*THIS IS NOT THE FIRST BOOK*
(the first one is called These Two years or something of the sort)
Okay, so first things first.
I changed the *ahem* scene in the apartment on the first fan fiction, and then I changed the scene in the glass room, because I felt it was missing something. So, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's all I changed. I don't know what I'll write now. Maybe I'll do some imagines or something. Maybe I'll go back to writing Fallen Stars or maybe I'll rewrite Noble(again.).
So, anyway, for you reading pleasure,
The Dance Of Freya
quick·sil·ver [kwík sìlvər]
adj
Changing unpredictably: tending to change rapidly and unpredictably
I open my eyes, breathing heavily. Sweat rims my hairline, and I look up at the ceiling, still gripping the covers. My palms are warm with sweat, and I exhale. My heartbeat calms a bit when my eyes fall on the sleeping figure beside me, his back turned to me. I set my hand on his shoulder, and he stirs, turning over to face me.
“Wh-- what is it, love?” he mutters sleepily, pulling the covers up over his bare shoulder. I sigh, sliding my hand under the pillow. He sees the look on my face, and takes my other hand. “Nightmares again?” he whispers, and I nod.
“I don’t know how to stop them,” I say, my eyes rimming with tears. I exhale sharply, and he reaches out, brushing the loose strands of hair from my face.
“Hey,” he breathes. “Come here.” I move closer to him, turning so my back is facing him, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. I finger the ring on his hand, and he kisses the back of my head. I sigh, closing my eyes. I feel safe in his arms, listening to the clock ticking above the doorway.
“It was different, this time,” I say. He is silent for a moment, then he inhales, and yawns.
“I’m listening,” he says, running his fingers through his hair to comb it out of his face. I sigh, gathering my thoughts-- processing what to say.
“It started out like normal,” I begin, closing my eyes to remember better. “We were in the parking lot in front of the HYDRA building, and we were both standing opposite of each other. This time it was us who had the guns, and we, umm, we had to…” I stop for a moment, a lump rising in my throat. I begin to fiddle with the hem of my tank top. “We had to kill each other.
“It was Cotton’s orders, and she said she would kill us anyway. You were mad at me for something I did--” I blinked away the fresh tears that now rose to my eyes. “I don-- I don’t know what it was, but you were angry, and you aimed your gun at me. I had no choice-- I had no choice but to point mine at you, and… and somehow you missed, and in my panic I shot you. I-- I--” I start crying, and he wraps his arms tighter around me. I paused. “And then you fell. I was frozen in my place, and I couldn’t do anything. I watched you die, Pietro! I watched you bleed out in front of me and I did nothing!” I stifled a sob, and Pietro ran his hand down my arm, taking my hand again. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall away.
“Well,” he whispers. “There is nothing whatsoever that you can do that will make me so angry as to want to do that to you.” I sigh, and he wraps his arms back around me. I glance out the window, and see the sun starting to rise over the tall buildings. After a while, his breathing grows heavier, and I know that he has fallen asleep. I curl up in his arms, watching the sunrise.
For around half an hour I lay there, wide awake, staring out the window. Then I slide away from Pietro’s arms, and climb out of the bed, pulling the covers over his shoulders. He grunts softly in his sleep, and I walk out of the room, descending the staircase leading to the kitchen. Once downstairs, I fill a glass with water and sit in a barstool, staring at the rippling liquid. I sigh, looking about, tapping my fingertips against the bar.
“Mrs. Maximoff,” a voice appears, and I look about. Of course, Tony has fixed J. A. R. V. I. S. “You seem upset. May I offer you some chocolate?” He asks, but I shake my head.
“I’m alright, J. A. R. V. I. S.,” I say, and slip from the barstool, walking to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows. I wrapped my sweater tighter about me, and set my hand on the glass in front of me. For thirteen months HYDRA has caused no harm to the Avengers, but the previous happenstances continue to haunt me. I exhale softly, and sit down on one of the sofas. I close my eyes, listening to the constant squeaking of the beds upstairs.
Apparently I had fallen asleep, and I wake to the bright sunlight falling through the windows. I stir, and sit up, looking around. Most of the Avengers are up and about, doing their own things, and I stand.
Pietro comes down the stairs now, and walks to me, placing a soft kiss on my lips. I return it, and he pulls away, walking into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee. I smile, setting my hand on the side of my neck and tilting my head, watching him.
Tony sits on the bar, tapping around on one of his strange devices, and made an image to appear before him.
“So, has anyone else been paying attention to these weird ‘alienic’ sightings that are all over the news?” He asks, and everyone shakes their heads, though with looks of interest on their faces. “Reporters say there’ve been a lot recently.” He shrugged, setting his device down.
“Maybe the Avengers should take a look at it,” Sam says, filling his coffee cup with a glance in Tony’s direction. Stark leans back.
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I think people are paranoid after New York, and think they’re seeing aliens. It’s probably nothing. Hey, they may just be people dressed up as aliens, you know? People do that; I’ve seen it.” He chuckles, and the other Avengers nod, shaking off the thought of more aliens. I bite my lip, and Pietro sits down beside me with his coffee, sliding his arm around me. I pull my knees up, and lean against him.
I shiver, glancing out the window at the clouds gathering over the city. Thunder rumbles from them, and lightning flashes behind them. Suddenly, I stand, and hurry to the window.
“Did you see that?” I gasp, touching the glass with my hand. It is suddenly very cold-- not that it wasn’t cold before, seeing as it is the beginning of spring. But, no, this was much colder, as if the glass was turned to ice. Then the room grows cold, and the lights go out and I wish I had put on a pair of socks. Everyone falls silent.
“What did you see?” Pietro asks quietly, standing.
“Something touched down over there,” I reply, pointing to a spot just at the horizon. “It looked like the Bifrost.”
“Is Thor coming?” Tony asks, and the others shrug.
“If he is,” I say. “Why would he go to the middle of the ocean?”
Thunder shakes the Avengers’ Tower, and everyone is now staring out the window, watching as the light shoots down several more times. I glance at Pietro, sliding my hand into his.
“Should we be worried about this?” I breathe, though no one answers. They only stare out the window as I do. Pietro pulls me before him and wraps his arms around me. The room is still very cold, and I shiver, even feeling his warmth. He breathes against the back of my head, and I set my hands on his arms.
After a while the light stops falling, and the power turns back on in the tower. I sigh, and the Avengers begin to discuss what they’ve seen. I glance up at Pietro, but he remains silent, keeping his gaze on where the lights had hit.
“Someone ought to go and check that out,” Steve says, and Tony turns to him, crossing his arms.
“Would you like to volunteer?” He asks, and Steve shakes his head.
“I meant someone who can fly,” he replies. Tony steps back, raising his brow.
“So you’re volunteering me?” He says, setting his hand on his chest. Again, Steve shakes his head, turning to face Sam, who drops his arms to his sides in a hopeless way.
“Oh, thanks, man,” he says with a shrug. “Sure, I’ll go. I just got to get my suit.” The others nod, and he walks away, chuckling to himself. Tony and Steve glare at each other for a moment, then turn their separate ways. I step away from Pietro, though still hold his hand.
“I want to go with him,” I say, and the others look at me. I turn to Pietro, but he shakes his head. I huff, letting go of his hand. “But if it’s Thor, then there shouldn’t be a problem. I want to go with Wilson.”
“Zoë,” he says, stepping after me with a look of concern in his eyes. “Please don’t. It could be dangerous, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I widen my eyes and furrow my brow.
“I was trained for HYDRA for two years!” I exclaim, hardly noticing the hurt expression on his face. “HYDRA, Pietro, and I don’t think the training was for nothing. I’m perfectly capable to face whatever it is that is out there. I’m not your marionette doll that you can put away whenever there’s a storm!”
“What?” He furrows his brow. “I--”
“No,” I shake my head, raising my hand in defence. “I’m going with Sam. Don’t try and stop me.” I turn away from him, and hurry down the steps after Wilson. I find him in the ‘armoury’ as the Avengers call it, taking out one of his suits. He turns around, and sees me.
