章 22: Master and Apprentice
"Oh my god!" Clark whispered, his heart beginning to beat so fast that he might have a heart attack if he were human. As quickly as he could, he lifted the sheet and covered Sif, in any moment actually looking at her very evident nakedness.
What in the name of everything that was holy had happened?! Jumping from the bed, Clark looked around, searching for anything to cover his own naked body, settling for a ripped sheet tossed on the ground, all the while trying to remember how he came to be in this situation. And little by little, pieces of memory came into one.
Clark had flashes of kissing Sif, tasting the mead in her mouth, their hands exploring each other bodies. He remembered ripping her clothes apart, the metal of her armor bending under his fingers, and then she grinning as she pushed him against the wall with strength enough to turn the stones into dust; he remembered liking that quite a lot for some reason.
There was no gentleness, no romance, no holding back. There wasn't anything in his memories that indicated any semblance of self-control. It was just… raw passion. Pure desire and lust. Nothing that Clark had even remotely experienced before in his life. And right now he wasn't sure what to do.
Before he could reach a decision, however, the choice was taken from him.
"Are you done – how do they say in Midgard these days? – 'freaking out'?" asked Sif.
Without thinking, Clark turned to look at her, turning his eyes to the ceiling immediately when confronted with her, once again, naked body.
"Uh, Sif, I-I can see your, I mean–"
"Argh, just look at me!" Sif demanded, suddenly jumping forward and pulling the sheet he was using to cover himself, ripping it apart. "See, now we are both bare. Sit down."
Clark couldn't know for sure, but he was pretty certain he was blushing all over right now. Looking at Sif's face, and only her face, Clark slowly, carefully, sat down back on the bed, ignoring her not as contained roaming eyes. Raising her eyes, she looked back at his face, getting closer from him on the bed; he made a conscious effort not to back out again.
"Now, what is the problem?" Sif asked. "You did not seem this shy last night. Do not tell me this was your first time because no one can be that good at–"
"It was not my first time!" Clark interrupted, getting even more embarrassed, even if a bit proud. "I mean, I had a girlfriend before, but we never… I mean, we did, but not before we knew each other well!"
"So what is the problem? Is it me?" Sif asked, almost challenging him.
"No, of course not!" Clark guaranteed as fast as he could. "Sif, you are great, any men would–"
"Then why?" she cut him off.
Clark sighed.
"I never… I never did this before."
Sif frowned.
"You just said–"
"I've had sex before! But this? Drinking and-and just spending the night together… We aren't dating! We met yesterday! I feel like I'm taking advantage of you!"
He realized he said the wrong thing a millisecond later after the words had left his mouth.
"Taking advantage of me?!" Sif roared, her face almost touching his. "If you had touched me without my permission you would know, Kal-El! Do you know how? Because you would not have that hand anymore!" She looked down, quite deliberately. "And you would also be lacking something else."
Instinctively, Clark took both hands to cover his groin.
"That hole in the wall? It is there because I tossed you through it! Inside the room, over the bed!" Sif continued, still very much angered. "Nothing that happened here last night, not a single thing, happened against my will. Did it happen against yours?!"
"No!" Clark answered fast, but truthfully.
"Then we were both here because we wanted to," Sif stated. "And we did what we wanted to. So I ask again: what is the problem?"
Clark sighed again. There was no problem, not really, just his own culture and morals clashing against Sif's different ones. He was taught by his family to be a gentleman, to value women and to treat them with the utmost respect; except Clark was realizing just now that respect might mean different things to different people.
"I'm sorry, Sif," Clark said, looking back at her. "I shouldn't have freaked out. It's just… Different cultures, I guess. From where I come from, to sleep with a woman without being in a relationship, without loving each other or without the intention of getting in a relationship with her would be, well, wrong."
"If they both wanted it, why would it be wrong?" Sif asked.
"I-I don't know," Clark answered, shrugging. "It's just the way it is. Not everyone thinks like that, of course, but that was how I was taught." He looked at her. "It's not like this here, is it? I mean, you don't want to date me, do you? Because–"
"I have no interest in 'dating' anyone, Kal!" Sif clarified, raising her voice again. But before she started getting mad again, she looked in his eyes for a second; whatever she saw there made her anger disappear. "Kal, not everything has to be so serious. This? We do not have to be married or to love each other to enjoy each other's company. Friendship, companionship, the respect among equals… Sometimes those are enough."
