could gather herself, and try to make sense of what was happening, Siff shouted over the din.
"Prepare to jump, my lady!"
Perplexed Darcy opened her mouth to ask Siff what the fuck she was talking about but felt the older woman pull her bodily from the saddle. The horse disappeared from beneath them. They were in the air. Then Siff's arms were gone. There was only the rush of wind. And Darcy once again found herself falling.
This time she had no sense of where she had been. No sense of where she was going. There was only Darcy and the air around her.
Once more she found herself reaching, but now for something she couldn't see. Reaching for a lifeline that wasn't there. With her stomach and her brain left somewhere in the air above her.
She saw the hole punched in the side of the tower. Saw the Hulk's fist tear through rebar like it was paper. Felt her feet fail her, heard the Hulk's rage-filled roar.
Then she remembered Fury, her little kitten left all alone in the labs. The little kitten that she wouldn't make it home to, she was certain this time.
Her sobs were dry ones, as she plummeted. They came out in short, quick gasps for air and the occasional groan of terror.
Darcy gasped. She flailed. Then groaned. Gasped. Flailed. Groaned. Gasped…
And inhaled a mouthful of water that tasted like blood.
She was sinking. Plummeting now like a stray bullet, straight toward the bottom of the riverbed. She hit a rock there and stilled. Dazed, Darcy looked up at the surface of the water…only a few feet really but lethal, nonetheless. She could feel the current, sweeping over and around her body, willing her to move out of its way or become a part of it forever.
Her eyes were open. Staring, shocked at the light that broke through the water. Lungs burning, she could feel her body start to quake from a lack of oxygen but still, Darcy did not move.
Then there was a boot, a large man's boot. Not unlike her own. She studied it, surprised by its sudden appearance. Her hand floated closer to one of the laces that whipped sporadically around in the wild current.
Before she could touch the lace though, the world came rushing to meet her in one giant heave as Volstagg gripped her arms tight and pulled her free from a watery death.
When she broke the surface, she opened her mouth to inhale but instead released a flood of water down her front and back into the river it had come from. She spluttered and coughed, relishing the feeling of Volstagg's strong hand pounding on her back to dislodge what water he could from her lungs.
He lifted her like a child and pulled her from the river then, to the banks where Siff and the Witch were drying and watching her with no small amount of concern.
Sleipnir was there with them. He was the only horse to have made the jump and survive the fall, Darcy thought with a heavy heart and an immense sort of guilt. Those horses had died because of her and Jane's recklessness.
A warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a grim Volstagg led the girl to the Witch of Fensalir for further aid.
"It seems as though you swallowed quite a bit of water, child," The Witch observed with a critical eye. "Come, we must clear your lungs, so you do not drown on dry land."
Darcy did as she was told. Too tired to truly care what they did to her at this point.
"Lady Darcy," Siff's husky voice was full of shame as she knelt before the girl, leaving room for the Witch to move about and administer treatment. "I must apologize for letting you go, I feared we would land in such a way that the hilt of my blade would fatally injure you. I did not wish to see it so."
Darcy tried to muster an understanding smile for Siff, but her whole body was shaking, and her mind was still in the air. Always falling, never knowing when she would hit the ground. She closed her eyes to try to block out the memory, but the roar of the bilgesnipe combined with the roar of the hulk and…Darcy shook her head. She drew her knees to her chest and buried her face.
She could vaguely make out the sound of Siff retreating, and her hushed conversation with Volstagg. If she focused, she could feel the gentle touch of the Witch on her arms and forehead, as the older woman tried to heal Darcy and open her back up, prevent her from further closing in on herself.
Her nails dug into her skin, and for a moment it was as though little Fury was with her, holding onto her hand for dear life with his sharp little claws. She could hear him crying somewhere in the distance. Could hear the Hulk roaring above her. Darcy missed the Hulk at that moment. Could think of nothing more than going home, pissing off Bruce, and spending a day with her favorite green rage monster. Darcy wanted to go home.
Her chest seized again, another spluttering cough wracked her body, and more water expelled from her lungs. Her eyes, nose and throat were burning from the force of it and the excess of stomach acid. Her limbs were locked in frozen terror, aching, and screaming at her in protest.
Dying. She was dying. Darcy was pretty sure she was having a heart attack this time.
Her short gasps combined with body wrenching sobs.
And then Natasha's voice was in her head, verbally smacking her across the face and telling her to snap out of it. Jane needs you Darcy; that means you don't get to check out.
She sucked in one long wheezing breath, counted out her exhale. Clenched her fists tight and repeated the action.
She kept her eyes closed, still curled in on herself, but now she could hear that the distant sound of the river was an uncontainable roar of whitewater. Good, Darcy, that's one. She heard the restless shuffling of hooves off to her left and knew instinctively that it was Sleipnir. Two. Volstagg's deep voice, followed by Siff's, as they spoke about the recent turn of events, brought Darcy a little closer to the present moment. Drew her out of her fears. She heard the Witch shift away from her for a moment, heard the tinkling of glass as she pulled one of the vials out of Sleipnir's saddlebags. Five.
Darcy inhaled a little less frantically now, counted her exhale, and smelled the warm sunbaked earth beneath her. She caught a whiff of mint and herbs as the breeze shifted and blew the Witch's long hair in Darcy's direction. She smelled manure from the horse and a piece of fruit that someone was peeling a few feet away.
With another breath, Darcy opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a cliff towering impossibly high above them; they were seated among the rocks in its shadow. She looked around herself and saw everything. Too much of everything. Feeling uncertain, Darcy brought her arms close to her chest and wrung her hands nervously against her forearms. The Witch smiled at the girl, probably hoping to reassure her as she put a stopper back into one of the vials in her hands.
