The sun shone brightly on the harbor, reflecting patches of light off the glittering water and golden architecture. A soft breeze danced through to ruffle the leaves on the trees. With a sight like this, an atmosphere like this, you could forget almost anything. Cassandra allowed her eyes to close as she leaned forward into the stone railing, the only thing keeping her from simply falling into the water below—though, she wouldn't be opposed to it. The way it gleamed was almost ethereal.
For a minute, she could let her shoulders relax. Force her jaw to unclench. Take a slow, deep breath to replenish her parched lungs. But, most importantly, she could let herself hope. And for the briefest of moments, it was as though all was at peace. Then, a female voice called into her ears. A brow instinctively began to raise as her eyelids fluttered open and, as she turned her head to look, her features fell slack with disbelief. A woman approached Thor and Jane, not far to Cassandra's right, from inside the building.
Her blonde locks were as gold as Thor's, brought up in braids and buns while simultaneously cascading down her back. It complimented the utterly wise appearance of her features, the blue in her eyes illuminated in the pale blue fabric pulled over her shoulders—she looked so regal, so graceful descending the steps toward them. Cassandra knew, deep down, but the thought of the woman's name brought a lump to her throat that refused to be swallowed.
"Cassandra, please, come meet my mother," Thor gestured happily for Cassandra. The movement—and, more specifically, the name—drew the woman's eyes right to Cassandra's face, and her features stiffened, although her eyes remained bright. And, somehow, Cassandra knew. She recognized her, too. But it didn't feel as surprising to either of them as it was starting to feel for Thor.
"Cassandra," the woman spoke her name, and she couldn't help but take a step toward her. "It is such a pleasure to finally meet you. I feel as though I already know you."
"Likewise, your majesty. Loki spoke fondly of you," Cassandra gave a small nod in an attempt to be respectful as she came to stand a handful of feet from them all.
But the woman's smile returned, just as warm as it had been before, as she took steps toward Cassandra. She reached out and took Cassandra's hands in hers, surprising her nearly enough to startle, but she held still. "Please, dear, call me Frigga," the woman spoke gently, looking kindly into Cassandra's eyes.
Cassandra was thoroughly taken aback by the gesture. She wondered, in the back of her mind, just what Thor could've said to Frigga to cause such a reaction to meeting her. But if it was anything like how Loki had spoken to her of Frigga, it wasn't surprising at all. The thought sparked warmth in the left of her chest. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she felt no real urge to look away. Frigga's hands were warm and careful in their grip, holding them close unabashedly.
She didn't want to spoil the truly sweet moment with a woman she'd once hoped would be her mother-in-law someday, but Cassandra's peace was quickly fading, and the mad woman had returned to nag at her. It was like she could feel the tapping on her shoulder, the warm breath on her ear. The pleading, the begging, the demanding. "I can't imagine how hard this past year has been for you," Cassandra began, albeit a bit timidly. "But there's something you should know-"
It was then that Frigga interrupted, retaining her calm demeanor and gentle voice despite the stereotypical rudeness of the action, "I know what you've come here to do, and I fully support your efforts. I will help you in any way that I can."
"T-thank you," Cassandra forced out the words, stammering in surprise.
"Loki has spoken fondly of you as well, and I can see his praise is just," Frigga smiled at her and reached up a hand, briefly brushing Cassandra's cheek with the pads of her fingers in a gesture, before sidestepping and turning to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Though, I'm afraid it must wait until we've dealt with the matter at hand. Thor has told me of your gifts. Can you destroy the Aether?"
Frigga took steps toward Thor and Jane, bringing Cassandra with her, and she didn't have the heart to protest—not with the gentle tremble in her knees. But Cassandra shook her head as a nervous chuckle bubbled its way up her throat. "No. I mean, I really don't think so. Negotiating with it is one thing, but destroying it? That takes way more power than I have," she answered her honestly.
"What about the mind control? You told me you were the one that freed your brother's mind by destroying the energy that caused it," Jane pointed out.
Cassandra again shook her head, "That was on an extremely smaller scale, and it was very difficult. Something like this…I'm not strong enough."
