Refuge

Entering his home, M’Baku suddenly seemed nervous, pointing Idunn to a seat while promising to have the food ready momentarily. She was surprised once more; she’d assumed as a high-ranking leader among his people, he would have someone to cook for him.

Her surprise must have shown on her face, because he chuckled at her. “In Jabari, there are not many formalities.” He assured her.

“Can I help?” She inquired.

“You cook? I thought you a warrior.” He mused, heading to the kitchen.

She followed, unclasping her cape from her shoulders and leaving it on the couch. “I could say the same of you.”

He chuckled, a low, smooth sound that made her heart clench in her chest. “I suppose so. Do you know how to make sambusas?”

“I can learn.” She replied, perching herself on the counter and looking expectantly at him.

“You are a guest in my home, Idunn. I cannot ask you to help me cook for you.” He said, frowning.

She didn’t move. “Well, then it’s a good thing you didn’t ask. So, what’s first?”

He shook his head and took a pan down from where it hung on the wall.

It took a little more than an hour, start to finish, since he insisted on showing her how to roll out the dough by hand, and she couldn’t get it exactly right at first.

“They need to be a little thinner.” He said, examining the half-flattened ball she was working on.

“When I roll them thinner, they split in half!” She complained, slamming it back on the counter with more force and necessary and grabbing the rolling pin. She could cook, but she had never had the patience for it that her baby brother had; he’d been the real cook in their little family.

“Just be gentle.” He coaxed, stepping behind her and looking over her shoulder. “Here. Like this.” He placed his hands on hers, guiding her in rolling with short, smooth motions. “See? You’ve got it.”

“…Okay.” She whispered. Idunn could feel every inch of him pressing against her back, and his breath against her neck had her ears heating up.

When he moved away to grab more flour, she breathed a small sigh of relief. This man flew in the face of everything Idunn knew or assumed of Midgard and their people: he was huge, yet gentle, he was a warrior, yet his compassion was the most notable thing about him. He was a complexity, an enigma, and a luxury she could not afford to fall for.

“Here,” From behind her, he dumped a handful of flour on the dough in from of Idunn. Most of it settled nicely, but about a quarter flew up directly in her face and she coughed, waving the cloud of white powder with her hand. “Hey!” She complained, looking over her shoulder at him as she dusted off her shirt and face.

His eyes widened. “I apologize.” He said, but there was a small glint of amusement in his eyes.

On pure impulse, she reached, grabbed a bit of flour, and blew it at him. “Now we’re even.” She smirked.

There was a long moment where he stared directly in her eyes, seemingly deciding whether or not to retaliate. His gaze flickered down to her lips and back up, and your chest tightened quickly. She turned back to the dough and resumed rolling, missing the disappointed look on her host’s face.

Had he been about to kiss her?

Idunn had no idea, but the thought of it terrified her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, just the opposite: her heart screamed out for her to close the distance between them and capture his beautiful lips with hers. The electricity that danced on her skin with every brush against his told her that much. So what held her back?

She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. It was the fact that they were, quite literally, from different worlds. The fact that, despite their similar skin tones and features, she was well aware of the differences between Asgardians and Midgardians, most notably, in aging.

The fact that she wasn’t sure she could survive her heart being broken by someone else she loved leaving her.

♤♤♤

He sent her to sit down with a glass of rich, spicy red wine at the table, shooing Idunn out of his kitchen and insisting on at least serving her while the sambusas finished frying. She let her eyes flicker around his home as she sipped; it was warmly decorated, nearly everything made of richly colored wood, and beautiful oil paintings of different landscapes in gorgeously carved wooden frames hung on the walls. One was a perfect capturing of the mountains they had just walked through, every color a perfect match to what she could see just outside the window. In fact… Idunn tilted her head and squinted, just a bit. That was the exact scene outside the window, at the same angle and with the same details.

M'Baku entered the room, carrying plates full of the sambusas, and set one before her on the table. She smiled and thanked him, but her eyes kept flicking back to the painting.

“Did you do that?” She asked, nodding toward it.

He followed her line of sight to the painting and grinned, setting down the bite of food he was about to place in his mouth. “I did. Sitting right where you are, in fact.”

