Often times the steps we take to avoid destiny leads us to it.
The image of the ring around a detached finger flying through the air played vividly in Aragorn's unconscious mind. The finger turned to ash as it was lifted from the blood-soaked ground by Isildur, his gaze getting lost in its draw. Ilisdur had one chance to put an end to the darkness. But he was weak, he ran from that chance, the power of the ring drawing him in and then betraying him moments later. The king's body floated lifelessly in the river and the last thing he saw was the ring sinking down to the depths of nothingness.
Aragorn shot upwards in his bed, heavy breathes and a sweat-soaked brow accompanying the darting brown hues. Aragorn was not there that day but he had heard the story so many times over the years that it had created its image in his mind, one he now saw too many times in his nightmares. A frustrated sigh, a hand brushing through dark locks, a shift of his body to drop his legs over the side of the bed. The nightmares were becoming more frequent, a constant reminder of a past he continues to run from.
After a few moments, the ranger stood, leaving his room and wandering down darkened halls. It was still night, and he saw no others awake as he wandered to the one place he despised. As he stopped, grey hues fell upon shattered steel laid out delicately upon soft elven cloth. Narsil, the blade that was broken, only a constant reminder of the darkness that took Isildur. The ranger knew who he was, what his purpose was, but he refused to take his place as King of Gondor, knowing he too could fall like his ancestor.
Aragorn heard the nearly soundless footsteps of an elf approaching him. A long brown cloak followed behind the one who had taken him in all those years ago. Elrond had told Aragorn of his true lineage years before and it was something he almost wished would have stayed a secret. No one else knew of the truth, not yet, but it was only a matter of time and Aragorn knew that the pressure of picking up the blade would only grow. Elrond was the first to speak, the ranger not surprised that he was awake at this ungodly hour.
"You try so hard to avoid the past of your ancestors, yet here I find you once more drawn into its stories. I see your pain Aragorn, it can not be so easily hidden from me as you would like to think." Elrond knew one day Aragorn would face his true destiny, but this was not the time. The ranger was not ready.
"This is not my future. It is a past that should stay very much in the past. No good came from the man who wielded this blade."Aragorn replied, lifting a hand to run his fingers along the hilt.
"Yet you feel drawn to it, as do your dreams. This is not a past you will be able to run from, but one you will one day have to face. Once you have, you can embrace your future, as the King of Gondor." Aragorn shifted his gaze now to Elrond, a hint of frustration with the Elven lord starting to surface.
"That is NOT my future, it is my undoing. There is no life where I wield this blade Elrond. I am a ranger, nothing more." Aragorn retorted, quickly regretting losing his patience with the elf. An exhale of air followed by a shake of his head.
"Estel... now is not the time. But when it does come, there will be no turning back." Elrond said calmly, understanding the ranger's hesitation. Aragorn shifted greyed hues to the blade once more before stepping back and leaving the hall.
TW: References to abuse and torture of a child. Dark Themes Ahead.
N INE YEARS AGO
Erik was cautious of the hustle and bustle around him on the streets of New York. He normally avoided such crowded places but he was here for a reason, one that was far more important than his discomforts. Several years prior, rumors of a young girl in Russia had spread through the mutant community, one with abilities that had stowed away on a cargo ship. He didn't have much to go on but thankfully an accomplice of his was able to track her power signature and that led him to where he stood now, alongside the mutant who was tracking her.
"She is close, but her powers are all over the place. We need to find her quickly before someone else does."Callisto stated, motioning to an alley across the street a couple of blocks ahead. "There.'
The two moved quickly but not so much to attract unwanted attention. As they appeared within the alley, it quickly became clear they were in the right place. a hundred feet in front of them huddled in the corner with her arms around her knees was a little girl, no more than 8 or 9 years old. She was rocking gently, a mild expression of fear could be seen on her face even at that distance. Many objects floated around her, pieces of trash, small chunks of brick from the wall behind her, and at least two small knives that he could see.
Erik motioned to Callisto to stay back and he cautiously moved towards the back of the alley. As he neared, the various objects began to spin, quiet voice breaking through the chill winter air around them.
"Go away... leave me alone. I don't want any trouble." The girl said, her voice cold and broken and a slight Russian accent filtering through.
