Never Noticed, 1/2.
Title: Never Noticed
Series: #19 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: G (I know, I know, don't go into shock! :D )
Pairing: mentions of Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. References events in prior stories as well as Red Room mindfuckery, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Magic can be very complicated, even for someone as skilled as Frigga. (Or, why Wanda gets back to Earth.)
One - Camaraderie
There were nine staves made from the roots of Yggdrasil, carved with the First Runes. They each were placed in the center of each realm with care by the Norns, meant to anchor and focus the magic of each realm. They were all slightly different, as befitting the character of each realm, and so ley lines spiraled out from each Runestaff in different ways. Those skilled in runic magicks could sometimes feel the essence of magic, could pull energies from it for spells. Most souls couldn't, even if they could feel magic. Each Runestaff had become part and parcel of each realm, infusing them with life force.
The dark elves on Svartalfheim didn't notice when the magic died on their realm. War had come, and Malekith tried to use the Aether to bring about Ragnarok. He failed, thankfully, and Queen Alflyse was left to rule the remnants of her people in the little land that hadn't been devastated by war. There were far more important things to worry about in their survival, and magic wasn't highly thought of, anyway. Magic users tended to be hunted and abused, so the secret art soon died after the war ended. The dark elves struggled mightily to survive, and cursed Malekith with every breath for giving them that burden.
It wasn't entirely his fault.
Most magic users didn't pay attention to other realms. Some barely paid attention to their own. It was difficult to master magic, to feel the Source as separate from other energies they wished to wield, to understand it for what it was.
So ten thousand years after Svartalfheim's magic died, Muspelheim began to falter. It wasn't a rapid death. No, it was slow, drawn out, as if a connoisseur savored the taste of magic like fine wine. A few souls were aware of the drain, searched for the thief along the branches and roots of Yggdrasil, on each realm, beyond the World Tree and in the spaces between dimensions.
None ever returned.
It was an event easily missed; Jotunheim and Asgard were at war. Treaties pulled in allies, and neither party were allied with Muspelheim. By the end of the war, a truce was begun and the magic of Muspelheim was already starting to fade away.
The royal family of Asgard might have noticed, but they were distracted by matters of state and a new addition to the family.
Thieves could be so opportunistic, really.
There was still magic on Muspelheim. It wasn't all gone, not yet. But its days of working magic were drawing to a close, the High Mages dying out, bodies withering away to dust.
And a creature almost as old as time could afford to wait.
There were always opportunities for more.
***
Loki was surprised to see James Rhodes and Sam Wilson visiting the Tower. Rhodes and Tony immediately started talking about something off to the side, and Loki didn't bother to listen in on the conversation. Sam gravitated to Steve and Clint, and they were joking about something that happened to one of the Lockheed Martin staffers. Loki ambled his way closer, and was oddly gratified that the men didn't disperse or seem averse to his presence. He was even able to tolerate the small talk that they engaged in before Steve and Clint finished their breakfasts and headed out to spar with Sif and Thor.
Looking between Sam and Rhodes, he lofted an eyebrow. "So is this visit the result of a tryst at the gala the other evening?"
Sam looked confused for a moment, then laughed. "Oh! That? You know, I totally forgot I told you about that. Naw, we joked about it, but nothing happened. Those two are way too into each other and don't need a third wheel hanging on. That was a pity date on my part, and anyway, I got a lovely lady's phone number."
"I thought you were serious about it?" Loki asked, brows furrowing as he thought.
"It would've made sense, I guess. I mean, they're both career military, I'm ex-military. I'd've understood the focus on that and not misunderstood the intentions. Rhodey and Carol are a good fit, though. I'm sure they'll have a more permanent hookup once they retire." Sam gave Loki a sidelong look and nudged his arm with an elbow. "How 'bout you? I noticed you disappeared kinda early, and so did the lovely Natasha."
"You know where my affections lie."
"Certainly. And you're much less of a sour puss now," Sam declared with a grin. "So good on you, man."
Loki sighed, uncomfortable with this kind of familiarity. "Was there purpose to this visit?"
"You know, you make it sound like you don't want me here."
Though Sam's tone was light and teasing, Loki still shook his head. "It wasn't-"
Sam waved a hand, indicating it didn't matter. "There's some hush-hush thing in the Air Force, that's why Rhodey's here. I gather that they had a contract or something and a lab blew up downtown a little while ago. He just remembered that I work at the VA and swung by to chat after he finished to talking to whatever bigwig he had to talk to."
"Your office is hardly close to downtown," Loki replied with a frown.
"Man, I am absolutely a destination," Sam teased with a wide grin. "Speaking of which, you're still coming to the group, right? You missed the last two, and they're very underwhelmed by Steve sitting in the back trying not to take up space."
"I had other matters of concern," Loki answered evasively. He didn't want to go into detail of his time with Natasha and James.
"Hey, I get it. I'm not the one you answer to."
Blinking in surprise, Loki looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"There are guys in the group that really want you there. They think you belong, and you've got stuff to contribute. For real, I'm not pulling your leg."
Loki frowned. "I'm hardly pleasant with them."
"They're not there to be coddled," Sam pointed out.
"I am... surprised."
"That they miss you?" Sam shrugged at his nod. "You've heard their stories and you don't treat 'em like glass. To some of them, you're kind of a fixture in their lives, believe it or not. Some people don't have anyone to hang onto. The group becomes it for them. So any change is going to generate anxiety."
"I suppose that makes sense," Loki said grudgingly. "I will try to leave Wednesday afternoons open for you again."
"They'd appreciate that," Sam said, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner. He moved over to the counter and snagged an extra muffin. "So. I'm guessing that Rhodey's talking about letting the Avengers in on whatever lab explosion the military wants to keep hush-hush. Which really isn't very hush-hush, given how they're all famous. There hasn't been a big bad on Earth to pound down in a while, though."
Loki merely lofted an eyebrow at Sam. "Are you trying to determine if you would be invited?"
"Oh, no, I know they would let me in in a heartbeat if my work contract allowed it. They kinda added that without me realizing it, so I'm out of the running for the next two years. Stark offered to buy out the contract, but I don't want to leave my guys behind."
"Noble thought."
"Yeah, I think so, too. Anyway, I'm asking because I'm wondering if you're going to be working with them more often."
"I have been told that I'm a trickster figure."