Not strong enough, or too scared to try? She couldn't tell anymore. As a teen, she'd done something once thought impossible with her mutation, but that was so long ago. Even with her experience with the Tesseract—could she trust her abilities to attempt such a feat? "You don't give yourself enough credit, Cassandra," Thor spoke then, drawing her eyes. He was earnest in his assessment of her capabilities, features more than sure. "I've seen what you can do with my own eyes. You controlled the Tesseract. It was brief, but you did it. You're strong enough."
Cassandra stared up at him quietly for a moment. Did a god just correct her when she claimed weakness? Of course, Thor was kind. He would say those things to be polite, would he not? Then again, he wasn't a liar. Either way, it was genuinely empowering to hear such praise from someone like him. And although the spark of confidence given was small, it existed—and that was all she needed. But it was then a distant sound cut through the calm of the atmosphere. It startled her hard enough to lurch, twisting quickly on her feet to see over her shoulder to find where it came from.
The sound continued, a kind of alarm. Frigga and Thor knew it all too well. "The prisons," Frigga said, glancing toward her son.
"Loki," Thor worried.
"Go," Frigga told him. "I will look after Jane."
Cassandra's gut tensed as urgency swelled within her chest. "Thor-!"
She'd meant to ask him—beg, if she had to—to take her with him. Or, at the very least, tell her where the dungeon was in order to find her way there herself. However, Thor was already reaching for her, his fingers encircling her wrist to pull her along as he began bounding away. She was tugged with him suddenly, but her feet quickly fell into step as they raced up a short set of stone stairs.
The top opened to a small overlook facing the palace. Still, Thor kept running. "Hold on," he said, a step before the railing. Cassandra had mere seconds to register what they were about to do. Though, instinctually, she followed the path, leaping up onto the railing to push off. Her arms wrapped around Thor's torso like a koala to a tree branch as the floor disappeared from beneath them and Thor held out his hand. In a second, Mjölnir arrived in his palm.
However, the hammer continued on toward the palace, lurching Thor and Cassandra through the air along with it. She couldn't help but shriek at the sudden increase of speed, but Thor didn't truly notice. He was focused on the new task before him, battle ready if the need should arise. There was no telling what kind of mess he was flying into—and bringing Cassandra into, as well. The wind rushed through Cassandra's ears until that was all she could hear. She didn't dare look down.
Even though the flight was short-lived, she was more than relieved to be done with it once Thor's boots braced their landing against the stone floor of the dungeon stairs. Their arrival was a shock to the prisoners running to escape, their landing spot blocking the exit. The prisoners stopped as quickly as they could, halfway up the stairs, and Cassandra was swift in detaching herself from Thor. "Return to your cells, no further harm will come to you, you have my word," Thor attempted to reason with the escapees.
Though, it was then that another prisoner thrusted himself forward from the right, his fist connected with Thor's jaw with a hollowing thudding, and Thor didn't hesitate to pin the man's head between his hand and Mjölnir. "Very well," he said, angrily. "You do not have my word." He then hit the prisoner with the hammer hard enough to send him flying back, but a second prisoner wrapped his arms around Thor's middle from behind, pinning him almost immediately.
Cassandra raised her hands toward the other prisoners coming toward them and heat flowed into her palms like molten lava. Energy erupted from the skin, taking shape in purple bursts, aglow and sparking like a bolt of lightning as it surged toward its intended target. Each bolt seared through the armor worn by the escapees. It was easy to generate such intense blasts with the power of the forcefields nearby. Siphoning some energy away left plenty behind for their intended use, but it gave Cassandra all but unlimited ammunition. She was simply a conduit for the destruction now.
But it was better that way—the people here were stronger and naturally required more force to subdue. Then, out of the corner of her eye, her senses grabbed hold of movement with the hairs at the nape of her neck stood upright and a sharp tingle down her spine like pop rocks on a tongue. Instinctively, she turned her head to look. And although she turned nearly fast enough to snap her own neck, it left only a fraction of a second to make a judgment, causing her to rely purely on reflex to save her skin.
She'd done it plenty of times before, but now a sword was being swung for her neck. Her torso bent, feet shuffling in a startled lurch, and a brief wind tugged at the hair tied behind her head. The weapon missed her narrowly. When Cassandra righted herself, she lifted a hand—before she could aim the energy, her heel slipped off the edge of the landing. The sole of her foot stammered to the step below, taking her balance with it, and the barbarian before her hefted a boot. It was in the second between surprise and anguish that the force of the hit, connecting roughly with her torso, pushed her a little harder than she anticipated.