Erik knelt down to meet her lost gaze, speaking calmly as to not further frighten the little girl. "It's alright. You do not have to be afraid. I am here to help you. What is your name?"
The girl tightened her grasp around her legs pulling them closer as if the extra inch between them would protect her. Why didn't the man run away? Everyone else was afraid of her, called her a freak and a monster. What made him stay? "Please... I don't want to hurt anyone.."
Erik pondered for a moment before extending out a hand, palm facing upwards as he focused on the two knives. The girl hesitantly watched him, wondering what it was he was doing. Her attention was caught as she saw the two knives remove themselves from the other floating debris around her and hover over the stranger's hand. "It's alright, you can't hurt me." He replied, knowing this was probably only partially true. While he could control all manners of metal down to a single molecule, not all the objects floating around her had such within it. "My name is Erik. I'm here to take you someplace safe, someplace you don't have to hide or be afraid. What do you say."
Safe? Aria didn't understand the word fully, as it was something she had never experienced. For the first four years of her life, she had lived in an abusive orphanage in Russia, abandoned by her mother the day she was born. She thought she was safe once a nice man named Dreykov took her home. But she only traded one dark place for another. She was there less than a year when she was struck hard in a sparring session with one of the women they called Widows, causing her powers to break through prematurely. When everyone realized what had happened, one of the widows broke her out and smuggled her on a ship out of Russia. "Don't trust anyone. Don't ever come back to this place." The widow said before vanishing as she hid her away behind some cargo.
That was three years ago, the girl staying away from people and hiding from the world ever since. Occasionally she would get help from other children who lived on the streets, though she was still cautious remembering the widows' warning. But the nights were growing cold, and the girl knew she wouldn't last much longer living like this. This stranger seemed different, showing powers similar to her own caused her curiosity to grow. Could he really help her? The man settled the knives to the ground before cautiously reaching her hand forward a few more inches, passing through the objects so she could reach him if she chose.
"I will protect you, I promise."
The man wasn't afraid of her, even more, he was like her. There was another moment of hesitation before she slowly extended out her hand and took his own, a gesture that would lead to the first time she would have safety and love in her short life.
PRESENT-DAY
"I will protect you, I promise."
Erik sat on the edge of his bed, elbows upon knees and head settled low as he gazed down at the ground between his feet. Those same words now echoed in his head causing a rare emotion to flare up within him. Guilt. Erik had broken the promise he made that day to the scared little girl in the alley. It had been a year and he had no leads, no answers, no knowing if she was even alive. The mutant who found her the first time had had no luck at all locating her, leading him to dangerously wonder if she had been killed the day she vanished. As mutants, their pool of enemies was expansive, to say the least. His dark thoughts and pain were suddenly interrupted when a woman walked in.
"I asked not to be disturbed.." Erik said lowly, a disgruntled gaze lifting to see Callisto standing in the doorway. The annoyance shifted slightly when he saw a strange look on her face, causing him to stand and step towards her. "What is it...?" He asked, shoving down the brief flutter of hope that tried to surface.
The mutant before him had a mixed look of surprise and confusion dancing in her eyes as she spoke. "I got her... I know where she is.."
Erik stood there for a moment, the words sounding like a foreign language that he could not digest. Could she be mistaken? She never had before, but it was possible, right?
"Erik!" Callisto said firmly, snapping him out of his thoughts. "She's alive. We need to go. Now." Erik nodded and followed the mutant from the room, treading carefully not to allow hope to overcome, not yet. She may be alive, but after a year, there was no telling what, or who, they would find.
THREE HOURS LATER
The aches of bruising spread across the frail body lying on a small cot. Four damp cold concrete walls kept the room unescapable and kept the young girl isolated. Weakened lids fluttered occasionally as she attempted to fight the haze her mind had been thrown into. She tried to remember what happened before this new haze took over, though most times it was the same painful torment as before. Yet this time something was different, a new pain that ached heavily in the back of her head. Had she been struck? Had she fallen? No.... images flashed back once more through her mind, and images of the Hydra doctor came forward, and worse what he did to her.
The mental haze was still too heavy for her to acknowledge the door opening behind her. The footsteps seemed only a dream to her, muted and distant at best, so when a hand grasped against her shoulder it brought an extra surge of consciousness to her mind. Sapphire hues peaked out, a blurred but familiar face above her as the man turned her over to see her.
