Legendary

I opened my eyes once and saw a stone floor before going back to sleep. The next time I woke up, I was still groggy, but I was sensible enough to register that I was lying on my stomach on a comfortable surface covered by a white sheet that had a hole cut through it for my face, sort of like a massage table, and my arms rested on soft pads closer to the floor. I could see my left hand. I closed my eyes again and reflected briefly on the end of my battle, deducing that the world hadn't come to an end while I was unconscious. That was nice, but I wouldn't have wanted to be awake for that anyway.

The longer that I was awake, the more I ached. My muscles, particularly those in my torso, hurt a lot. My right arm was throbbing and my ankle set up a backbeat of pain. But the wings were the worst; the pain felt like splinters of broken glass. I didn't panic until I found that I couldn't move anything more than fingers or toes.

Footsteps rushed over as I struggled. "Calm yourself," a woman's voice commanded, and I obeyed. Even that brief exertion had tired me out. "We have placed you in a stasis field to support the healing of your wings," she said more gently. She moved a little, and I saw new light spill onto the floor. It brought up flecks of mica in the stone. It was pretty. My back started to warm up, and I wondered if I was naked. I hoped not; it was undignified, although I thought my butt looked pretty good for someone who was on her second lifetime.

"Your vital signs look good," the woman said in an abstracted tone. "Your healing progresses well, although there is little we can do to help bone repair itself in your arm and ankle. A medication was brought for you and other casualties that does help repair the breaks, yet it is still a slow process and cannot be rushed any further. It is your wings that have caused the most concern, however; we have never treated them, and your injuries were extensive. And your head, of course, but we have experience with that, at least, as well as another Midgard medication. Rest now," she said, then something cold was placed against my neck, and I felt the punch of a pressure injector so I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter.

I think I was woken up the next time. Everything was a weird shade of orange. I started--at least, I tried to--when the floor moved. Then an eye looked at me, which seriously freaked me out. What kind of drugs was I on? But then something moist nuzzled my hand and I realized that there was a dog under my table. Odd, but nice. I moved my hand so that I could scratch the dog's muzzle a little. Then a man I couldn't see asked me how I felt. I thought it over. "I'm achy all over still, but my arm and ankle don't hurt as much as they did. My wings don't hurt. I have a headache, though."

"Hmm. What do you remember from the last time you were awake?"

"I have broken bones," I said after some thought. "My wings and head were hurt badly. I was in a stasis field."

"That's right. Good. Given the level of brain damage you experienced, it wasn't clear if it would affect your memory, but you were treated promptly, which helps to preserve the mind and the physical tissue."

"What happened?" I said, speaking to the floor. I was still on the massage table.

"When you were injured? We were told that some of the fire giants were kicking you around like a toy. When Freyr fell, a group of the guard managed to cut down Sutr, diverting the attention of the others from you. A few other guards rolled you onto a cloak and brought you back to the citadel. It wasn't certain whether we'd be able to save your wings, but the treatment was successful. I'm going to release the stasis field shortly. I want you to try and keep the wings up, rather than sagging onto the table. Are you ready?"

"Sure," I said, and my wings got heavier as the stasis faded away. It was some trouble to keep them up and stable, but not bad, and they had me move them, increasing the motion until they were tight to my back.

"Excellent," the man said in a satisfied voice. "Now we will assist you to sit up." I raised myself on a tripod of knees and left hand, then sat back and swung my legs to the right, sitting up slowly and finally getting a look at something other than the floor or a dog. I was glad to see that I had a nightgown on, although it was pretty swanky for hospital wear--it was knee-length, with a halter front and a tie that fastened over the nape of my neck. It was backless, the better to allow my wings to hang out. It was something nice enough that could be worn as a day dress, given underwear, and I was glad not to be flashing strangers, medical professionals though they might be. The dog came out from under the table; it was much smaller than Sigurd and Torburn. Nobody paid it any attention.

"'That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes and--'"

"What?" the healer interrupted me, sounding startled.

"It's just an old song," I explained. "Just popped into my head for some reason." He looked at me doubtfully, like he thought I still might have brain damage.

My arm and ankle had casts on them, although they were much lighter than I expected, and I was extensively bruised. "Any dizziness or nausea?" the man asked. He was tall, thin, and tired looking. They must have been really busy after the battle.

"No," I said, thinking. "The light's pretty bright, though." The other man, who hadn't spoken yet, nodded.

