Prompt Fill - Blackbird Dreaming - Incomplete tbc?????? who knows
2019-Jan-21, Monday 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
felicitygsFrom this post on tumblr:
post-avengers 1 diverge
Steve knows precious little about magic.
(If he's honest, he's not even sure he believes in magic, that what Thor and his brother do is magic, but he doesn't want to say it's not either, because--because... well.
There were just aliens all over New York, and Thor's from an entirely different planet, so maybe.
He can't say there's not magic, that's for sure.)
Tony says that magic is just science they don't understand yet. Fury says there are other magic users out there, like Loki, but he's mum about who and where they are, and Steve barely has a handle on searching the Internet now.
(Not that he doesn't try; what he gets back are tarot readings and star signs and a lot of what looks like, to be frank, bullshit.)
What Steve does know is that Loki is working with them, for now, as some sort of penance, and Thor is with him, and that Loki is the only person Steve knows who might actually know something about magic, and thus might, maybe, be able to help with the dreams Steve's been having. Possibly.
The definitely not magic dreams that keep creeping into waking hours. The ones that keep coming true. The ones that Steve can't tell if he's dreaming them real, or if they're prophetic, or some combination thereof. The ones that seep blue and ice and feel so so cold at the edges, the way all those decades spent sleeping in ice never did.
Definitely not magic.
Right.
***
There's a shape--it looms, cuts a silhouette that strides across galaxies and nebulae as it moves across the barren surface under Steve's feet. It does not move towards Steve though. In its wake, there are flickering shadows, all knife-sharp, all twisting and seething with violence, but they do not see him and Steve, with no where to go, follows in their wake.
The ground is cold, and hard, and gleams wet. In front of him, a bird–a black bird, beak brilliant yellow. It tilts its head to look up at him--eyes blue and green and swirling intelligence.
The shadows are talking, but he cannot understand them; it doesn't matter. The words don't matter, because as they speak the not-air shimmers with promises, and all of them twist into death, and Steve knows what the words mean even as he does not know what they say.
The vast shadow speaks, and all go silent.
Earth it says, and Steve breaks into a cold sweat as the webs around these shivering shadows all snap into place, align towards one front, and --
Steve wakes. He's sweating, ice cold down his spine, and he tries to blink the blue and stars that still tinge his vision of his sight as he hunches over, presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"Just a dream," he mutters, but the stars and chill growing his gut won't leave.
(Tony says he saw ships, bigger than what came to New York, and space, and that utter terror of it all, before he came back. He still has nightmares; he's still going to therapy, and Steve thinks of nebulae and stars and the barren surface he stood on gleaming wet with blood.)
"It's just a dream," he repeats, and he knows it's not.
***
The problem is how to even talk to Loki.
To say Thor's younger brother detests them would be... a mild understatement. They see Loki rarely, only when he's needed at some scene or battle, and sometimes Steve's not sure he's even there, with all the illusions of himself Loki uses. Steve knows, from Thor, there's some sort of binding that means that Loki has to work with them, or something to that effect, some Asimov law sort of thing, but he's not clear on the details, and it clearly doesn't say Loki has to spend time with them.
But he doesn't know who else to talk to.
(He feels like if he told Fury, that would be a one way ticket to the shrink, and as much as Steve doesn't mind therapy, he also doesn't think his shrink would be of much help for these dreams.)
(And there's Tony, or Banner, but both of them would put it down to PTSD, like the nightmares Tony keeps having, and Steve knows that they aren't just nightmares.)
Maybe Thor.
Thor might know something about magic, and about dreams.
Steve rehearses, over and over, just what he's going to say to Thor when they're alone, but what comes out is:
"Are there... magic? dreams?"
Which is not at all what he meant to say, and has Thor turning to look at him, partially confused, coffee mug slightly steaming.
"Pardon?" Thor says, like Steve didn't just blabber a nonsense question at him before he's even had time to wake up.
"I've been having these weird dreams lately," Steve tries again. "And I just. They don't feel like normal dreams, and I don't really know anyone else who knows anything about the, well. Not normal."