As she said this, Sif touched his face; Clark didn't shy away from her touch. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Nobody had taken advantage of anybody here. They were both consenting adults, both more than fully capable of taking care of themselves. And they both respected each other greatly, even if they didn't know each other for a long time.
Clark didn't even realize what he was doing when he leaned and kissed her.
Thor was sitting at the long table in the dining hall with Jane by his side, his mother in front of him and his father at the head of the table. The room brightened in sheers of gold under glowing lights as the servants walked around, carrying the food and the drinks for the breakfast. The hall was full of people, warriors filling their stomachs to begin the day, and in any other time the room would be echoing with loud voices.
There wasn't a single person talking at that moment, however, as everybody looked up, to see the chandeliers swinging to one side to the other as the entire room trembled. The drinks in the mugs were shaking and even the silverware was clattering against the plates. There was a little bit of dust falling from the ceiling in regular intervals.
"Thor, let's take a walk?" Jane suggested, her eyes wide as she looked up. "Please!"
Yes, a walk seemed like a good idea right now; if things were like the night before, Kal and Sif wouldn't come down for breakfast so soon. As if the people in the room were waiting for a signal, when Thor got up everybody did the same. Some were shocked like Jane was, some were impressed, some were laughing and gossiping. Odin left with his mother, shaking his head and murmuring he was too old for this, as Frigga guided him across the halls with an amused expression.
Despite the unsuitable setting to have breakfast with friends and family that this situation provided, Thor was quite happy with what happened. Despite what people may think, he wasn't blind to Sif's feelings towards him. Once upon a time they had been more than friends and if he hadn't met Jane he might have cared about her like that once again, but right now he simply didn't. And it pained him to see Sif suffer because of this.
Sif was one of his best friends, maybe the best he ever had. Someone who always treated him not as a Prince, but as she would treat anyone, not afraid to hit him on the head when he deserved or to say things he didn't want to hear, but needed to. So naturally he wanted only the best for her. He wanted her to be happy.
He wasn't foolish enough to think Kal and Sif loved each other, at least not yet. He knew quite well that the source of these recent "earthquakes" had nothing to do with love. But maybe it could grow into something in the future. Or maybe it wouldn't, Thor didn't know, but the very fact that Sif had found someone to be with, even if for a little while, was a good indicative that she was getting over him. That made him glad. Sif deserved happiness. And so did Kal.
"My god, don't they get tired?!" muttered Jane, when the window they were just passing cracked.
"Well, those are the perks of sleeping with an Asgardian," Thor whispered in her ear, kissing her temple and making her giggle. "We do not tire easily."
"Stop it!" Jane laughed, slapping his chest. "You are terrible, Thor!"
Thor smiled back and lifted her, carrying her like a princess through the hallway, as she pretended to fight him. It was good to be with her, here, in Asgard; he just wished it were under better circumstances. Thor was doing his best to remain calm, to not panic and end up scaring Jane, but it was a difficult thing to do. There was an Infinity Stone inside Jane and it was feeding on her life force.
And they had no idea how to take it out.
Granted, it had been only a day since they started looking for ways to remove the Aether, but not even Frigga and Odin had found the answers they needed yet. And if his parents didn't know about it, the number of people who had this knowledge had to be small indeed, if they existed at all.
Jane wasn't showing signs of debilitation, but that was a matter of time. She was mortal, her body wasn't strong enough to sustain an Infinity Stone for long. Not even an Asgardian could, especially this particular stone, even though their physiology would resist much better. The Aether was forged by the Dark Elves, to be used by them; only they could use the Aether without fear of being consumed and even then, only the strongest amongst them.
Holding Jane as close as he could, Thor walked through the hallway, going outside the palace. He didn't know what to do right now, except trust his parents.
"Your mother told me she would teach me how to do magic," Jane said, when they finally left the palace. "Do you know how to do it?"
"Only a little bit," Thor admitted. "My brother was always more talented than me when it came to the magic arts. I was always more of a–"
"Big guy who likes to beat people with a hammer?" Jane completed.