“I can tell. It’s beautiful.” She said honestly.

“Thank you.” He acknowledged, chewing over a bite before posing a question to her: “You’re an artist as well, though, no?”

She tilted her head at him, confused. He elaborated, “I believe you said you made weapons?”

Idunn thought back to her forge, the smooth, dark cave glittering with brilliant amethyst stalactites dripping from the ceiling, hot as an oven, the air humming with magic.

It made her heart ache. “I used to. I don’t know what I do now. Survive, I suppose.” She mused, trying to keep her voice fairly neutral.

“You can make weapons here.” M’Baku remarked, taking another bite. His eyes flickered to her plate. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Just distracted. Sorry.” She apologized, picking one up.

“Well, despite your interference, these are quite delicious.” He chuckled, squeezing a lime over his food. Idunn narrowed her eyes at him and picked one up, taking a large bite. The flavors burst over her tongue, and she practically moaned in pleasure and surprise. She felt his eyes on her face, carefully gauging her reaction as she swallowed.

“That is rather good.” She admitted, and took another bite.

The silence as they both enjoyed the meal they had created together was comfortable, neither feeling the need to fill it with idle chatter for the sake of politeness. Despite the mountain chill still hanging in the air, Idunn felt warm and at ease, and felt herself start to relax for the first time since... well, she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this content. There was still an ache about her chest, but it was more a dull throb than a gaping wound now.

He insisted on clearing the dishes, and she lounged a bit, drawing one leg up to her chest, her heel on the edge of the dining chair. M’Baku returned to find Idunn staring out of the window again, her chin resting on her knee.

“Are you alright?” The deep timbre of his voice startled Idunn out of her thoughts, and she turned to him, nodding. He stepped a little closer, almost bashfully, to rest a hand gently on her shoulder. She shivered at the contact; it sent sparks across her skin. “It gets easier.” He murmured.

“…when?” She sighed, centuries of memories playing across the forefront of her mind. Loss was not an unfamiliar emotion to Idunn, but never had it been so large, so concentrated, and so immense.

“I wish I had an answer for you,” He whispered. She offered him a small, halfhearted smile. Both of them started at the knock on the door, and Idunn’s hand instinctively flew to grasp Halvor at her waist as he pulsed comfortingly in her palm. M’Baku strode to the door and she followed cautiously, but it was only one of the Jabari guards, a shorter woman with hundreds of small braids pinned back from her face, dressed in wooden armor.

“Yes, Nneka?” M’Baku asked, and Idunn dropped her hand from her sword, feeling foolish.

She saluted her leader and turned to the Asgardian warrior. “Lord Heimdall has requested Idunn’s presence.” She said.

She was a little peeved Heimdall had been appointed a title and she had not, but she followed the warrior down the hall, M’Baku at her side. Heimdall was waiting outside, looking enduring as ever wrapped in his cape, and Idunn found herself shivering as she cursed herself for leaving her cape behind in the suddenness of his summons. The temperature had plummeted even further, and their strange sun was just beginning its decent in the sky, painting the sky amazing shades of violet and crimson.

“Uncle?” She questioned as he turned his golden stare on her.

“We’re holding the funeral pyre tonight.” He spoke quietly.

“Oh…” was all she could manage. He nodded in understanding. “We’re not waiting for the King?”

“As much as I would like to, our people need to begin to heal.” Heimdall responded. She swallowed hard, looking down, and bobbed her head in agreement. “We should head down if you’re coming.”

“I get a choice?” She flicked her eyebrows skyward.

“You’re far old enough to make your own choices, Idunn.” He turned and began walking away. Even without his omniscient sight, he didn’t have to turn around to know she was following him. It surprised both of the Asgardians, however, when M’Baku stepped forward and spoke, the pair of them turning at his words. “May I come?”

Idunn regarded him carefully, but before she could speak, Heimdall addressed him. “As long as you’re respectful.” M’Baku nodded, his face neutral enough that she wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking.