Thor stares at Steve, clearly digesting what he just said. Why didn't he start with any one of his rehearsed openings?
"How do you mean 'not normal'?" Thor asks; Steve wants to sigh in relief that Thor seems to understand what he's trying to say.
"They feel--too real. And too vivid. I mean, I've had vivid dreams before, but these are something else. And, well. Sometimes they're about--us. And they come true."
Thor doesn't say anything; he sips his coffee, and he hums static. The hair on Steve's arms raises, but he tries to ignore it.
(There's a lot he tries to ignore about Thor, who to all appearances is just a large and happy human, but bleeds so much weird that it makes a very, very human part of Steve's soul, the part raised Catholic, tremble.
Be not afraid a voice whispers, sometimes, and he knows--but.)
"When did you start having these dreams?" Thor asks.
"I'm not sure," Steve lies.
(When he picked up Loki's staff, forgotten in the chaos, and then put it in his room, and did not tell anyone, because he doesn't know SHIELD, or any of these people, not really, and he's seen what it can do, and he--there's not the right person, not yet.)
"After we captured your brother," he adds, and that part is true.
"I see." Thor's eyes are blue and brilliant and seem to see straight through Steve, but Steve doesn't flinch away from the gaze, just looks back.
"So?" Steve asks, eventually.
"Well." Thor pauses, takes another deep drink of his coffee, then sets the mug on the kitchen island. "I've been having dreams, too. About Asgard. Sometimes the Norns send us these things."
"...and what are we supposed to do with them?"
Thor shrugs. "I do not know; I'm not one who can read dreams. But."
"But?" and this is it, Steve thinks, this is how he will finally be able to mee--
"My mother can help," Thor says, which is... not what he expected, but.
"Oh," Steve says. "That would--I'd appreciate it. Really."
Thor nods. "I'll arrange a meeting."
"Thank you," Steve says, and he means it.
***
They meet at a coffee shop.
Steve isn't entirely sure what he was expecting from Thor and Loki's mother, but he immediately sees both of the sons in her. She's elegant, much the same as Loki is when he's not being stand-offish, and Thor clearly got his gleaming gold hair from her curls piled neatly on her head. She doesn't look a bit out of place in the up-scale Manhattan cafe, though Steve surely does.
"Mother," Thor says, voice summer warm and full of fondness as she stands and they hug.
They all sit down at the table, and Frigga turns brilliant blue eyes on Steve.
"Thor says you've been having Norn-sent dreams?"
"If that's what you want to call them," Steve says agreeably. "I'm just--not sure who to talk to about them. Dreams are just, well, dreams here. Normally."
"Yes," Frigga agrees with a soft smile. "Normally. Tell me about them."
"Well," Steve starts, and he's not sure how to keep going, except then they all come spilling out of him--the battle against that strange alien who showed up out of the blue he saw in dreams first, the tall and thin mantid like one with the magic, and the dreams full of twisting shadows full of violence and a shape that looms and blocks out the stars and that Steve can never quite get a good look at, a blackbird that flits and flutters between perches, always somehow just in front of Steve. It's a flood of words, and by the time he's done, his throat is dry and he feels... lighter than he has since these dreams started.
"And when did you start having these dreams?" Frigga asks, and Steve knows if he lies, she will know, somehow, and he's not sure how he knows this or how he's so certain she would know, but he does.
"After we captured your son," he says.
Frigga nods, and looks at Thor.
"Tell Loki," she says.
Thor scoffs. "You know if I say it, he'll just sulk and try to help as little as possible. He's still angry about having to help us."
Frigga smiles. "Of course."
"He's still bitter about everything! You're here now, you should tell him. Or tell Steve what all these dreams mean yourself."
"I'm not saying to force him," Frigga says mildly. "But I do believe he's the one who can best help your friend." She gives Steve a knowing look, and if Steve ever thought Thor's gaze was piercing...
"Alright," Thor finally agrees. "But I won't have you blame me if he refuses to help."
"That's fine," Frigga says. Then, to Steve, "Good luck, Captain Rogers."
"Thank you," Steve says, and he means it.