Sam nodded around his mouthful of muffin. "Uh huh," he said after a moment. "Magic and all that. There are more magical creatures and big bads popping up in the news all the time." At Loki's blank look, he sighed. "Of course. You don't watch the news."
"It's petty and pathetic."
"All the channels pretty much suck," he agreed. "But you have to get your information from somewhere, right?"
"If they have need of me, the Avengers will ask."
"Ah. And SHIELD? That Agent Hill was talking you up pretty good at the party."
Loki sighed. "And SHIELD. I am a consultant, she informed me."
"Lookit you, making the most of exile. See? Humans aren't so bad."
Now he rolled his eyes at Sam, who happily finished off the muffin. "They are simple."
"Don't knock simple, man. Sometimes that's just the thing you want."
Loki paused, thinking of how it felt to have Natasha curled up next to him, James sitting nearby keeping watch to ensure her safety. It was stark contrast to sitting in his hideaway screaming with rage and trying to plot revenge.
"You may have a point," he conceded.
Sam beamed at him. The man was practically a walking ray of sunshine. "Of course I do. Now, how much do you want to bet the Avengers are getting involved in whatever the army wants?"
Looking over at Tony and Rhodes deep in conversation, Loki shook his head. "No bet."
"I thought so, too," Sam said with a nod. "And odds are good, I'm going to have to clean up the mess. I do hope Stark hired on those therapists I suggested."
"Yes," Loki replied, thinking of Natasha. "He did. I believe they are actually making use of their skills from time to time."
"Good. It's never a good idea for a friend to play therapist. I'm too close to the situation."
"And I am hardly therapeutic."
"Don't sell yourself short, Loki," Sam said with a shrug. "I think you'd be surprised if you got out of your own way and stopped overthinking things."
All right, Sam might have had another point there. But he was through giving the man any credit for his ideas. Leaving them all behind, Loki nodded his farewell at Sam and headed toward his suite to study his scrolls.
***
Wanda Maximoff had dark hair, olive skin, a voluptuous body and enough musculature to defend herself physically if she had to. Her twin Pietro was taller, thinner, and had hair that turned white when their bodies had been changed in Baron von Strucker's experiments. She gained the ability to manipulate magic and Pietro got supersonic speed. They were told they were special, that their abilities were a gift, that the experiments were a way to see their true potential, to see what they truly would become. There had been vague worries in the back of her mind as she grew up, the sense that there had been something wrong with those words, but the Baron had always said the right things. He always seemed caring, always came up with fun ways to test how far her abilities could go, how fast Pietro would go.
And then Loki showed up, exposing it all for the lie it was. The Baron had taken her and all of the other children against their will, against their parents' wills, erased memories and experimented on them however he saw fit. He hadn't cared what would happen, saw the losses as acceptable, had thought of the children as expendable. Wanda hadn't wanted to believe it, but seeing the Baron's notes for herself had convinced her. She hadn't wanted to trust anyone else, and figured she and Pietro could take care of the children that survived the experiments. Frigga couldn't know what she was talking about.
Only, she did. And she was willing to take them all on as students, to teach them the ways of magic and the true meaning of their potential.
Frigga was a firm teacher, but not so harsh that she couldn't change her approach to match the learning style of the student. The little ones needed more guidance and foundational lessons; Wanda blew through those in the first few weeks of her stay. She then progressed into more difficult lessons, specializing in the seidr and galdr, through she could almost see the shape of the spá when Frigga started to explain it. Her color seemed to be a vivid, bright red that was rarely seen in Asgardian culture; Frigga's was a warm golden color, and Loki apparently favored greens or blues. Frigga explained that the colors seemed to correlate with the various kinds of magic. As a culture, Asgardians held blue to be the sign of a mage and death, but the individual magics had their own assignments.
"Blue magic," Frigga had said, crafting a spell between her hands for the class to see, "is water, which can be life or death. Green is living things, life, growth. Those two together often blend, given their affinity for life. It's often invoked in seidr, because it creates illusions, though that can also tie into gold or silver. That association is with air. Red is the color of fire and energy and change, of the very fates themselves."
And of course all the little ones looked to Wanda then, with her red magic orbs, the energy blasts that could erupt when she was angry. She had shrugged and took in Frigga's smile. "I happen to like red," she said.
"Your red is more scarlet," Frigga had said. "It's not the deep reds of spilled wine or blood, but bright scarlet of fate, a red and gold mixture. Seidr and spá, your two strongest attributes in the magical arts. Some of the other children are better versed in galdr and the healing arts, which is why their magicks tend to be blue."
Wanda had frowned at that, as some of the little ones tried to waggle their fingers and generate the blue magical fields that indicated spellwork. Hers had always been red. Even when trying to do healing spells that were the easiest ones to craft, her magic had always been red.
But then Frigga's hands closed over hers. "It doesn't matter what the color of your magic is, dear child." Her voice was warm and kind. "It's only the affinity you naturally have. Even if I work the spá, my magic tends to be gold. Anyone can work with magic outside their natural affinity. It's just more difficult to craft."
That was certainly true. She could practice healing spells until they were easy to do, but mostly because she could see the utility in that. Pietro was constantly banging around into things, so she also had the practice for them. Growth spells were difficult for her, no matter how often she tried to practice them, and certain classes of spells seemed to flow through her fingers like water through a sieve.
Wanda thought she was alone in one of the gardens when she growled and stamped her feet in frustration, a burst of red energy flowing from her hands to scorch the stones beneath her feet. It was stupid, but she wanted to cry. The babies could do this, why couldn't she? It wasn't the cumbersome manner of Asgardian layered dresses, since it was all hand gestures and force of will. She didn't have to do some kind of wacky dance or cut herself or whatever else witches had to do in movies to make things happen.
Her brother would say that she was being stupid. But her brother was a speedster, not a witch with scarlet hands and an inability to make living things grow and change. She could destroy them, but that wasn't what she wanted to do. The Baron had been delighted with her gifts, had urged her to practice, but now she knew that he wanted her to be a living weapon. He wanted to be able to point her in a direction and let her loose, killing and destroying and maiming. And why not, if he'd had her parents killed just to warp her into what he wanted her to be?
A hand on her arm startled her, and her arm flew up in reflex, energies coating her hands. Frigga stood there calmly and patiently, two handmaidens behind her. "Leave us," she told them, head tilted in their direction but eyes still on Wanda. They did, bowing at the waist, and Wanda could feel the power in the Queen. It heightened her insecurities, making her feel small and childish and petty, useless despite what she knew.
