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oliviabelova · 2 years

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Love Is A Dagger - Chapter 1

By @oliviabelova and @shesawildflowergirl

Warnings: Language, drinking, mentions of death, fighting, explicit violence, I didn’t read this over so that’s definitely a warning

Rating: n/a

a/n: Yeah, yeah I know it’s a week late, that’s on me, not Abby. I hope you enjoy and I’ll try to keep on schedule! - Olivia

Aliens. Mother fucking aliens. All Liv had wanted was to sit down and eat a normal lunch, maybe a grilled cheese sandwich or a butterscotch milkshake, and relax for five fucking seconds, but no. She could never catch a break, so why had she expected that coming back to New York would change anything. Unsurprisingly, she’d registered the screams and cries from outside the dinner before anyone else. They were distant, a normal noise in Manhattan’s busy streets. Liv tilted her head slightly, maneuvering her head to hear if there was immediate danger around her, while still focusing on her meal.

The sandwich was small and she soon finished the meal. The screaming had gotten louder and had frightened some guests into leaving, so Liv decided it was time to get a better look at what was causing the commotion.

She slid some money across the counter where she sat and nodded to the women at the cash register. Liv turned, flicking her long intricate braid over her shoulder, and slipping on her worn out, black leather jacket. Before she could even open the glass door, a disgusting creature dropped to the pavement outside, limbs dragging as it hunted down prey.

It looked humanoid, two arms, two legs, a face like the decaying corpse of a dead dog. It’s skin was pale and grey, drool hanging from it’s jaws. It was covered in strange gold body armor that Liv thought looked like something out of a cheap sci-fi movie.

The owner had turned off the sound on the TV by the counter before switching to the new channel. Images of screaming people, dead bodies and armies of aliens coming through a hole in the sky.

She recognized the face flashing on the television screen in front of her. It had been a long time since she’d last seen the young god of mischief but with those golden horns, it was hard to mistake him for anyone else.

Well, this was just her luck. The young man she’d met in the realm of the gods when she’d accidentally followed her Asgardian friend, Sigrid, was trying to burn the city to the ground with the help of some very grimy aliens. Liv didn’t blame him. This city had done nothing but hurt her all her life and maybe if she wasn’t trying to change, she’d have beaten Loki to it.

Liv looked around at the diner, at the people crouched behind their seats in fear, at the little girl crying in her mothers arms, and she knew she couldn’t just sit and do nothing.

“Alright, everyone get outside, start moving! I’m going to cause a distraction so you all have to move quickly.”

Nobody budged, to afraid to take order from what looked like a young women hardly over 25.

Liv sighed, rolling her eyes before holding up a hand. Her fingers burst into flame, the fire dancing, twirling, swirling around her hand, a beautiful yet deadly blend of bright oranges, reds and yellows. A buzzy feeling filled her stomach as she watched her power grow, sparking and flickering.

There was an audible silence in the diner, all eyes trained on Liv where she stood.

The mother of the little girls stood, albeit slowly, and met her gaze. Little by little, the others in the room followed her example and carefully made their way to the door.

The alien outside had passed but Liv knew it couldn’t be far away. She pulled a Glock 26 out from her boot, where she had tucked it for safekeeping and cocked it, smiling softly at the familiar click. Pointing it at the door, she gestured for the group to start moving, before she herself slipped out into the chaos, towards the spot where she’d left her motorbike.

New York was a fucking mess. People were screaming and crying, cars were piled up as if they’d been thrown and the creatures were everywhere, flying on hovercraft, chasing innocent civilians and generally being a pain in the city’s collective ass. Truly chaos. Of course, Liv had always been most at home in the chaos. The utter disorder of things made her feel less like an outsider and more like someone who belonged.

She took in her surroundings as efficiently as she could, identifying targets and locating the people she called “collateral damage”.

She aimed at a passing crafts engine. Fire. The ship sputtered and came down. She aimed at a larger looking alien. Fire. The alien came down, liquid bursting from it’s head as the lead passed through. It was a rhythm she was used to.

Aim, fire. Aim, fire.

Always fire.

All of a sudden, another ship fell out of the sky, hitting the ground in front of her with a deafening thud. Liv blinked, staring blankly at where her brand new bike had stood, crushed by the now burning alien craft, pilots crawling out to attack.

“Oh fuck this!” She cursed, slipping her gun back into her boot, hands erupting into balls of fire, eyes lighting up.