How about five things that are blue?
In her mind's eye, she saw Steve's shield and Bucky's phone case. She saw the bright letter 'A' lit up on the side of the tower. She saw a line of emergency lights leading her to the kitchen and heard Jarvis's warning of a security breach before he disappeared. She shook her head.
"Your dress is blue," She said to the Witch who furrowed her brow but affirmed the girl's statement. Darcy continued to look around.
"The water is blue," She said. Volstagg and Siff fell silent.
Darcy took another deep pull of air, coughing up a bit more water as she did. She looked down at her soaked clothes.
"My tunic is blue. There is a blue jewel on the hilt of Siff's sword. The liquid in that vial is blue as well," She said.
Darcy allowed her mind to adjust, feeling the familiar buzz of mindfulness set in and the panic leave her bones in a pile of mush. She nodded to herself once, before turning back to the witch.
"I'm not going to die," She told her.
"Why, no, Lady Darcy. There will be no dying today."
If the Witch was confused, she hid it well, choosing instead to unstop another vial and draw out a drop of purple liquid.
"Open your mouth, please."
Darcy did as she was told, wincing at the harsh berry taste that hit her tongue.
"That concoction will restore your body temperature to normal, even in wet clothes," the Witch told her. "Though, Volstagg mentioned that you have a spare tunic?"
Darcy nodded, coughed, and then gestured to the other saddlebag which had miraculously been closed tight enough to not take on any severe water damage when Sleipnir hit the water.
The Witch pulled out Darcy's spare clothes and helped Darcy change, hoping that once the girl warmed up, her body would take better to the treatments she had administered.
After a few extra moments in the Witch's care, and a few more grounding exercises to quell Darcy's remaining panic, the mortal girl felt her body flood with warmth. Her fingertips pulsed at the sensation, cheeks flushing healthily, her eyes lost some of the dullness they had developed over the course of the last few days, and quite possibly last few years if she was being honest.
Darcy was renewed. For the first time in a long time, she felt young, the good kind– not naïve – but revitalized, energetic, ready for whatever was coming her way. A haze had lifted from her mind, and Darcy realized with a lightness in her chest that this was her depression clearing out of her head.
Even how she breathed felt different.
Darcy looked in wonder at the Witch.
"How—how did you do that?" Darcy asked, gesturing awkwardly at herself as though it would help the older woman understand a pretty inarticulate question.
"This elixir," The Witch said, holding up the purple vial. "This elixir is the essence of warmth. That is the best way I know how to explain it to you without entering your mind and bestowing upon you the language of the gods which tends to end poorly for mortals…"
The latter part, she said more curiously to herself than anything else.
"The type of warmth you may need, Lady Darcy, may diversify the effects of the elixir. Though, I warn you that it must only be administered under careful supervision for its effects can be highly addictive."
Darcy pondered that information. The Witch stood to place the vials in a pouch of her own. Siff made her way back to Darcy then, leaving Volstagg to update the Witch on their changing plans.
"Lady Darcy, are you well enough to continue?"
Without stopping to think about it, Darcy nodded and stood.
"I need to find Jane," She said. "It's been three days. I haven't been moving fast enough."
Siff pursed her lips.
"You've moved as fast as you can."
"Not fast enough," Darcy shook her head. "Not as fast as Thor would have. Not as fast as—"
"Lady Darcy," Siff grasped her shoulders. "You have navigated a foreign realm, a novice yes, but successfully, to rescue your friend from almost certain death. It is an honorable thing you are doing, never question this."
"None of it will mean anything if—"
"You must see yourself through different eyes, child," The Witch said appearing next to Siff.
Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes at the two women before turning toward Sleipnir.
"How are we gonna do this with one horse?" She asked them.
"We will walk."
"Great," Darcy rubbed her temples harshly.
"First, Lady Darcy," Volstagg cut in. "The herd of Bilgesnipe pushed us further northwest than we initially desired."
Darcy smacked the beads on her wrist, watching the map come to life and her stomach sunk as her eyes registered their location.
"I fear, the only way to reach the Lady Jane would be to either scale the cliff and try to avoid further detection from the bilgesnipe, or—"
Darcy cut Volstagg off this time.
"We go through the Valley of the Crystals."
The three Asgardians stared, eyes grim, at Darcy.
"There would be no shame…" Siff said slowly, stepping forward. "If you were to say the word, the…Witch could escort you back to the city. Volstagg and I could pass through the Valley and rescue the Lady Jane."
"No."
"Lady Darcy…"
"No," Darcy said. "Jane is trapped and alone. I know I'm not like you. I know I'm not like Thor, but she's my best friend. And I've been singlehandedly keeping her from death-by-science for years now…I'm not about to pass that off to someone else. Not now."
She jutted her chin at them, daring them to challenge her decision.
"The Norns have willed it so," The Witch acquiesced.
When they reached the mouth of the Valley, Darcy was struck dumb by its beauty. She nervously fidgeted with the pin that held her hair out of her eyes, adjusted the beads on her wrist, and tugged her tunic into order.
Darcy looked at her friends. They stood strong at her back. She activated her map and set her shoulders.
When Darcy stepped into the Valley, her body was awash with a sudden and overwhelming calm. It was like she'd come home. It was like she was there to stay.
Every person across Asgard, but for the four who wandered in the wilds, turned to face the north as a preternatural scream ripped through the air of the kingdom.
Heimdall bowed his head. Odin stood from his throne. And Loki, bound in his cell, opened his eyes in morbid fascination.
A mortal had entered the Valley of the Crystals. A soul was hanging in the balance.
So this was supposed to be two parts of Jane Foster, Girl Genius...but just the way it ended up it's gonna be a three-part chapter kinda deal. I'd really love to hear what you guys think!