"Your brain has recovered remarkably well, but it is still healing, and you might be sensitive to light and loud noises for a while longer." They gave me a quick examination, after which I learned that the bruising to my internal organs was mostly healed, that my dislocated shoulder had healed successfully, that the casts could probably come off in a few more days, that the rest of the bruising was ugly but superficial, and that I was considered out of the woods but that they were going to keep me at least until the casts came off.

"Wait, how long ago was I brought here?" I asked. The bone shouldn't have healed that fast, even with the medication.

"Just over three weeks, the first man said. "You were in a coma for most of it. Now, we will have someone take you to a bathing room, and after that to a room where the light will be kept at comfortable levels. After a rest and a meal, we will ask you to explore your memories so that we can determine if there is any memory loss." Before I could say anything, he signaled, and a young woman came in with a low-backed chair on wheels. The man picked me up and placed me on the chair, carefully arranging the wings over the back, and the woman steered me out and into a large bathroom. Great, I really needed to pee. After that, she helped me to a bench, taking off the nightgown, and turned on a gentle shower of fine water droplets; more like a heavy mist than a shower. The odd orange color started to fade from my vision. She worked shampoo gently into my hair and I soaped what I could reach with my left hand. She took care of the rest, including a very careful washing of my wings. I was alarmed at the blood and mud and guck that washed away.

"We washed as much of you as we could when were treating you, but we were focused on your injuries, and a sponge bath is never as good," she said, and I agreed. A lot of what I'd taken for bruises washed off. "And there were so many casualties." The flow of water was gently increased so I could rinse off, after which I was dried off and put into a new nightgown. "Now I'm going to show you a mirror," she said. I looked at it with trepidation, but my face wasn't as bad as I'd expected and whatever else they'd done, they hadn't shaved my head. A victory for my vanity. But my wings were absolutely trashed, the pretty feathers mostly broken off. I was a lot thinner as well, not that I'd been heavy before. I looked gaunt.

"Damn," I said morosely. "I just finished molting." The woman helped me back into the chair and smiled.

"It's been very interesting to watch the treatment on your wings. The wings of the other valkyries we treated disappeared after a few days. We kept expecting yours to vanish too."

"What?" I said, startled.

"They think that because their bonds were with Odin, that they disappeared once that bond was broken. It does not explain why yours are still here," she said, turning me into a small room without a window. I realized then how much I must have stunk, because it smelled a lot better in there.

"Odin made a mistake and I ended up bonded to Yggdrasil," I said vaguely as I looked around. The dog came in and sat by the door.

"Really?" the woman said. "That's interesting."

"Indeed," another woman said, coming through the door. I recognized the voice as the first healer I'd talked to. "It might also explain why you live, when by all measures you should have died of your injuries." She studied me; I saw an older woman, thick blonde hair arranged on her head, careworn and tired. "I would like you to try to put your wings away," she said after a moment. "Stop immediately if you feel pain or discomfort."

I gingerly put them away, nothing hurt, exactly, but I could tell that they hadn't moved for awhile. She had me take them out, then repeat the process a couple more times so that I and they could be reassured that things were back to normal again. "It's quite interesting that they simply vanish," the older woman said, examining my back.

"It makes sleeping and sitting a lot easier," I said, and yawned. The women helped me to a chair and a light meal was served. After that, I was helped into bed, and told to rest a little. I went to sleep almost immediately. It had been a lot of effort, and I had a full stomach.

I was woken again about an hour later, pleased not to be face down. I'm not really much of a stomach sleeper. I was given some water, propped up on some pillows, asked if that hurt, and they brought in my uncle. He looked awful, but then he probably hadn't been in a coma for three weeks either. "Sweetie," he said in enormous relief, restraining himself to smoothing my hair back and kissing my forehead. He dropped into the comfortable chair and scrubbed his face with both hands.

"Uncle Bucky," I said with relief. "You're ok?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. You patched me up well enough so that Stevie could get me to the healers, and it didn't take them long to fix me. You, on the other hand..." he shuddered. "I saw you when you were brought in. For some reason, you had a swan with you. It honked and flapped its wings until the healers came over. They thought you were too far gone to be saved, but the swan bit one of them." He rubbed his face again. "It wouldn't let up until they started treatment. Modi was one of the guards who brought you in and said that the swan belonged to the Norn and they had to work on you."

"Those swans are vicious little bastards," I said, yawning and sitting up a little more. "I hate having to be grateful to one." Bucky rearranged the pillows behind me. The dog also yawned, and Bucky looked over at it and smiled. "Oh, you can see it too?" I asked, relieved. "I thought I was hallucinating."

"Were you having problems?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh, everything was orange for a little while, but it went away. Nobody was acknowledging the dog. As a hallucination, it's really nice."

