The coffee was bitter, to no surprise.
I'd tasted worse. Mead gone sour, giant's blood on the blood-streaked field of Jotunheim, the ash-choked air of Muspelheim the few times I had woken up drunk there. But there was something about mundane coffee that always managed to kick, regardless of your physiology. Still, I drank it. The warmth was pleasant, and watching Ajak work her particular brand of magic required patience I'd need the caffeine to maintain.
Ava sat at the kitchen table like a cornered animal, trying to decide if the trap was worth the bait. Her hands wrapped around her own cup, knuckles white, and her eyes darting between us with wariness.
I remained standing and still, overlooking the duo like a rock troll.
"Odinson has described your condition to me, at least to his understanding," Ajak said, her voice soothing. "From what I understand, your molecular structure is unstable. You exist in a state of quantum flux, phasing between this reality and another."
Ava's jaw tightened. "It's not a condition..." She trailed off, her eyes focused on the teacup in her hand. "It is hell." She looked up and into Ajak's eyes, but the woman was unmoved.
"Semantics, my child." Ajak finally said after a sip of her own coffee, unbothered. "I can stabilize you. Permanently. I'm something of a healer around these paths." A disarming smile.
For a moment, Ava just stared. Then she burst out into laughter. It was a bitter sound, one much like a father would give after being told his first son had been sent to Valhalla during his first ever raid. "You're a healer? Is that what this is? Some kind of faith-healing bullshit in the deep ends of bumfuck South Dakota?" She shook her head. "I'm not sick, lady. I don't need healing. I need..." Her voice cracked. "I need my atoms to stop tearing themselves apart, and medicine doesn't fix that. Trust me, I've tried."
Ajak's smile didn't waver despite the words, but I let out a grunt that sealed Ava's lips shut.
"Healing is a simplification of what I do. A word you mortals understand." She set her cup down, folding her hands on the table. "What I actually manipulate is cosmic energy, the building block of the universe, in a way. It is the fundamental force that binds all matter together, organic and inorganic, and I'm one of the best at manipulating it. Perhaps little Sersi is just as good," Ajak mused to herself, her eyes drifting out the window, "but she is focused on the inorganic aspect of matter. While I can accelerate the natural healing of living tissue to no problem, I can also work on a molecular level. Restructure damaged cells, reinforce cellular bonds, even rewrite genetic information when necessary."
She leaned forward slightly as Ava's expression began to change. I didn't understand what she was saying, not truly. I lacked the scientific knowledge in both lives to decipher the words used, but Ava did, and her body froze in realization as Ajak continued.
"Your quantum instability isn't a disease in the traditional sense, but it is damage. Your molecular structure is fragmenting. Your atoms are oscillating between states they shouldn't be able to occupy simultaneously. You need someone who can reach into your body at the subatomic level and reinforce the bonds that are breaking apart. Lock your molecules into a single, stable state."
Ava's breathing had gone shallow. She licked her lips nervously, then glanced up at me before replying. "That's... that's not possible."
"For human science? Perhaps not." Ajak's expression remained calm, certain. "But I'm not human. I've spent over five millennia learning to manipulate matter itself. While you slept, I examined your body with cosmic energy. I can see the quantum fluctuations, feel where your cellular structure destabilizes and reconnects. The constant phasing has created microscopic tears in your molecular bonds, tears that keep widening with every shift." She paused. "Right now, Thor's lightning has forced you into a state of complete molecular coherence. I have a window. A brief one, because all of your atoms are in alignment. They're stable, coherent, existing fully in this reality. If I work quickly, I can use cosmic energy to reinforce those molecular bonds permanently. Essentially, I'll be rewriting your body's atomic structure to maintain stability without the quantum flux."
Silence filled the kitchen. I could hear Ava's breathing, quick and shallow. I could see the way her hands trembled around the cup. The girl was scared, worried, but Ajak was not done, and she struck the final blow with a single sentence.