The taller of the aliens approached her first, bloodlust in his black eyes, weapons loaded. It was quite obvious that he thought she’d be an easy kill.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Liv reached out with her fire, pulling at his legs, watching his skin bubble with heat as an inhuman screeching sound escaped his lips. He stumbled when she shot another orb at his head, singeing the skin around his face. The alien fell and Liv took the opportunity to take a knife from the sheath around her thing and drag it across his throat with such force that it nearly ripped his head from his shoulders. His thick blood sprayed across her face and his lifeless body fell to the ground.

Liv looked up and stared daggers at the alien’s companion. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation as it started running towards her.

Idiot creature She thought.

It met her, jaws wide open, hissing. She didn’t even flinch, reaching a hand down it’s throat and lighting it’s insides on fire with a snap. The creature screamed, a blood curdling sound as it melted, skin sagging, face drooping. It’s body fell from her grasp, becoming a puddle of flesh on the floor. Not her cleanest work but work nonetheless.

As she wiped her blood-covered hands off on the leg of her pants, it became apparent that the diners' guests were still gathered around watching her, their faces filled with terror and shock.

Liv rolled her eyes. She wasn’t the monster here, not now at least.

“Go! Run! That was the distraction! Police are on 53rd, so head there. Use the alleys and stick together! Go!”

All at once, the group began to turn and run down the alley, disappearing from sight.

She turned back to the ongoing battle, hands still ablaze, jaw clenched. There were fewer aliens now and the remaining ones seemed to be moving away from the area, towards… something.

Liv couldn’t quite see what the creatures were crowding around. They were just so tall! Her height definitely came in handy during many of her previous missions but at this very moment, she could have wished she’d been a little taller.

She made her way over to a red semi truck that had been flipped onto its side in the commotion, doors wide open from when the driver had either escaped or been torn out by an alien. Clutching the air filter in her iron grip, she pulled herself up and onto the side. She felt an alien grab her left ankle as it dangled. She pulled one of the cold steel blades from her thigh strap and slashed roughly at the alien’s wrist. It’s skin ripped clean, blood gushing from the wound, bright white bone appearing under the gore. The creature screeched, faltering for a moment, giving Liv just enough time to twist her legs around its neck and break its spin with a firm pull. The alien’s body went limp and dropped to the ground. Liv slib back from the edge, regaining her firm stance as she surveyed the area.

The wall of aliens was still too tall for her to see over, but from this angle, Liv could clearly see the emblem embedded on the back of one creature's helmet. It was a word in a forgein language that she somehow recognized. It brought back feelings she’d buried long ago. Memories of a shining city, glittering blue waters, smiling people.

Asgard.

Sigrid Tyrsdottir had shown her the many symbols used by various armies across the nine realms. Liv still had every bit of knowledge she’d gained ingrained in her brain, unable to forget even a single word.

She remembered the name of this army. What was it? Citari? Shitari? Yes! Chitauri! That was it. The Chitauri, according to Sigrid, were one of the weakest and feeblest armies in the galaxy. It should have been an easy battle, but alas, Earth was run by a bunch of shit-eating idiots.

Climbing up onto the trailer, she grunted, finally feeling the repercussions of the battle. She didn’t feel pain like everyone else, bullet wounds felt like wasp bites, but she was still, unfortunately, human. Cuts and scrapes lined her knuckles and a clean gash cut decorated her cheek. She hadn’t even realized that the Chitauri soldier had gotten a hand on her but at this point, it didn’t matter.

Liv spun on the heel of her leather boot, regaining her balance on the slippery metal cylinder. Maybe heeled boots hadn’t been the best choice for today but Liv hadn’t expected to be thwarting an alien invasion on her scheduled day off of Nazi hunting.

At this higher angle, Liv could finally get a good look at what all the Chitauri had been gathering around. The aliens were clambering over one another for a shot at the formidable… group of people? Well, mostly people. There seemed to be some sort of robot and a large green alien amongst them. Everyone was dressed in leather or metal, brandishing guns, bows and one very patriotic looking shield, standing stoically in some sort of circle formation.

Ah yes Liv thought, a smirk forming on her face Superheroes

This was quite amusing to the assassin, who had learned quite a bit about superheroes during her time with H.Y.D.R.A. She had been taught that they were a bunch of patriotic idiots, set on keeping humanity alive and under control. They were naive and easily manipulated, as long as they thought they were doing the right thing. Of course, the only superhero Liv had truly learned about was the infamous Captain America.

H.Y.D.R.A. had made sure she knew exactly who he was and what he’d done in the war. She had once thought he was only postponing the inevitable fall of civilization to H.Y.D.R.A., but now she didn’t know what to think. The organization had fed her nothing but lies her entire life, but after believing them for so long it was hard to forget. Without any thoughts being brainwashed into her mind, she just had to make her own decisions now.