"I was going to say warrior, but they are pretty much the same," Thor laughed.
"I still can't believe magic exists. Real magic! How wonderful is the universe?"
"I told you magic was real."
"You agreed with me when I said magic was just science we don't understand!" Jane complained.
Thor honestly didn't understand the difference.
"But it is," he said.
Jane just groaned.
"I know it is! But not like I was thinking!"
"How did you think my hammer worked?" Thor asked, smiling.
"Argh, I don't know! How does it work?" Jane asked and Thor suddenly lost his smile.
"It, uh, draws strength from other dimensions and from myself."
"But how?"
"It is enchanted," Thor answered.
"Enchanted how?" Jane asked, grinning.
Thor sighed.
"You will have to ask my mother."
"I rest my case!" Jane exclaimed.
Maybe Thor did need some lessons in magic.
Time was a relative concept. Steve certainly didn't feel he was away from London that long, but in truth decades had passed since he stepped in the city. It showed; the place was completely different from what he remembered, exactly like New York was. It was like looking at another place completely.
Last time, there was damage from the war in the streets. Collapsed buildings from the aerial attacks made against the city. The buildings weren't so tall as they were now and there weren't that many cars in the streets, certainly not the same modern looking models. Clothes, obviously, were changed, fashion evolving like everything else.
And, of course, there was the small fact that he was here because of something called "The Convergence", a natural and rare event when the boundaries of the Nine Realms faded and all worlds were joined together.
If that didn't show how things were different in his life, Steve didn't know what would.
"Why are the gravimetric spikes taped together?" Steve heard Tony asking Selvig nearby. "The pieces are literally being held together with duct tape!"
"We must do what we can with what we have," Selvig answered sagely. "I learned that in the asylum."
Steve could definitely understand the sceptic look Tony had in his eyes right now.
"We can worry about that later," Bruce said, before Tony could open his mouth. "Let's just make sure they work."
Bruce's interruption seemed to work and the three of them, plus a whole SHIELD's science team, went on their way, learning what they would have to do. He still wasn't sure exactly why he was here – it wasn't like he could even pretend to understand the science behind what was about to happen – however, Fury had insisted so there he was, at the Old Royal Naval College, in the Greenwich borough of London.
"Bored?" Natasha asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air from behind him. "Clint was almost catatonic last time I saw him."
Steve turned fast, looking at the red haired spy approaching, walking the beautiful and very old hallway of the building.
"No, no, just confused as to what exactly I'm doing here," Steve answered. "Especially when I found out I'm here because a certain someone requested me."
Natasha just smiled, leaning on the window by his side.
"Call it a guess that we'll need Captain America here," she said.
He frowned.
"Are we expecting a battle?"
"Always," she grinned. "Right now though? I hope not. But you know how these 'space doorways' are, don't you?"
Steve had experience with one "space doorway", really, but in his opinion it was more than enough to last a lifetime.
"Point taken," he sighed.
Both of them were in silence for a few moments, just watching the view from the window; of course that didn't last. Steve could hear the amusement in her voice before she even talked.
"So, Steve, tell me," Natasha began, turning to look at him. "Any beautiful British girl caught your eye?"
And there it was. For some reason, Natasha had gotten into her head that it was her job to find him a girlfriend. He could appreciate the effort in trying to make him at home in this new time, but Natasha had taken that to a whole new level. Honestly, Steve wasn't ready to date anyone yet and he was sure Natasha knew that; no way not to, being that good at reading people as she was.
Steve was beginning to think that was just her way of pranking him, to make him feel like one of them. Just friends joking around. And deep down, even if sometimes he was annoyed, he was very grateful for that.
"The last British girl that caught my eye was Peggy," he answered truthfully, without any kind of venom.
She smiled at him, kindly.
"She was quite the beauty," Natasha said. "I've seen the pictures. It's no wonder Captain America was mesmerized."
He chuckled.
"No, it isn't. It really isn't."
Natasha looked at him, her expression softening perceptibly.
"Have you already visited her?" she asked.
Steve looked down, suddenly unable to face her. No, no he hasn't. Why? The simple answer was "fear". He was afraid. Afraid to look at the face of the woman he loved and see her gone. Peggy lived her life, aged, loved… Steve hadn't. To actually lay eyes on her, to see all that… That frightened him more than anything.