"Aria. Aria, wake up." Erik gazed down at the young girl, his heart breaking at seeing her extremely poor condition. Her body was thin, clearly tortured for an extended amount of time. Before he turned her over he noticed blood on the back of her neck accompanied by a small incision. His thumb grazed against it, and he could sense the metal buried beneath her skin. It was small, but it was there. What had they done to her? Erik turned her over, cradling her cheek in his hand as he tried to awaken her. She was conscious, but only just.
"Er... Erik?" She whispered weakly. She knew it wasn't real, just another trick of her tortured mind. "I... miss you... I wish this was not a dream...." Another whisper, barely audible. Erik spoke calmly but with a sense of urgency.
"This is not a dream. I'm here and we must go, quickly." Erik said, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm here now. You're going to be ok."
At first, she was silent, confusion adding to the heavy haze of the anesthesia still wearing off. A mix of fear and surprise washed over her, tears filling edges of cracked lids.
"Erik?" She said, reaching a hand up to touch his own on her cheek. It suddenly hit her and tears broke free. "Erik...." She repeated as he quickly scooped her into his arms, allowing her weary head and shaky body to rest against him. He nodded to Callisto at the door and they made their way down the hallway while others who had accompanied them took care of the hostel Hydra soldiers. He hurried outside, sliding them both into the back of a large SUV before Callisto jumped up front and slammed on the gas pedal. Aria could feel the warmth of Eriks arms wrapped around her, that familiar feeling of being safe creeping back in. Before she could question him, her mind faded back to darkness once more, knowing that she was finally free..... or so she thought.
Prompt Words Balter: to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment Petrichor: the pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of dry weather
A Peaceful Moment
Phoenix Down Resources /1234567
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... It's learning to dance in the rain." -Vivian Greene
Aria never looked forward to summer. Despite only spending her first five years there, Aria had always enjoyed the cold bitter air that was common in Russia. This summer had been especially brutal in New York, with heat waves seeming to dominate every other week. Even the most hardcore sun-lovers were quickly growing weary of the unforgiving temperatures.
Night had barely fallen when something strange caught the young girls attention. Surely it couldn't be what she thought it was, a petrichor invading her senses so clearly yet doubt filling her mind. The temperatures that day had soared above 100*, and they had just crossed 49 days without a drop of rain. As the girl stood and walked to the window, she didn't expect to see much.
As the curtain was drawn back, sapphire hues widened in delight as the doubt was washed from her mind just as the heat was being washed from the air. It wasn't just sprinkling, it was a downpour. Aria hurried downstairs, calling out to her mother as she jogged past the kitchen.
"Rain!" was all she said as she opened the front door and stepped out. Rain was second to snow as Aria's favorite weather. There was something about it that was pure and energized. Rain always seemed to wash away the bad, even if only for a moment. Thin fingers reached out into the air, cool water washing over them as she slowly closed her fingers around them. Natasha caught up behind her and smiled softly before watching the girl run out into the brick-stoned street.
Arias head leaned back, eyes closing and arms extending as she spun in circles, long hair swaying around as she did. Natasha thought about calling her back inside before she got soaked, but it was nice to see the girl happy for the first time in weeks. The last few weeks had been hard on them both. After the events in Sokovia, Bruce had vanished off the grid, leaving the little girl he had nicknamed SongBird in emotional disarray. They both had grown close to Bruce ever since the events in New York, and Natasha had become worried about Aria with how hard she took it. Now Natasha leaned on the doorframe, smiling gently as she watched the girl she had been raising for eight years now balter in the street. The rain really did help wash away the bad, even if it was just for this single moment, and they would take as many of those moments as they could.
Prompt Word- Selcouth: Unfamiliar, strange, rare, and yet wonderful
A Fond Memory
Phoenix Down Resources /1234567
Rare is not synonymous with valuable. -Clifford Cohen
Agreasy burger with toppings of crisp lettuce, sharp onion, sour pickles, and a plump slice of crimson tomato upon a warm bun sat in front of me. Hot oily fries sat in a messy heap along with it, accompanied with a ramekin of chilled ketchup. A long drip of creamy liquid ran down the side of the glass containing a milkshake next to the plate. The melodic sounds from the Jukebox echoed over the speakers around the diner at just the perfect volume for a late-night meal. The smells of bacon, coffee, and maple syrup filled the air, and the quiet mumbles of chatter could be heard from the only other occupied table.