(Even if he does wish she had helped just a bit more.)
***
He's inside a ship. It's vast, and alien, and the ceiling seems to extend forever. There is someone at the helm--one of the twisting shadows, again, and outside the stars flicker in and out of existence as large--the whales, Steve realizes, the ones from New York, flying through the emptiness of space.
He is afraid to move. He's never been so close to--
A blackbird shrieks.
Steve looks up and there it is--the same blackbird (it must be) that he has seen, over and over and over again, claws gripping a cable that hangs down. It yells again, but it has not seen Steve, is not yelling at him--
It's yelling at the shadow.
And the shadow sees.
Steve wants to yell as it lunges for the bird, but he can't--he can't even move, not this dream, but the bird flutters up, away, just barely escaping its grasp, feathers fluttering down around Steve, and--
He wakes.
He closes his eyes tight, heart racing, and when he opens them, it takes a moment to register what exactly is gleaming just barely in the moonlight.
Feathers.
Blackbird feathers.
He picks one up, and it's still space-cold to the touch, and it is real.
***
Steve's waiting in the hallway outside Loki's room, like Thor asked him to, and he can hear the two brother's arguing. Mostly, he can hear Thor, who keeps getting loud, then quiet, then loud again.
Loki, it seems, is more restrained about raising his voice.
Eventually, the door opens, and there is Thor.
"He said he'll talk to you. As a favour. That you'll owe him for." Thor sounds frustrated by this, but Steve isn't terribly surprised Loki wants something out of having to deal with one of his... jailers, Steve supposes, because that's pretty much what they are.
"Thanks," Steve says.
Thor just shakes his head and heads down the hallway, grumbling to himself the way storms do when they are on the move.
Steve knocks on the door frame before he steps inside, not entirely sure what to expect but...
It's normal. It really doesn't look too different from Steve's room, actually.
thelightofthingshopedfor asked: That hero/villain post you just reblogged made me think--have you ever written something where Steve's in trouble and he goes to Loki for help, basically a reverse of the original RTC setup? I know you've written Loki observing Steve and sometimes stepping in to help, but I'm not sure if you've written anything with Steve (or any card-carrying Good Guy, really) being in enough trouble to decide Loki's the better alternative.
veliseraptor:
oh man I really want to write this and/or for this to exist and I just need someone to help me figure out how to make it exist, because yeah, Steve for some reason thinking to go to Loki for help would be such a Thing and I’m into this idea a lot
consider this either a) request for ideas or b) free prompt to good home
post-avengers 1 diverge
Steve knows precious little about magic.
(If he's honest, he's not even sure he believes in magic, that what Thor and his brother do is magic, but he doesn't want to say it's not either, because--because... well.
There were just aliens all over New York, and Thor's from an entirely different planet, so maybe.
He can't say there's not magic, that's for sure.)
Tony says that magic is just science they don't understand yet. Fury says there are other magic users out there, like Loki, but he's mum about who and where they are, and Steve barely has a handle on searching the Internet now.
(Not that he doesn't try; what he gets back are tarot readings and star signs and a lot of what looks like, to be frank, bullshit.)
What Steve does know is that Loki is working with them, for now, as some sort of penance, and Thor is with him, and that Loki is the only person Steve knows who might actually know something about magic, and thus might, maybe, be able to help with the dreams Steve's been having. Possibly.
The definitely not magic dreams that keep creeping into waking hours. The ones that keep coming true. The ones that Steve can't tell if he's dreaming them real, or if they're prophetic, or some combination thereof. The ones that seep blue and ice and feel so so cold at the edges, the way all those decades spent sleeping in ice never did.
Definitely not magic.
Right.
There's a shape--it looms, cuts a silhouette that strides across galaxies and nebulae as it moves across the barren surface under Steve's feet. It does not move towards Steve though. In its wake, there are flickering shadows, all knife-sharp, all twisting and seething with violence, but they do not see him and Steve, with no where to go, follows in their wake.
The ground is cold, and hard, and gleams wet. In front of him, a bird–a black bird, beak brilliant yellow. It tilts its head to look up at him--eyes blue and green and swirling intelligence.