Her body took flight as it was sent over the height of the remaining stairs. Four feet later, her right shoulder blade hit the floor with the entire weight of her body, and her sweater threatened to choke her as the force of it all caused her to skid an extra three inches before completely stopping. Almost immediately, a fiery pain erupted from her shoulder and her features contorted, mouth opening to cry out but no sound was strong enough to escape. For a moment, there was silence—not a sound could be heard over the incessant ringing in her ears.
Still, adrenaline remained, awareness of the situation never quite leaving her subconscious enough to stay down very long. Against the wailing of her body, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and she lulled. Gentle warmth blossomed beneath her nose but she didn't bother checking. It was blood. And even still, she wound herself back on her tail bone despite the tremble of her arms. All around her, bodies blurred in every direction as the fight continued unaware. Atop the stairs, Thor swung Mjölnir at the escapee who got the better of Cassandra, rendering the man unconscious with a single blow to the head.
It was satisfying to see, even in her disoriented state. Though, Cassandra continued, winding back before thrusting forward—and her body bent to flip upright with a brief balance on her palms. Once again on her feet, her head swirled from the exertion, and she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand as the warmth touched her lips. "Are you alright?" Thor shouted over the noise.
She nodded, sniffling hard, and she tasted copper. "I'm good!"
He could see her then. A gentle glow coloring her gold through the lens of the forcefield before his eyes—but he could see her. First, his chest swelled with a storm of positive emotions. Relief, excitement, and the return of an unbridled yearning. But it was quick to morph into something more sinister, flurries of terror and concern raining down on his head like hot coals.
It was enough to snap his book closed with a hollow clap and force him to his feet by the corner. Why was she there? How was she there? And why was she being dragged into this mess of a prison break? Even as he thought that final question, her hands rekindled their lavender flames of energy and she set them loose on any escaping prisoner in her vicinity. But he could see the smeared red even through the field of shimmering gold and it pulled tightly at something deep within his chest.
Cassandra was resilient when she needed to be. Though, it wasn't natural. It was a skill formed over time and molded to perfection by one hard hit after another like a blacksmith shapes a blade. It didn't sharpen her—it simply instilled the will to continue. A bitter and stubborn urge to get up. Maybe some of it was genetic? After all, Logan was the poster child for getting up when knocked down. Or, perhaps, he was just an example for the mentality? Either way, it was unhealthy, she knew—but what choice did she have?
Every situation she'd ever been forced to get up from left a threat to someone she loved, and that was not something she could stomach to ignore. She'd much rather the pain of tomorrow come in full force with the sunrise than risk losing someone irreplaceable. However, it wasn't a trait unique to her alone. All the X-Men youth learned this over time. Being forced to defend life with prejudice since childhood will do that to a person.
It was the only explanation for her standing now. For her teeth clenching against the pain of using her shoulder so hard she was afraid, deep down, that her jaw might get stuck. Purple whipped from the skin of her palms in harsh bursts, aiming at any target she could lay her eyes on. Of course, she had to be careful not to send one too close to Thor—or the other two fighters on their side. They were a bit deeper into the dungeon when she'd first arrived, and there was not enough time to get a good look at them.
Still, they were fighting escapees just as she and Thor, so she assumed they were fighting together. In the mess, they were vaguely familiar in their basic descriptions, and they weren't dressed quite like the other Einherjar. She tried to recall the names of the Warriors, but the memory slipped away into the fog at the back of her mind, pulsating with a dull ache as warmth returned beneath her nose. It was then that she turned on her heels and pushed deeper into the crowded dungeon hall.
This was enough. Her body had taken enough. "Coming through!" she shouted, willing the words to reach the other two fighters sporadically placed in the hall. The phrase barely touched their ears enough to comprehend, causing their heads to turn in question at the earliest opportunity. But by then Cassandra's knees buckled, knee caps hitting hard against the solid floor just the same as her splayed palms. At the contact, lavender wisps erupted in a pulse along the texture of the floor in a wave that shimmered—before it burst from the ground in purple tentacles.
