IMPORTANT:okay, everyone,my 2 books are coming out soon!Yes, my original fiction works (one young adult urban fantasy and one inspirational romance) will be available on Amazon for the Kindle for $3.99 (who remembers when books were that cheap on paper? I do! I remember when a standard RL Stine's Fear Street paperback book was four bucks. Ahhh, inflation. Anyways...). And just so you know how much bang for your buck we're talking here, my YA novel is 92,000 words (a little bit thicker than Twilight). My romance is a typical category romance, around 70,000 words. And for those of you who don't have that sort of electronic bookie thing, both books are available in paperback on Amazon, too! Please buy them! I don't want to get evicted from my apartment and they upped my rent by like...a lot. (T.T)

My books are called Glass and Their Forever Family, and both will be under my penname, LA Knight. =) If you check out my new profile pic, it's the front cover for Glass! I've got 2 other books coming out some time, as well. So keep an eye out, yeah? Yay!

Author's Note: so here's chapter 2. Yay! I hope you like it. This is a romance, by the way. I feel I should remind people of this because this is going to be what I like to refer to as a "slow steamer"—a story that has a lot of sensual tension, then a lot of sexual tension, and then...well, we'll see. Anyway, hope you like. Any questions, comments, smart remarks you may have, or even just pointing out a typo that I missed, is always appreciated. And I always respond to my reviewers (if they're logged in so I can PM people; otherwise I'm out of luck).

.

Chapter Two
Luminous Pearl

.

.

There were a lot of things Alex Fury could do with her copious amounts of spare time.

Moping was one of them. Crying like a baby because her leg looked kind of like one of those donuts that was just one long stick of dough folded in half and then twisted around and around like a sugar-glazed rope. Do her physical therapy, which was something to do but was pretty much pointless since no amount of stretching or strengthening exercises would ever allow her to dance again. Practice on the guitar; she loved music. It was the only time, Coulson said, where she ever smiled for real. And it was the only instrument she could (eventually) learn to adequately play since not all of her fingers bent properly. She could read one of the countless books lining the shelves of her circular room.

Those were all well and good (or not, depending). Wholesome activities that didn't involve acts of a potentially illegal nature—if she got caught, anyway. But instead of doing any of those things, she was going to work on her apology skills. After all, her guilt had had more than a week to fester. It was starting to get irritating.

Typing on the computer was hard. She'd been left-handed before her coma but had lost almost complete use of her index, middle finger, and pinkie when the shattered middle-joints had fused together on the first two and the broken first-joint had healed improperly on the smallest digit. Inconvenient when attempting fretwork on her guitar. Nigh impossible to type with. She'd learned how to do a lot of things right-handed in occupational therapy. Luckily, her computer obeyed voice commands.

"Open program S.H.I.E.L.D.-Kay-one-five-five, sub-program Tee-Aych-twelve," Alex murmured into the microphone on her headset. She absolutely adored Tony Stark. He made good hacking programs, and let her use them since it would irritate her dad. Not that Alex was trying to irritate the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.. She wasn't. In fact, she hated upsetting her dad. She was just trying to assuage the gnawing guilt that had been slowly chewing its venomous little way through her chest since her conversation with Captain Rogers. As the window sprang to life on her computer monitor, she added, "Search personnel database for Margaret 'Peggy' Carter."

"Margaret "Peggy" Carter
"Former agent of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, US Army
"British citizen
"Born 22 July 1914..."

She shoved aside a stack of paperback novels to get to her speakers, accidentally knocking two from the top of the stack. The pale blue cover of Ïs by Sarah Beth Durst and the sea-green cover of Öst by Edith Pattou gleamed on the floor. The polar bears on the covers of both books seemed to look up at her beseechingly, begging for rescue from her ratty white carpet. Stretching to reach them, she muttered, "Blah, blah, don't need her background information. Search file, keyword 'deceased.' Search now."

It seemed that Former Agent Margaret "Peggy" Carter had been married once—to a Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader "Dum Dum" Dugan. What a mouthful. She'd heard her dad talk about "Dum Dum" Dugan before.

In fact, Alex realized with a start, she'd met the man before. He'd been deputy director of the Helicarrier when she had been a little girl. He used to escort me to the elevators whenever he saw me because he knew I was scared of them, she thought. The brief flash of memory made her temples throb for some reason, so she shoved it away and focused on the task at hand.

As it happened, Peggy Carter was not dead. She was almost ninety years old, but she wasn't dead. Wasn't even in a nursing home. She lived in a little brownstone in New York City near some placed called the Stork Club. Alex printed out a picture of what Peggy Carter looked like now, what she'd looked like back in 1941, and printed out her address and a map of how to get there from S.H.I.E.L.D. Underground. It wasn't against the rules for Steve to leave the compound, so...

