In Love With The Darkness
Resistance Base 1, in the ruins of New York City, former United States of America
The night was dark when Eira finally left her patients in the medical bays, and slipped outside into the ruins of the once great city, grey robe, just poking from the long overcoat she wore. Her eyes roved over the burnt out shells of skyscrapers, eroded by time and nature, the city utterly silent.
A ghostly reminder of the past.
When Loki had opened the portal which allowed the Chitauri through, New York had been the first to fall, and then they had spread across the Earth like a plague. After the United Nations had unilaterally surrendered, Loki had left New York as both a monument, and a warning, of his power and glory, and what befell those who resisted him.
No one lived there now, except for strays, so twenty years before the Resistance had moved into the myriad tunnels that were all that was left of the NY subway. They fortified them, secured them and expanded outwards and downwards, so if any Chitauri came to call, they would have a hard time penetrating deep enough to capture anyone. What was more, several escape tunnels had been dug, with high-speed transports made from the old subway cars, that led out to the wilderness that had sprang up beyond Manhattan Island.
Fallout from the battle still lingered in the air, making the area a satellite black spot. No form of surveillance, beyond primitive radios and sonar, worked and so the Resistance had had to be creative in their communications methods.
Now, Eira stood at the ruined top floor of what had once been Stark Tower. Looking around, at what had once been so full of life and energy and intelligence, it made her sad. And angry.
Not much was known about Loki. They had limited files on him, gleaned from SHIELD before its demise at the height of Loki's invasion, and they did not tell much. Eira herself had seen the security footage of his attack and theft of the tesseract when he first came through. Even then, he had been deadly, and seven centuries had only enhanced his powers.
Some days, Eira wondered if they would ever take him down.
She looked up to the stars, and closed her eyes, enjoying the cold breeze and soft moonlight on her face. Up here, it was peaceful, silent. She wasn't surrounded by the dead and ailing, and she could just…exist.
Opening her eyes once more, she eyed the glistening stars, unveiled by the clear night, and envied their distance. Nothing ever touched them, nothing ever could. They were eternal, untouchable.
Her eyes drifted sideways, to the darkness surrounding them, and exhaled heavily. She had never told anyone, and never would, but in the darkness of her room, she felt its power running through her, and yearned to give in to its blind embrace. To escape her difficult life, and to allow it to rule her. She had always ruthlessly suppressed it, refused to let it rule her.
To do so…meant subjugation, and surrender. Not only were those forbidden words in her world, but so another side of her rebelled against that impulse. She would never give in.
She gave in, the King would win.
There came a harsh cawing sound behind her, and she froze. Turning her head slightly, she saw a sleek black raven, sitting perched on a fallen metal bar, watching her with a beady eye.
She frowned, her jaw dropping slightly open. Ravens had been extinct on Earth since…well as long as Eira could remember. It was said that Loki had purposefully had them all hunted down and exterminated, for some reason.
It cawed once more, as Eira turned to face it entirely. She tensed as a shiver ran down her spine at the familiar look in this raven's eye, as it watched her almost…knowingly.
A raven. In New York.
Suddenly, it cawed, as if in farewell, and took flight and she caught her breath as it spread its wings and soared away. Abruptly, the comms unit at her belt buzzed, and she took one last look at the dwindling sight of the bird, before she turned away.
She slipped back down into the tunnels, and walked briskly through the corridors of the base. She felt a familiar presence behind her, and smiled. "Peregrine," she nodded coolly. The archer strode beside her, his rangy muscles tense beneath the dark tunics he wore. She eyed him questioningly. "So, any idea why a gathering has been called?"
A gathering was the name they used for the meetings of the top officers of the Resistance. Eira was the chief medical officer, Peregrine one of the highest ranking combat leaders.
Peregrine shook his head, grimly. He had inherited his ancestors' legendary taciturnity, but Eira was longed used to that. He had basically raised her, after Jaina had died.
"I have my suspicions," he eventually explained. "The King has called for a selection. Apparently, he intends to try again."
Eira swore under her breath. The last selection had been before she was even born.
Loki had been trying, for centuries, to produce offspring that was as long-lived as he, but so far he had failed. His Queens rarely survived their first pregnancy, and even then, the children were mortal. The last Queen, Helena, had died in childbirth, and her child had died with her. That was a century ago.
So Loki wanted another Queen, and another chance at progeny. Eira pitied the poor wretch who was forced into his bed.
But why call a gathering over it? She felt a shudder run down her spine, and tried to tell herself she was just tense from her time on Stark Tower. The sight of the raven had unsettled her.
The pair walked in silence, along the austere corridors, until they reached a wide, almost cavernous chamber. The brickwork of the tunnels was exposed here, and primitive lighting flickered weakly in the shadows above their heads.
The further down into the tunnels, the colder it got. Eira found herself shivering slightly beneath her robe and overcoat, but ignored it. Being cold wasn't exactly a novel sensation in her short life.