“Coming with me?” He asks, and I nod.
“Do you have one of those suits in a smaller size?” I motion to the set of wings folded behind the glass. He chuckles.
“They can be adjusted,” he replies, setting his suit down and opening the container for another. I watch as he tightens some parts of it, and loosens others, glancing at me occasionally. I set my hand on my hips, completely and utterly fascinated by his work. While he alters, I hurry back to my room and change into a black leather outfit, slipping into the boots that matched it. When I returned below, Sam held out the suit to me, then handed it to me, and I took it with a smile of gratitude. He strapped his on, and I did the same with mine. With a nod of satisfaction, he walks back upstairs, with me following.
The Avengers watch us, and I notice Pietro and Wanda speaking quietly with one another. I raise my chin slightly, trailing after Sam, who stops at the door. Then Tony comes to us, holding out his hands.
“Take these,” he says, handing us each a Bluetooth. I slide mine into my ear, and Sam does the same with the other. “Let us know what’s up.” Tony says, crossing his arms, and the two of us nod. Sam opens the door, and I walk out after him, closing it behind us. The cold spring breeze hits my face, and I squint my eyes against it, looking out.
“Tallyho,” he says, and the metal wings behind him spread out, and he lifts off, gliding away. A smile spreads over my face, and, with a glance back at the tower, I leap after him, waiting a moment before opening mine. Then they shoot out, just before my feet graze one of the tall buildings, and I slide my hands into the straps where they belong.
I follow after Wilson, and we head toward where the lights had come from. I wonder if the rest of the city had seen them. I catch up to Sam, and he glances over his shoulder at me. I smile, feeling excitement surge through me. The wind ruffles through my hair, and I spin around, letting out a short laugh.
Sam looks greatly amused by me, and I am greatly amused by flying. I dove down, and then back up, shooting past him. He chuckles when I float back down, and we head out over the ocean.
It takes us roughly thirty minutes to find where the lights had landed. I know this is it, because of the burning trees and melted snow.
It is a small island, with many cliffs and scattered forests. Now, I know what mark the Bifrost leaves, and I know this is what has caused the fires. I land very ungracefully, and stumble to regain my balance. Wilson lands beside me with ease, and his wings folded back behind him.
With difficulty, I closed mine, and kept them so, looking about. The snow that hadn’t been melted rose up to our ankles, but was firm enough under that to hold us up. I don’t know how deep it was beneath us, and I am wary for my footing. We walk in a little further, but see no sign of anyone for a while. I cross my arms and shiver, wishing I had worn something more than this leather. A wintry wind blows through the burning forests, sending the flames to lick out at us. I sigh, watching my breath rise up in a fog before my face. With a glance at Wilson, I continue on, keeping quiet as not to give away our presence. Thunder rumbles above us, and lightning flashes.
It must be Thor, I am sure of it. Why else can there be such weather that came from nowhere. But there is no one around, so we continue further into the island, keeping sharp eyes out for any sign of movement. Once we are a mile inward, something stirs behind one of the trees, and the two of us stop. Lightning flashes behind the clouds, lighting up the grey sky.
“Son of Wil,” comes a deep voice in the forest. His words and his tone give away his identity, and Thor steps out from the shadows. I am surprised to see him without his hammer. He smiles, but there are dark circles under his eyes. “What brings you here?” He asks, and Sam and I both stutter at a loss for words.
“We were just coming to check what was going on here,” I say, and Wilson nods, crossing his arms.
“Oh,” says Thor, swinging his hammer nonchalantly. “’Tis only I… and some friends.” He shrugged.
“So why did you come here and not the Avengers’ tower?” I ask with a tilt of my head. He chuckles, stepping towards us. “That’s where the other Avengers are,” I add, and he nods.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he replies. “But I have someone for you to meet.”
“Meet Freya,” Thor extends his hand to the woods, and a woman steps out. I can’t help but gasp, and in the corner of my eye I can see Sam’s jaw drop. Freya is tall, with a graceful air about her. She doesn’t smile, and her expression remains serious. She takes Thor’s hand, and walks to his side. Her raven black hair flows well past her hips, curling at it’s ends. She brushes it behind her ear, flicking her crystal blue eyes at me and Sam. Her skin is pale, and her dress is whiter than the snow under her bare feet. Her skirt billows out behind her in the wind, shining like diamonds under stars. There is a beautiful sparkling in her eyes, and her hair flows over her shoulders like a waterfall.
I stare in awe, and realise Sam is doing the same. Suddenly she smiles, her red lips parting. I don’t know what to say, or if to say anything at all. Thor smiles at our gaping, and gives a slight chuckle. Freya laughs quietly, with all the softness and melody of a songbird.
“Well?” Thor says, though for a moment I am still at a loss for words. Then I regain my poster, and straighten myself.
“I’m Zoë,” I say, and, not sure what else to do, curtsey slightly. Thankfully, it seems to have been the right thing to do, and she curtseys in response. Thor smiles widely.
“And who is this,” Freya pauses, stepping towards Sam. “Mighty fellow?” I give a short laugh, and he takes her hand and kisses it.
“Sam Wilson,” he introduces, and she smiles, her cheeks darkening. She takes her hand and sets it against her heart.
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet the both of you,” she says, and we nod. I fold my hands behind my back, and she steps back. “I suppose the two of you are wondering why we are so far away from your powerful city of bright lights.” She motions to the now far away New York. I nod, and she smiles, letting her hands loose by her side. “Then we shall take both of you to our camp, and you will see our mission.” There is something in her voice that seems shifty to me. She waves her hand and we follow her into the woods.
We can see through the scattered trees, and for some odd reason I notice that Freya is not leaving any footprints. There is some sort of flowing way about her, and she glances over her shoulder at us with a smile. I slide my hands into my pant pockets.
“You think we can trust her?” I ask, and for a moment, he doesn’t seem to hear me. I roll my eyes. Yes, I was quite mesmerised by her beauty, but at least I have control over my own head. I poke him. “Sam.”
“What?” He turns to me, and I slump my shoulders. Of course he didn’t hear me. He was staring at Freya. I don’t trust her.
“Do you think we should trust her?” I repeat, and he turns back to watch her.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I think she can be trusted.” I cross my arms, and part my lips to speak, but before I can make a sound, we step out of the woods and are now standing in front of a large camp. The people walking to and fro there look like people you would see in a medieval movie-- they are tall, with flowing hair, pale skin, and white robes. And there are nigh a hundred of them. I drop my hands at my sides, and Thor motions to the camp.
“Hither, hither!” He exclaims. “This is where we camp. Come, we shall show you in.” I blink slowly, then nod, following the two of them down the slope of the hill to the camp. I’m careful to keep my feet as we descend, and the snow slides under every step. Freya glides before us with ease, stepping into the camp even before we have reached the bottom of this steep slope.
Sam, once at the bottom, helps me the rest of the way down, and we follow Thor and Freya into the camp. The people therein glance occasionally at us, but say naught.
“This way,” Freya motions to us, and we follow her into the largest of the tents gathered there. I look around before entering at the tail end, and then drop the flap once I am in. The tent is extremely large, with a table laden heavily with food on the far side, and a round table in the middle with several maps and scrolls. As the other three speak quietly amongst each other, I walk to the maps, and look over them.
“Yes, yes,” comes a voice, and a tall figure enters the tents. He turns around, and stops, seeing our company. Ah, I think. This must be Thor’s brother. He comes further in, sighing and folding his hands before him. He doesn’t look at Freya, but turns to Thor.
“Loki,” Thor says, glancing up from his conversations. “Why come you here?” Loki laughs briefly, walking past me, tapping his fingers against the round table I stand beside.
“Odin,” he replies. “He sends me to ask you something.”
“Well, spit it out, brother,” Thor says, and Freya sets her hand on his shoulder. Loki flicks his eyes at her for a short moment, then immediately turns back to Thor.