Looking back at the group, she identified the red, white and blue stripes of the Captain’s suit. Strange, H.Y.D.R.A. had said the super soldier was dead, lost in the war. Maybe this was some sort of replacement.

Liv didn’t know the name of the robot man, but she had seen his picture in some newspapers she’d glanced at. Something about some genius billionaire and a terrorist attack.

The large green humanoid was new to her as well, his features contorted in visible rage. It let out one of the loudest battle cries Liv had ever heard, rattling the ground around the heroes.

A blonde man with a bow shot a continuous stream of perfectly aimed arrows at the Chitauri, hitting the creature one by one as they approached. His smirk was clear. He was enjoying this and Liv couldn’t blame him.

When her hazel eyes landed on the rest of the group, Liv’s heart skipped a beat. She knew these people, reminders of her dark past.

The redhead gunslinger was the first one her brain identified. She was none others than the infamous, deadly, Russian spy, the Black Widow, a product of a lifetime in the Soviet “Red Room”. Наталья Алиановна Романова. Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Liv had befriended her fellow Russian assassin many, many years ago, before she’d escaped H.Y.D.R.A.

Beside her stood a tall, muscular, blond man, covered in armour and wielding a large stone hammer. His eyes were bright like lightning and he moved with the grace of a warrior so skilled he could only be from one place. His name was Thor and he was the prince of Asgard, the god of thunder and Sigrid’s closest friend. They had met on Asgard exactly three years ago when she’d been taken by the Bifrost to the home of the gods.

And lastly, her blade like an extension of her body, her glittering silver armour shining, her eyes filled with light, Sigrid Tyrsdottir looked as absolutely fearsome as ever. Her cerulean cape swirled around her as she beheaded another alien, a mirror to her magic. She looked deadly.

Liv wanted to call out, tell Natalia that she was free, tell Sigrid that she missed her. But she knew she couldn’t. Maybe, after this was all done, she’d go say goodbye to her friends, properly this time. Oh, how she wanted to stay here, with them.

The little electronic bud in her ear beeped, signalling that it had picked up a hidden frequency nearby. With a few taps she locked in on the signal and joined whatever this channel was.

The voice of man, gruff but light, hit her ears.

“It’s T-y -Ark.” The voice came through, static overcoming most of the message.

A whooshing noise sounded through the channel and Liv watched as the robot’s face came up and out of it’s head, revealing the face of a man. It wasn’t a robot, it was a suit of armour, one of the most advanced Liv had every seen.

But it wasn’t the iron suit that caused her to nearly lose her balance, but the face underneath. It belonged to a middle-aged man with soft, dark eyes and an anchor head goatee, speckled with grey. The glow in his eyes was childlike and playful, yet, somehow, still wise. She’d seen these eyes before, as a little girl, seen the love they could give. Liv had been on the receiving end of that love, grown up with it. But she hadn’t seen this man in many, many, years. His name was still fresh in her mind.

Tony fucking Stark.

Her uncle.

This is a pathetic battle.

Sigrid was honestly disappointed in Thor, Loki too for that matter. They both should’ve done much better. The fact that Thor needed help from five puny humans was enough to make any Asgardian mother cry. And Loki, looking like a fool in that dramatic horned hat, out of all the nine realms why is he so focused on Midgard? Likely the most useless one? All it has is trees and humans, literally nothing of any interest. Granted there are some interesting humans, but not enough to be worth the visit. Not while you could be drinking with the dwarves in Nidavellir, or fighting the frost giants of Jotunheim. No, instead Sigrid is stuck on Midgard, in a place called New York City, watching as aliens rush down from the sky. She’d been following Thor since his banishment, keeping an eye on him for her queen, Frigga. Then, of course, Thor had to hunt down Loki and bring him back to Asgard, so Sigrid had to follow him then. She never intended to show herself. Thor would hate the idea of being shadowed, it would wound his precious masculinity. Poor thing doesn’t have a choice now, not while there are aliens and a second son leading them. Then there is Loki, how desperate is he for the crown? The boy Sigrid grew up with would never do such a thing, he was far too clever for such a dimwitted attack. Then again he isn’t that boy anymore, he’s a stranger. A villain who must be stopped or else all these useless mortals will get killed. Can’t let that happen.