His silence was answer enough.
"I can't begin to imagine how hard that must be for you, Steve," Natasha finally said, her voice almost inaudible. "But you owe it to yourself to see her at least once again. Otherwise you are going to regret it for the rest of your life."
Natasha was right and he knew it. Of course he knew it. It didn't make it any less difficult though.
"On another note," Natasha continued, not waiting for him to say anything, "if you are really bored with all the scientific stuff we know nothing about, there is something interesting here you'll like." She looked at him. "The library is exceptional, I hear, and you do like to read, don't you?"
Steve smiled.
"I do."
"Well, then, it's that way," she pointed. "And Steve? Make sure to ask for Lydia. You share some of the same interests, I think you'll like her."
Steve, frowned.
"I thought we had evacuated the place," he said.
"We did, but some of the college's staff stayed behind to make sure we don't destroy anything."
"Why? When did we ever destroy anything?" Steve asked, smiling, already walking in the library's direction.
"I know, right?" he heard Natasha's answer as he left the corridor.
Steve was actually glad to have something to do for now. He was already bored to death of hearing Tony, Bruce and Selvig arguing about science, using terms he didn't even want to guess what they meant. And Natasha was right, he did like to read. Walking through the college's building, Steve looked for the library and finally found it. He was amazed when he entered.
It was huge. And beautifully crafted. London might have changed a lot since the last time he was here, but there were places that remained frozen in time and that room was clearly one of them. Steve was so fascinated by it he didn't even notice an elderly woman approaching.
"Oh, excuse me," Steve said as he noticed her. "I was just admiring the books."
The very old, very frail lady smiled at him.
"It is no problem at all, dear. Few people seem to take pleasure in the simple things anymore. Look all you want, I'm sure you'll find something enjoyable to read. Oh, I'm Ms. Pierce, the librarian responsible for all this."
Steve had no doubt he would find something to read.
"Thank you, ma'am, I will. I'm Steve, by the way, pleasure to meet you," he said, turning to look at the books. As he turned, however, he remembered what Natasha had told him. Well, what did he have to lose? "Say, Ms. Pierce, do you know anyone named Lydia? Is she a teacher here, perhaps?"
As he said this, he was already looking around, trying to see if there was anyone else in the library with them.
"Oh, dear, I'm Lydia!" the elderly lady answered.
Steve did a double take. He didn't know why the hell he was so surprised.
"Strength, without purpose, is meaningless," Sif said, her body adopting a perfect martial stance. "Speed, without technique, is simply waste of movement. Your body must be under your control, at all times, and not the other way around."
Clark watched as Sif released a flurry of punches and kicks in the air, her body moving with such grace on the emerald green field that it made her movements look like a dance. He could tell, though, that every single hit had lethal force behind it; a deadly dance indeed.
"What you need is a fighting style that suits your purposes," Sif explained, looking at him, the royal palace glowing in the distance behind her. "Something that allows you to use your gifts to their fullest potential. And unfortunately, no Asgardian style will serve you."
"Why not?" Clark asked.
"One simple reason: we cannot fly," Sif stated. "That, by itself, already makes any Asgardian or Midgardian martial style unsuitable for you. It would restrict you too much."
What she said made sense, even to Clark's limited understanding. Still, even with all that, he was still unsure as to why Sif wanted to teach him a martial style so badly.
"Okay, I get it. But if no fighting style you know will help me, isn't it better for me to just stay as I am? I mean, do I really have to–"
His question was interrupted when Sif suddenly drew her sword. Her movement was so fast that she became a blur and the blade simply disappeared as she struck; to Clark's Kryptonian's reflexes, however, the attack was not only visible, it was defensible. He raised his arm, seeing the sword approaching, and opened his hand.
And with unbelievable speed, closed it, holding the sword without touching the sharp edges and stopping it before it reached him.