Lastly, she hastily scratched a note on a pale green sticky pad. "Forget, or remember—it's your choice." Slapping it on the pages she paper-clipped together, she shut down the computer program, hauled herself to her feet, and limped out of her room.

.

These humans were ridiculously slow. Calculations and advanced mathematics and such were all well and good, but it constantly amazed Loki that Midgardians were forced to rely on such primitive methods when magic was so much quicker. Even more astonishing was that the mortals had made so much progress with such pitiful means. It had been nearly two weeks since that first look at the sorcery that contained enough power to jumpstart a universe. If he'd had the strength to harness the tesseract's powers he could have had things done quicker, true...but he didn't have the strength. He was healing, yes, but the sorcery required to heal kept him magically drained.

"I'm thinking of bringing Alex in on this," one of the human warriors said suddenly, dragging the Asgardian's attention back to the trio of mortals he'd been observing. The older mortal and the one-eyed general both stared at their comrade with a mix of incredulity and confusion of varying levels.

"Who's Alex?" The old one asked. "Another agent?"

Nick Fury shook his head. "Her name's not Alex; it's Rory. She's my daughter," he muttered, glaring at Coulson. He flicked a dismissive glance at the Cube before pinning his subordinate with his black-glass stare once more. "Who is not a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. and has no business getting involved in S.H.I.E.L.D. projects like this."

"Sir," Coulson replied, his voice all smooth politeness, "she's already seen the file. She may not know as much about this thing as Dr. Selvig here, but she knows as much about it as you or I do. And one thing she might be able to help with are the symbols on the sides of the Cube. The doctor here admitted that languages weren't his forte. Physics and astrophysics are. I say we ask Alex—er, Rory. It'd be better than calling in an outside consultant."

"Why? Because she's suddenly a linguist now? She's a twenty-three-year-old high school dropout. What kind of help could she possibly offer?"

Coulson shrugged. "She's not a linguist, no, but she speaks a few languages. German, Swedish. Look." Pulling out one of the glossy, eight-by-ten photos of the Cube, he flipped it around to show it to his boss. "See that right there?" He pointed to something that, although blurry, looked like it said "bjørn." The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent locked eyes with Nick. "Every time we touch the Cube with anything, even if we just poke it, different symbols and words appear. I recognize that word; I saw it on the back of one of Alex's books in her room. It's the Swedish word for 'bear.'

"And look, here." He indicated another word. Loki, studying the image as well with a frown, jerked in shock. Coulson continued, "I don't know this word, but it's got another symbol you see in the Swedish language, and if it is Swedish, that word is something like jötunn."

"Jötunn?" Erik echoed. "That's a Nordic word. Means 'giant.' Usually a Frost Giant in Norse myth, but sometimes a Rock Giant. I only know that," he added when the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents turned their gazes on him, "because the jötunns are mentioned in the stories I grew up on as a kid. You know, stories about Asgard and Odin All-Father and-"

"And Thor?" Nick interjected. "The mighty Thunderer? Which also happens to be the name of the guy who crash-landed in Puente Antiguo, took out the unknown weaponized tech, then disappeared through the Einstein-Rosen Bridge?"

"Uh...yeah."

"So you know a lot about these myths, then."

Erik did not like the way Fury was looking at him. He hastened to say, "No, not a lot. About as much as the average guy knows about the Grimms' fairy tales. Most kids grew up on 'Sleeping Beauty' and 'Little Red Riding Hood.' I grew up on how Pjazi stole Thor's hammer. But I'm no expert by any means."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents exchanged glances. "Sir, we could put her on it as a sort of secondary schtick. She's not our main researcher, but she might get something. You never know. All we have to give her is pictures. She doesn't even have to touch the thing. It's perfectly safe. And maybe it'll get her out of the Tower."

Nick frowned, staring at the word that Coulson said was Swedish for "bear." Why would the Cube have the word "bear" on it? In Swedish? Where had this thing even learned Swedish? It would make sense if the thing was spouting off random German. Rogers had said that Schmidt had touched the thing with his bare hands, so it could have imprinted on him or something. But Swedish?

"Fine," the S.H.I.E.L.D. director finally agreed. If it would get Rory out of the Tower..."It's just a loose end to chase, anyway, it's not that important. Copy all the photographs into a separate file for her. Let her see the pictures and try to translate whatever is on there. Maybe it'll mean something to her."

Yes, Loki thought, frowning at the glossy photograph. Maybe it will mean something to this...Rory. Because none of the words meant anything to him, and he wanted to know what the accursed thing said. The prince would have to keep an eye on this Midgardian as she sought to unlock the secret of the tesseract's symbols. Perhaps she would surprise him.