With a sigh, Sigrid left her seat at the cafe, her mortal disguise melting away to show her amour. Silver metal wrapping around her like a second skin, blue asgardian leather forming a tasteful cape. Unlike most warriors, Sigrid preferred to keep her hair out of her eyes, letting it fall over her shoulder in a thick umber braid. Two swords graced her palms, slightly curved blades of pure steel. Both almost as deadly as their wielder. They are not magic, not everyone is blessed with a mystic hammer. Besides, Sigrid has more magic coursing through her veins than any dwarf made weapon could.

The battle has been raging. There were bloody screamings, glass falling along with bodies. Chitauri plummeted, crashing into buildings, killing everything they set their eyes on. Each death forced Sigrid forward, the war she was bred into screamed for bood. The Chitauri kept fighting, doing their master’s bidding, Loki’s bidding. Thor had failed to capture him on multiple occasions. Loki only kept stabbing his brother, his favourite trick, one he took too literally. It was like they were schoolboys again, constantly arguing and playing with sharp objects. Sigrid wanted to slap them both over the head, just like she used to, but that’s not possible. Not while people are dying.

Sigrid followed the Chitauri towards their enemy, her hopeful allies. Several avenues later she found them, standing in a circle, prepared to fight or die trying. There was her prince, the god of thunder. Around him was a large green man, a man of iron, a redhead with a gun, someone with a bow, and a blond with an exaggerated shield. They looked like quite the ragtag bunch. They were adorable, these mortals and the green thing really think they can defeat Chitauri on their own, without any help. If this weren’t such a dire situation Sigrid would have sat down to watch how this all played out. These humans seem interesting. But they need more than one deity’s help to defeat someone like the trickster god. No offense to Thor, but he’s all muscle. There’s a reason why Sigrid was always the leader in their old trio, and Loki the brain.

Within seconds she grabbed onto a Chitauri that was aiming for her. The Chitauri are ugly creatures, looked down upon by all. How could they not be? The gray, disgusting beasts are only meant to serve. They aren’t that hard to beat in a battle one on one. It’s only when it’s an army of them that things get more complicated. Which happens to be the amount Loki brought with him to Midgard.

In a simple strike she beheaded it, taking it’s flying monstrocity for herself, it’s death was fueling. They were not difficult to fly really, it’s just a chariot. She drove it towards Thor, hoping off and landing on the ground in front of him and his little friends.

“Why didn’t you invite me to the party Thor, you know how much fun I am in battle.” She said, brushing dust off her armor. Midgard is disgusting. Especially this city.

“Sigrid?” He asked, smiling like a fool. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mother sent me, she knew you’d end up in some trouble like this.”

With that Thor took Sigrid into his arms, wrapping her against him. He always was sentimental, even if he refuses to show it.

“Who’s the chick with the crazy swords?” Asked the man of iron, revealing his face. He was a rather handsome man, though very human. That alone made him unappealing. That and the facial hair, she prefers them clean shaven. Sigrid would never understand how Thor could have fallen in love with a woman of this species, they are so weak compared to Asgradians.

“Starkson, Avengers.” Thor began, still holding Sigrid under his arm like the little sister she’ll always be considered as. “I present to you Sigrid Tyrsdottir, Goddess of War, child of Asgard, the greatest swordsman since Feyr, and my right hand woman.”

“You’re the Goddess of War, does that mean we have you to thank for this mess?” Said the man with the bow.

Why a bow? She thought, it’s rather sad thing compared to her swords.

“I fight wars, I don’t create them. You will need my help to win.” She explained. “Thor, please introduce me to your friends.”

“Yes, yes. This is Tony Starkson.” He began.

“It’s Tony Stark.” He interrupted.

“He is a man of iron. Then there is Natasha Romanoff, you will like her, she is very dangerous, just like you!”

“I do love dangerous women.” Sigrid announced, smiling at the redhead. She did indeed look dangerous, Sigrid liked her already. Romanoff reminded her of someone she once knew.

“As do I.” Natasha smiled.

“The green man is Banners, he is very intelligent but very angry.” Thor continued. “Over there is Clint Barton.”

“Hey.” Said Barton, reloading his arrows.

“I’m Steve Rogers, it’s very nice to meet you Miss Tyrsdottir.” The man with the shield and blue costume, it really is a costume, extended his hand. This is not an Asgardian custom, so Sigrid ignored it, refusing to let go of her blade.

“When can we start fighting, Thor and I must return Loki to Asgard immediately.”

“Okay, well we just need to get rid of that sky portal and kill these aliens then you should be good to set out with Point Break and the psychotic goth kid.” Said Stark.

“He is not psychotic.” Sigrid could feel anger slip into her tone, she shouldn’t defend Loki. She has no reason to, they are nothing to each other. But still, to have such a little man insult a god is unforgivable.

