Disclaimer: I own nothing! Kudos to Marvel and JK Rowling, etc...
"Go, Captain. I'll take care of the Red Skull. Just stop this aeroplane before it reaches the States," Harry said over the roar of the engines and wind before turning to chase down the Red Skull who twisted towards the back of the craft.
"Harry!" Rogers shouted as the thin youth, no the young man, was just about to disappear after the Skull. The shaggy-haired, green-eyed man glanced over his shoulder. "Don't forget. You promised your girl that you would make it back," Steve reminded his friend, a twinge of resigned worry in his voice.
Despite the fact that he had more cuts and bruises than Steve had ever seen him with, Harry gave a jaunty salute before he ran around the corner.
Once out of sight, Harry apparated towards the belly of the ship only to appear just in time to see the Red Skull grab for the glowing blue cube in the bomb bay. The cube that gave him so much power. And gave the Allies so much trouble.
"Over my dead body," Harry muttered, diving at the Skull. The tackle knocked the Nazi into a support beam, and Harry crushed him there with all his weight.
The Skull battered at Harry's head with leather gloved fists. The pain didn't matter. All that mattered was to keep the Skull occupied and away from the Cube.
Luckily, Harry had always been a bit of a scrapper when it came down to it. Unluckily, it seems that the Skull still had a gun. Slowly, they parted as he pointed the pistol at Harry's heart.
The red faced creature, who was once a man, grinned at Harry. The wide, malicious mouth of teeth reminded Harry of another creature who was once a man, and he grimaced. "I applaud your effort, young soldier, but I shall win!"
He reached over for the Cube. Harry felt his skin crawl with the need to do something. Anything.
He glanced over and noticed one of the bomb doors, open and revealing nothing but clouds. He could just hear Hermione telling him 'Don't you dare!' and Ginny yelling at him while Ron would be trying to figure out how to help him and stop him all at the same time. After all, he was good at stupid heroics.
Ignoring the gun, he jumped at the Skull just as he grabbed the Cube and wrapped his arms around the HYDRA leader's waist. His momentum sent them flying through the air and towards Harry's goal.
As they flew through the door, now each with a hand on the Tesseract, Harry glanced up to see Steve's horror stricken face just before Harry, the Red Skull, and the Tesseract disappeared into the clouds.
The Skull was screaming, denial and pain and fury carrying his voice all the way back to the plane, but all Harry felt was guilt. He was breaking a promise. I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm so sorry. I won't be coming back this time. Harry thought just as they struck the icy cold water of the Atlantic Ocean. It felt like hitting a wall and then there was a large flash of blue light. Then darkness. Then nothing at all.
Young Loki followed his brother, Thor, as they went to visit with Heimdall. The guardian of the Bifrost was a thrilling storyteller and promised to finish a tale he had started the day before when the two children stopped by in their exploration.
However, there was something wrong. Loki could feel it. Something was coming. A bright blue flash of light filled the sky to the point that Loki's eyes burned with the brilliance of it. He flung his arms up, protecting his sight, and he could hear his brother give a cry not of pain but of startlement and a hint of fear.
As suddenly as it came, the light was gone. When Loki uncovered his eyes, he saw no danger. The Bifrost is as it was supposed to be, still bright and full of shifting light. But Heimdall exited the Observatory, concern in his golden, all-seeing eyes. Beside him, Thor looked around, eyes still bleary and wide, searching for danger.
However, what caught Loki's attention was not from something missing or something that moved but rather a strange, still lump that had appeared in the middle of the Bifrost.
"Thor, summon your father," Heimdall ordered as he neared the strange addition to the Rainbow Bridge.
Ignoring Thor as he ran towards Asgard, bellowing for Odin, Loki followed warily behind the guardian, his yet untrained magic at the ready for any sign that they were in danger.
However, as they got closer, he could see it was a person. A badly wounded young man.
His strange clothes were in tatters, soaking through with blood that slowly pooled around him. His hand burned to the bone as if he had held a bolt of lightning in it.