Bucky smiled a little. "No, that's one of Baldur's. She found you on the battlefield and brought Magni and Modi over. I guess she's adopted you. Baldur said her name was Eira, which means 'merciful.'" I patted the bed, and the puppy walked over, struggling to get on the bed until Bucky gave her a little boost. She was a beauty, with soulful brown eyes and a red coat that had a pale patch on the center chest and darkened to black on the ear and tail tips, around the muzzle, and provided socks on her big paws.

"Sorry," I said to her. "I thought I was seeing things. But what were you doing on a battlefield? You're too small yet for that sort of thing." I got the impression of contentment, and she curled up at the end of the bed where I could put my feet against her back. My toes were cold.

"Sometimes you see things that aren't there on that concussion medication," Bucky said. "Emma saw plaid once, had some other sensory side effects, but they aren't permanent."

"That's good," I said. "How's Uncle Steve? I didn't see Emma out there, but Tony was in one of his Iron Man suits. Did he make it? What about the valkyries? Thor, Torunn, Loki--"

"Stevie is fine. He had some cuts and bruises, standard for a battle. Emma came out without a scratch. Stark's fine, his suit protected him and he helped bring down a lot of those fire giants. Thor's fine, his protective gear worked against that snake venom. Loki and Torunn were sent into the roots of Yggdrasil to kill Nidhoggr." I remembered that; Nidhoggr had been the dragon that nested in the roots of the World Tree, gnawing on the roots. The prophesy had said that if it bit through all the roots during Ragnarok that the tree would be killed, which would help bring about the doom of the worlds. "They were successful and good as new after a little healing after their return. The valkyries took a hell of a hit, sweetie," he said gently. "You, Serena, Dagny, Carol, Eir, Kata, Asa, Staeina, Visna, Jora, and Runa are all that's left."

I tried to get my mind around that. "I knew we took losses, but not that many," I said numbly. Eira lifted her head and whined, belly crawling up the bed to put her head on my stomach. I stroked her head absently. Bucky let me process this information; there was nothing more he could say about it.

"You missed the funerals," he said after a bit. "Odin was the first one, then they sent out the valkyries, then the rest of the dead. They built big ships because of the sheer numbers, aside from the small boat for Odin. They would have built individual boats for the valkyries, but Serena said no, that they should go out together. When they were a good distance from the shore, the archers shot fire arrows, and the rites were complete."

'I'm just as glad to have missed it," I said, rubbing my temple.

"I'll let you sleep now, sweetie," he said, patting my hand. "But one more thing you should know. Damian's here. Thor said he should be allowed to see you, since it is the right of a husband." I groaned.

"Thanks for the warning, Uncle Bucky," I said wearily. I didn't want to deal with Damian yet. "Wait, so the Bifrost was saved?" Bucky smiled. "Awesome job, Emma and Tony," I said, cheering a little.

"Yep, they did what everybody else thought was undoable," Bucky said with satisfaction. "Now, you rest awhile. I'll be back later." I closed my eyes obediently.

I was woken up for lunch and told to rest as much as I could to help my recovery. I woke midafternoon and was taken to the bathroom and had a shower. When I was settling back into bed, Serena poked her head through the door and smiled. I told her to come in.

"You're looking a lot better," she said, relieved. Eira thumped her tail on the bed. Serena grinned. "So you've met your new friend," she said, and I nodded.

"She's a pretty girl," I said, scratching behind an ear. "Come to think of it, I think I saw her on the battlefield a few times." I got the impression that she'd been following me, running after as I flew away on the horse to help with Sutr.

Serena held up a couple of bags. "I brought some of your stuff from your bedroom," she said. "Plus an imping kit. Your wings are a mess, woman." I smiled, and she had me unpack the wings. We both quailed a little when we saw the extent of the damage to the feathers. There were maybe four intact feathers on both wings combined, and they were small ones. Faint scars on the wings themselves wound around the stumps of the feathers. "The healers worked hard to keep the damage from affecting the way the feathers grow, so next molting, everything should grow in nicely, no deformation," she said as I turned to face her, sitting up crosslegged. Eira moved so that she could watch. "But the wing joints were dislocated, the bones cracked, cartilage separated, tendons torn. And that was with the armor that Emma made for the bones. They weren't sure it could all be fixed at the beginning, but then they calmed down." I started cutting bamboo splints as Serena laid out the feathers. They were white, but since we'd be imping almost all of mine, it wouldn't matter. It was going to be a lot of work, though. "Doesn't matter," Serena shrugged. "Thor has given us all really light duty until we decide what we want to do next. I volunteered for wing duty," she said, winking at me. I laughed. "I miss mine, but I'm glad somebody still has theirs. It makes me feel like we're still valkyries. And you're not going anywhere for awhile." I nodded.