“Whatever lady, he seems crazy in my books.”

“Thor, forgive me while I kill your friend.” Sigrid said, lifting her swords and starting to charge at the man of iron. The coward flew just out of reach.

“Woah, woah, woah. No need for that, we’re a team.” Rogers said, getting between them. Thor just watched laughing.

“I am here only for my princes. After I retrieve them, we will never return to this realm.” Sigrid explained.

“I’m fine with that.” The arrow man was finally ready for war. “Can we go kill some aliens already?”

“Yes, we’re wasting time.” Natasha agreed, reloading her gun.

“Let’s go fight some aliens then.” Ordered Rogers, his team dispersed at his word.

Sigrid followed Thor into battle just like she has for the last few hundred years. How many wars have they fought side by side? Too many to count, though not half as many as their fathers. The great King Odin and General Tyr, compared to them, Sigrid and Thor are still children. Still act like them too. Sirgid could not tell you how many times she’s had to drag Thor out of a tavern after days of him lying in his own vomit. The Prince of Thunder can be a real lightweight at times. Honestly, you’d think he could handle his mead.

There’s a battle going on, Sigrid reminds herself. Sometimes her mind wanders. Well, more than sometimes.

Sigrid launches herself at a Chitauri alien. Her twin blades ripping through its throat, blueish-black blood splattering all over her shiny new armor.

“Really?” She wondered at loud, attempting to scrape off some of the gunk from her face.

Thor laughed loudly. “Looks as if you’ve been swimming in the sewage ducs of Helheim!”

“You would know that, wouldn’t you Thor?” Sigrid grinned. She had missed the oaf.

“I definitely feel like I’m missing some context.” Said the female warrior.

“Indeed you are Spider Woman.” Sigrid agreed.

“It’s Black Widow.” Natasha corrected.

“Very well Black Widow, care to kill some alien scum with me?”

“Gladly.”

Sigrid grabbed onto Natasha's arm and swung her into the air, red hair flying until she landed right on the back of a Chitauri charioteer. Before the beast could so much as stare at Natasha she clocked her gun and let the bullet bury itself in mutatted skin. She then clasped onto the reins of the chariot monster, reeling it backwards

“Want a ride?” She asked the Asgradians.

“I’ve got a hammer.” Thor says as if that explains anything. He starts swinging Mjolnir around in an eternal cycle until the weapon lifts him high into the air and straight for a hoard of enemy riders.

“What about you?” Natasha checks Sigrid out. She’s still not sure what to think of this new girl. She seems young, maybe twenty-two, but who knows how old she really is. Apparently Sigrid’s a war goddess and so far she’s proven herself proficient in a fight but Natasha can’t tell if she’s here because she actually wants to save lives and stop these aliens or because she’s just trying to catch Loki. If Natasha survives the battle she’ll have to track down some information on Sigrid Tyrdottir, see if she’s visited Earth before. Make sure she’s not a threat to humanity. Who knows with Asgardians. They might turn out like Thor, strong but not the smartest or they could end up like Loki. And well, Natasha Romanoff doesn’t need another Loki situation on her hands right now.

“I can take care of myself.” Sigrid replies before running in the other direction faster than any human could. She had naturally heard all of Miss Romanoff’s thoughts being blessed with the gift to do such things. For the most part Sigrid agreed with her. Loki is an issue. One Midgard shouldn’t have had to suffer through, he is Asgards’s responsibility. But Natasha’s wrong if she thinks she’ll find anything on Sigrid. Unlike Thor who she still teases for the 1789 french cake disaster, Sigrid has covered any tracks she might have left on this desolate realm. It helps that she avoids it at all costs.

Chitauri bleed from the sky like rain. Catching fire thanks to trick arrows. Holes blown in their brains. Insides ripped by blasters and shields. Some were even propelled into buildings by Banner himself. The destruction makes Sigrid smile. It shouldn’t, but it does. Chaos has a certain beauty to it. The kind that can’t be copied onto a painting or played in a song. It can only be experienced on a battlefield. This kind of chaos is made of screams and bodies, carved in glory and blood. As a child it had morbidly fascinated Sigrid so much that her father took notice, taking her on his campaigns for Odin. She would sit on a high hill, watching as Tyr’s battles played out. Analyzing the strategy and power that allowed the win. Now she does more than strategize and watch, she finally gets a seat at the table. She gets to fight.

Her mind clicks to rythme of war. The magic of death setting her own gifts ablaze. Silvery-blue smoke appeared out of nowhere, climbing up her limbs, dancing through her fingertips. Coating her blades and the enemies they sliced through. All along Sigrid could hear what people were thinking. The thoughts get louder whenever she uses her power. They used to drive her mad, the constant chattering. But as she’s grown, she’s learned to tune out the voices. They’re only white noise now.