"Walk with me," Frigga murmured, tucking Wanda's hand onto her arm after the red glow along her hands dissipated. There was no way to politely refuse. "Let me show you the garden."
It felt stupid, but Wanda nodded along with Frigga's talk of the different plants and the insects or animals that lived in the garden. "Do you know why I tell you of these things?" she asked.
"No," Wanda replied, the sickly feeling of inadequacy hanging heavy on her.
"Would you ask a moonflower to bloom in the noonday sun? Would you ask the voles to fly?"
"That's just silly. They don't do that. They can't do that."
"Then why punish yourself for having difficulty with oppositional magic?"
Wanda gave Frigga a sidelong glance. "You can do it all."
"I've had thousands of your years to practice."
She stopped and gaped at the Queen. "What?"
"A lady never discusses her age," Frigga replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But time works differently on Asgard than on Midgard. Earth. It ebbs and flows, and I'm sure there can be ways to predict the variability. Jane Foster on Earth is trying to figure that out, along with her other researches. It has to do with the magical fields on Asgard. Much is involved in keeping our realm habitable, given the nature of its shape and energy fields." She smiled and continued her walk, waiting until Wanda could catch up. "Illusions are my favorite. Subtle magicks, such as that of the seidr. I know quite a bit because of study and practice. Relentless practice, hours of study, years of study. You cannot accumulate the knowledge of thousands of years within only a few hours."
Curling her hand into a fist, Wanda let the magic dance over her skin. She brought it to her chest, and it almost looked like the lick of flames. "I don't have that kind of time."
"But you have time to study. You are a gifted student."
Swallowing uneasily, Wanda looked away. "All I do is destroy. Like the fire you say the red is like. It all gets destroyed."
"And from the ashes can rise the gift of creation."
Wanda looked to Frigga, eyes wide with surprise. "What?"
"If nothing is destroyed, broken down, taken apart... What could your building blocks be? Where could you create something new if there is no space for it? Destruction always precedes creation, and it's an endless dance between the two." She closed both her hands over Wanda's fist. "Fire can be destructive, yes. But it is cleansing."
"Tell that to the forests when a fire burns it down."
"But nature recovers. It clears the way for new growth."
A shiver worked its way down Wanda's spine. "What if that's all I can do? What if all I do is destroy? Burn everything to ashes?"
Frigga's grip on her hand tightened, and the scarlet flames around her fist winked out of existence. "You are not mindless magic. You are in control. If destruction and illusion are the easiest, then that is where you excel. But you choose how to use the magic that you know. You direct the flow of destruction." She looked down at Wanda's hands until she did as well. "I stopped the flow. That's destruction, isn't it? Was that bad?"
"I guess not, but-"
"No, Wanda," Frigga corrected gently. "I've made this mistake before, I won't make it again. It is not you who is bad or damaged or evil or whatever you think a destructive force must be. Perhaps an agent of chaos, but chaos is not evil. It's not something to fear. It's not the talent that's the problem, but how you use it. So learn all you can and use it wisely."
"How do I know what to do?" Wanda asked, her voice faltering.
Smiling softly and a little sadly, Frigga let go of her hands. "Trust that you'll do the right thing, and then follow through. If you make a mistake, you can fix it. There's always time to fix it." Her smile was definitely sad at this point. "If you keep trying, you can make up for what you've done that went wrong. Even death isn't a deterrent for doing the right thing."
Morbid, but the Queen had a point. Wanda allowed her to direct their walk through the garden in companionable silence.
She could be a destructive force. The trick would be figuring out what to destroy.
***
The weekly poker game was too large to take place in Natasha's sitting room now. Aside from her, Clint, Steve and Sam, the rest of the Tower residents joined in: Sif, Thor, James, Loki, Bruce, Jane, Pepper and Tony. One of the larger recreation areas turned into the poker arena, and most of the others shot down her suggestion to split up the group into three groups of four. "If it's too much trouble playing poker, we can do Monopoly," Tony suggested.
"That's a friendship killer," Sam replied, vetoing the idea. "So's Uno, so no way."
"Risk," Clint declared. "Not going to do that one."
"Before you say anything," Natasha declared, "video games are out of the question."
He groaned playfully, and Pepper turned toward Thor and Sif. "Are there any Asgardian games we could play here for game night? We can call it a bonding exercise and say it's to improve diplomatic relations between our realms."
Thor laughed and tried to describe a game that sounded like a very complicated tag. Sif had enjoyed sparring, which wouldn't necessarily be appropriate for a larger group activity. Other games that were like cards, dice or chess were not group activities either.
To their surprise, Loki suggested a game he used to enjoy playing as a child that was essentially Pictionary. That went over well, and they spent the next two hours playing the game while eating an assortment of snacks. "I can't believe I actually had fun with you guys while sober," Tony snarked, making Pepper poke him in the arm and Bruce heave an aggrieved sigh.
"Then to make it truly difficult," Loki found himself saying aloud, "we should find a cask of Asgardian mead and commence with the drawing while intoxicated."
James laughed and shook his head. "I remember that trick back in the day. Steve can still draw a frickin' masterpiece while drunk off his ass."
"When were you that intoxicated?" Sif asked, blinking in surprise. "I thought you couldn't feel the effects of alcoholic drinks."
"Now I can't, but before the serum, when I was a little guy..."
"There was that one guy that thought that many beers would kill ya," James offered.
Steve thought for a moment and then laughed. "Oh, right! Jimmy Flaherty down the block."
"That punk knew better than to mess with you after that."
"Most punks in the neighborhood knew not to after a while."
"'Cause you had me mopping up behind you when you got yourself beat up in every alley in Brooklyn, you idiot."
The others found this side of him fascinating, given that Steve could be so solemn around them sometimes. He simply snorted and threw a chip at James, who caught it and popped it into his mouth. "I don't like bullies," Steve said a little mulishly. Sif patted his shoulder in a comforting manner and then let her hand fall to his thigh for a squeeze.
"And everybody's a bully," James snorted. "Wise guy." But his smile was fond, and he leaned into Natasha. He hummed happily when she carded her fingers through his hair. "If we split into teams, we could do basketball. Not enough for baseball. 'Course, we could just do a fancy game of stickball or something. Make up the rules, since we probably hit way too hard."
Tony's eyes lit up. "Oooh. I think we can design something. Bruce?"