For a brief moment, both of them just stared at each other, until Clark raised his eyebrow; he might have being able to defend himself, but it didn't make her attack any less frightening. Especially when he didn't know exactly how sharp her blade was. It probably wouldn't have hurt him too badly, but still…
"How did you defend yourself?" Sif asked, still not moving. "Reflexes, speed and strength, correct? Only because you are faster and stronger than I am." She pulled her sword back, sheathing it. "What happens when you meet someone stronger and faster than you? Are you willing to bet the safety of Midgard on the possibility of that never happening?"
Clark looked down for a second. No, he was not willing to let Earth be destroyed because he was too bothered to learn to fight better, that wasn't a question he needed time to think about.
"You are right," he answered, looking back at her. "And I do want your help. So how do we do this?"
Sif smiled at him, too quickly to anyone else but him to notice.
"Well, like I said, the Asgardians do not have a proper fighting style for Kryptonians under a yellow sun," she said, walking towards him," but Kryptonians do."
His eyebrows shot up when he heard that.
"I heard the Allfather gave you a gift," Sif continued and Clark immediately looked at the small bag he had brought with them; to the place he kept the book Odin had given him.
The book that recorded all interactions between Asgardians and Kryptonians. Without waiting for her to say anything else, Clark walked to the bag and took the book from it, glancing at the symbol of the House of El on the cover.
"Are you sure it has anything about fighting styles?" he asked, turning to Sif.
She rolled her eyes and pulled him down, sitting by his side on the ground.
"Believe me, if this book was written by us about a newly discovered and powerful race, the first thing we would have written about is their martial prowess," she said.
Knowing about their obsession with fighting, that was probably true. He looked back at the book and, with very slowly movements, he opened it. Clark still hadn't had the time to see what was in that book, even though it was in the front of his thoughts ever since Odin had given it to him. Circumstances, however, had kept him from it. Until now.
The pages glowed when he opened it, as if they possessed light in them. Pictures and drawings, of symbols and people, moved as if he was watching a computer screen instead of the pages of a book. The whole book was written in some weird runes he did not understand, but as he touched it, the letters changed to English.
"How–"
"All-Tongue or Allspeak," Sif answered. "It is a magical language, it can be understood by anyone, no matter which tongue they speak." She grinned at him. "You did not think we were speaking some Midgardian dialect with you, did you?"
Well, that was convenient. Still, pretty useful, so Clark began to quickly read the magical language in search of something about fighting styles. His eyes passed fast through the pages, barely giving any attention to anything he wasn't looking for, but he was actually holding himself back not to read everything.
He had in his hands, after all, a part of the history of his people.
The book was extensive and it had a lot of information. It began with the meeting of the two peoples, that apparently happened because the Kree had shot down a Kryptonian ship a long time ago. There were several parts about meetings between Asgardians and Kryptonians, battles they fought against each other and by each other's side, a deep analysis about their physiology, powers and technology… And finally, a study about Kryptonian martial arts.
"What did I tell you?" Sif gloated.
Yep, she was right, there was no denying it. The pages of the book showed moving drawings of martial stances, pictures of warriors facing each other, weapons and armors. There was a description of what they knew about the martial arts, how they were created and developed, how they were used. It was deep and rich, but not as complete as Clark imagined it would be. But maybe he was wrong about expecting that much detail, since the Asgardians obviously had written that book simply by observing Kryptonians fighting; maybe by fighting them as well.
As far as he could see, there were three martial arts depicted in the book: Klurkor, Horu-Kanu and one that was divided in two parts, Torquasm-Rao and Torquasm-Vo.
The book might not have all the information Clark wished it had, but Kelex probably did.
"Kelex, what can you tell me about these martial arts?" he asked.
The bracelet on his left arm unmade itself, taking the form of a floating drone.
"Klurkor is a hard martial art, heavily reliant on fists, feet and elbows, created to fight multiple opponents at the same time," Kelex answered. "The date it was created is unknown, but there are records of Klurkor being taught in Krypton hundreds of thousands of years ago, in several different places."
Clark and Sif heard the explanation enraptured, lowering their eyes to see the several hundred different stances drawn on the pages of the book. It seemed like an interesting fighting style and it had stances created specifically to fight with swords, modern weapons and even under a yellow sun.
"It reminds me a bit of karate," Clark mentioned.
"True," Sif agreed, to Clark's surprise. "What? Did you think Asgardians would ignore humans and their martial arts?"