The shadows are talking, but he cannot understand them; it doesn't matter. The words don't matter, because as they speak the not-air shimmers with promises, and all of them twist into death, and Steve knows what the words mean even as he does not know what they say.
The vast shadow speaks, and all go silent.
Earth it says, and Steve breaks into a cold sweat as the webs around these shivering shadows all snap into place, align towards one front, and --
Steve wakes. He's sweating, ice cold down his spine, and he tries to blink the blue and stars that still tinge his vision of his sight as he hunches over, presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"Just a dream," he mutters, but the stars and chill growing his gut won't leave.
(Tony says he saw ships, bigger than what came to New York, and space, and that utter terror of it all, before he came back. He still has nightmares; he's still going to therapy, and Steve thinks of nebulae and stars and the barren surface he stood on gleaming wet with blood.)
"It's just a dream," he repeats, and he knows it's not.
The problem is how to even talk to Loki.
To say Thor's younger brother detests them would be... a mild understatement. They see Loki rarely, only when he's needed at some scene or battle, and sometimes Steve's not sure he's even there, with all the illusions of himself Loki uses. Steve knows, from Thor, there's some sort of binding that means that Loki has to work with them, or something to that effect, some Asimov law sort of thing, but he's not clear on the details, and it clearly doesn't say Loki has to spend time with them.
But he doesn't know who else to talk to.
(He feels like if he told Fury, that would be a one way ticket to the shrink, and as much as Steve doesn't mind therapy, he also doesn't think his shrink would be of much help for these dreams.)
(And there's Tony, or Banner, but both of them would put it down to PTSD, like the nightmares Tony keeps having, and Steve knows that they aren't just nightmares.)
Maybe Thor.
Thor might know something about magic, and about dreams.
Steve rehearses, over and over, just what he's going to say to Thor when they're alone, but what comes out is:
"Are there... magic? dreams?"
Which is not at all what he meant to say, and has Thor turning to look at him, partially confused, coffee mug slightly steaming.
"Pardon?" Thor says, like Steve didn't just blabber a nonsense question at him before he's even had time to wake up.
"I've been having these weird dreams lately," Steve tries again. "And I just. They don't feel like normal dreams, and I don't really know anyone else who knows anything about the, well. Not normal."
Thor stares at Steve, clearly digesting what he just said. Why didn't he start with any one of his rehearsed openings?
"How do you mean 'not normal'?" Thor asks; Steve wants to sigh in relief that Thor seems to understand what he's trying to say.
"They feel--too real. And too vivid. I mean, I've had vivid dreams before, but these are something else. And, well. Sometimes they're about--us. And they come true."
Thor doesn't say anything; he sips his coffee, and he hums static. The hair on Steve's arms raises, but he tries to ignore it.
(There's a lot he tries to ignore about Thor, who to all appearances is just a large and happy human, but bleeds so much weird that it makes a very, very human part of Steve's soul, the part raised Catholic, tremble.
Be not afraid a voice whispers, sometimes, and he knows--but.)
"When did you start having these dreams?" Thor asks.
"I'm not sure," Steve lies.
(When he picked up Loki's staff, forgotten in the chaos, and then put it in his room, and did not tell anyone, because he doesn't know SHIELD, or any of these people, not really, and he's seen what it can do, and he--there's not the right person, not yet.)
"After we captured your brother," he adds, and that part is true.
"I see." Thor's eyes are blue and brilliant and seem to see straight through Steve, but Steve doesn't flinch away from the gaze, just looks back.
"So?" Steve asks, eventually.
"Well." Thor pauses, takes another deep drink of his coffee, then sets the mug on the kitchen island. "I've been having dreams, too. About Asgard. Sometimes the Norns send us these things."
"...and what are we supposed to do with them?"
Thor shrugs. "I do not know; I'm not one who can read dreams. But."
"But?" and this is it, Steve thinks, this is how he will finally be able to mee--
"My mother can help," Thor says, which is... not what he expected, but.
"Oh," Steve says. "That would--I'd appreciate it. Really."
Thor nods. "I'll arrange a meeting."