Bruce sighed and made a dismissive gesture in his direction. "Really? We're looking at interdimensional communications and travel, measuring dark matter, trying to delineate the quantum mechanics behind magic, and you want to design a game?"
"Why not?"
"Calvinball," Clint declared, drumming his fingers on the table. All eyes swiveled toward him, and he shrugged as he reached forward for a handful of chips. "It's a comic thing. But I bet we could do a real life version of Calvinball."
"No magic or powers," Pepper said. "That's fair to the rest of us."
"If Rhodey's around for our next game, he'd be down with this," Tony said, rubbing his hands together with childish glee.
Natasha looked over at Sam, lips quirked into a smile. "Much more involved than the poker game used to be."
"Probably going to be a lot more fun. And possibly a lot more dangerous," Sam said, unable to suppress a grin. "Can't wait."
"You're insane, the lot of you," Jane said, shaking her head in amusement. "Good thing we all have access to an in-house doctor if we need it."
"Are you that concerned others will hurt you?" Thor asked, worried.
"Not on purpose! But I'm not exactly a warrior type, so me around that kind of activity? It's an exercise in frustration and possibly broken bones."
"Breaking our bones is not the idea," Clint offered.
"Athletics are not exactly my strong suit. Running on a treadmill when I have to do some kind of aerobic activity, maybe."
"We'll come up with a variety of things," Loki suggested. He didn't even appear to be taunting anyone with it. "Create a schedule of activities. If it's something you don't enjoy, don't participate and just observe."
Jane nodded happily. "Sounds like a great idea to me."
Later that night, Natasha tugged Loki into her suite after pushing James ahead of her through the door. "You were really good tonight," she said, a smile on her lips.
"I am rather artistic," Loki replied as she set the lock on her suite door.
She kissed him full on the mouth. "Not what I meant, Loki," she purred. "You had a good suggestion, didn't make fun of anyone, spoke nicely to Thor, and you were acting like a decent human being."
"That doesn't make me sound all that flattering in my usual state," he observed.
"Oh, sometimes you're not." Laughing against his mouth, Natasha eventually backed up toward her bedroom, where James was waiting for them. The covers were already turned down, soft music playing in the background. "You're not usually this dense, Loki."
"What's the occasion?" Loki asked, catching up to her and crushing her body against his.
"Call this a reward for good behavior," she purred, starting to peel off her clothing. "Should James join us? Or should he just watch?"
Taking a deep breath, Loki started removing his own clothing. "Join us."
Natasha's brilliant smile made the decision worth it. "Perfect."
There was the press of her body against his, her hands running down his back. He was too eager for her, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her wet heat soon enough. James stripped down to his briefs, his hands stroking and fondling Natasha, his mouth nipping at her neck and earlobe. It was a shock when James kissed him, but Loki didn't stop what he was doing. He still thrust into Natasha, pushing her body into James', murmuring in Allspeak about her perfection.
He felt nothing. No desire, no shame, just the press of skin on skin without the divine static that he felt when it was Natasha kissing him.
Without any impetus to continue past that experiment, James went back to nuzzling and fondling Natasha until Loki came. After that, he pulled her onto the bed to suckle her breasts and finger her until she came, body shaking. Then he slid inside her himself, whispering in Russian in a tender tone of voice. James moved slowly at first, then faster and faster, hips snapping and his breath stuttering in his chest. Loki sprawled beside her and watched Natasha, the delighted joy in her eyes, the way she reached out for them both.
Sam had said there was nothing wrong in enjoying the simple pleasures. Seeing Natasha like this certainly qualified, and it was a pleasure he would always enjoy. He also appreciated the dreamless sleep he had when curled around her in her bed, and was glad that it was big enough to fit three of them together.
Some feelings weren't worth questioning.
***
Floating in the Void, Selene stretched. She was still sated, but sooner or later the hunger would begin again, a gnawing ache that felt as though it would devour her whole. If left unfed, her body would start to consume itself, draining magic and life and all the energies involved in sustaining a mortal body. But she had found the perfect way to sustain herself, without even having to descend onto a planet and declare herself a goddess. Still, that was amusing. Silly mortals with their ignorance and outlandish explanations for things. Her skin was so white she shone like their moon at night, her hair and eyes and lips and nails the color of the deepest black of an eclipse. They named her Selene, millennia ago, worshipped her as a goddess, fed her the lives of their convicted and dangerous, gave her a tribute of energies and magic to keep them safe from the wilds of their primitive planet. Eventually, when there was nothing left to give, she had devoured them all as well, leaving desolation and emptiness in her wake.
And then she found staves of immense power, drawing her to a series of connected worlds, tasting of the divine.
There was Jotunheim first. Draining that world of all magic left it cold and bleak, hardly fit for life. The populace that remained after the devastation adapted, becoming ice giants, fearing magic and all the dangers that it would bring. Tales of her had faded with millennia, so that only the fears of magic and the superstition of Ragnarok remained. Silly fools. But the cold taste of its magic had been sublime, and only made her long for the other worlds in this system.
Next had been Svartalfheim, generously warm and green. It was a pleasant change after the cold and metallic taste of Jotunheim. She had devoured that world's magic so fast it left her dizzy and full. Selene hadn't needed to feed again for quite some time.
Her next taste had been Muspelheim. This time, she delicately sipped the heat and fire and destruction of that realm. She savored it, spicy on her tongue and soul, its magic swirling inside her and keeping her warm inside the Void.
She was everywhere and nowhere, infinity bound inside her skin.
There was magic all along the connections between these worlds, what their silly people referred to as Yggdrasil. Pathways and interconnected dimensions, pockets of tasty treats she planned to excavate and devour. But the Runestaves buried deeply within each realm? Oh, but those were delicious, sustaining, the ultimate force of life and magic.
Selene practically drooled just thinking about it.
It took over a thousand years to slowly drain Muspelheim of its magic, and for the past ten years she floated in the Void. For kicks, she drew herself into a body, her favored form since she first began her existence. There was no Before and no After, only Existence, and she had long since forgotten that first world she had destroyed with her appetites. There was only Now, only the hunger threatening to rip her apart.
Eventually she would find another Runestaff and begin drinking its energies. For now, she was still sated, still content to drift and reflect on the entirety of the universe.
For now.