“He wonders what your business is on Midgard,” he says, an uneasy look on his face. Thor nods.
“My business is whatever Freya’s business is,” he replies. Loki’s eyes darken at her name mentioned, but he nods.
“Very well,” he says. “I shall return to Asgard. Farewell.” He turns to leave, but Freya advances towards him, and he stops. I step back from standing between them, and cross my arms.
“Why don’t you stay, Loki?” She asks, and he furrows his brow.
“I have business elsewhere,” he replies, stepping back. She reaches out and touches his hand, but he pulls away. “Don’t touch me,” he snaps, and she looks hurt. Tears rim her eyes, and she glances down.
“Loki,” Thor scolds. “Do not be so cruel to her. She is delicate, can you not see this.”
“Do not speak to me of delicate, brother,” Loki hisses, and turns swiftly, leaving the tent. I look over at Sam, who shrugs. Freya returns to him, and takes his hand. I take a step forward, letting my hands loose at my side.
“We don’t need him, then,” she says. “Besides, I have you, so what demand is there for Loki?” Then she straightens, and presses her lips against the side of his face, moving her hand up his arm. Stepping back, she watches as he collapses to the ground at her feet. I gasp, staggering back.
“What--” I stutter, and she looks at me.
“To take over the world,” she says. “One must eliminate those guarding it-- in this case, the Avengers. Therefore, what better way than to turn them all against each other. Let them kill one another, and I will get rid of the last one standing.” I gasp, turning to Thor. But he only stood behind her. “Thor, get rid of her,” Freya says, and he turns to me, walking past her. He’s her puppet, I realise, and hurry from the tent. Loki was wise to leave when he did.
I hear Thor’s running footsteps coming after me, and I let out my wings. I sprint away from the camp, and jump off of one of the cliffs, sliding my hands into their straps. I look over my shoulder, and see Thor standing there in the snow, watching me. Then he turned back to the tent, and entered it. I smile slightly, hovering where I am.
Then suddenly, Wilson bursts from the tent, spreading his wings out. He jumped after me, and I screamed, scrambling to get away. But he is the better flier than I am, and he catches up to me.
He grabs my shoulder, and kicks me down under him. I spiral downward towards the water, and try and make the wings carry me up. But before I can gather control over them, I hit the icy ocean, and fall beneath the surface. At once I feel frozen as if I cannot move, but I force my feet to kick, and I slowly make my way back to the top. Once my head is above the water, I look up, and see Wilson plummeting towards me. I swim hurriedly to the side of the island, and grab hold of it, ducking away from his swings. I climb out of the water, flapping the wings to dry them off.
Wilson comes at me again, and I run uphill, slipping on the snow that turns to ice under me. I leap from another cliff, and glide away, glancing at Sam, who is still pursuing me. He snatches at me, but I slam my boot against his face, and he spirals away. I take the gun from my holster, and shoot several rounds into his wings, breaking several holes in the metal. He slams into the snow on the island, and I quickly fly away, heading back to New York.
“Tony! Tony!” I shout, stumbling to land on the balcony. I shakily fold my wings into their place behind me, and hurry through the door. I unbuckle the straps from around me and the suit falls to the ground. Pietro, having been sitting on one of the couches, stands, and advances toward me. But he keeps his distance, and I barely glance at him, hurrying to Stark, who sets down his coffee cup.
“Where’s Sam?” Steve asks, also standing from where he had been sitting. I stop to catch my breath.
“Thor--” I gasp, sitting down on one of the barstools. “Thor is there, but he’s under some sort of spell. There was this girl-- she was beautiful-- and she got Sam. She has him under her control and I--” I pause, swallowing hard. “He tried to kill me.”
“Did you kill him?” Steve asks, and I shake my head.
“No,” I nod my thanks to Pietro when he hands me a warm towel, which I wrap up in. “But I left him on the island. The girl said she was going to take over the world.” I sigh, sitting back and pulling the towel tighter around me. Tony gives an irritated look, tapping his fingers on the bar.
“I wish aliens would leave earth alone,” he says, and the others agree. “But, seeing as they won’t, we have to send them back to their world-- teach them a lesson. So we’ll send someone to get Sam back, and then we’ll all go as a team.”
“I volunteer,” Steve says, raising his hand. Again, Stark looks irritated, and shakes his head.
“No,” he says. At first, I think he may be concerned for Steve’s safety, but then he adds, “it’ll take you forever to get there. We need someone super fast.” He turns and looks at Pietro, who’s hands fly up in defence.
“I can’t run on water,” he argues.
“Well, someone has to do something!” I exclaim, crossing my arms. “Why don’t we all just up and go? Sam needs someone to save him from-- whatever this is we’re up against. I don’t want to leave him to her.” The Avengers remain silent, casting glances to each other.
“You may have no choice.”
A voice behind me startles me, and I turn around. Loki is standing there, a strange look in his eyes. He sighs, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I know who it is you are up against,” he says, walking to stand beside me and face the other Avengers. “Her name is Freya. She’s the goddess of beauty and love, and… anyway, she has a very… persuasive power. She has this way of seducing you-- making you fall in love with her.”
“How do you know this?” Steve asks.
“Because I was once under her spell,” he replies solemnly. “I trusted her, but I was a fool to misplace my reliance. She takes those who love her-- be it true love or spellbound-- and only uses them. They bend to her every will, and if they try and go against her…” he stops, glancing down. “I’ll just say that their fate is cut short.”
“But you said you were under her spell,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. “If what you say is true, why were you not killed?” He gives a harsh laugh.
“I’m rather skilled with magic tricks,” he replies, growing serious. “But her actions are not games, and she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals. Mainly-- taking over your precious earth. And if she has Thor,” he shakes his head. “There’s not much left we can do.” He drops his shoulders, and the Avengers look around.
“Then we have to fight her,” Steve says, stepping forward. “Together.” Loki laughs again, but straightens his expression when he sees Steve remains serious. I nod.
“We can’t leave Thor and Sam to bend to her every will,” I say, and the others nod in agreement.
“Best get suited up, then,” Tony slaps his pants, and walks away. I sigh, watching the Avengers get ready.
It takes nigh an hour for everyone to suit up and for us to get to the island. We separate, splitting into groups of two: Black Widow and Captain America, Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch, Iron Man and Vision, and finally, me and Loki. I descend behind a clutter of trees, and press my hand against them to aid my landing. He is already there waiting for me, and he motions for me to follow as I set foot in the snow. I slip quietly after him, and we move in, careful to keep to the shadows.
“Tony,” I whisper, touching my finger to the Bluetooth in my ear. “You here yet?”
“Yep,” comes his reply.
“Cap?”
“Here.”
“Pietro?”
Silence. I furrow my brow, listening intently.
“Wanda?” I say, and wait for a moment.
“We’re here,” she replies, then pauses. “Pietro dropped his ear piece in the water.” I nod slightly. Leave it to Pietro to do something like that. I set my hand against the trees I pass as Loki and I slowly make our way toward the camp. It is larger than before-- much larger. And there are guards. I exhale slowly, trying to count them. But they are all moving around each other and I lose count after twelve.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” I ask, and hear Steve sigh, thinking. One of the guards look in our directions, and I quickly duck behind a tree. I see Loki do the same, and his gaze is held on me. I pray the guard hasn’t seen us.
“Take out the guards,” Steve’s voice comes over. “Watch out for Thor and Falcon, and kick some alien a--” he is cut off, but Loki and I both got the message. I pull the gun from my holster, and cock it.
“Wait,” Loki raises his hand. “I have a better idea.” And he changes himself to look like one of the guards. I nod.
“Okay, but what about me?” I ask, and before he speaks, I see a wave of green over my vision, and I look down. I am wearing a white dress and cloak, with white leather boots. My hair is now black, and longer than usual, and I am quite taken back by how pale my skin has become. Loki gives a quiet laugh before walking out from his hiding place. I follow slowly, and we enter the camp. As we make our way through, no one seems to notice us.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Loki says, keeping his eyes ahead. I hurry to catch up to him, and match my pace with his. “You will draw the guards out, and I’ll get rid of them.” He chuckles slightly, and I nod.