.

Alex watched Captain Rogers pick up the manila folder and read the sticky note slapped onto the front. Then, as something that made it hard for her to breathe flooded the captain's face, she clumsily turned and limped back down the corridor, trying to be silent and stealthy. She didn't want to see what he decided to do. She didn't want to know if she'd made a mistake in giving him the information on his sweetheart. Doubts had plagued her the entire week after collecting the data, until finally Alex had said, "Screw it," and left it on his bunk for him to find. It was the only thing she could think of to apologize for the things she'd said.

In the elevator, she was reaching for the button when Coulson hailed her. The older S.H.I.E.L.D. agent nipped inside just before the doors hissed shut. "Hey, kiddo, I got something for ya." Coulson always called her "kiddo." It was one of the things he refused to change after her coma. Said it offered her a sense of continuity.

A slender brow quirked. "Is it a new book? That one science-fiction Cinderella story with the cyborgs is out, I think. The one with the red shoe on the cover."

Coulson flashed her a mock-apologetic look. "Um, no. Maybe next time. No, I've got something better. Yeah, I know what you're thinking," he added when she raised both eyebrows. "Nothing's better than books, I know. Except this." He held out a file with the standard "top secret" red stamp on the front. "Your dad wants you in on the Cube project as a translator."

"Translator for what?" Alex demanded, incredulous. Quickly Coulson filled her in on what they'd seen in the photographs of the Cube and its transforming symbols. She took the file and just barely managed to flip it open one-handed. Allowed her fingers to trace over the symbols on the slick surface of the topmost photo. Frowned as she studied the words lightly etched in luminous pearl on the mazarine surface of the Cube.

Noting her frown, the SHIELD agent asked, "So, can you read that?"

"I'm wondering," she admitted after another moment. "This doesn't make any sense."

The government agent frowned. "What? That's not Swedish?"

"No, it's Swedish, all right. The words just don't make sense. They're not even complete sentences. Like right here," she added, sliding a fingertip along a line of symbols. "This says, 'Need black bear.' What does that mean? And this says 'Caught in thorns.' Does this mean anything to you?"

Coulson shook his head. "Can you figure it out?"

"Maybe," she murmured, studying the elegant script in the picture. "Am I on a deadline for this?" When the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent shook his head again, she smiled. Coulson noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Okay, then I've got time. Good. Well, this is my stop," she said as the elevator lurched to a halt. She clutched the folder possessively and began to limp into the hallway.

"Hey, kiddo, let's get out of here for a bit. Get some pizza or something. Watch that new Nutcracker movie Natasha got from Red Box. I know you're pretty bummed about your dad not being able to make it, so-"

"I'm not hungry," said Alex, very gently to one of the men who had helped to raise her. "I'll get some crackers or something later. I've got some reading to do, so...how about a rain-check on that pizza?"

"Sure thing, kiddo." Coulson watched her hobble down the corridor, wondering if she'd lost count of how many times she'd said that to him. He'd miss-stepped somewhere in his invitation; he just wasn't sure where. It wasn't the pizza. She liked pizza. Was it the movie? Whatever it was, they had to do something to get her out of that Tower. Maybe they could lock her out for the day and see if she found her way towards sunlight, like a flower or something.

Yeah, okay, that wasn't happening. Ever.

.

In the Reverse-Tower, Alex sat at her desk and flipped open the file, staring at the top photograph again. Need black bear. What in the world could that possibly mean? Caught in thorns. And there was one other phrase on this side of the Cube. The walls are falling up. What walls? And how did things fall up? It almost read like Tim Burton meets Shel Silverstein—nonsense concepts mixed with disjointed bedtime-story imagery.

She pushed the topmost picture aside to look at the next. There were six photos paper-clipped together, and another six, and another six...she had no idea how many collections of six there were. She studied the second image of the first collection for a long moment. In the long dark. Winter found him. Need black bear. Need son of the hearth. Fight winter blood.

Alex sighed and pulled on her headset for her computer. "Open program—Microsoft Word. New document. Save under 'Cube translations—Swedish.'" She nudged her mouse until the cursor hovered over the blank page. "Mouse click. Listen to me," she added, catching the computer's complete attention. "Record the following. 'Translation of image one-one-Ay through one-six-Ay, as follows...'" She flicked her gaze between the pictures and the screen as she spoke, to make sure the program recorded her words properly.

"'Need black bear.
Caught in thorns.
The walls are falling up.

"'In the long dark.
Winter found him.
Need black bear.
Need son of the hearth.
Fight winter blood.

"'Need Grace through seasons
(notation, 'grace' is capitalized in text—a name?).
Need maker of broken things.
Black bear lost.
Black bear need to find.