Eira had never been exactly sure how old she was. Jaina had been the only one who really cared, and after her death, she had just grown up. Concepts such as birthdays were just fairytales, stories from a gentler time. Peregrine didn't know, and he had only joined the Resistance after Jaina's death. She guessed she was in her mid-twenties, but there were days she felt far older.
Sometimes, she would just look at something, and that feeling would steal over her. A feeling of knowledge and longevity. And then there was her…magic.
It had always been instinctual. She had no knowledge of learning, or of practicing her skills, she just knew. She just knew.
Suddenly desperate to break the silence, she glanced to Peregrine and caught his eye. "I saw a raven up on Stark Tower," she breathed softly.
"A raven, huh? You sure?" he asked, a slight smile breaking up the grimness of his face, crow's feet just starting to make their mark at his eyes. "Well, I'll be damned."
A group of people waited for them at the far end of the chamber, around a large, functional table. The pair nodded to the group, respectfully, and to the man sitting at the far end.
A man named Hall had led the Resistance for as long as Eira could remember. He was tall, dark-skinned and bald. Dull brown eyes watched them come closer, calculatingly, enough to make Eira want to shift under his gaze.
"About time," he rumbled. "If you'd be so kind to sit, Romanov, Haden?"
Haden had been Jaina's surname, and she had given it to Eira.
Eira and Peregrine glanced at one another uneasily, before taking seats on either side of the table. Once everyone was settled, Hall sat up and got to the point.
"The King is calling a selection. We know he means to take a bride and continue his attempts to produce an immortal heir," he began. "This is our chance."
"What shall we do?" one of the others asked, leaning forward onto their elbows. "Security will be tight, too tight for an assault."
Hall shook his head. "Not an assault, but an assassin," he replied gravely, his deep voice rumbling through them all. Eira breathed a secret sigh of relief; she did not relish the idea of a slaughter. One casualty was enough. "Loki would be expecting an attack, so we go in another way."
A chill went down Eira's spine, as Hall's eyes met hers, and she could have sworn they turned gold for one moment. She blinked, and the vision faded.
"You want to send in an assassin among the brides," she murmured. Hall nodded, as muttering erupted around the table.
"It can't just be anyone," he continued. "She has to be attractive enough to get close to the King. And able to duck suspicion."
Eira felt Peregrine tense beside her, and knew what was coming. Hall's eyes turned to her. "Eira, would you volunteer?" he asked. The table exploded, as several others protested her going, either because of her abilities as a healer, or on account of her beauty, or lack thereof.
"It will be simple," Hall called over the ruckus. "Get in, kill Loki. The war will be over; the Earth will be free once more. Is that not what we have all fought for, for so long?"
His piercing gaze circled them all, and Eira felt the jaws of the trap draw shut. With a stiff nod, she agreed.
"We have four weeks. You're not to go out on retrieval anymore, and you're to receive double rations to get some weight back on you," Hall told her firmly. "You're dismissed."
Eira paced the small square that made up her room, running her hands through her hair. Her head whirled, and she could barely think. Peregrine sat on the bed, watching her.
"You can't do it, Eira," he told her quietly. "You're no killer, no assassin. You're a healer!"
"I know that, Peregrine!" she snapped, still pacing, her grey robe flaring with each movement. "But I have no choice. Hall's given this to me, and if I succeed, the war will end. We can set the people free."
"It's a suicide mission, Eira," Peregrine shook his head. "Loki's palace is filled with his forces, Chitauri and mutant. Escape will be almost impossible; and that's if you even succeed in killing him. You're not a killer, Eira."
"How long have we been fighting, Peregrine?" she asked, turning to him, head high, jaw firm and her arms folded. She seemed to shine with an inner light, regal and commanding, and he sighed. "Seven hundred years! Seven centuries, the Resistance has fought and died to free our people. We have a chance at ending this; I have a chance at ending this. Isn't one life worth that?"
"You're too young for that kind of talk," he replied heatedly. She rolled her eyes.
"We don't even know exactly how old I am," she countered, before taking his hands and pressing a kiss to them. "Peregrine, I am doing this. I will kill the King, and there is nothing you can do to stop me or dissuade me. So instead of arguing, help me!"
"I didn't promise Jaina I would take care of you just to watch you throw your life away!" he replied, a shadow of old pain rising in his eyes. Eira sighed, and turned away. "And what of your…gift? What if Loki senses it and takes you?"
Eira felt herself go cold at that notion, but she forced it away and stood tall. "That is a risk I'll have to take," she replied coldly. "I would rather die than let him take me."
"Spoken like a brave idiot," Peregrine shook his head. He looked away, and sighed. "I can't do this. I can't watch you kill yourself and pretend it's ok."
He left her room, and Eira closed her eyes. She backed up and sat on her bed, burying her head in her hands. God, what was she getting herself into?
She thought of the King's cold jade eyes, seen in video footage, and shuddered.