“But what if, instead of this ridiculous get-up,” I counter. “Change me back to me, and I’ll draw them away that way. It’ll be easier for me, and then you can fit in with them and chase me.” Loki looks thoughtful, then nods. I slip into one of the empty tents, and he changes me back to normal. This done, I sneak out another way, and run into the woods. Before I am far, I hear Loki shout to the other guards.
“Look over there!” I turn my head and see him pointing to me. The guards glance my way, and then hit a run. I laugh shortly, and sprint away. I dodge between and around trees, kicking up snow at my pursuers. Loki is among them, jogging at the rear. Once we are far from the camp, there are suddenly ten Lokis and they take the guards down. I sigh, and the real god of mischief waves his hand, and the others disappear. He smiles slightly, wiping the blood from his hands.
Then a horn blows, and shouts rise from the camp. The others have been spotted. Loki swears softly, leaping quietly from the trees. I follow after, and look around. What lies before us is a battlefield, though I am sure of who is winning.
So far, there is no sign of Freya, and I hope she remains hidden away in her tent, until one of us can get rid of her. I slip into the midst of the battle, and I see Loki do the same. He goes after his brother, and I glance around for Sam, but cannot see him. Freya’s army is over ten times the size of ours, but I find that the Avengers have much more skill than her warriors.
Not but a moment later, Freya steps out from the large tent in the middle of the camp, and a rush of energy ripples harshly from her, knocking everyone back.
Then Avengers stand, as do many of her soldiers, and I catch sight of Pietro. For a moment, he looks down, dusting the snow from his clothes. Then he straightens, and his eyes fall on Freya.
He stares, and I scream his name.
But he doesn’t seem to hear me, instead just stands there, his eyes glistening blankly. He thinks she is beautiful, I realise, and run at him, but Loki wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me back. I struggle, but he holds me tightly. We are but ten metres from where Pietro stands, and I watch helplessly as Freya approaches him.
He stands still, and she reaches out to him, her fingers straining.
“Wait!” Loki exclaims, taking a wide step forward. Freya turns, her hand falling to her side. Her expression twists, then softens again. Loki slips between her and Pietro, and my heart calms.
“Loki,” she breathes, tears rimming her eyes. He nods briefly, setting his hand on her arm. She cups her hand over her mouth, and flings her arms around him. He sighs.
“What is this?” Thor steps out from one of the tents, holding a spear loosely in his hand. “Loki, what--” Loki stands back, and Freya takes his hand. Thor’s eyes darken, and he raises his weapon. Loki flinches.
“Wait,” Freya says, and Thor lowers the spear. She turns back to Loki, and Thor takes a step away.
“Let me speak privately with you,” Loki speaks in a low tone, and Freya smiles.
“Gladly,” she replies, leading him into her tent. Her army stands down, sheathing their weapons. I sigh, running to Pietro. He stares after Freya for a moment, then faces me. He smiles slightly, and I turn to Tony.
“What happened?” I demand, and he points at Vision.
“That dumb a--” he paused, seeing the look on Vision’s face. “He decided to fly out and show off.” I scoff, finding it a ridiculous reason, but I nod slightly, crossing my arms. “Anyway,” Tony says. “What happened with Pietro? Why was he going to let her touch him?”
“Oh, as if you wouldn’t have,” Pietro retorts, and Tony gasps with faux offence.
“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t,” he says, raising his chin. “I don’t find her in any way beautiful. Anyway, I’m married.”
“So are you!” I exclaim, turning to Pietro, who widens his eyes.
“As if I didn’t know that!” He snaps, stepping back. I gape, not knowing exactly how to reply.
“That’s beyond the point,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “We need someplace to stay while Loki and Freya are talking--”
Tony snorts.
“--Because,” Steve tilts his head at Stark, frowning. “I don’t want to freeze in this snow.” The others nod, though no one says anything about how to find or make someplace to stay. I sigh, looking around.
I exhale softly, watching my breath float away from me in a white fog. I shiver, running my hands up and down my arms. Pietro is avoiding me, standing by himself while everyone else gathers around the fire that Tony made. I glance at Freya’s tent. Loki has still not come out yet, and I fear she may have put him under her spell again. I wonder what they could possible have to talk about for such a long time. But I push that thought away.
Freya’s camp is quiet, with muffled conversations made amongst few of her warriors who stand guard. I lean against a tree and close my eyes, listening to the stillness around me. In a moment I look around, and my eyes stray to Freya’s tent. Now it opens, and Loki walks out, hugging himself against the cold wind that meets him.
Slowly, he makes his way up the hill to where the avengers are, keeping his eyes down. He comes and sits by the fire, ignoring the anxious looks coming from the others.
I stand quietly when no one is watching, and slip away. I try and keep my foot whilst descending the slope, reaching to the trees for support as I descend. Once I am at the bottom, and sneak away, careful to stay to the shadows as not to be seen by any of the guards. I slip under the back of Freya’s tent, and wander around.
I see her entering a chamber on the east wing, and I follow after, sneaking in before anyone notices. She chuckles to herself, falling on her bed.
“So, what are your intentions toward my husband?” I ask, folding my hands behind my back. She jumps slightly, and looks over at me.
“How did you--”
“Answer the question,” I order, pointing my pistol at her. She doesn’t seem frightened by my weapon, though. But still, she stands, raising her hands in defence.
“I already told you, I mean to take the Avengers out,” she says. “They are my biggest threat, and so I will turn them all against each other. I know that you are angry at your husband for the way he looks at--”
“Enough!” I exclaim, then lower my voice again. “Why do you want to take them out?”
“I can’t have anyone in the way of my plan,” she replies simply. I drop my shoulders, then straighten my aim again.
“What plan is that?” I ask, figuring she probably won’t tell me.
“My plan,” she says. “Is to take over the world.”
“Well, yeah, I know that part, but my question is: why do you want to do that?” I ask.
“Because no one loves me,” she replies. “When I was younger, Loki and I had a… bonding. He professed to love me, and I returned it. Then one day, there came someone else, a mortal. He left me for a mortal. But I could not have that,” she shook her head, crossing her arms gracefully. “So I put him under my spell, and he fell in love with me deeper than before-- to the point of servitude. I found I could get many things done with him under my control. Loki said earlier that he still loves me, but it cannot be true.”
“Why?” I slid my gun back into it’s holster.
“Well, because after a while of him being under my control,” she sighed slightly. “I had him kill his mortal girl friend. He realised what he was doing, and he broke away from me. He almost murdered me that day.” Tears well up in her eyes, but I feel no pity for her.
“I don’t believe you.” I say.
“Ask him, then!” She throws her hands in the air in frustration. “But he may tell you different. You can never know with the god of mischief.” I scoff, and hurry away. But as I am about to leave the tent, a guard walks in, and I am so taken back by his sudden appearance, I stumble, and he takes hold of me. When I struggle, he tightens his grip, pulling me after him. I have no choice but to follow him now, and he binds my hands with a rope. I sigh, and he forces me to walk in front of him.
He takes me to a small chamber, and ties me to one of the support poles therein. I grunt softly as he shoves me to a sitting position, and then leaves. I sigh and look around, pulling my knees up to my chest.
For a while I sit in silence, listening to the thoughts running through my head. There are so many of them, but I let them roam freely, listening to what each one has to say. There’s a soft breeze blowing around in the tent, and I shiver, leaning my head back against the post.
In a moment, there is a bright flash of light just outside the tent, and a strong wind blows towards it, ripping some of the fabric away. My hair pulls free from the ribbon tying it back, and the whirlwind of air makes it hard to breathe. There is a roaring sound like a thousand waves screaming across the beach.