This was the first thing Natasha and I did after we arrived in the states, on the run from the man called Dreykov. I don't exactly remember what happened, only that I was learning to fight with another woman at the school when suddenly everything went black. Natasha didn't explain a lot to me then, only that we were going on a trip to a new place where we could be happy. The school didn't seem like a bad place, but they weren't very nice there either. When they taught you to dance they would strike you if you made a misstep. When they taught you to fight, they didn't give you a chance to get back up if you fell. I liked my friends at the school, the other girls my age who learned alongside me. But part of me was glad Natasha was taking us somewhere new.
As I bit into the burger, a brief hum of pleasure sounded in my throat. The juiciness of the meat was something I had never experienced before. The people at the orphanage never fed us anything with much substance. The piping hot oil that speckled the fries burned my tongue gently as I bit into it. The crimson paste I had dipped it into then cooled those very burns almost immediately. It was a perfect match of flavors and textures.
Back then the experience was so selcouth to me, a little five-year-old orphan who had never really had such luxuries. Now the meal is such commonplace, a burger joint never being more than 10 minutes away in any city I find myself. But I do still enjoy that same diner, that same burger, that same tang of music on the old jukebox. It still brings me back to that night, the night Natasha Romanoff saved my life.
Somtimes to find a monster you must do the unthinkable. Desperation makes you do things you never imagined.
It had been two months since Aria had returned home, Hydra still hot on her trail when her mother Natasha finally found her after missing for three years. The young woman had been largely confined to the Avengers compound in New York since she had returned, and the cabin fever was definitely setting in. Tony and Bruce had been working tirelessly to find answers in safely removing the chip Hydra had implanted in Arias brain without killing her, but it was slow going. Until they had answers, the compound was the only place they knew she would be safe.
Of course, nothing was that easy. Safe was only a facade in her mind, the nightmares keeping her far from feeling at ease despite the fact she had finally stopped running. The others had known for a while now something was wrong. More than just trauma from what Hydra had done. Her mother could see there was something else there. Something darker.
Natasha wasn't wrong. The nightmares were not what everyone assumed, and Aria had reached a point where she knew she needed to face them, needed to face him. Waiting for a moment where she wasn't under watch was not as easy as she had hoped. She was 20 now, but the others saw her as fragile and broken. Like she needed to be watched and protected. She was only 16 when she vanished, and despite being matured far beyond her years growing up with Natasha, she could feel the way they looked at her. They still saw her as a child, that little girl who Natasha saved from the Red Room when she was only five years old.
Natasha, Steve, Tony, and Bruce had been finally called out on an overseas assignment, one that would keep them away for a couple of weeks. Natasha spent the day before making sure Aria promised not to leave the compound. It broke her heart to lie to her, she didn't deserve that, but for what Aria planned to do, had to do, there was no choice.
"I will be ok, I promise. Just come home safe ok?"The young woman said, wrapping her arms around the widow in a tight embrace.
"I will. Stay in touch." Natasha replied before the four boarded a quinjet and took off from the hanger bay. Aria would wait one hour before she would leave the compound. She knew Tony would have put trackers on all the transport vehicles, so time was not on her side. The minute they got back, or worse Friday alerted Tony that she had left the compound, the clock would start.
Eight hours later, rubber wheels made contact with the dusty sand of a field a few miles outside of Berlin. Nerves ran rampant throughout the girl knowing what she was about to do was either going to make her a fugitive, get her killed, or worse get caught by Hydra. But it was the only choice she had to stop the nightmares and hopefully get a handle on her abilities once more.
Getting into the Berlin correctional facility was the easiest part. Aria had finally taken and passed her agents exam for SHIELD, the very test she was supposed to take the day Hydra had kidnapped her. While her access was moderately restricted given the situation, it was easy to distract the guard with casual conversation as she flashed her credentials.
"I need to see Baron Zemo. He has some information that may be useful in a case I'm working on."
"Zemo? He's been here for years. What possible information could he have?"