"I really hadn't considered it, that's all," Clark said, looking at Kelex. "What about Horu-Kanu, Kelex?"
"Horu-Kanu is a lethal martial art, focused on the application of force on pressure points with the intent of killing and crippling enemies as fast and painful as possible. Sub-commander Faora-Ul was a Horu-Kanu master."
He blinked, a little bit shocked.
"Well, let's, uh, let's forget this one for the moment, then," Clark added fast. "And the last one? Torquasm-Rao and Torquasm-Vo? Are they really just one martial art?"
"Torquasm-Rao and Torquasm-Vo are two sides of the same coin," Kelex explained. "One is to master the body, the other to master the mind. Supposedly, a true master of both sides of this martial art is unbeatable."
Sif scoffed.
"No warrior is unbeatable, no matter how powerful," she disagreed.
Kelex turned to her.
"There was only one Kryptonian considered a true master in Torquasm-Rao and Torquasm-Vo in all history, the man who invented the style. Rao became so powerful that he was considered by some to be a Kryptonian god."
Both of them widened their eyes, but probably for different reasons. Sif was probably very impressed with a man that could be considered by his own people, beings capable of incredible things, to be a god; Clark, however, was surprised because the name Rao wasn't strange to him at all. Krypton's sun was named Rao and even Zod's elite soldiers were named the Sword of Rao.
He never imagined Rao was actually a person.
"I thought he truly was a god," Clark said.
"Kryptonians don't have a god, sir. Rao was, however, the closest thing to one they had. Some would even call him a prophet. Some would even come to worship him. Krypton's sun was named in his honor."
"And he was the one who created this style?" Sif asked.
"That is correct, Lady Sif."
Clark looked back at the book, seeing the images of the stances, the attacks and defenses. He wasn't a specialist, but he thought the movements looked a lot like tai chi, or at least what he understood about tai chi, which wasn't much to be honest. The warriors seemed to flow like water, their movements like the stream of a river, as attack and defense seemed to blend in a single continuous action. And the most impressive part? The style seemed suited for air combat as well, because the warriors would float in all directions as they attacked, not limiting themselves to the ground in any moment.
"What you are seeing is the physical aspect, the Torquasm-Rao. General Zod was an adept of this fighting style," Kelex said, to Clark's astonishment. "There is also the mental aspect or, as some would call it, the spiritual aspect."
"Which is?" Clark asked.
"Magic, Kal," Sif answered, rolling her eyes.
"Lady Sif is correct again, sir. Torquasm-Vo is the magical discipline side of the coin. Mental fortitude and spiritual prowess. Combined with Torquasm-Rao, it is said to make a warrior complete."
Sif looked at him and grinned.
"What do you say, Kal? I know nothing of magic, but I can help you with Torquasm-Rao. We have three days until the tournament. Shall we see what you can learn until then?" She raised a single eyebrow and appraised him from head to toe. "We both know you do learn fast."
Clark blushed, his mind conjuring images that had nothing to do with martial arts, but he got up, decided. Three days to learn what he could and then fight in an Asgardian tournament. His life was getting weirder and weirder every day.
Food, that's what Clark needed right now. Food and rest. He finally understood why Asgardians ate as much as they did; no way around it, when crazy people like Sif were in charge of training. Clark may be constantly recharged by the yellow sun, but the intense workout of learning the Kryptonian martial art was making even he tired.
Two days had passed since his training began; one day to go for him to fight in the tournament. Clark still wasn't sure about that, but after Sif spent all this time helping him he wouldn't just turn his back and refuse to participate. And it would be a real test to see how much he had really learned.
He wasn't crazy enough to think he would be a master in only two days. Torquasm-Rao was extremely complex, a martial art that took a lifetime to learn. But little by little he was beginning to understand it. His thinking speed and his muscle memory enabled Clark to learn faster than any human would think possible and Sif was helping him more than he could put into words, but he wasn't even at the beginning of the path. Still, he already had the basics mastered. And if he really applied himself, who knows?
Right now, however, Clark wasn't thinking about Torquasm-Rao or the tournament, he was thinking about the delicious smell of food coming from the feast in front of him. Not bothering to hide his Kryptonian speed, Clark began to eat as fast as he could, practically inhaling the food; which wasn't that much different of how the Asgardians around him were eating too.