♤♤♤

The drive down was considerably quicker than the walk up, and they were back in Wakanda’s golden city before they lost too much sunlight at all. Idunn exited the strange vehicle and found herself before a rushing, foaming white river, flowing quickly to the left and ending in a churning waterfall. A large raft, piled high with wood, was tied off and waiting at the bank. She swallowed hard. She wanted to run back to the mountains and lose herself in them. She wasn’t ready for this.

She hated funerals.

Valkyrie spotted them and staggered over, clearly inebriated, but when she clapped Idunn on the shoulder and spoke, her voice was surprisingly steady. “Alright there, Idunn?”

Idunn swallowed hard and gave the most miniscule nod. Valkyrie grinned at her and pressed something into her hands before walking away. Idunn looked down. It was another flask. “Where are you pulling these from?” She yelled after the beautiful warrior, but she just looked back at Idunn with a laugh, not answering.

She sighed and pocketed the liquor. As much as she’d like to chug the entire thing, if only to steady her nerves, she knew that was just a patch on the wound.

No. She had to face death without running from it, like a real warrior of Asgard. An Einherjar. Like Kari.

Spaced out, Idunn didn’t notice M’Baku next to her until he nudged her shoulder, and she flinched, immediately feeling guilty when an apologetic look crossed his face. “I’m sorry.” She blurted before he could. “I’m just… a little on edge.”

“I don’t blame you,” He muttered, looking around at the hundred or so lost, misplaced Asgardians gathered on the banks of the river uneasily. They looked even more out of place under his judgmental stare. She frowned a little at him, but didn’t press it, in part because Heimdall had stepped in front of the pyre and begun to speak.

“Asgard, it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today.” He addressed the crowd in his deep, booming voice. “As a people, we have survived, but that survival did not come without heavy loss. We mourn for our home. We mourn for the mother and fathers we have lost, the brothers and sisters, the friends and lovers, the sons and daughters we had to leave behind.” All around her, heads bowed silently, and Idunn joined them. She tried to focus on her uncle’s words, but a low, static buzz filled her ears, making her feel fuzzy and indistinct. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. The ground felt even more unsteady beneath her feet for a moment, and she reached out to catch herself on the nearest thing to steady the spinning vertigo she felt. She caught M’Baku’s forearm and he looked down at her, concerned.

“Are you alright?” He whispered as Heimdall continued to speak.

She couldn’t meet his eye but whispered back a yes. He reached up, slowly and carefully, gauging your reaction, to take her hand, interlacing their fingers and giving it a light squeeze. Idunn’s lip trembled as she looked from his hand around hers to the soft expression on his face, and she squeezed back softly, looking out toward the pyre. Someone had handed Heimdall a torch, sparking with a magically lit flame that burned in every color of the rainbow, and he was turning to light the wood. The pyre caught easily and, within seconds, was burning bright. Valkyrie cut the rope that held it tied to land and gave it a push with her boot, sending the raft down the river, smoke billowing into the air as the colorful flames consumed it.

The banks were silent as they all watched the blazing sun set over the water, sending the last of its golden rays over the pyre. It reached the edge of the waterfall and began to topple over, the flames extinguishing themselves as stars seemed to soar upward in a nebula cloud from the raft. All around Idunn, her people created orbs of light in their hands, releasing them skyward as well. The familiar, simple jolt of energy coursed through her body as she created her own with her free hand and sent it up as well. M’Baku stared silently with an unreadable expression in the strange light. They glowed in the twilight, extinguishing slowly above their heads with a low hum she wasn’t sure Midgardian ears could pick up on.

A long silence followed, broken only by a few sniffles and noses blowing into handkerchiefs. Heimdall was the first to speak. “Thank you all for coming.” His voice was low but carried just as well through the crowd. Murmurings started up and the people began to disperse, presumably to find their way back to their temporary homes.

Idunn realized she was still gripping M’Baku’s hand, her grasp much tighter than it should have been. “Sorry.” She muttered, letting go, guilt coursing through her once more as he winced and flexed his fingers.

He waved it off with his other hand. “It would take more than a few squeezes to drain my strength.”

She wiped at her eyes, unsure of when the tears had begun to fall again. “Can we go, please?” She asked, her voice cracking. M’Baku nodded and led her away back to the mountains.