The purple flared up beneath the remaining escapees, splashing at them with harsh heat, and the shock reached their chests as a distinct burning settled into Cassandra's. Every escapee floundered like a fish out of water only a moment before collapsing, their weapons clattering to the ground. The energy dispersed, only a few stray sparks lingering behind in the air to show for its existence, and Cassandra sat back on her heels with a heaved breath. "Ah! You must be Cassandra!" one of the other fighters spoke up around labored breathing, though just a little too excited to wait.
A cough forced its way up her throat then, harsh and dry and graveled, and it felt like her throat just might close up. So, she simply held up a thumb despite the tremble of her arms and sat aside, relaxing further into the floor. Thor was quick to descend the stairs, taking longer strides to reach her in a matter of seconds. "Cassandra, are you alright?" he questioned her a second time, kneeling beside her as his hand came to rest at her shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
Still, she stubbornly shook her head. "Just need a minute."
"Fandral—what is happening? How did all of the prisoners escape?" Thor looked up at the fighter that had spoken first, drawing Cassandra's pain-squinted eyes in the man's direction. Fandral. Fandral. He was one of the legendary Warriors Three. It made all too much sense looking at him now.
He was lean, the locks of blonde hair atop his head stuck to his skin with sweat from the recent fighting, yet still he retained a certain charm. It was distinct and hard to describe, but it was ever present. Fandral and the other fighter—whom she could only assume was Volstagg, from the curve of his armor and the seemingly endless mess of red hair reaching his shoulders—approached them, coming to stand just two feet away. "We're not quite sure yet," Fandral answered, honestly.
Cassandra couldn't help but tune out Thor's next words. She bent forward, holding her head in her hands at the temples as her elbow braced against her thighs, when a wave of dizziness and ache rushed through her skull. It created an uncomfortable kind of pressure. The ringing in her ears hadn't completely disappeared, lingering in the depths of her eardrums somewhere, and it worsened with the sudden pain. Clearly, she'd hit her head a little harder than she originally assumed.
But now was not the time to let it fester. Though, did she really have a choice? It was then, through the pressure and the ringing and the burning, that a voice pierced the bubble of her misery, bringing sound back with it.
"Is she alright?"
Her heart thudded against her rib cage in a rabid leap as she gasped in a breath and she sat upright, hands falling to the floor to balance as she haphazardly turned herself enough to look, her wide eyes searching frantically. However, she needn't look but a few seconds. There he stood behind a haze of translucent gold, peering down at them from his confinement. Thoughts of vanity entered her mind—a bout of anxiety worrying over her appearance—but it was swiftly replaced by an overwhelming, almost nauseating wave of relief.
"Loki." Cassandra breathed his name like a hopeful exhale and the left side of his chest swelled beneath the unbothered nature of his demeanor. She wasn't sure what she expected seeing him again would feel like. Still, somehow, this was so different. Part of her wanted to run to him, hold on, and refuse to let go. Another felt a strong urge to slap him across the face. His innocence couldn't explain why he'd left her the way that he did, with nothing but a shirt and the knife in her back to prove he was ever there.
That was something that hadn't crossed her mind when trying to get here. Sure, he was alive—but did he even still love her? All of this and more washed over her features as she finally got a look at him after all this time. It was as if nothing and everything changed at once. Loki held his breath as she stared up at him so silently. All the things he wanted to say stayed tucked inside his throat. How could he voice them with Thor and the Warriors so close?
The dungeon shook, rumbling with a hard lurch that trembled the solid ground, and wisps of rock dust streamed from the ceiling. It was so sudden that, for a second, she genuinely thought that she'd imagined it. Then she looked at Thor, and his expression of dread soured her tongue, the confirmation like a brick sunk to the bottom of her gut. Quickly, Thor looked at Cassandra once again. "Can you sense what's happening above us?" he questioned her, a strong sense of urgency overcoming his words.
"I don't- I don't know," she fought for a coherent answer, the turn of events scattering her thoughts to the four winds amongst the trauma inflicted on her head. "I can try. Hold on."
A bit hesitant, Cassandra placed her palm against the floor. Energy surged through her like a bug caught in a zapper, stabbing like needles along her arm, and she lurched away instinctively. But pulling away her hand didn't stop the painful sensation. She cradled her hand, arm pinned against her chest as she shook her head quickly. Thor's hand squeezed her shoulder carefully, but appreciatively, before he stood to his full height. "It has to be the Dark Elves," he theorized aloud.