Then all falls silent. I gasp, looking around. I hear no one speak, until Thor’s voice breaks the silence.
“Father,” he says. I move around the pole to see who is out there. A part of the tent which had been pulled free in the wind gives way so I can see. I smile slightly, leaning forward to get a better look. There is an old man dressed in golden armour standing before Thor and Freya, with a sceptre in his hand. He turns to the sorceress, and I see he wears a gold eye patch under his right eyebrow.
“Freya,” he says, his aged voice shaking. She bows shortly, and he extends his hand to her. “Why do you do this?”
“No one loves me, Allfather,” she replies, a sadness to her tone. “Many have and will profess to, but they are liars and deceivers. This is the only way for me to gain the love that I desire. I have no other choice.”
“Your family--”
“Is dead!” She steps forward, and Thor’s father steps back. “Your son… your adopted demon of a child killed them.” She inhales sharply, raising her chin.
“Yes,” Thor’s father nods slightly. “Loki has killed many people, though mostly it was not his bidding, but another’s. Freya, I know you had put Loki under your spell, and had him kill your parents. Do not blame him. It is your own fault.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” she replies quietly. Thor now steps forward.
“Father--”
“Silence, Thor.” Now the Allfather, as Freya named him, turns back to her. “I will not stop you from doing this, but it will be your own downfall. I only bring a warning to you. The Midgardians are stronger than you think. They will not be so easily won.” He pauses. “And there are the Avengers.”
“The Avengers will not be a problem,” she says with a smirk. “I will have them spilling their own blood before the sun goes down three days coming.” She smiles, and Odin nods.
“So be it.” He says, and then the flash of light reappears, and swallows him in it’s many colours. When the wind dies down, there is naught left but a melted circle of snow in which lies crisscrossing symbol. I sigh, leaning my head back.
Then Thor enters the tent, and unties my hands, bringing me out to Freya. She smiles perniciously, and raises her hand. I feel myself lift off of the ground, pulled upward by some invisible force. I try and struggle, but find I cannot move one muscle in my body. My eyes widen, and my arms spread out.
“Avengers!” Freya calls, her voice like a dark melody rising into a black nothingness. It echoes around the island, gaining the Avengers’ attentions. They turn to us. Pietro steps towards us, but Stark holds him back. Freya laughs slightly. “I think this belongs to you?”
Then Pietro, furrowing his brow, shoves Tony’s hand off of him, and runs at Freya, reaching her within the second and knocking her down. Her focus breaks off of me, and I drop to the ground. I grunt softly, and sit up, looking to Pietro, who seems to be in some sort of trance.
Freya stands, dusting the snow from her dress. She smiles at him, and he takes a step back. I push myself to my feet hurriedly, but by the time I am standing, her hand is on his shoulder, and he is staring at her with a blank expression. She steps toward him, and kisses his temple softly. I wrinkle my nose, watching in utter disgust and helplessness. Then he falls to her feet, and she steps away, turning and giving me a smirk. I clench my fists, but know I cannot do anything against her.
Pietro groans quietly, and pushes himself up out of the snow. He shakes his head-- once. Twice. Then he presses his hand against his forehead, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. He shakes his head again, exhaling sharply.
“Pietro,” I whisper, and he looks up at me. He stands slowly, and I notice there is something different in his eyes. I step back as he advances toward me. But Freya stops him, setting her hand on his shoulder. He looks at her, and backs away, retiring to the tent. Thor and Sam follow, and she takes up the rear. I take a step back, then turn and run back to the Avengers’ camp.
When I reach the top of the hill, I stop, looking over my shoulder. I feel tears sting my eyes, and I leaned against a tree, watching with blurred vision. A soft hand is set gently on my shoulder, and I look back to see Wanda standing behind me. But I push away, hurrying further into the woods.
After a while of running, I fall to my knees in the snow, burying my face in my hands. I rock back and forth, sobbing, paying no attention to how cold I am. A bitter breeze sifts through the trees, ruffling my hair which now falls over my shoulders. I bow my head, making myself as small as possible. I shake. Whether from the cold or from crying I cannot tell.
The tears falling down into my hands freeze when they meet the cold. I slam my fist against the ground, and push myself to sit against a tree. I hardly notice the green clad figure standing a distance away from me. He only gains my attention when he approaches me, easing himself beside me.
“I was so mean to him,” I say, folding my hands and rocking back and forth and pulling my knees up to my chest. I lower my voice to but a mere whisper. “I yelled at him. I got mad at him for looking at Freya--” I begin to cry again, and Loki sets his arm about my shoulders. I turn and cry against him, clutching my hands close to my heart.
Loki sighs softly, glancing down at me. I pull away suddenly, realising what I am doing.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He nods, though something in his eyes tells me it was alright. I dry my eyes on my sleeves, and stand. He follows in my actions, and I exhale harshly, looking around. New snow is falling around us, and I watch as the snowflakes spiral gracefully to the ground.
“So, what do you plan to do?” He asks, and I shrug.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I reply. “But I have to do something to get Pietro back. I shouldn’t have yelled at him--” I shake my head. “I guess it’s true, you never know what you have until it’s gone. Loki,” I stop shortly, and he looks up.
“What?”
“Did you try to kill Freya?” I ask, and his eyes darken at her name being mentioned. He glances down, tugging at the hems of his sleeves.
“Yes,” He says with a short nod. “The things she had made me do, the people she had me--” he sighs.
“I wish you had killed her,” I say, and he looks up. “I know, I know, it would’ve been murder, but then none of this would have happened. And I’m not saying that this is your fault--” I raised my hand in defence. “It’s her fault. It’s her stupid fault. I just-- I don’t know. I just wish she’d go away.” I sigh, slumping my shoulders. I shake my head, pressing my fingers against my temples.
“Well, she won’t go away on her own accord,” Loki says, and I nod slightly. “Someone’s going to have to scare her off.” I look up and inhale sharply.
“Then let’s go.” I say, and he follows me back to the camp. The others look up when we approach, and Vision stands, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to his sides.
“Where is Wanda?” He asks, and I look around. Seeing she isn’t here, I shrug, turning back to Vision.
“She was here last I saw,” I reply, and the others begin to look around. Before anyone can say aught else, there’s a streak of blue that comes and takes a struggling Black Widow away. For a moment everyone is struck by fear, and stand still.
“Well, that happened,” Tony says.
Everyone is on guard after that. Any sound makes them twitchy, and I don’t blame them. Even though we stand, none of us, a chance against Pietro, at least we will know when he is coming. I sigh softly, and fall to the ground in a sitting position by the fire.
“I’m starving,” Steve mutters, looking about. “I’m going to go see if I can find anything to eat.” Vision stands.
“It’s dangerous to go alone,” he says. “Take Tony with you.” Steve shrugs, and Tony pushes himself to his feet irritably. Vision gives a slight nod, and the two walk away.
When Steve and Tony are out of sight, an image appears before the camp, bright and vivid. It gains everyone’s attention immediately, and we stare at it, waiting for it to change. It shows us something-- Natasha and Wanda bound to a post, and Freya standing nearby. Seeing this, Vision stands suddenly, and flies gracefully away. I glance at Loki.
This is Freya’s plan-- to draw all the Avengers to herself so that she can control them. I sigh, and stand. Vision is going to need help, and I intend to give it him. Loki, too, stands, and follows after me. I walk through the image, causing it to shatter and fall away like glass. I make my way down the hill, careful to keep my footing.
We sneak inside the camp, though no one seems to be on watch. The guards walk around casually, speaking with one another like they couldn’t care less if we enter or not. Anyway, we weave through tents, until we come to Freya’s. I sigh, and slip in. Loki follows silently after, and we roam around, trying to find Vision.
I look up when I hear noise and grunting. I hurry towards that sound, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Loki is still behind me. Seeing that he is, I continue on, until I come into a large chamber. Here I see what I have been chasing after.