"Sorry, I cannot discuss the details of the case. You know, classified and all." Aria replied casually, flashing a friendly smile as the german tongue flowed easily from her lips. Natasha had taught her many things over the years, and Aria was grateful learning multiple languages was one of them.
As the guard led her down the hallway, Aria focused on keeping her mind calm and thoughts organized. Focus was the biggest challenge for her since she had returned, the nightmares causing her powers to lash out not only in her sleep but during her daily routine as well. As long as she didn't allow the memories to surface, she would be in control.
"You have a visitor Baron." The guard said, banging his baton on the bars. Aria dismissed the guard and took a breathe before sapphire eyes shifted to the criminal in the cell. Baron Helmut Zemo, the man who not only knew how to tear apart the Avengers but also managed to trigger the Hydra code words deep in Buckys mind. Clearly, he was a man who knew a great deal of Hydra, and could possibly be the one person who could help her find him.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Direct and implied references to torture and sexual assault of a minor (Age 16). Dark writing warning.
Phoenix Down Resources /1234567
Nightmares don't only kill you slowly every day, They bury you alive, every night. -Barkha
Freedom. Trust. The two most dangerous concepts of humanity. True freedom is but a myth, a ruse to trick you into believing you have no bonds holding you back. You think you have your life under control, every aspect of it within your grasp, but in reality the aspect of freedom is just an illusion. It could be a simple thing, freedom to drive your car, walk down the street, or even talk to a passerby. Everything you do has rules, laws, and etiquette to follow. You aren't free to just drive a car, it must be bought, registered, insured, and approved by another to make sure you can even drive. Even something as little as talking to another person comes with a slurry of things you can and can't do.
For me, my illusion of freedom is far more complicated than most. My own mind became the prison keeping me from my freedom. Memories of the past now creep up every chance they can get. Long ago it started with the Red Room, but now those memories have been replaced with something far more vile. A year out of 19 may not seem like much, but one solider within HYDRA made sure it was the longest of my life. Many think they know the pain I lived through, the things they did to attempt to break me, crush me, turn me into their weapon, but they are so very wrong. The electricity running through my skin burned like wildfire, each jolt igniting every cell in my body. The pain was real, there was no doubt about that, but it is not the pain that haunts me now.
Trust. Something I thought I had found in a single person back in the dour damp halls of HYDRA. A man, a solider, whom I met only on the second day of my captivity. He was kind and gentle as he escorted me back to me cell. He said it would be ok, that things would soon get better. He was not like the other rough handed soliders within HYDRAS ranks. The pain of the eletrical treatments made me compromised, made me believe I could trust his words. But like freedom, trust is a myth even worse, as it can be your true downfall.
A memory now tickles at my mind, one I try daily to push away. Long gangly fingers grazing alongside my cheek, a thumb wiping the tear that slipped from my eye when the realization of my trust in him had been betrayed. There was no escape, no freedom from the four cold cracked concrete walls of my cell and the locked door behind me. No one would come to my rescue, tell me I was safe from the sour breathe of the man standing before me. The memory does not release me from my prison, freedom and trust now laughing in my face as I feel the scratchiness of his rough cut facial hair against my pale skin and bent fingers rough against the back of my neck. I'm trapped against the wall, the cold concrete stinging my already raw back through my thin torn shirt, and I feel powerless against the mans pleasured advances.
That night seemed to last forever, and it was the one I remember most clearly, like a movie playing in my head on broken repeat. There were many other nights like this that followed, but eventually my memory starts to blur, becoming hazy as the repeated visits from the soldier continued on for months. When I finally escaped a year later, I made the grave mistake of feeling that hope for freedom. There was no freedom for me, he had made sure of it. Night after night, the prison of my mind reminded me why I was trapped, stuck in a vicious cycle of never ending pain. They think they know why I scream at night, why the things in my room explode as my powers lash out at the sight of his face in my dreams. They think the nightmares are only of torture and pain. They could not be any more wrong. Freedom and trust come at a price, a profound illusion.