***
***
To Chapter Two - Transitions
Series: #19 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight, #15 - Not The First Time, #16 - Friendly Fire, #17 - Relieved, #18 - Release)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: G (I know, I know, don't go into shock! :D )
Pairing: mentions of Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. References events in prior stories as well as Red Room mindfuckery, PTSD, violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups.
Summary: Magic can be very complicated, even for someone as skilled as Frigga. (Or, why Wanda gets back to Earth.)
One - Camaraderie
There were nine staves made from the roots of Yggdrasil, carved with the First Runes. They each were placed in the center of each realm with care by the Norns, meant to anchor and focus the magic of each realm. They were all slightly different, as befitting the character of each realm, and so ley lines spiraled out from each Runestaff in different ways. Those skilled in runic magicks could sometimes feel the essence of magic, could pull energies from it for spells. Most souls couldn't, even if they could feel magic. Each Runestaff had become part and parcel of each realm, infusing them with life force.
The dark elves on Svartalfheim didn't notice when the magic died on their realm. War had come, and Malekith tried to use the Aether to bring about Ragnarok. He failed, thankfully, and Queen Alflyse was left to rule the remnants of her people in the little land that hadn't been devastated by war. There were far more important things to worry about in their survival, and magic wasn't highly thought of, anyway. Magic users tended to be hunted and abused, so the secret art soon died after the war ended. The dark elves struggled mightily to survive, and cursed Malekith with every breath for giving them that burden.
It wasn't entirely his fault.
Most magic users didn't pay attention to other realms. Some barely paid attention to their own. It was difficult to master magic, to feel the Source as separate from other energies they wished to wield, to understand it for what it was.
So ten thousand years after Svartalfheim's magic died, Muspelheim began to falter. It wasn't a rapid death. No, it was slow, drawn out, as if a connoisseur savored the taste of magic like fine wine. A few souls were aware of the drain, searched for the thief along the branches and roots of Yggdrasil, on each realm, beyond the World Tree and in the spaces between dimensions.
None ever returned.
It was an event easily missed; Jotunheim and Asgard were at war. Treaties pulled in allies, and neither party were allied with Muspelheim. By the end of the war, a truce was begun and the magic of Muspelheim was already starting to fade away.
The royal family of Asgard might have noticed, but they were distracted by matters of state and a new addition to the family.
Thieves could be so opportunistic, really.
There was still magic on Muspelheim. It wasn't all gone, not yet. But its days of working magic were drawing to a close, the High Mages dying out, bodies withering away to dust.
And a creature almost as old as time could afford to wait.
There were always opportunities for more.
***
Loki was surprised to see James Rhodes and Sam Wilson visiting the Tower. Rhodes and Tony immediately started talking about something off to the side, and Loki didn't bother to listen in on the conversation. Sam gravitated to Steve and Clint, and they were joking about something that happened to one of the Lockheed Martin staffers. Loki ambled his way closer, and was oddly gratified that the men didn't disperse or seem averse to his presence. He was even able to tolerate the small talk that they engaged in before Steve and Clint finished their breakfasts and headed out to spar with Sif and Thor.
Looking between Sam and Rhodes, he lofted an eyebrow. "So is this visit the result of a tryst at the gala the other evening?"
Sam looked confused for a moment, then laughed. "Oh! That? You know, I totally forgot I told you about that. Naw, we joked about it, but nothing happened. Those two are way too into each other and don't need a third wheel hanging on. That was a pity date on my part, and anyway, I got a lovely lady's phone number."
"I thought you were serious about it?" Loki asked, brows furrowing as he thought.
"It would've made sense, I guess. I mean, they're both career military, I'm ex-military. I'd've understood the focus on that and not misunderstood the intentions. Rhodey and Carol are a good fit, though. I'm sure they'll have a more permanent hookup once they retire." Sam gave Loki a sidelong look and nudged his arm with an elbow. "How 'bout you? I noticed you disappeared kinda early, and so did the lovely Natasha."
"You know where my affections lie."
"Certainly. And you're much less of a sour puss now," Sam declared with a grin. "So good on you, man."
Loki sighed, uncomfortable with this kind of familiarity. "Was there purpose to this visit?"
"You know, you make it sound like you don't want me here."
Though Sam's tone was light and teasing, Loki still shook his head. "It wasn't-"
Sam waved a hand, indicating it didn't matter. "There's some hush-hush thing in the Air Force, that's why Rhodey's here. I gather that they had a contract or something and a lab blew up downtown a little while ago. He just remembered that I work at the VA and swung by to chat after he finished to talking to whatever bigwig he had to talk to."
"Your office is hardly close to downtown," Loki replied with a frown.
"Man, I am absolutely a destination," Sam teased with a wide grin. "Speaking of which, you're still coming to the group, right? You missed the last two, and they're very underwhelmed by Steve sitting in the back trying not to take up space."
"I had other matters of concern," Loki answered evasively. He didn't want to go into detail of his time with Natasha and James.
"Hey, I get it. I'm not the one you answer to."
Blinking in surprise, Loki looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"There are guys in the group that really want you there. They think you belong, and you've got stuff to contribute. For real, I'm not pulling your leg."
Loki frowned. "I'm hardly pleasant with them."
"They're not there to be coddled," Sam pointed out.
"I am... surprised."
"That they miss you?" Sam shrugged at his nod. "You've heard their stories and you don't treat 'em like glass. To some of them, you're kind of a fixture in their lives, believe it or not. Some people don't have anyone to hang onto. The group becomes it for them. So any change is going to generate anxiety."
"I suppose that makes sense," Loki said grudgingly. "I will try to leave Wednesday afternoons open for you again."
"They'd appreciate that," Sam said, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner. He moved over to the counter and snagged an extra muffin. "So. I'm guessing that Rhodey's talking about letting the Avengers in on whatever lab explosion the military wants to keep hush-hush. Which really isn't very hush-hush, given how they're all famous. There hasn't been a big bad on Earth to pound down in a while, though."
Loki merely lofted an eyebrow at Sam. "Are you trying to determine if you would be invited?"
"Oh, no, I know they would let me in in a heartbeat if my work contract allowed it. They kinda added that without me realizing it, so I'm out of the running for the next two years. Stark offered to buy out the contract, but I don't want to leave my guys behind."
"Noble thought."
"Yeah, I think so, too. Anyway, I'm asking because I'm wondering if you're going to be working with them more often."
"I have been told that I'm a trickster figure."