"And you won't necessarily be robbed of your unique ability if you want. I can make it temporary instead of permanent, which means you would be able to live a regular life without being forced to give up what has been a central part of your identity all your life."
The silence lasted minutes. Its only disruption was my sipping of tea, which was loud in the quiet kitchen. Ajak gave me a look, but I shrugged her off.
"Why?"
The word finally came out barely above a whisper.
"Why are you offering this?" Ava looked up, and her eyes were wet with tears. "I broke into your house. I tried to steal from you. I..." She swallowed hard. "Why would you help me?"
Ajak turned to look at me. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, watching the dark plains stretch toward the horizon. The question wasn't for me. I'd already given my answer when I'd carried the woman inside instead of killing her or leaving her unconscious in the dirt.
"It was Thor's decision to make the offer," Ajak said. "Not even I fully understand why."
That wasn't entirely true. Ajak understood. She just wanted Ava to hear it from me. Unfortunately for both of them, I wasn't much for speeches.
I took another sip of terrible coffee. "You reek of desperation and the need to satisfy a craving," I said finally, still not looking at her. "I know what it feels like for your desperate need for something to be turned against you." Thor's desire for Odin's love and validation was hardly the same as Ava's desire to cure herself. However, both of them had bred forth desperation, a desperation that people used to weaponize them for their own goals. Mine had been Odin. Ava had been S.H.I.E.L.D., and now whoever it was that held her leash. "Desperation makes people stupid. But it also makes them honest. Foolish, aye, but honest. An honesty that can be used when the desperation is stripped away."
For a long moment, Ava said nothing. Then her face crumpled, and she buried it in her hands, her shoulders shaking. The sound of her crying filled the kitchen. It was a deeply uncomfortable sound. It was raw and desperate. It was the sound of someone who had decided to hope for the first time.
Hope.
What a dangerous word. The sobs and hiccups continued, and the more I heard it, the more my thoughts went to Thrud and Sif. Were they crying now, worried, sick over my disappearance? Did they think me dead, and were they mourning already? I discarded the uncomfortable thoughts with a grunt and shifted to my feet, then I walked off. I could not remain here.
Outside, the first hints of dawn were beginning to paint the horizon. It would be a clear day. Good weather for trying to handle finer tasks, such as working on Ajak's flowerbed.
Ajak's eyes trailed after me as I walked out, and the last thing I heard was Ava asking, "How long will it take?"
I had only just stepped outside when I sensed it. The sky was my domain, and while I could not feel or control all of it, every cloud, stormy or otherwise, in my vicinity was under my command, which was why I felt it. Something was moving through it, and fast. My fingers twitched, and I felt Mjolnir stir at the back of my head in response before I stilled the reflexive desire to call the hammer.
They say trouble comes in threes, and so far that prediction was proving true as I watched a figure armoured in red and gold flying above me and carrying someone in hand. Blue eyes narrowed as time slowed and I caught the figure clearly. The armour was clean and smooth. This was not the bulky armour I was more familiar with. This was revolutionary.
However, it seemed that the trouble had not found me yet, because the figure and his passenger sailed over the homestead and headed to the town. I wondered what Iron Man was doing here. Then, a second later, I discarded the thought as I faced the flowerbed once more. I had more interesting things to do, like deciding which plant was a true flower and which was a weed.
_
Namor
Namor, King of Talokan, son of the sea and the surface, stood on the rocky outcropping that overlooked his kingdom and felt strange. Something was terribly wrong with the world, and the ocean had changed to accommodate it.
It had started off subtle at first. A shift in the currents that his people had noticed but could not explain. The sudden discovery of underwater caverns. The strange purity in the water, like the surface dwellers had suddenly decided to respect the seas that had spawned their very lives. The fish swimming in new patterns, avoiding areas they had always frequented. The whales singing songs of confusion and fear. The very water itself tasted different, like it had been diluted with something foreign, something purer.
Then the tremors had started.