"Is Sif tiring you out, Kal?" Thor asked with a laugh. And, yes, Clark was absolutely sure the joke was intentional.
"At least the earthquakes stopped now that you are training," Jane muttered under her breath.
Clark would have defended himself, except he was too busy eating.
"Sif always takes things too far," Fandral said, drinking his mead. "I swear, one of these days she will kill someone. And not on purpose!"
"That is true," Volstagg agreed, eating as fast as Clark was. "Remember the last recruits she trained? I will never forget their faces, they appeared to have returned from a long campaign in Muspelheim itself."
"I would not speak of Sif behind her back if I were you," Frigga warned, approaching the table they were sitting at with a smile. "Her philosophy towards that happens to be the same as mine and I guarantee none of you will like it."
Fandral and Volstagg got a little pale when she said that, but Thor just laughed.
"Are you done eating, Jane?" Frigga asked, kindly. "I would like to examine you again. I may have found something capable of delaying the symptoms of the Aether."
Her words worked like magic and both her and Thor got up fast; Clark, with one last look to the food, got up as well. That was tremendously good news and the first one they had about that subject since they arrived. If Clark was already feeling worried, he couldn't even imagine how Thor and Jane were feeling.
The three of them followed Frigga outside the feast hall, walking the corridors of the palace until they finally got to a big, golden door; Frigga opened it without even touching, with a gesture of her hand. The room behind them was immense, incredibly well decorated, located on the side of the palace and therefore with a breathtaking view of Asgard.
"Please, sit down," Frigga asked, grabbing a book as she passed.
Thor and Jane sat together on a couch and Clark sat on a chair by their side.
"Finding information on the Aether is proving to be a truly difficult task," Frigga said, as she opened the book. "I have travelled all across the universe during the course of my life, learning everything I could about magic, and even with all this knowledge this information eludes us."
"But you did find something?" Thor asked.
Frigga nodded.
"Yes, I did." And without explaining anything else, she touched Jane's forehead.
A bright light appeared on the palm of her hand and for a moment the entire room was engulfed into it. Clark could actually feel the energy pulsing, as if Frigga was channeling the strength of an entire sun through her hand. And after almost a minute, she closed her fingers and stepped back.
Jane took a long breath, as if she was holding it the entire time.
"What did you do?!" Jane exclaimed, still breathing fast. "I feel great!"
Thor touched her face, obviously looking for any signs of injuries, but she barely paid any attention, looking at Frigga's smile. Without answering, Frigga turned to Clark.
"You realized what I did, didn't you?" she asked him.
Clark hesitated, not knowing exactly what to answer, but then his mind finally caught up with him. He had felt all that energy as if his own body was also receiving it; there was only one thing that could be then.
"Sunlight!" he said, suddenly. "You channeled sunlight into her!"
Jane and Thor looked from Clark to Frigga, seeing the pleased look on her face.
"Good answer!" she congratulated him. "Not just sunlight, the essence of a star."
"But why?" Thor asked, frowning. "Jane is not a Kryptonian."
"No, but the Aether certainly doesn't like it," Clark guessed. "It was created by the Dark Elves, wasn't it?"
"The Aether will be weakened by it, at last for some time," Frigga explained it. "Inside Jane it does not have the power yet to convert the sunlight into darkness, so it will avoid it. It should give us some additional time to search for a permanent measure."
Jane got up and held Frigga's hands.
"Thank you," she said.
Frigga only smiled, touching her cheeks.
"There is no need to thank me, child. What kind of teacher would I be if I allowed my newest student to perish days after I began teaching her?"
She certainly looked touched when Frigga said that.
"So you really are learning magic?" Clark asked.
"I'm not doing anything yet," Jane answered. "But I'm learning about it. It's fascinating!"
"I completely agree, the Mystical Arts are truly amazing," Frigga added. "I have been interested in them since I was a little child."
"Who was the one who taught you, Mother?" Thor asked. "I do not think you ever told me."
"I had dozens of masters, Thor. And hundreds of apprentices, all over the cosmos."
"Even on Earth?" Jane asked.
Frigga smiled again.