Sam nodded around his mouthful of muffin. "Uh huh," he said after a moment. "Magic and all that. There are more magical creatures and big bads popping up in the news all the time." At Loki's blank look, he sighed. "Of course. You don't watch the news."
"It's petty and pathetic."
"All the channels pretty much suck," he agreed. "But you have to get your information from somewhere, right?"
"If they have need of me, the Avengers will ask."
"Ah. And SHIELD? That Agent Hill was talking you up pretty good at the party."
Loki sighed. "And SHIELD. I am a consultant, she informed me."
"Lookit you, making the most of exile. See? Humans aren't so bad."
Now he rolled his eyes at Sam, who happily finished off the muffin. "They are simple."
"Don't knock simple, man. Sometimes that's just the thing you want."
Loki paused, thinking of how it felt to have Natasha curled up next to him, James sitting nearby keeping watch to ensure her safety. It was stark contrast to sitting in his hideaway screaming with rage and trying to plot revenge.
"You may have a point," he conceded.
Sam beamed at him. The man was practically a walking ray of sunshine. "Of course I do. Now, how much do you want to bet the Avengers are getting involved in whatever the army wants?"
Looking over at Tony and Rhodes deep in conversation, Loki shook his head. "No bet."
"I thought so, too," Sam said with a nod. "And odds are good, I'm going to have to clean up the mess. I do hope Stark hired on those therapists I suggested."
"Yes," Loki replied, thinking of Natasha. "He did. I believe they are actually making use of their skills from time to time."
"Good. It's never a good idea for a friend to play therapist. I'm too close to the situation."
"And I am hardly therapeutic."
"Don't sell yourself short, Loki," Sam said with a shrug. "I think you'd be surprised if you got out of your own way and stopped overthinking things."
All right, Sam might have had another point there. But he was through giving the man any credit for his ideas. Leaving them all behind, Loki nodded his farewell at Sam and headed toward his suite to study his scrolls.
***
Wanda Maximoff had dark hair, olive skin, a voluptuous body and enough musculature to defend herself physically if she had to. Her twin Pietro was taller, thinner, and had hair that turned white when their bodies had been changed in Baron von Strucker's experiments. She gained the ability to manipulate magic and Pietro got supersonic speed. They were told they were special, that their abilities were a gift, that the experiments were a way to see their true potential, to see what they truly would become. There had been vague worries in the back of her mind as she grew up, the sense that there had been something wrong with those words, but the Baron had always said the right things. He always seemed caring, always came up with fun ways to test how far her abilities could go, how fast Pietro would go.
And then Loki showed up, exposing it all for the lie it was. The Baron had taken her and all of the other children against their will, against their parents' wills, erased memories and experimented on them however he saw fit. He hadn't cared what would happen, saw the losses as acceptable, had thought of the children as expendable. Wanda hadn't wanted to believe it, but seeing the Baron's notes for herself had convinced her. She hadn't wanted to trust anyone else, and figured she and Pietro could take care of the children that survived the experiments. Frigga couldn't know what she was talking about.
Only, she did. And she was willing to take them all on as students, to teach them the ways of magic and the true meaning of their potential.
Frigga was a firm teacher, but not so harsh that she couldn't change her approach to match the learning style of the student. The little ones needed more guidance and foundational lessons; Wanda blew through those in the first few weeks of her stay. She then progressed into more difficult lessons, specializing in the seidr and galdr, through she could almost see the shape of the spá when Frigga started to explain it. Her color seemed to be a vivid, bright red that was rarely seen in Asgardian culture; Frigga's was a warm golden color, and Loki apparently favored greens or blues. Frigga explained that the colors seemed to correlate with the various kinds of magic. As a culture, Asgardians held blue to be the sign of a mage and death, but the individual magics had their own assignments.
"Blue magic," Frigga had said, crafting a spell between her hands for the class to see, "is water, which can be life or death. Green is living things, life, growth. Those two together often blend, given their affinity for life. It's often invoked in seidr, because it creates illusions, though that can also tie into gold or silver. That association is with air. Red is the color of fire and energy and change, of the very fates themselves."
And of course all the little ones looked to Wanda then, with her red magic orbs, the energy blasts that could erupt when she was angry. She had shrugged and took in Frigga's smile. "I happen to like red," she said.
"Your red is more scarlet," Frigga had said. "It's not the deep reds of spilled wine or blood, but bright scarlet of fate, a red and gold mixture. Seidr and spá, your two strongest attributes in the magical arts. Some of the other children are better versed in galdr and the healing arts, which is why their magicks tend to be blue."
Wanda had frowned at that, as some of the little ones tried to waggle their fingers and generate the blue magical fields that indicated spellwork. Hers had always been red. Even when trying to do healing spells that were the easiest ones to craft, her magic had always been red.
But then Frigga's hands closed over hers. "It doesn't matter what the color of your magic is, dear child." Her voice was warm and kind. "It's only the affinity you naturally have. Even if I work the spá, my magic tends to be gold. Anyone can work with magic outside their natural affinity. It's just more difficult to craft."
That was certainly true. She could practice healing spells until they were easy to do, but mostly because she could see the utility in that. Pietro was constantly banging around into things, so she also had the practice for them. Growth spells were difficult for her, no matter how often she tried to practice them, and certain classes of spells seemed to flow through her fingers like water through a sieve.
Wanda thought she was alone in one of the gardens when she growled and stamped her feet in frustration, a burst of red energy flowing from her hands to scorch the stones beneath her feet. It was stupid, but she wanted to cry. The babies could do this, why couldn't she? It wasn't the cumbersome manner of Asgardian layered dresses, since it was all hand gestures and force of will. She didn't have to do some kind of wacky dance or cut herself or whatever else witches had to do in movies to make things happen.
Her brother would say that she was being stupid. But her brother was a speedster, not a witch with scarlet hands and an inability to make living things grow and change. She could destroy them, but that wasn't what she wanted to do. The Baron had been delighted with her gifts, had urged her to practice, but now she knew that he wanted her to be a living weapon. He wanted to be able to point her in a direction and let her loose, killing and destroying and maiming. And why not, if he'd had her parents killed just to warp her into what he wanted her to be?
A hand on her arm startled her, and her arm flew up in reflex, energies coating her hands. Frigga stood there calmly and patiently, two handmaidens behind her. "Leave us," she told them, head tilted in their direction but eyes still on Wanda. They did, bowing at the waist, and Wanda could feel the power in the Queen. It heightened her insecurities, making her feel small and childish and petty, useless despite what she knew.