"We didn't have our own wings for most of the time, we borrowed them from the cloaks," I said, "but we all took to them pretty fast once we got them." Serena nodded and started to work at the bottom of the wing. I handed her the knife, feathers, splints, epoxy, and pieces of cling film to protect the wing and the bottom feathers as she went along. We got the inside top of the wings complete before I started to droop. I wasn't doing much but it was still too much of an exertion to go on for long, and after the epoxy had cured enough, I packed the wings away and settled down for a nap. Serena left the imping kit and said she'd be back the next day.

"Everybody'll be glad to hear you're doing so well," she said as she got up. She hesitated by the door. "You did know that your husband's here, right?"

"Yeah, Bucky told me," I said, frowning.

"Good. I didn't want you to be surprised."

When I woke up again, a dim nightlight near the door was shining. Eira had nudged me; someone was coming through with a tray, turning the light up by half. I struggled to sit up and the tray was placed on my lap. I looked up and saw that the orderly was instead my husband. I wanted to throw the tray at him, like I was in an overly-dramatic 80's music video, but I was hungry. Eira growled at him and plopped down between us. "What are you doing here?" I asked after a few bites.

"I needed to see you," Damian said quietly. I nodded and swallowed.

"Hand them over," I said, gesturing. He looked blank. "The divorce papers."

"I don't have-- that's not why--" he said, startled. "I don't want a divorce." I grunted.

"Maybe I do," I said, spearing a piece of meat savagely. He looked down at his hands.

"I would deserve it," he said. "But I'm begging you not to." I continued grimly shoveling my food in my mouth.

"What makes you think you get a say?" His shoulders slumped.

"I promise that I will sign anything you want, without complaint or protest, I won't contest anything, as long as you permit me to explain. Just once."

"Why do you think that you deserve that courtesy, Damian?" I asked. "You knew. .." I cleared my throat. "You knew that I was giving up hope that my son was still alive. I felt sure that he loved me enough to... And all the time, you knew he was alive and well. Stupid as the day is long during summer solstice, but physically well." I shook my head and finished my meal, shoving the tray off my lap. Eira's attention was diverted and she licked the plate. "You know, it's a sad state of affairs when my rapist/stalker tells me what's going on with my son rather than my husband."

Damian flinched at the venom in my words as well as the words themselves. "What?"

"You heard me. The Joker is the one who let me know that Alexander had been made and was in danger. I'm sure he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart, but he did it anyway. Trying to get into my good graces." My voice cut like a whip's lash. I rubbed my temples.

"No," he breathed.

"Yes." My voice had no give in it.

One of the healers came into the room and looked at us. "You were permitted entrance as long as your presence did not cause our patient distress. You need to leave now," he said to Damian, who got up without complaint. He picked up the tray and left after a final look at me that mixed guilt and pain. Big deal. I rearranged the pillows and curled up on my left side. Eira snuggled in behind my knees, and with that comfort, I slept.

The next morning, I got a doctor visit, breakfast, and a shower, in that order. I was feeling better, but still so weak. I was glad to see Bucky and Steve, who brought me some grooming implements for Eira. "Emma said you'd need these," Steve said, handing over a metal comb and a couple of brushes, as well as a box of cupcakes. Yum. Chocolate buttercream frosting and vanilla bean-flecked cake. Eira plopped down beside me, and we talked about the battle as I groomed the pup. The death toll on Asgard was pretty high, but obviously not as bad as originally predicted.

"The fear that Yggdrasil unleashed was potent and it unhinged a lot of people throughout the Nine Realms," Bucky said, shaking his head. He sat on the end of the bed while Steve took the chair. Don't worry about it being crowded with the patient, her dog, and her uncle; it was generously sized for an Asgardian male, so I probably could have hosted a slumber party if I'd wanted. "There was a lot of chaos and there were groups of individuals who either took advantage of the disorganization or got caught up in it. Attempted coups in several countries, by quick-thinking people who already had plans in motion. Rioting, looting. General destruction. There is a substantial death toll everywhere, including Earth."

"It was particularly bad on that dark elf planet where so many of the pre-industrialized societies were relocated," Steve said, sighing. "A little silver lining is that there will be more room for those who wish to give up their tech and live a simpler life. There's a number of groups who are interested in it, but they'd have to give up their guns, which is the sticking point for several, who point out that there are dangerous animals there. The Asgardians refuse to allow any kind of firearms on the planet, either brought to it or manufactured there."