Vision is fighting with Quicksilver, hence the grunting I had heard. Tony and Steve are also there, standing like statues against the wall. Wanda and Natasha are both slumped against the posts, unconscious.
Quicksilver throws Vision to the ground, and instantly, Freya is beside him. She sets her hand on his shoulder, but he pulls away, pushing himself to a sitting position. She smiles slightly, and waves her hand in front of his face. He looks dazed, and she kisses his temple, letting him fall back to the ground. She stood now, and winked at Pietro. Neither of them notice Loki and I, though I have no idea what to do now.
Am I to kill the Avengers? No, that is her plan. Should I kill her? I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how, even if I could. I sigh, and glance at Loki. He has his eyes set on Thor, who Freya is now speaking to.
Loki reaches out his hand, and touches his finger to the tent fabric, which immediately catches fire. He takes my hand and pulls me out, bringing me into the snow.
Soon, the tent is ablaze, and several guards hurry out, coughing and fanning the smoke away. I watch and see if Freya will come out, and for a while, she doesn’t. I cast a worried glance at Loki, but his expression is that of determination. He has his mind set on helping me, though I wonder if his heart is set on a different prize.
Finally, Freya exits the burning tent, followed by all of her newfound servants. I sigh, and cross my arms. She barely glances in my direction, and waves for her minions to come after her.
“You’re outnumbered,” she says to me and Loki, and I nod slightly. “So, you might as well give up your world.” She laughs softly, and turns away.
“But there are others,” I say, stepping forward. “Other Avengers who are stronger than the rest. If I call them, your small camp will be destroyed, and there will be nothing else that you can do, so you might as well give up.” I smirk.
“‘If’ is a strong word,” she says. “And you seem to think that you can actually call in these other Avengers, but can you?” I press my lips together firmly, and I hear Loki swear quietly. Freya nods, and wags her finger at me. “Well until those Avengers actually come, I’ll continue my mission.” She giggles, and walks away. Pietro, following slowly after her, glances back at me for a moment.
“Pietro…” I breath. I see Freya move her hand slightly, and he runs at me, knocking me to the ground. He presses himself on top of me, pinning me down with his left forearm across my chest, and his right hand holding a knife to my throat.
Loki has disappeared, though I wish he hadn’t. My heart pounds in my chest, and I reach up to touch my cold fingers to his face. He furrows his brow and closes his eyes tightly for a moment. I exhale softly, but the knife against my neck prevents me from moving.
Tears fill my eyes, and run down the sides of my face, falling into my hair and turning to ice. Then he looks at me, and there is something different in his expression. I swallow hard, and keep my gaze fixed on his.
He leans down, and, to my surprise, kisses me. I return it, moving my hand into his hair. He pulls away slowly and reluctantly. Then he tosses his knife, and stands, a sadness growing over his face. I inhale sharply and sigh, pushing myself to a sitting position.
Pietro, then, turns, and, in a streak of blue, is gone. I roughly scrub away the frozen tears on my face, and stand shakily, taking up his knife. It should come in handy later, so I slide it into my belt, and look around for Loki.
But he is nowhere to be found, so I stand there and cross my arms. Then I remember something, and I hurry inside the burning tent. Still tied to the post are Wanda and Natasha, and I hurry to them, now that they’ve begun to wake. I take the knife and slit their ropes. Natasha stands, and assists me in helping Wanda to walk out from there.
Once the three of us exit the flames, the tent collapses in on itself, and is left smouldering in the snow. Natasha sits Wanda down so she can breathe in the fresh air, and I walk a distance from there. No one is around, and I wonder if Freya knew that Pietro had left me alive. Suddenly the fear hit me that she may harm him, and I break into a run, trying to find them. But then I stop in my tracks, wondering. Should I go? What if she thinks I’m dead? If I show I’m alive, maybe will she do something then? I sigh, spinning around to look at my surroundings. I run my hands up and down my arms, exasperatedly wondering what to do. I stomp my foot down, and turn my head slightly. I run my fingers through my hair, and mutter a word I wouldn’t otherwise have muttered. I shake my head, and break into a sprint again.
I run until I find them, and when I do, I keep my distance so not to be seen by Freya. I dodge behind tents and in shadows, and keep my gaze fixed on them. But I am close enough to hear what they’re saying, and I listen intently.
“Report, Quicksilver,” Freya says, and Pietro give a nervous glance, folding his hands behind him. But before he can say aught, Tony speaks up with a grin.
“He probably let her go,” he says, giving a slight chuckle.
“Chigger off, Stark,” Pietro warns, and Tony raises his hands in joking defence. “I got rid of her.” Freya nods, and he stares at her as if in some sort of daze or trance. I sigh, and see he does the same. Then I nod, and hurry away, back in the direction that I had come.
Something tugs at my heart that night as I sit against a tree, staring at the fire. It’s some sort of guilt feeling, or dread. Wanda is asleep, as is Natasha, for I had volunteered to take first watch. I look up at the stars, trying to figure out what is bothering me, but only one name runs through my head. It’s the only name that’s been running through my mind since this morning, and I wish it would go away. I’ll get him back eventually, I know this. But still there is this tugging feeling in my chest. I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to think of something else.
After a while, it begins to drive me crazy, so I stand, and walk away from our little camp. I know it’s dangerous to leave them without someone on watch, but I have to do something about this feeling in me. With a sigh, I trudge down from where we are, and look around at the cliffs that jut out in many places. I rest my hand on the hilt of Pietro’s knife, and walk away from there.
I see a tent with a candle lit inside, and I walk to it, quietly looking inside. No one is in there save for Pietro, who is sitting in a corner with his knees pulled up to his chest. His head is bowed forward, and his hands are clasped behind it, with chains around his wrists. He rocks back and forth, whimpering and muttering things. I glance around, and see Freya’s silhouette in another tent, and I step inside the one I am at. I blow out the candle that sits on the ground, and walk slowly to Pietro. I kneel beside him, and set my hand on his shoulder.
“Pietro,” I whisper, and he tenses, clenching his fists. He breathes heavily, and continues to rock. I stand quickly, and storm out of that tent, and into the one where Freya is. She turns round when I enter, and smiles slightly, rubbing her fingers together.
“Ah,” she says. “I figured you would show up eventually,”
“What are you doing to my husband?” I demand in a low tone. She looks vaguely threatened, and I raise my chin. Then she smiles again.
“Your husband,” she drawls. “Did two things. One: he didn’t do as I told him to. And another: he lied, and said that he did. But I found out otherwise.”
“But what did you do to him,” I repeat. “That would make him do that?” I wave my hand in his direction, and she shrugs.
“I can play with people’s minds--”
“Obviously,” I cross my arms. She gives an irritated look.
“I’m making him think that he had killed you,” she says with a high-pitched giggle. “He’s somewhat dreaming. He’ll wake up when I want him to, but for now I will leave him like that. It’s a punishment that he’ll forget about when he wakes.”
“He’ll hate you,” I say.
“Oh, on the contrary,” she replies. “He’ll love me.” She smirks with a tilt of her head, and I clench my fists, letting one fall next to the knife at my hip. She flicks her eyes in that direction, and Thor steps from the shadows in a threatening way. I sigh, and step back. I give a slight nod, and bow out of the tent, staggering back into the snow. I sigh, and turn around. There is nothing I can do for Pietro, so I walk slowly back to the camp, wishing Loki would come back. I watched my breath float before me in a white cloud against the black sky, and follow it back to the camp. Thankfully Wanda and Natasha are both still here, and lay sleeping even now. I sit down against one of the trees, and move around the embers under the fire to start it back up again. I fold my arms across the tops of my knees, and lean my forehead against them, closing my eyes.
There’s nothing I can do, I keep reminding myself, but that image of him stays in the back of my mind, keeping me from relaxing or even falling asleep. I sigh.
“One of you will die today,” Agent Cotton’s voice breaks the silence, and I look up. Standing before me is Pietro, and beside him is Cotton. She smiles, crossing her arms. Pietro sighs, and she steps away. In his hand is a gun, and he raises it, a deep glare set on his face. I gasp, and look at Cotton. She nods, and Pietro moves both hands to hold the gun.