"Walk with me," Frigga murmured, tucking Wanda's hand onto her arm after the red glow along her hands dissipated. There was no way to politely refuse. "Let me show you the garden."
It felt stupid, but Wanda nodded along with Frigga's talk of the different plants and the insects or animals that lived in the garden. "Do you know why I tell you of these things?" she asked.
"No," Wanda replied, the sickly feeling of inadequacy hanging heavy on her.
"Would you ask a moonflower to bloom in the noonday sun? Would you ask the voles to fly?"
"That's just silly. They don't do that. They can't do that."
"Then why punish yourself for having difficulty with oppositional magic?"
Wanda gave Frigga a sidelong glance. "You can do it all."
"I've had thousands of your years to practice."
She stopped and gaped at the Queen. "What?"
"A lady never discusses her age," Frigga replied, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But time works differently on Asgard than on Midgard. Earth. It ebbs and flows, and I'm sure there can be ways to predict the variability. Jane Foster on Earth is trying to figure that out, along with her other researches. It has to do with the magical fields on Asgard. Much is involved in keeping our realm habitable, given the nature of its shape and energy fields." She smiled and continued her walk, waiting until Wanda could catch up. "Illusions are my favorite. Subtle magicks, such as that of the seidr. I know quite a bit because of study and practice. Relentless practice, hours of study, years of study. You cannot accumulate the knowledge of thousands of years within only a few hours."
Curling her hand into a fist, Wanda let the magic dance over her skin. She brought it to her chest, and it almost looked like the lick of flames. "I don't have that kind of time."
"But you have time to study. You are a gifted student."
Swallowing uneasily, Wanda looked away. "All I do is destroy. Like the fire you say the red is like. It all gets destroyed."
"And from the ashes can rise the gift of creation."
Wanda looked to Frigga, eyes wide with surprise. "What?"
"If nothing is destroyed, broken down, taken apart... What could your building blocks be? Where could you create something new if there is no space for it? Destruction always precedes creation, and it's an endless dance between the two." She closed both her hands over Wanda's fist. "Fire can be destructive, yes. But it is cleansing."
"Tell that to the forests when a fire burns it down."
"But nature recovers. It clears the way for new growth."
A shiver worked its way down Wanda's spine. "What if that's all I can do? What if all I do is destroy? Burn everything to ashes?"
Frigga's grip on her hand tightened, and the scarlet flames around her fist winked out of existence. "You are not mindless magic. You are in control. If destruction and illusion are the easiest, then that is where you excel. But you choose how to use the magic that you know. You direct the flow of destruction." She looked down at Wanda's hands until she did as well. "I stopped the flow. That's destruction, isn't it? Was that bad?"
"I guess not, but-"
"No, Wanda," Frigga corrected gently. "I've made this mistake before, I won't make it again. It is not you who is bad or damaged or evil or whatever you think a destructive force must be. Perhaps an agent of chaos, but chaos is not evil. It's not something to fear. It's not the talent that's the problem, but how you use it. So learn all you can and use it wisely."
"How do I know what to do?" Wanda asked, her voice faltering.
Smiling softly and a little sadly, Frigga let go of her hands. "Trust that you'll do the right thing, and then follow through. If you make a mistake, you can fix it. There's always time to fix it." Her smile was definitely sad at this point. "If you keep trying, you can make up for what you've done that went wrong. Even death isn't a deterrent for doing the right thing."
Morbid, but the Queen had a point. Wanda allowed her to direct their walk through the garden in companionable silence.
She could be a destructive force. The trick would be figuring out what to destroy.
***
The weekly poker game was too large to take place in Natasha's sitting room now. Aside from her, Clint, Steve and Sam, the rest of the Tower residents joined in: Sif, Thor, James, Loki, Bruce, Jane, Pepper and Tony. One of the larger recreation areas turned into the poker arena, and most of the others shot down her suggestion to split up the group into three groups of four. "If it's too much trouble playing poker, we can do Monopoly," Tony suggested.
"That's a friendship killer," Sam replied, vetoing the idea. "So's Uno, so no way."
"Risk," Clint declared. "Not going to do that one."
"Before you say anything," Natasha declared, "video games are out of the question."
He groaned playfully, and Pepper turned toward Thor and Sif. "Are there any Asgardian games we could play here for game night? We can call it a bonding exercise and say it's to improve diplomatic relations between our realms."
Thor laughed and tried to describe a game that sounded like a very complicated tag. Sif had enjoyed sparring, which wouldn't necessarily be appropriate for a larger group activity. Other games that were like cards, dice or chess were not group activities either.
To their surprise, Loki suggested a game he used to enjoy playing as a child that was essentially Pictionary. That went over well, and they spent the next two hours playing the game while eating an assortment of snacks. "I can't believe I actually had fun with you guys while sober," Tony snarked, making Pepper poke him in the arm and Bruce heave an aggrieved sigh.
"Then to make it truly difficult," Loki found himself saying aloud, "we should find a cask of Asgardian mead and commence with the drawing while intoxicated."
James laughed and shook his head. "I remember that trick back in the day. Steve can still draw a frickin' masterpiece while drunk off his ass."
"When were you that intoxicated?" Sif asked, blinking in surprise. "I thought you couldn't feel the effects of alcoholic drinks."
"Now I can't, but before the serum, when I was a little guy..."
"There was that one guy that thought that many beers would kill ya," James offered.
Steve thought for a moment and then laughed. "Oh, right! Jimmy Flaherty down the block."
"That punk knew better than to mess with you after that."
"Most punks in the neighborhood knew not to after a while."
"'Cause you had me mopping up behind you when you got yourself beat up in every alley in Brooklyn, you idiot."
The others found this side of him fascinating, given that Steve could be so solemn around them sometimes. He simply snorted and threw a chip at James, who caught it and popped it into his mouth. "I don't like bullies," Steve said a little mulishly. Sif patted his shoulder in a comforting manner and then let her hand fall to his thigh for a squeeze.
"And everybody's a bully," James snorted. "Wise guy." But his smile was fond, and he leaned into Natasha. He hummed happily when she carded her fingers through his hair. "If we split into teams, we could do basketball. Not enough for baseball. 'Course, we could just do a fancy game of stickball or something. Make up the rules, since we probably hit way too hard."