"'Red Death touch spindle.
Sleep, cold sleep.
Long sleep in winter.
Blood on snow.

"'Sleeper need black bear.
Magic need black bear.
Wolf and bear come.
Magic from east of the sun.
Magic from west of the moon.'

"'Wolf run from winter blood.
Wolf lost to thorns.
Black wolf need Sleeper.
Sleeper's blood feeds thorns.
Red Death waiting to wake.'"

Something nagged at her, hard enough that she didn't move on to the next set of pictures. Instead, she stared at the last two lines for a long moment. Then she grabbed one of the paperbacks off the stack beside her speakers. A sea green cover, with the aurora in watercolor in the corner, and a girl in a patchwork coat standing beside a huge polar bear. Edith Pattou's Öst. In English, it would have been East. An adaptation of the Scandinavian story, "East of the Sun, West of the Moon." And in that story, east of the sun and west of the moon had been...

Alex popped off the headset and, pushing with her good leg, shoved her chair over to one of her myriad of bookcases. She had a system—a whacky system, according to Coulson—when it came to organizing her books. She had a lot of retold faerie tales, and organized them not by author, but by title. First a copy or ten of the original story, followed by various versions of the same story from around the world (her "Cinderella" section was ginormous and took up an entire bookcase). Then there were the modern adaptations of each tale to shelve as well. So she went immediately to the E-section and found the first of many picture books entitled East of the Sun, West of the Moon. But there was one of the variations specifically that she was looking for.

She finally found it wedged near the very end of the picture books. The cover was a beautiful aerosol painting of a girl astride the back of a huge white bear. The bear wore a silver crown. They stood on a cliff of glacial blue ice overlooking a city of glittering frosted spires. The title was designed to look like icicles. Kvitbjørn Kung om Jötunheim. The White-Bear King of Jötunheim. She flipped open the book to find the blurb written on the inside cover. Then she stared at the map painted on the inside of the picture book before scootching back to her computer. The headset clamped back around her ears, she flicked her mike back on.

"Notation," Alex said, staring at the lines of translated text on the screen, "common phrase in Scandinavian mythology, 'East of the Sun, West of the Moon.' Another name for the North Pole, known in Norse myth as Jötunheim, home of the frost giants. Possible correlation to unknown mutant from New Mexico incident, codename Thor. Possible secondary correlation to Tronsberg, Norway; contains a Viking temple where Johann Schmidt, codename Red Skull, found unknown object known as the Cube, behind an image of Yggdrasil, the Worlds Tree, cornerstone of Norse cosmology. Possible connection of Cube to Norse myth, likely?"

Glancing down at the glossy cover of Kvitbjørn Kung om Jötunheim, she murmured absently into the microphone, "Likely. Question of note—who is the black bear? In related myths, the bear is usually white. Only two exceptions. First is 'the Brown Bear of Norway.' Second is a modern novel where the bear transforms from black to brown to red to white, depending on the season. So who is the black bear? And why is it needed?"

Who was the sleeper? Alex wondered. Who was the Red Death? Who was the son of the hearth? Who or what was the wolf? Who or what was this so-called "magic" that needed the black bear? And what did any of it have to do with the Cube?

"What are you telling me?" She mumbled, tracing the embossed cover of her picture book while staring vaguely at the computer screen. "What are you telling me?"

That, Loki thought, peering over the mortal's shoulder at her work, was exactly what he wanted to know.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Author's Note: So we've got a mystery, and we've brought Alex and Loki (sort of) together. Although he considers her basically a piece of furniture and she has no idea that he's there at all while he creepily spies on her. We'll see where this goes. Although this fic will include the other Avengers (except maybe Bruce, as I haven't seen the Incredible Hulk) it is mostly Loki/cube/Alex-centric, so it's under Thor. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. I look forward to hearing back from my readers. Have a great day!

Note on the name of Alex's hacking program: S.H.I.E.L.D.-Kay-one-five-five, sub-program Tee-Aych-twelve looks like this—SHIELD-K155-TH12. Read properly, it says "Kiss this." Well, more like "Kiss thiz," but close enough.

Note on the Books: there is such a book as East by Edith Pattou (in Swedish, Öst). Ice (in Swedish, Is) is a modern retelling of the same story, borrowing a bit from Inuit mythology (I think it's Inuit, at least. Arctic Native American, basically) by Sarah Beth Durst. There is unfortunately no book (as far as I know) called Kvitbjørn Kung om Jötunheim. However, the title is inspired by the faerie tale "White-Bear King Valemon," which has its own movie—the Polar Bear King. The book Alex mentions where the bear changes colors is Dennis L. McKiernan's Once Upon a Winter's Night.