“I want you to remember what was good in me, not what was most awful. The people you love should be allowed to keep their worst to themselves.” ― Joe Hill, Horns
Thuds of impact echoed through the halls of the compound, with no real pattern or rhythm to the flurry of sounds. The young mutant had spent the last hour digging away at her second punching bag, the first having been blown to bits by her powers when she lost focus. Remnants of ragged leather strips lie in a heap against the wall, a large pile of sand swept up against it. Each strike of her fist against the bag varied, removing all predictability from the equation. If a fighter can't predict her moves, they can't get the upper hand. Her mother taught her this from a very young age after she saved her from the Red Room. Taught to how to fight, how to survive, and if she ever needed it, how to kill.
Aria did not hear Steve walk into the training room, watching her with worry as she beat away at the lifeless object. Two weeks had passed since she had returned home, and he knew things may never be the same. There was a darkness to her, a pained look about her eyes that was the only giveaway of what she went through. Aria had refused to speak to anyone about what happened at Hydra beyond the torture and brainwashing. But they all knew there was something more, something that caused her to force herself to stay up for days at a time and drew nightmares in when the unconscious mind was freed. Steve was not the only one to notice this either, they all knew something was wrong.
"Natasha taught you well." Steve finally said, breaking the flurry of strikes and causing Aria to turn around suddenly. Thankfully she didn't strike him, her mind clearing of deep thoughts as she turned hearing his voice. A breathless sigh sneaked past the girls lips as she rubbed her aching knuckles.
"She did... I owe her a lot for everything she has done for me, taught me."
"You don't owe her anything Aria. Natasha is your mother and that is what mothers do. Take care of you, teach you, help you grow. I see a little of each of us in you too. You had good people to help you become who you are today."
"And who am I Steve? A mutant with memory reactive powers and constant nightmares? Ya, really grew up to be something amazing didn't I?" She replied dryly, looking down at her hands.
"Talk to me.. You can't keep whatever it is that is hurting you so much inside. It will only make it worse. Asking for help does not make you weak. You are one of the strongest people I know."
"I was... I was strong." She retorted, looking back up at him, their sapphire hues connecting. Steve had been there through so much, watched her grow up half her life. He meant so much to her, but she knew even he could not know the truth of what haunted her. Nobody could. "Then Hydra got their hands on me, and turned me into a broken shell." She finished, walking past him and out of the training room, Steve feeling helpless to aid the girl he had grown so fond of.
No matter how angry he was, he knew he had to save the little girl Bruce had affectionately named SongBird.
Everything happened so fast it was almost a blur to the young girl. One minute she was safe within Stark tower, the next she was dangling hundreds of feet above the concrete jungle of New York City clinging onto a steel beam. Natasha desperately tried to reach her while avoiding gunfire from the unknown aircraft that had just blown a whole in the side of the building. The young mutants focus was far too scattered to try and use her abilities and tears filled her eyes as she slipped further down the beam extending out over the streets.
"GRAB MY HAND!" Natasha screamed, still inches away from her and every movement closer only risked dislodging the beam fully and sending them both to their death.
"I can't reach!" Aria shouted back, trying to avoid looking down and keeping her focus on her mom. A shift jostled the beam further and the little girls hands slipped from the cold metal, screams from both piercing through the air. Aria plummeted towards the street below her, making it nearly halfway down Stark tower before the shattering of glass sounded. Aria felt herself engulfed in some huge, and a moment later realized it was Hulk. She curled up into his body and closed her eyes, unsure at the time if even he could save her.
-Three hours later-
ria awoke in an old dusty warehouse. A few coughs emerged to clear her lungs of the tainted air around her. Her sharp blue gaze glanced around, soon settling on an unconscious and now nude Bruce nearby in a meteor pit of rubble. She had only seen him become the Hulk a couple times prior to this, and it was only at a distance. She was on the hellicarrier the year before when a brainwashed Clint blew a whole into it and brought out the angry green giant. The young girl pushed herself up and walked around for a bit, finding some old tattered clothes on the ground from what seemed to be an old squatters hideout. She grabbed the cleanest looking of the clothes, if they could be even called clean, and walked back over just in time to see Bruce waking up.
"Is that my shirt?" Bruce asked, as Aria averted her gaze and shook her head, holding out the clothes towards him.
"No... but they should fit till we can get back... I don't even know where we are.. are you ok?" Bruce took the clothes gratefully slipping them on.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I didn't even know if he had you... I thought you were gone."
"I'm ok... got a nasty cut on my arm, and my head is killing me, but.... I'm ok.. he saved my life Bruce..."