"Find Jane," Cassandra forced the words out as she craned her neck to look up at the god of thunder. "If something happens to her- Thor, you have to get up there."
"I can't just leave you here. Not like this," Thor gave a shake of his head. Though, he felt her words deep in his gut. Jane was certainly in trouble if what he suspected was true—but how could he abandon Cassandra in such an ill state?
Cassandra groaned as she pushed against the floor then. Both Thor and Fandral were quick to step forward and reach out, aiding her as she got to her feet, and she attempted a small smile of thanks in the midst of a grimace. "I can do this," she nodded once, as the men retracted their hands.
"I don't know what kind of mortal you are, but your spirit is admirable," Volstagg finally spoke, a warm voice attached to the warrior exterior.
Though, Cassandra felt a pang of determination hit her square between the eyes. It was the only thing strong enough to will her feet to turn around, carry her up the two stone steps, and stare down Loki in his cell with anything but sympathy. Well, other than blind rage. "Please, Loki, if you know anything…Jane is with your mother. If she's in danger, then so is Frigga. Don't help them—help me," she pleaded with him through a confident tone, waving a hand toward Thor and the Warriors for emphasis at the end. "Jane doesn't deserve to die."
Loki looked down at her over his nose, not even putting in the effort to lower his chin, but his expression was fairly neutral. A better sign than any, she knew. "Take the stairs to the left," he said, with an ever slight tilt of his head in the direction of the stairs, though his eyes never left hers. It was difficult to remain so still, features so unmoving at the sight of her. The sight of her condition.
"Thank you."
Cassandra breathed the genuine thanks before descending the steps and immediately turned for the stairs. She wanted to say that she would be back for him, when all of this calmed down and was settled—even just a whisper beneath her breath to let him know. But she couldn't bring herself to look any longer so strongly. Thor didn't hesitate to fall into step with her in order to wrap an arm around her torso, before resuming a much quicker pace, helping her along beside him.
She haphazardly held onto his shoulders with her uninjured arm and did her best to keep up even with the added support. They traveled up the stairs with Thor all but carrying her. At the top, Cassandra pulled away and gave him a shove, urging him forward. "Go, I'll catch up," she prompted him. Finally, he allowed himself to give into his worry, and nodded once to her before bounding down the golden hallway. In truth, everything was starting to spin.
Yet still, Cassandra moved as quickly as she could alone to follow his path. She kept an eye on where he turned up ahead as to not lose him completely, but he was so much faster. Carefully, she teleported to the end of the hall. Disappearing was quite easy. Reappearing, however, was greeted with a complete loss of balance. Her feet stumbled in the lavender cloud as it dissipated, swaying her to the left, and her shoulder hit the wall. Palm out to brace herself, a mixture of a groan and a whimper escaped her. How hard had she hit her head?
Warmth again at her nose, a gentle swirl to her vision, and her head felt like a cinder block too heavy to carry. But Jane needed her, did she not? She couldn't just stand around while the palace was under attack and her friend's life was at stake. So, she pushed off the wall and stumbled along in the direction she last saw Thor. Though, now, he was completely gone. The hall was uncharacteristically empty, but, there it was—commotion. Gritting her teeth, Cassandra quickened her pace by a step. It didn't sound much farther away.
By the time she found it, it had long dissipated. She'd only haphazardly followed Thor's trail, but it lead her to an open room, a small pool in the center with a balcony on the far wall. Grand doors opened to it from other directions as well as smaller halls. It looked to be a lovely room. However, the first person she noticed was Thor. He was in clear view, standing near the balcony wall with an utterly defeated, heartbroken color to his features.
Then, she followed his eyes—on the ground lay Frigga, eyes closed, and Odin held her carefully as her chest moved only sporadically. The red of his cape matched the crimson pouring through Frigga's blue dress. She was dying. Practically dead. Mortally wounded. And all anyone could do was watch. It was as confusing as it was horrifying. How did this happen? Who hurt her? Couldn't Thor stop them? And, most painfully, did Cassandra's weakness aid his inability to stop his mother's death?