These were not simple earthquakes. Namor knew earthquakes, had felt the earth shake beneath the sea more times than he could count. This was different. This was the ocean itself shuddering to a specific rhythm and pattern. If Namor did not know better, he would have thought the ocean itself was breathing, and the tremors were heartbeats, but he did. The ocean was alive, but not like that.
His people were afraid. However, Namor did not know fear. Fear was for the surface dwellers, for those who did not understand the power of the deep. But even he had to admit that something was amiss, and that troubled him, if only because of the threat it brought to his people.
"K'uk'ulkan," Namora said from behind him, using his name in their tongue. His cousin, his second most powerful general, and his most trusted warrior. "The scouts have returned. You will want to hear this."
He turned to face her, and the expression on her face made his jaw tighten and his brows furrow. Namora did not scare easily. She was a warrior born, second only to Attuma in battle. If she looked troubled, then the news was dire indeed.
"Speak," he commanded.
"They found the source of the tremors," Namora said carefully. "It comes all the way from the North Atlantic."
"The sea is broad, Namora," he admonished.
She inclined her head in apology before replying. "The Norwegian Sea, to be specific, K'uk'ulkan. The source of the disturbance is... I fear you need to see this for yourself to understand."
Namor looked down on Namora with confusion. His cousin had no need to be this cryptic. "Explain."
Namora hesitated once more, and that more than anything made Namor's instincts scream that something was wrong. Still, he was King. Unlike Namora, he could not show his fear or worry.
"The tremors come from something in the water," she finally said. "Something massive. Something that should not exist."
He stared back at her, but she had lowered her gaze, her black hair partially obscuring her face. He had grown tired of the cryptic answers and responses, so with a final frown, and a glare at the closest colony of surface dwellers, for he was certain they had a hand in this, he turned back to Namora.
"Show me."
They descended into the deep, Namor's wings carrying him through the water with the ease of a lifetime's practice. Namora swam beside him, her own movements fluid and graceful. However, she remained too slow for him, so he grabbed her, placing her on his back much like he did when they were younger, and shot through the water. Around them, his people scattered, their faces turned toward their king with expressions of hope and fear.
He would not fail them. He had sworn to protect Talokan, to keep his people safe from the surface world's madness. And if something threatened his kingdom, he would destroy it. Then destroy them shortly after, for he had stayed his hand long enough.
They swam for what felt like days but was likely only an hour. Namor's perception of time in the water was different from the surface dwellers'. Down here, time moved with the currents, with the tides.
Then he felt it. A vibration in the sea. The source of the tremors.
"Thuudum."
A surface dweller underwater machine?
"Thuudum."
No, it was nothing so crude. The closer he got, the more he could feel it. It was a presence. Massive. Ancient. Powerful in a way that made him instinctively slow in realization.
"Thuudum."
This was a heartbeat.
"There," Namora whispered, pointing toward the darkness below.
Namor looked down and saw nothing at first. Just the endless black of the deep ocean, the pressure that would crush any surface dweller to paste. But then the darkness moved. It was slight, an expansion that made scales shift, before it collapsed once more.
It was breathing.
His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing. This was not a simple creature lying in the deep like those he and his people hunted or fought against whenever they grew too bold and unruly. This creature was different. It was the deep itself. The darkness hid most of its body, but what little Namor could see was coiled and massive beyond comprehension. He could see scales across its body the size of ships.
"By the ancestors," Namor breathed.
He needed to get closer, so he quickly shrugged Namora off his back, then, despite her fearful whispered protests, he slipped lower and lower into the deep, closer and closer to the creature, until finally he saw a distinctive feature.
A head emerged from the darkness of the deep, and Namor felt his heart seize in his chest.
It was serpentine and massive beyond reason. Its eyes were closed, but beneath eyelids wider than he was tall came a sulfuric glow, like an underwater volcano. Its jaws were massive, and from the angle he couldn't see it in full, but he was certain it could have swallowed one of the great warships the humans boasted of often with a single bite.