“What--” I feel tears rise to my eyes.
“Will you let your husband kill you,” Cotton says, “and have to live with it the rest of his life, or will you kill him, and leave the guilt to yourself?” She chuckles, and I bite my lip, my vision blurring. My shaking hands raise the gun, and I aim it.
“Pietro,” I say, but he only furrows his brow. I look around frantically, but find that we are alone. I want to say something to him, something that may calm him down or make him remember what he is doing. “Pietro, remember-- remember at the Avengers’ tower? You said-- you said this would never happen!” I feel a tear run down my face, but his expression never changes. I realise that he is under no spell-- that he is doing this on his own accord.
“This is your fault,” he says in a low tone. He shakes his head. “It’s always your fault! Why don’t you ever do what you’re told? You’re always so careless.” He sighs, and I gape at these words.
“I don’t want to do this,” I reply, raising my hand in defence. “Darling, you know I don’t want to, don’t make me!” I stifle a sob, shaking to hold it in. My heartbeat quickens, and the look on his face frightens me. “Please,” I whisper repeatedly, shaking my head. But he moves his finger to the trigger.
To my surprise I fire my gun first, crying out loudly when the bullet hits him. He gasps, looking down at the wound in his stomach. Crimson blood immediately spills out, covering his abdomen. He falls forward, first to his knees. There, he looks at me with utter disgust and betrayal. Then his expression changes to fear and to pain, and he falls to his side, all emotion draining from his eyes. He lays asleep in a puddle of his own blood that now spreads out all around me like a flood. It rises and falls, and screams fill the air. I cover my ears with my hands and fall down, crying to make the voices go away.
Somehow I had fallen asleep, and I wake the next morning to a surprise. The three of us are inside a tent, all with our hands bound and tied to a post. I rolled my eyes, and leaned my head back. A bitter breeze blows inside, as the tent door opens, and Freya walks in with a smug expression on her face.
“I don’t know why the lot of you remain on this island,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’ll all be dead before you know it.”
“Sooner better than later,” I reply sharply. She laughs, and shakes her head slightly. I feel anger stirring inside of me, and my heartbeat quickens. I feel weak, as I always do when I’m extremely upset, and my hands begin to shake.
“My men found the three of you in your little camp,” she goes on. “You weren’t doing a very well job of hiding. They saw your fire from a mile away.”
“For your information,” I snap. “We weren’t trying to hid. We were waiting for someone, who I haven’t seen since yesterday morning.”
“Oh,” she looks jokingly surprised. “So now you’re so called friends are leaving you, eh?” She laughs again, and I roll my eyes, clenching my fists. I look down, gritting my teeth together. She turns, and moves part of the door away, motioning with her hand. Then she steps further inside, and the Avengers walk in, including Hawkeye, Bruce Banner, and, to my surprise, Loki.
They all file inside, and stand around her. I notice that Loki isn’t watching her as the others are. He is staring at me, and when I make eye contact, he winks, and my heart jumps. There is hope for us yet. I clench my jaw though, still angry at Freya for her cruel actions towards Pietro.
She folds her hands in front of her, turning to me.
“Now, I have all of your Avengers,” she smiles. “They’ll kill each other and not even know what they’re doing. And then,” she laughs smugly. “I’ll make them kill the ones they love.” I know what she is talking about, and I look over at Pietro, who’s head is now hung.
Freya waves her hand, and the tent that we are in is thrown away, including the post that the three of us are tied to. She kneels beside us, and, taking the knife from my belt, and cuts our ropes. Then she stands, backing away, and turns to the Avengers.
“Oh, I can’t have all of you,” she sighs sadly at them, and they all turn to her. “I suppose the last one standing wins?” For a moment, they are unaware of what she is speaking of, then they realise, and spread out. Freya motions to her guards and soldiers. “You lot join in. I don’t want any of them to live.”
For a while, the Avengers are silent, and do naught but stare at each other. Snow begins to fall, and I stand, taking up my knife. Wanda and Natasha have woken now, and they stand, also.
“You know,” Steve speaks up. “I’m sure all Freya wants is me, so y’all can just leave, and no one will have to get hurt.”
“No, man,” Sam says, stepping forward. “You ain’t seen the way she looks at me. I’m the one she’s craving, so the lot of you can just leave her to me.” With those words being said, the rest of the Avengers join in, and for a while, it is just arguing. Then, of course, Tony throws the first punch, and they all begin to fight with one another.
After a time passes, Freya’s soldiers are drawn in, and it becomes more of a battle. I jump in, taking on one of her warriors, using only my knife. Occasionally, I’ll use my gun, but I rather use the knife because I’m not very good at aiming. I suppose it is just like aiming a bow, which I had been trained mainly with at HYDRA.
I try to avoid killing any of the guards, so I only knock them unconscious. I’ll leave the killing to the Avengers. They do it better than I ever could, so I stick to my original plan.
As the battle progresses, we spread out further, seeing there are more of Freya’s soldiers than our own, and I am taken with two upon one of the nearby cliffs. The snow sifts under our feet, and some of it slides over the edge, falling down several kilometres, onto the rocks below the cliff. They send the message that if I was to fall, surely I would die. With that thought, I try and stay on the side opposite the edge, and keep those I fight closer to it than I.
I duck under one of their swords which they swing at me, and I am thankful for all the training at HYDRA, though the circumstances could have been better. But shoving such thoughts aside, I continue to fight, glancing down at the battle scene below me. As another of Freya’s guards approaches Pietro, I quickly draw my pistol and fire it at him. Though it misses, he looks up, and hurries away from his target, now running to me.
I sigh exasperatedly, seeing as I already have three of her soldiers up her with me. With a swing of my knife, I send one of them staggering backwards, and I give him a kick in the stomach, which pushes him off of the cliff. I look to the others, which are now three again. They all run at me at once, which was not the best for them, and they crash into each other, and one of them follows the first off the cliff. I give a chuckle to the remaining two, and they come at me, though careful to keep their distance from one another.
I swing my knife at one, but the other grabs my arm, holding my wrist so tightly that I drop my weapon, and it sinks beneath a layer of the snow. I grunt and kick at the one before me, and he jumps back. He swings his sword at me, but I duck. The blade slices the soldier behind me, and also my arm. But when the one behind me fell, I had just enough time to move my arm so that it is not a severe wound. Still, I cry out, glancing at the blood that immediately flows from the cut.
I take up the other soldier’s sword, and swing it wildly at the remaining warrior, and he moves back, laughing at my unbalance. I sigh, realising that the weapon is much heavier than I figured it would be. But, I take it up again, and block his swing.
Holding the sword with both hands, I am careful to even out the weight better, and I swing again, this time just barely missing him. He grows angry and runs at me again. But I crouch down when he jumps at me, and the sword in my hands sticks through him, and I scream softly at the sight. I drop both the soldier and the sword over the side of the cliff, and begin to look around for my knife. I wince at the pain in my arm, and I gather some snow in my hand and press it against the wound, watching as the red of my blood spread through it’s white.
I found my knife, and took it up, sliding it back into my belt. I sit down and watch the events happening below me. I drop the snowball I had held against my wound, and replace it with another fresh one. I wince at the cold, and slump my shoulders.
For a couple of years I hadn’t fought at all, and the small brawl with the four soldiers has worn me out. I sigh, watching the snow fall around me.
After a while of me sitting up on the cliff, I notice a soldier running up to where I am. So I stand, and take the pistol from the holster. I aim it at him and fire, though the bullet ricochets off his armour.
Now he is upon me, and he wraps his arms around me. I holster the gun, and struggle, but his grip is iron. I set my hands on his arms, trying to pry them away from me. I push my feet against the snow, and it falls away. He is moving me closer to the edge of the cliff and I gasp, seeing how near I am to it.