“What the hell…” She hears Steve Rogers whisper somewhere deep in her mind. The clearly american voice chirping in her ear. The soldier has been alive for 90 years and the idea of true magic still shocks him. He has so much more to learn about this world he lives in. Another reason why she dislikes humans. They are so closed-minded compared to other species. Refusing to believe in a world beyond them. She’s only met a few who actually did.

Sigrid spies her next target, a Chitauri rider, a big one too. Hopefully it’ll be more of a challenge. This really is the worst army in the galaxy. Sigrid quickly creates an illusion over herself, masking her body with the one of a Chitauri trooper. It’s a clever trick, one she learned from a boy long dead.

Marching towards the rider, the Chitauri starts to speak. Sigrid knows the tongues of four realms but never bothered to learn Chitauri.

“K’osrn vös mak’ï?” It said in a grotesque, sniveling voice that just made Sigrid want to vomit.

“No thank you.” She said, driving her blade into its chest. Letting the alien topple over as she stole it’s ride and went to join Natasha.

Together they flew through the skies, Thor close behind them. Spiriting between landscapes, taking out as many Chitauri as possible. Natasha with her firearms, Thor with his hammer, Sigrid with her blades and smoke. Some minutes later she had even lost count of how many necks she had snapped from afar or how much blood she was covered in. More blood was on her body than weapons a Valkyrie carries. It was honestly impressive.

“Guys, we have a problem.” Sigrid could hear Stark’s voice. The static sound ringing through not just her mind but the heads of others.

An intercom, she realizes.

“What is it Tony?” Natasha asks as she knocks another alien out with the butt of her gun.

“The World Security council has decided it would be best to contain the invasion.”

“What do you mean by contain?” Sigrid spoke, her tone only audible to this mortal team.

“Who the hell just said that?” Barton demands from his perch.

“This is Sigrid Tyrsdottir.”

“How can we hear you?” Asks Rogers calmly.

“Like Loki I am gifted with certain rare abilities such as mental manipulation and telekinesis.” She explains.

“Does that mean you can take over my mind like he did?” Clint inquires, his voice firm.

“Hypothetically, yes.”

“Can we please get back to the Security Council decision?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, sure. They’ve decided to nuke New York.” Tony concurs.

Sigrid doesn’t know what a “nuke” is but she can tell nothing good based on the fear that radiates through Stark’s body.

“How long do we have?” Steve Rogers wonders, hoarding off some Chitauri footmen.

“Not long.” Stark tells him. “Couple minutes.”

“How are we supposed to stop a nuclear bomb in a few minutes?” Hawkeye asks.

“I’ve got an idea but I need you guys to stick with me.”

“Do what you must, man of Iron.” Thor agrees.

“Just don’t get yourself killed.” Black Widow concedes.

“I’ll try,” Tony promises.

For a moment, Sigrid is impressed. These human warriors were able to construct a plan in a few minutes even if it might not work. Sigrid knows what Tony Stark is about to do. She can’t decide if it’s stupidly brave or just stupid.

Tony lets his iron suit engulf him once more, thruster shooting him into the air. He aims high for the small black dot aiming at this grimy city.

A missile. No, more than just a missile. It’s a nuclear bomb.

And Tony Stark is aiming right for it.

Sigrid watches from the ground in slight shock, the urge to help fading, as Iron Man comes closer to the weapon with each passing second. She can hear his teammates screaming, willing him to stop, but even in their anger they don’t stop fighting.

Finally, Tony grips onto the bomb, metal touching metal. He aims it in his arms, preparing to launch it into the glowing blue portal in the sky. He’s going to try to blow up the Chitauri Command Centre. In one foul swoop the bomb goes flying right where it’s master aimed it. The Command Centre is obliterated, sinking into itself until it disappears, leaving the sky looking as it should. Normal. All around her, Chitauri soldiers topple onto the ground. Their slimy half-organic-half-cyborg bodies disabled by their bases' destruction.

Just as Sigrid expected, another war has been won in the presence of Asgard.

Tony Stark fell from the sky, landing on his back in the way that would’ve broken every bone in his body if not for that suit.

“We won.” Steve Rogers breathed, crimson cuts adorning his skin.

“Have any of you guys had shawarma? I saw a shawarma place down the road, I have no clue what it is but I want to try it.” Stark said.

“We’re not done yet,” Thor declares, bitter determination painting his face. “Are you ready, Sigrid?”