"In Gaul, if I recall. She was exceptional."
That was a while ago, then, Clark considered. But then something else popped into his head.
"Have you ever heard of a Kryptonian martial art named Torquasm-Vo?" Clark asked her.
To his surprise, Frigga didn't even hesitate.
"Absolutely. A martial art developed to use magic as attack and defense. Unbelievably dangerous and even more difficult to learn." She turned to Clark. "I am not a master of it, but I could give you some direction if you are interested, once this entire situation with the Aether is dealt with."
For a moment, Clark was too stunned to accept, but he quickly nodded, too thankful to put into words.
"Now, Thor, you should take Jane back to the feast hall. She needs to eat and rest," Frigga said, giving Jane a last smile as they got up to leave. Clark was about to follow then, when Frigga called him. "Kal, could you stay for a moment?"
Nodding, he walked back to her. She looked at him, her kind expression actually making him remember his own mother for a second.
"How are you enjoying Asgard, Kal?" she asked.
He felt himself smiling.
"A lot more than I thought I would, to be honest," he answered, looking at the beautiful view. "Don't get me wrong, I love Earth, it's my home. But sometimes… sometimes it's nice to not have to worry all the time. To just be, well, myself."
Frigga smiled and touched his shoulder.
"It makes me glad to know that, Kal," she finally said. "And know that you are welcome to stay, should you want to."
"Stay?" Clark asked, actually confused. "You mean, live here?"
The Queen of Asgard nodded. Well, that particular thought hadn't occurred to Clark in any moment, if he was honest with himself. He liked Asgard, a lot, but to leave Earth and stay here?
"I can see what you are thinking, Kal," Frigga started, calling his attention back at her. "You love Midgard. You have loved ones there. I am not asking you to choose between them and Asgard. While my invitation is certainly valid now, that was not my intention when I spoke."
"What do you mean?" Clark asked.
Frigga sighed, looking down for a moment and then back at Clark.
"You can come back and stay any time you want, Kal. Now, 10 years from now, 100 years from now. Even 1000 years from now, should you wish."
And suddenly her words made sense; Clark felt the comprehension hit him like a hammer to the face. Frigga wasn't asking him to come live in Asgard now. She was inviting him to come live with them when everything he knew back on Earth no longer existed. No family, no friends, maybe not even a country.
Different lifespans. Clark knew he would live longer than humans, especially under a yellow sun, but to actually face that reality wasn't something he was willing to do right now.
"You do not have to answer me, Kal," Frigga said, her voice kind. "Just know that you are welcome among us, anytime you wish, if you wish."
With that, she kissed his cheek just like his own mother would, and left the room; Clark stayed there for a long time after that.
The Asgardian horns echoed in the distance, sounded by the Einherjar, making even the loud voices in the arena calm down for a moment. The people on the stands looked down, seeing the competitors entering the arena, every one of them as excited to be there as the people watching.
Except Clark, who was mostly just very tense.
The group of warriors walked to the middle of the huge arena. Clark could see thousands of people on the stands, from men who could easily fit down there amongst the warriors, to little babies being held by their mothers. Thor led them to the middle, as happy as someone could possibly be, fully clad in his armor but holding a common war hammer instead of Mjölnir. Sif, Fandral and Volstagg were there as well, also fully armored, each of them holding their usual weapons. Those were the people Clark knew, but they were not the only ones there, of course.
As he studied the place, he realized everybody was now looking up. Following their eyes, Clark saw Odin and Frigga approaching the edge of their stand, Jane a few steps behind them, a full company of Einherjar around. When Odin arrived to the edge, every single voice was quieted.
"5000 years ago, my father, Bor Burison, led Asgard to victory against the Dark Elves," Odin started, his voice carrying to every inch of the arena. "They fought during the Convergence, the alignment of all Nine Realms, to stop the destruction of our entire universe. And they won."
When he said that, there was a huge cheer from the crowd, but with a single gesture from his hand everybody got quiet again.
"Now, once again, the Convergence approaches," the King of Asgard continued. "But this time all we have to do is celebrate. Today we honor my father and all the warriors that fought with him. Today we drink and we eat and we FIGHT!"
Clark swallowed, nervous. The tournament had begun
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