Tony's eyes lit up. "Oooh. I think we can design something. Bruce?"
Bruce sighed and made a dismissive gesture in his direction. "Really? We're looking at interdimensional communications and travel, measuring dark matter, trying to delineate the quantum mechanics behind magic, and you want to design a game?"
"Why not?"
"Calvinball," Clint declared, drumming his fingers on the table. All eyes swiveled toward him, and he shrugged as he reached forward for a handful of chips. "It's a comic thing. But I bet we could do a real life version of Calvinball."
"No magic or powers," Pepper said. "That's fair to the rest of us."
"If Rhodey's around for our next game, he'd be down with this," Tony said, rubbing his hands together with childish glee.
Natasha looked over at Sam, lips quirked into a smile. "Much more involved than the poker game used to be."
"Probably going to be a lot more fun. And possibly a lot more dangerous," Sam said, unable to suppress a grin. "Can't wait."
"You're insane, the lot of you," Jane said, shaking her head in amusement. "Good thing we all have access to an in-house doctor if we need it."
"Are you that concerned others will hurt you?" Thor asked, worried.
"Not on purpose! But I'm not exactly a warrior type, so me around that kind of activity? It's an exercise in frustration and possibly broken bones."
"Breaking our bones is not the idea," Clint offered.
"Athletics are not exactly my strong suit. Running on a treadmill when I have to do some kind of aerobic activity, maybe."
"We'll come up with a variety of things," Loki suggested. He didn't even appear to be taunting anyone with it. "Create a schedule of activities. If it's something you don't enjoy, don't participate and just observe."
Jane nodded happily. "Sounds like a great idea to me."
Later that night, Natasha tugged Loki into her suite after pushing James ahead of her through the door. "You were really good tonight," she said, a smile on her lips.
"I am rather artistic," Loki replied as she set the lock on her suite door.
She kissed him full on the mouth. "Not what I meant, Loki," she purred. "You had a good suggestion, didn't make fun of anyone, spoke nicely to Thor, and you were acting like a decent human being."
"That doesn't make me sound all that flattering in my usual state," he observed.
"Oh, sometimes you're not." Laughing against his mouth, Natasha eventually backed up toward her bedroom, where James was waiting for them. The covers were already turned down, soft music playing in the background. "You're not usually this dense, Loki."
"What's the occasion?" Loki asked, catching up to her and crushing her body against his.
"Call this a reward for good behavior," she purred, starting to peel off her clothing. "Should James join us? Or should he just watch?"
Taking a deep breath, Loki started removing his own clothing. "Join us."
Natasha's brilliant smile made the decision worth it. "Perfect."
There was the press of her body against his, her hands running down his back. He was too eager for her, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her wet heat soon enough. James stripped down to his briefs, his hands stroking and fondling Natasha, his mouth nipping at her neck and earlobe. It was a shock when James kissed him, but Loki didn't stop what he was doing. He still thrust into Natasha, pushing her body into James', murmuring in Allspeak about her perfection.
He felt nothing. No desire, no shame, just the press of skin on skin without the divine static that he felt when it was Natasha kissing him.
Without any impetus to continue past that experiment, James went back to nuzzling and fondling Natasha until Loki came. After that, he pulled her onto the bed to suckle her breasts and finger her until she came, body shaking. Then he slid inside her himself, whispering in Russian in a tender tone of voice. James moved slowly at first, then faster and faster, hips snapping and his breath stuttering in his chest. Loki sprawled beside her and watched Natasha, the delighted joy in her eyes, the way she reached out for them both.
Sam had said there was nothing wrong in enjoying the simple pleasures. Seeing Natasha like this certainly qualified, and it was a pleasure he would always enjoy. He also appreciated the dreamless sleep he had when curled around her in her bed, and was glad that it was big enough to fit three of them together.
Some feelings weren't worth questioning.
***
Floating in the Void, Selene stretched. She was still sated, but sooner or later the hunger would begin again, a gnawing ache that felt as though it would devour her whole. If left unfed, her body would start to consume itself, draining magic and life and all the energies involved in sustaining a mortal body. But she had found the perfect way to sustain herself, without even having to descend onto a planet and declare herself a goddess. Still, that was amusing. Silly mortals with their ignorance and outlandish explanations for things. Her skin was so white she shone like their moon at night, her hair and eyes and lips and nails the color of the deepest black of an eclipse. They named her Selene, millennia ago, worshipped her as a goddess, fed her the lives of their convicted and dangerous, gave her a tribute of energies and magic to keep them safe from the wilds of their primitive planet. Eventually, when there was nothing left to give, she had devoured them all as well, leaving desolation and emptiness in her wake.
And then she found staves of immense power, drawing her to a series of connected worlds, tasting of the divine.
There was Jotunheim first. Draining that world of all magic left it cold and bleak, hardly fit for life. The populace that remained after the devastation adapted, becoming ice giants, fearing magic and all the dangers that it would bring. Tales of her had faded with millennia, so that only the fears of magic and the superstition of Ragnarok remained. Silly fools. But the cold taste of its magic had been sublime, and only made her long for the other worlds in this system.
Next had been Svartalfheim, generously warm and green. It was a pleasant change after the cold and metallic taste of Jotunheim. She had devoured that world's magic so fast it left her dizzy and full. Selene hadn't needed to feed again for quite some time.
Her next taste had been Muspelheim. This time, she delicately sipped the heat and fire and destruction of that realm. She savored it, spicy on her tongue and soul, its magic swirling inside her and keeping her warm inside the Void.
She was everywhere and nowhere, infinity bound inside her skin.
There was magic all along the connections between these worlds, what their silly people referred to as Yggdrasil. Pathways and interconnected dimensions, pockets of tasty treats she planned to excavate and devour. But the Runestaves buried deeply within each realm? Oh, but those were delicious, sustaining, the ultimate force of life and magic.
Selene practically drooled just thinking about it.
It took over a thousand years to slowly drain Muspelheim of its magic, and for the past ten years she floated in the Void. For kicks, she drew herself into a body, her favored form since she first began her existence. There was no Before and no After, only Existence, and she had long since forgotten that first world she had destroyed with her appetites. There was only Now, only the hunger threatening to rip her apart.
Eventually she would find another Runestaff and begin drinking its energies. For now, she was still sated, still content to drift and reflect on the entirety of the universe.
For now.
***
***
To Chapter Two - Transitions