“Always, my prince.” She promises.

Here comes the hard part.

Loki looked sad on the ground. His face was all bloodied, green leather dirty and hair a mess. If Frigga could see her son now, all fallen and in disarray. Well, that’s the kind of disappointment all of Asgard would end up hearing about.

Sigrid stands to Thor’s right as she always does. The two of them looked stern surrounded by the Avengers. Natasha holding the scepter, Clint with his bow while Rogers grips his shield.

“I’ll take that drink now.” Loki speaks.

The sound of his voice ricochets through Sigrid in a way she didn’t expect. Cool and direct, even defeated he sounded like a man who could still win. Sigrid doesn’t say a word, she physically can’t. The air is punched out of her as soon as she hears him speak in her mind.

“Hello Sigrid, it’s been a while.”

He doesn’t even look at her, he doesn’t have to. Steely blue staring straight at the Avengers, not her. He knows that the sound of him in her mind, speaking like he used to when they were children, was enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Loki Odinson, you are hereby under arrest for crimes against Asgard--” Thor began but was interrupted by Steve Rogers clearing his throat.

“And Midgard,” the prince corrected. “You will be sentenced by Odin upon our return.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Loki purrs.

“Right, we’ve got the lunatic goth kid. Can we please go get some shawarma now?” Tony argued.

“No,” Sigrid dissagress, letting her blades disappear into the air. “Loki is a dangerous criminel, he must be brought home immediately.”

“Please Sigrid.” Thor practically begged. “We’ve just won a battle, it demands to be celebrated with mead and shawarma, whatever that may be.”

Sigrid wants to fight Thor, to convince him to leave as soon as possible but she knows it would be futile. They will end up staying no matter what stand she takes. Even if the thought of Loki being so close to freedom feels like nails impaling her skin.

“Fine but only for one night.” She relents. “Stark, I assume you have prisons in this tower.”

“The best Earth has to offer.”

“I very much doubt that.”

With that final word Sigrid cuffed Loki and muzzled him, she would take no chances. He is a liar, a convincing one too. A single word and anyone in this room could help him escape. The muzzle will save Thor and whatever humans he’s adopted on this trip. But it will not mean salvation to Sigrid, not while Loki can still worm his way into her mind.

Shawarmas are as disgusting as they sound. Midgard food is nothing compared to Asgardian. Sigrid misses the nightly feasts. Meals composed of a hundred meats, salted and sweets desserts, sauces of every colour accompanying their foods of choice. And mead, oh the mead. Tall, cold glasses that never seemed to end. All that sounds like heaven compared to the black fizzy drink she’s nursing. She didn’t dare touch the warped sweaty meal the others were devouring. Thor must be on his fifth.

They all ate in silence, no one saying a word. Taking in the battle. The lives they lost, the aliens they killed. They were nearing nightfall and Sigrid was itching to return to Asgard, her bed in the palace. Frigga would want an update on everything. But more than anything, she wanted to check that Loki is still in his underground cell. That he had not yet escaped.

Sirgird watched carefully as everyone stood, slowly and silently making their way to the door. Her mind was elsewhere, as it usually was, still with Loki in that cold cell. She knew he deserved it, deserved punishment after what he had done, but she couldn’t help but think…

No, Sigrid, he isn’t that person anymore and neither are you.

“Long day, my lady?” A sharply accented and very familiar voice brought her back to reality. Sigrid looked up from her hands. The voice belonged to a young woman, dressed in an black apron to match her dark attire, who was currently cleaning the table where the group had eaten.

Her hair was golden, swept up into braids so complex they could have been Asgardian. Her eyes were a dark green, filled with fiery anger. She wore a calm, kind expression on her scared face as she worked quickly at tidying up.

Sigrid could have recognized that face with her eyes closed, the face of a woman so utterly terrifying that the world's most powerful men had gotten on their knees and begged for mercy.

She had seen it happen. There was never any mercy to be spared.

Flashes of memories hit her. Hunting through darkened alleys. Flying through the rainbow bridge. Dancing and music. Seeing her smile for the first time. Not to mention painstaking goodbyes.

Liv smiled playfully back at Sigrid, watching as the Asgardians face contorted into a rare grin. Liv had missed her friend, the graceful, powerful, deadly Asgardian warrior, with whom she had spent almost a year hunting down HYDRA lackeys. She’d seen her fight the Chitauri today, watched her slay hundreds of them with her bare hands.

“Liv.” Sigrid whispered, her voice a mix of happiness and disbelief.

“Heil minn frænda.” Liv replied in Asgardian, using the basics she had picked up from her visit.