Without thought, Loki knelt by the stranger, ignoring Heimdall's warnings, and placed his hands over the bleeding and charred flesh.
He remembered his mother's recent lessons of healing magic and let the energies flow through him and into the man's body. Slowing the bleeding and easing the pain from his wounds. It was all he could do for now. He wasn't strong like his mother who could heal with the barest of effort.
Loki heard the heavy feet of his father and several guards. He got to his feet, tucking his hands behind his back, head bowed, as he worried if he had done the wrong thing, helping the stranger.
His father placed a warm hand on his head. Looking up, Odin looked at him fondly before turning his attention to the wounded man.
"Has he said anything?" Odin asked Heimdall.
"No, my King. He has yet to stir."
"What realm is he from?" Odin asked, kneeling next to the unconscious stranger, studying his unusual clothing as well as his wounds.
"I do not know, my King. He came in a flash of blue light that was blinding, even to my eyes," Heimdall replied, uncertain as to how he could have missed such an event.
Just then, the man groaned. His eyes fluttered open and he tried to rise onto all fours before fully conscious. Blood dripped from open wounds but at a much slower rate thanks to Loki's ministrations.
"Easy, boy. Where are you from?" Odin asked gently, placing a calming hand on the man's shoulder.
The man spun to face him as if stung. His wounded hand raised to ward off attack. He fell back onto his other arm and slid himself further away, scrambling with his remaining limbs.
Only after he had some distance did he realize that they were not following him. Cautiously, he glanced around. His eyes widened as he took in the people around him and an audible gasp fell from his lips as he stared at the star filled skies around him and the colorful pulsing bridge under him.
"This isn't real..." The man uttered before trying to rake his injured hand through his shaggy black hair only to hiss in pain and cradle the offended limb to his chest.
"I thought death meant no more pain," he murmured between clenched teeth.
"You aren't dead. At least not yet. You need healing. We mean no harm, boy. Who are you? Where did you come from?" Odin asked again, eyeing the stranger with his one good eye.
The man stared at Odin as if seeing him for the first time. "Are you Nazis? Americans? You aren't Brits that's for sure. If you're Hydra just kill me now. I'm not talking," the man stated with a glare of suspicion.
"We know not of these Nazis or Americans. You are in Asgard." Heimdall offered, watching the man for any sign of intent to harm his king.
"Asgard? But that is just myth. A story told through the years to children." The man argued, disbelief written all over his bloodied features. However, wonder creeped in as he studied his surroundings even closer. "It is a fairy tale, isn't it?"
"You can decide for yourself when you have been healed and have rested. We will talk then." Odin declared gesturing for his men to assist the stranger who was quickly losing what strength his surprise had given him. Before the guards even neared him, the man had already sunk back down onto the bridge. His breathing haggard and he was fighting to stay awake.
Loki stepped forward as the guards slung the man over their shoulders. "My mother will help you," he offered.
The young man watched him with heavy lids. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips before he lost consciousness altogether.
Odin watched his wife and her fellow healers as they tended the young man. His wounds were numerous and he would have died on the Bifrost if his youngest had not thought so quickly and slowed his bleeding.
His burned hand may yet be saved but it will take many sessions before they will know for certain.
His wife did tell him that the boy's eyes were naturally weak but were being enhanced through magic. A little work on her part and he will no longer need the spell that corrected his vision, taking away the toll it was having on his body now that he was so weak.
He being a magic user was interesting and made the king that much more curious about the stranger and where he was from.
He had not heard of anyone who did not believe in the existence of Asgard.
Was it possible that this man was not from the known realms?
Note from the writer: As promised, here is the first chapter of my new story. Updates will be sporadic due to other commitments (school, work, internship, blah blah blah). This is NOT part of the Grim series.
I would like to thank the amazing person who is helping me flesh this idea out: S.T. Nickolian you are amazing! Much love, my dear. *glomp*