"Thank you," Steve says, and he means it.
They meet at a coffee shop.
Steve isn't entirely sure what he was expecting from Thor and Loki's mother, but he immediately sees both of the sons in her. She's elegant, much the same as Loki is when he's not being stand-offish, and Thor clearly got his gleaming gold hair from her curls piled neatly on her head. She doesn't look a bit out of place in the up-scale Manhattan cafe, though Steve surely does.
"Mother," Thor says, voice summer warm and full of fondness as she stands and they hug.
They all sit down at the table, and Frigga turns brilliant blue eyes on Steve.
"Thor says you've been having Norn-sent dreams?"
"If that's what you want to call them," Steve says agreeably. "I'm just--not sure who to talk to about them. Dreams are just, well, dreams here. Normally."
"Yes," Frigga agrees with a soft smile. "Normally. Tell me about them."
"Well," Steve starts, and he's not sure how to keep going, except then they all come spilling out of him--the battle against that strange alien who showed up out of the blue he saw in dreams first, the tall and thin mantid like one with the magic, and the dreams full of twisting shadows full of violence and a shape that looms and blocks out the stars and that Steve can never quite get a good look at, a blackbird that flits and flutters between perches, always somehow just in front of Steve. It's a flood of words, and by the time he's done, his throat is dry and he feels... lighter than he has since these dreams started.
"And when did you start having these dreams?" Frigga asks, and Steve knows if he lies, she will know, somehow, and he's not sure how he knows this or how he's so certain she would know, but he does.
"After we captured your son," he says.
Frigga nods, and looks at Thor.
"Tell Loki," she says.
Thor scoffs. "You know if I say it, he'll just sulk and try to help as little as possible. He's still angry about having to help us."
Frigga smiles. "Of course."
"He's still bitter about everything! You're here now, you should tell him. Or tell Steve what all these dreams mean yourself."
"I'm not saying to force him," Frigga says mildly. "But I do believe he's the one who can best help your friend." She gives Steve a knowing look, and if Steve ever thought Thor's gaze was piercing...
"Alright," Thor finally agrees. "But I won't have you blame me if he refuses to help."
"That's fine," Frigga says. Then, to Steve, "Good luck, Captain Rogers."
"Thank you," Steve says, and he means it.
(Even if he does wish she had helped just a bit more.)
He's inside a ship. It's vast, and alien, and the ceiling seems to extend forever. There is someone at the helm--one of the twisting shadows, again, and outside the stars flicker in and out of existence as large--the whales, Steve realizes, the ones from New York, flying through the emptiness of space.
He is afraid to move. He's never been so close to--
A blackbird shrieks.
Steve looks up and there it is--the same blackbird (it must be) that he has seen, over and over and over again, claws gripping a cable that hangs down. It yells again, but it has not seen Steve, is not yelling at him--
It's yelling at the shadow.
And the shadow sees.
Steve wants to yell as it lunges for the bird, but he can't--he can't even move, not this dream, but the bird flutters up, away, just barely escaping its grasp, feathers fluttering down around Steve, and--
He wakes.
He closes his eyes tight, heart racing, and when he opens them, it takes a moment to register what exactly is gleaming just barely in the moonlight.
Feathers.
Blackbird feathers.
He picks one up, and it's still space-cold to the touch, and it is real.
Steve's waiting in the hallway outside Loki's room, like Thor asked him to, and he can hear the two brother's arguing. Mostly, he can hear Thor, who keeps getting loud, then quiet, then loud again.
Loki, it seems, is more restrained about raising his voice.
Eventually, the door opens, and there is Thor.
"He said he'll talk to you. As a favour. That you'll owe him for." Thor sounds frustrated by this, but Steve isn't terribly surprised Loki wants something out of having to deal with one of his... jailers, Steve supposes, because that's pretty much what they are.
"Thanks," Steve says.
Thor just shakes his head and heads down the hallway, grumbling to himself the way storms do when they are on the move.
Steve knocks on the door frame before he steps inside, not entirely sure what to expect but...
It's normal. It really doesn't look too different from Steve's room, actually.