However, the creature was not moving. It simply lay there in the darkness, its body coiled and its breathing slow and rhythmic, changing the very tides, while its heartbeat caused tremors that resounded across the sea floor. Where did such a beast come from?
"It's sleeping," Namor said quietly, his voice carrying through the water to Namora.
"Yes," his cousin confirmed. "The scouts say it has not moved since they found it. It simply rests."
"What is it?"
"I do not know, K'uk'ulkan. But it was not here before. Something has happened, something we do not know about. The surface dwellers' machinations, no doubt. We must find answers. Such a beast does not come from nowhere."
Namor stared at the serpent, at its massive form that dwarfed anything he had ever seen. That itch to go closer returned, but what if it proved aggressive? If it woke up and saw him as an enemy before he had time to communicate. He had fought sea monsters before, had killed leviathans that threatened his people. But this... this was different.
"It is Jörmungandr," a voice said from beside him, and Namor spun, his spear materializing in his hand in an instant.
A woman, no, a girl sat astride a green horse in the water. She was taller than most humans he had met, yet her features were proportionate. Her skin was pale, her eyes a bright yellow, and her hair a dull brown, twisted into a multitude of braids. She was dressed modestly, yet her figure was lined with more than a few gold trinkets.
She slipped off her horse. The green-scaled creature bore fins and hair alongside its hooves that let it maneuver itself in the water.
"Who are you?" Namor demanded, yet his words were echoed back toward him by the girl with a mischievous smile.
He pointed his spear at her throat. "How did you enter my domain without my knowledge?" And once more, she echoed his words back at him, line for line, syllable for syllable. There was no break or pause. It was almost like she had plucked the words right out of his head. Namor's eyes tightened and he moved to strike, before the girl discouraged him with a wave of a single hand.
"Before you do something stupid, fear not. I'm no foe of yours. My name is Skuld, youngest of the Nornir," the girl said calmly, utterly unafraid of the spear inches from her jugular. "And I entered your domain because the serpent you see before you is an old friend of ours, and I would speak with you before any misunderstandings occur."
"Misunderstandings," Namor repeated flatly. His eyes flicked to the massive serpent, then back to the girl. "You bring a creature the size of an island into my ocean without permission or warning, and you speak of misunderstandings?"
"Like i said, the creature's name is Jörmungandr," Skuld continued, ignoring his tone. "The World Serpent, and he is powerful beyond your imagining. More importantly, he is not a threat to your people. He is... gentle, and right now he sleeps, recovering from a battle that nearly killed him. He will not wake for some time, and when he does, he will pose no danger to Talokan."
Namor's eyes narrowed. Few knew of his people, he had made sure of that.
"You expect me to simply accept this?" Namor's voice was low, and his spear drifted closer to the girl's throat. Once more, his threatening stance slipped off her like oil off water. She drifted away from him and closer to the creature, where she did what he had been afraid to do. She rested a palm against the creature's scales. He continued, worry for his people overwhelming his distraction. "To allow a god-beast to sleep in my waters because you say it is safe?"
"I expect you to be wise," the girl replied. She turned to him with a sickening smile that made his toes curl as her voice hardened. "If you attack him, even in his sleep, you will not only fail to kill him, you will wake him. And if he wakes angry..."
She trailed off, her eyes rolling into her head and turning white for a second before returning to that sickly shade of yellow. Then she laughed, an uproarious laughter that worried Namor, for he feared it would wake the creature. When her laughter subsided, she turned to him with a smile.
"You would not survive it."
Namor stared at her, his jaw tight with fury. He did not appreciate threats. He did not appreciate surface dwellers, even seemingly magical ones, entering his domain and making demands. But he was not a fool. He could feel the power radiating from the serpent below, could sense the barely contained danger in its sleeping form.
"What battle?" he asked instead, lowering his spear slightly. "You said it was injured. What, who could injure something like that?"
Skuld's expression twisted into a mad and demented grin.
"Thor the Destroyer."
A/N: Writing the world merge is really turning out to be more fun than i ever thought.