In a swift movement Sigrid launched herself at Liv before the fighter could escape. Arms wrapping around each other, laughing flinging around the restaurant.

“What are you doing here?” Sigrid demanded, eyeing Liv up and down. She didn’t look as healthy as she did when she visited Asgard, but everyone looks better in the golden light of her sun. Still, the years have not been kind to Liv Caroll.

“I could ask the same of you,” Liv said. “I thought you swore never to come back to Earth.”

“I would’ve kept that oath too if not for this blubbering oaf.” She gestured to Thor who immediately sauntered over.

“Carollsdottir,” he greets. “Finally we meet again.”

“Thor Odinson.” Liv nodded to the prince, smirking as she eyed him up and down. “I see you haven’t changed at all. Good to see you again.”

He took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Sigrid could see her visibly flinch at the contact and, knowing affection was not something that Liv was accustomed to, interfered.

“Thor.” She mumbled warningly, bringing him back up with a single move of her hand.

“Maiden of Fire, you are surely aware of the great battle that took place today.” He declared with great vigor. “Shall I introduce you to our team of great warriors who defended this city.”

Liv froze, breath catching for a moment. She stole a glance outside, to where the Avengers were gathered, chatting and waiting for the two asgardians.

“I don’t think that is a very good idea, Thor.” She shook her head, quickly shutting down the idea. She couldn’t risk the chance of one of them recognizing her, not now, after all this time.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you!” Thor argued, still beaming from ear to ear. “These are very kind mortals.”

“I know they’d love to meet me, but I can’t. Not now.”

Sigrid turned to Thor, jaw clenched.

“Let her go Thor, we talked about boundaries.” Sigrid warns. They really had. Thor isn’t used to things being kept from him. Well, he doesn’t realize when things are being kept from him. So much already has been. Hurried guilt washes over her, she deeply regrets the times she had chosen the fallen brother over the true prince.

Sigrid follows Liv to the back of the store, careful to make sure no one follows.

“It’s been a while.” Liv says, leaning against an oven. Sigrud wasn’t sure if it was on or not, either way the heat wouldn’t bother the blonde.

“I suppose it has.” She agrees.

“I’m sure it feels like nothing to you, what with you being immortal and all that.”

“I’m not immortal,” Sigrid says for the hundredth time, how many hours has she spent trying to explain how Asgradians work to Liv? “I just last a lot longer than you.”

They don’t say much. Sometimes it can be hard to find the right words, the right sentiment. Especially when you’re seeing a long lost friend. Sigrid and Liv’s year together had been interesting. It shouldn’t have happened but it had and now they’re here. Standing in front of each other in a worn down kitchen in the aftermath of an alien invasion caused by Sigrid's oldest friend. A lot has happened in a few years.

“I’ll be staying in Stark’s tower tonight.” Sirgid tells Liv, watching as a thousand emotions trouble behind those hard eyes. “I know you won’t stay in the city long and neither will I but I’d like to see you again, for a proper goodbye. You’ll visit, won’t you?”

Liv bit her lip roughly. “I don’t know Sigrid--”

“Try.” Sigrid interrupts, aiming herself towards the door.

She doesn’t wait for a response, she knows Liv won’t make any promises, she never does. Where Asgardians thrive on glory and oaths, Midgard is built on blood and broken promises. Sigrid and Liv are no different. But still, Sigrid secretly hopes her old friend will show up. Because as shattered as people might feel, Sigid doesn’t believe in being foreverly broken. You might never be truly fixed but you won’t remain hollow. She has to believe these words, or else she might never survive the next few hours.

Hope you enjoyed!!

Tagging: @nymeria-of-winterfell @rexwastaken @widowdeckersrep @jurassicobsessor @evostokoff @rooskaya-yelena @stephanieromanoff @littlekidsteve @ohsweetvenom @thewildseuphoria @sanguine-saber @adoraweisz @faramir-stan @xx-alex-damaged-xx @zalie @romanticgumchewer-reactivated @entishramblings @toomanynotifications @im-constantly-fangirling @mrs-brekker15 @a-reader-and-a-writer @senuritaawsome226 @shesawildflowergirl

#marvel angst #marvel fluff #marvel oc #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #liv and cuz write #liv caroll #sigrid tyrsdottir #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #black widow #iron man #hulk #hawkeye #loki laufeyson x original female character #loki laufeyson x oc #marvel #marvel mcu

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

Text

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

#whump #whump blog #Mystics by Alpaca #writing #writing blog #Lyrem #chapter one #magical whump #nonbinary character #whumpblr #a little funny

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