In my panic, one word escapes me: “Pietro!” I shout, and he looks up, staring at me for a moment. Then he makes his way toward the bottom of the cliff, fighting off Freya’s soldiers.
Loki, Hawkeye, Natasha, Wanda and the Hulk are also keeping the Asgardian warriors away from the Avengers, who are caught up in their fight with one another. As Pietro draws closer to where I am, Captain America leaps onto him, knocking him to the ground. For a while, the two of them wrestle, though Steve seems to have the upper hand.
All the while they are fighting, the soldier pushes me ever nearer to the edge of the cliff. This is never how I imagined dying, and I pray that today isn’t my last day. Thousands of thoughts are running through my head, and I try to straighten them, but they remain as they are.
Pietro struggles to stand, shoving Steve off of him. He looks up at me while Captain America gathers himself.
“Jump!” Pietro shouts, ducking one of Steve’s punches. He looks back up at me. “I’ll catch you, Zoë! I will catch you.” He struggles when Steve takes hold of him, and I suddenly remember the knife in my belt. I internally kick myself for not thinking of it before this. But there’s no time for punishment, and I reach down, taking the knife. With a frightened glance at the rocks beneath me, I raise the knife, and stab it into my captive’s hand, and he shouts, releasing me.
The snow under my feet shifts, and I scramble for balance, but to no avail. My feet slipped out from under me and I fell backwards-- straight toward the rocks at the bottom of the cliff. I flail my arms to try to grab something, anything that would save me, but I can do naught but fall.
I turn my head, and see Pietro still struggling to get away from Steve. Surely I will die, I think, until, right before I hit bottom, a streak of blue rushes towards me, and I land in Pietro’s arms. It is much more gentle than I imagined, and he pulls me away from there. When he slows, he skids to a stop, and sets me down gently. It takes me a time to gather my balance, but once I have it, I take my hand from his shoulder, and offer him a grateful smile, which he returns.
We stand there for a moment, neither of us saying anything. I want to kiss him, to throw my arms around him and take him away from here. But I know that he is still under Freya’s control, and if she notices he is missing, she will bring him back to her and he will be lost forever. I sigh, crossing my arms against the cold. Before either one of us can say aught else, I hear Freya’s voice rise from the camp.
“Quicksilver!” She calls to him, and he turns slightly, moving to leave me here alone. He stops though, and looks back at me.
“Run, love,” he says, and then is gone in a streak of blue.
I linger there, though Pietro had told me to leave. Honestly, I want to leave. I want to run away and never return to this place. But the truth is, I can’t. I’ve no wings-- the ones Sam gave me were destroyed. I sigh, and make up my mind. I’ll have to go back. I’ll have to fight. So I move to return, but someone grabs me from behind, and lifts me into the air. I struggle and kick my feet, but the do not release me. Instead, they take me back to the camp, and set me down.
Standing before me is Pietro, and beside him is Freya. She smiles, and I can see her hand on his shoulder. He seems to be in a daze, and I know she is working her trickery on him. He heaves a sigh, and she steps away. In his hand is a gun, and he raises it, a deep glare set on his face. I gasp, and look at Freya. She nods, and Pietro moves both hands to hold the gun.
“What--” I breathe, tears rising to my eyes.
“One of you will die today,” Freya says, and I gasp again. “Will you let your husband kill you, and have to live with it the rest of his life, or will you kill him, and leave the guilt to yourself?” She laughs, and I bite my lip, my vision blurring. I raise my gun shakily, and aim it.
“Pietro,” I whisper, but he only furrows his brow. I try and think of something to say, something to calm him down. “Pietro, remember-- remember at the Avengers’ tower? You said-- you said this would never happen!” I feel a tear run down my face, but his expression never changes.
“This is your fault,” he growls, shaking his head. “It’s always your fault! Why don’t you ever do what you’re told? You’re always so careless.” He sighs, and I realise my mouth is hanging open.
“I don’t want to do this,” I breathe, holding out my hand in defence. “Darling, you know I don’t want to, don’t make me!” I stifle a sob, shaking to hold it in. My heart is racing, and the look on his face scares me. “Please,” I whisper over and over, shaking my head. But he sets his finger on the trigger.
In my fear I shoot first, crying out loudly when the bullet hits him. I fall to my knees, and lower my head, not wanting to watch. And there I sob, lowering myself to a bowing position. I drop the gun and cross my wrists across my chest, in a way trying to comfort myself. I hear Freya laugh, and I rise, silencing my sobbing.
“It’s your fault!” I scream at her, taking the gun back up. “It’s not mine, it’s yours!” I aim it and fire-- eight times, I count. Freya looks completely alarmed, and I am wracked by my sobs. Blood covers her abdomen, and she widens her eyes, falling forward. I throw the gun down in the snow, and back away. Each of the bullets had found a target, and now I had killed her. I stare in shock at the blood pooling under her.
Suddenly everyone around me stops fighting, and Freya’s men flee. They gather in one place, and a bright light comes and sucks them up into the sky. Once the wind dies down, I look around, pushing the loose hair from my face. The Avengers-- those standing-- glance at each other, and begin to find the others. Most of them require medical attention, and Tony calls it in.
Soon a helicarrier lands on the island, taking those in medical need and loading them inside. I watched in helpless horror as they took Pietro away, his blood spilling over the sides of the stretcher. His falls limp over the frame, and his eyes are closed.
I’ve killed him, I tell myself, shaking my head. A medic slides a blanket around my shoulder, leading me back to the helicarrier. Once I am inside, they sit me down, and walk away. I press my knuckles against my lips and sigh shakily.
We lift off, and fly away from the island. I stare straight ahead, hardly noticing how fast we are going. In less that five minutes, we are in Manhattan, and the helicarrier lands on the Avengers’ tower helipad, and the engine turns off. The injured are taken to the hospital wing, three stories down. The glass turns black, and I walk out in a daze, glancing around at the city. Thankfully it isn’t in flames.
I walk inside the building, and head up to my room. The bed isn’t made-- just as it was when we left that morning. I sigh, and walk to the bathroom.
After a hot shower, I dress in a pair of shorts and one of Pietro’s sweatshirts. I slide my hands into the pockets, and walk downstairs. I walk to the window and look out, pressing my hands against the tinted glass.
That night I sleep alone, tossing and turning and keeping a continuous eye on the alarm clock. The hours drag by, and so I slide out of bed at eleven-thirteen, and walk out of the room. My bare feet make no noise on the smooth floor beneath me, and I make my way down three staircases to the floor on which the hospital wing is located. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and walk inside the door numbered 003. The lights are off, and there is a steady beeping sound of the heart monitor. I walk slowly in, and sit down next to the bed herein.
Then he stirs, and turns his head.
“Zoë?” He mutters, exhaling softly through his nose. He reaches out and takes my hand, closing it in both of his. I sigh, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I blink and they fall down my face, splashing onto my shirt. “What’s wrong, love?” He asks, and I inhale shakily.
“I’m really sorry I did that to you,” I manage to say, choking back the tears.
“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s alright. It’s alright.”
“I didn’t want you to kill me, either,” I go on. “And then you would’ve had to live with that guilt, and I didn’t want you to have to feel that way, but I also didn’t want you to die.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you have very poor aim,” he says with a slight laugh. I tried to laugh, but when it came out I wasn’t sure if it even was a laugh, or if it was a sob. He reached up and stroked the side of my face with his thumb.
“Can I get in with you?” I ask, and he pushes himself up slightly.
“Yeah,” he groans, moving over to one side of the bed. “There’s room for two.” I give a slight smile and slide in beside him, pulling the covers up to my chest. He lays back, and I do the same. He slips his arm around me, and I snuggle against him, listening to his uneven breathing.
He glances down at me and presses a kiss against my forehead. I sigh softly, feeling much better now that I know he’s going to be alright. I set my hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat under his skin. I close my eyes, feeling his breath against my hair.
“You know I love you,” he whispers, and I nod.
“I love you, too.”
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