"Why is that?" I asked. I frowned. "It seems odd, now that I think about it, that they don't use handguns or rifles, just big defensive fortifications to take out ships."

Steve shrugged. "It's easy and it kills at a distance, which they think of as dishonorable, unmanly. If you're going to kill somebody, you should have the guts to do it face to face, not in a cowardly manner."

"Huh," Bucky and I said almost in unison. Steve smiled at us.

"Sweetie, I want you to consider talking to somebody when you're released from medical care," Bucky said.

"Huh?" I said again.

"A psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist, counselor, whatever," he elaborated. "That battle... I know you trained for it and were as prepared as any new soldier could be, but I have to tell you that it was exceptionally brutal, and I've seen a lot." Steve nodded. "I saw you a few times," Bucky continued. "You were flying so fast, dive-bombing the enemy, making sharp turns...I don't know how your wings weren't ripped right off you. It's a real miracle that you made it through alive. I saw you garrotting this fire giant. You half took off his head. Everywhere you looked there was blood and guts and bodies and savagery. You saw your friends shot down. It might not be popping up now, but it will, sweetie."

"Are you seeing somebody, Uncle Bucky?" I asked. His face was haggard and sometimes he had that thousand yard stare he had in the few pictures of him as the Winter Soldier. He nodded.

"It's brought up a lot of things I'd rather forget," he said quietly, and Steve leaned forward to squeeze his foot. Eira whined softly and shuffled over to him.

"Maybe you could get me the business card, then," I said, and he nodded.

"So what are you guys going to do now that Ragnarok's come and gone and we have a future to look forward to?" I asked them.

Bucky sighed, and the tension left him as he exhaled. "No idea. I just know I'm done with warfare of any kind."

Steve smiled at his friend. "Neither of us is going back to the Avengers. It's time for me to move on with my life. I'm going to go to art school. Emma thinks that I should try fashion design. It's tempting. Wearable art."

"Wow," I said wistfully. "Your shows would be the hot ticket during fashion week. Everybody would want something from your collections. Apparently the catalog that was produced from the show that you did with the Avengers costumes has been periodically reprinted. They're studied as both case studies for superhero costumes and theatrical costuming."

"I'd be happy to design things for you, Alex," he said immediately.

"I'd love a Steve Rogers original," I said, feeling hopeful. He smiled.

"What about you, sweetie?" Bucky nudged me. "You had to have had some thoughts before the battle."

"Just that I need a fresh start too," I said. "Thought I'd just go back to MIT, study something different, but now I don't know. Maybe it's time to give another institution a go." Both men smiled indulgently at me. "Tony and Ann offered me a job with their new company, but this time I think I'd like to go out on my own, where nobody knows me."

"That may be harder than you think," Steve told me. "There were reporters up here not long after the battle, trying to explain things to their readers and viewers. The heroism of the valkyries was described pretty often. And here in the citadel, the bards have also come up with a couple of songs and I understand are working on some sagas about the whole thing. There's a whole verse in one of those songs about you, specifically. I have to admit, the tune is pretty catchy." I cursed under my breath.

"I don't want to be famous," I said crossly. Bucky lifted a shoulder.

"Sorry, kid," Steve said wryly.

"You shouldn't be so extraordinary then," my uncle said calmly. "But the fuss will die down."

A man popped his head in the door. "General--"

"Yes?" Both Bucky and Steve spoke, and the man colored.

"Rogers, General Rogers. Thor has requested your presence." Steve sighed and levered himself up.

"Gotta tie up a few loose ends before that, then," he said. "Glad you're feeling better, Alex. I'll stop by tomorrow."

Bucky waited until the footsteps in the hall had faded before speaking again. "When I go back, it won't with Steve and Emma," he said quietly. I stared at him. "What we had between the three of us worked the best in Folkvangr. It looks weird back in the city, and the only reason nobody made a fuss of it in public was that there was a lot of other stuff going on. I'd rather melt into the crowd." He smiled at me. "Must be a Barnes thing. Nothing's happened between Steve and Emma and me, we're still friends. I just want... privacy. And a clean start, too. Leave the bad behind. Thanks to Daniel, I have the means to do that. Don't worry about me."

"I will, though," I said, and yawned. "Sorry."

"You need sleep, sweetie. I'll come back tomorrow. Take it easy, and send somebody if you need anything," he said affectionately, and scooted off the bed. Eira stretched, then ambled up for an ear scratch before curling up for a nap.