A light between worlds

Prologue

Long before the Avengers.

Long before the Tesseract, the Battle of New York, or the day the people of Midgard learned that the gods of Asgard were more than legends whispered beneath mortal skies, there was a princess who had always looked towards the stars.

Her name was Elara Odinsdottir.

Youngest child of Odin, Allfather of Asgard, and Frigga, Queen of Asgard, Elara had been born beneath a sky filled with stars so brilliant that the palace astronomers had sworn the heavens themselves had celebrated her arrival.

She was the youngest of three. Thor, Crown Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder. Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief.

And Elara, Princess of Asgard. Goddess of Stars and Light.

She was unlike either of her brothers. Where Thor carried the strength of a storm within him, Elara carried the quiet brilliance of the heavens.

Where Loki's magic curled around him like emerald smoke, clever and unpredictable, Elara's power shimmered like sunlight upon freshly fallen snow.

She had inherited her father's height and her mother's gentleness, although she had never possessed Thor's imposing build or Loki's lean elegance. Elara was graceful rather than formidable in appearance, with a softness to her features that often caused strangers to underestimate her.

They rarely made that mistake twice.

Her hair fell in long, loose waves down her back, golden blonde in colour, although it seemed to change beneath different lights. Under the sun it looked almost white, like threads of spun gold. Beneath the moon it became pale silver, and when her magic stirred, tiny flecks of light sometimes appeared between the strands as though someone had scattered fragments of the night sky through her hair.

Her eyes were perhaps the most remarkable thing about her. Blue.

Not merely blue, but the brilliant blue of a clear Asgardian sky after a storm. Around her pupils were tiny flecks of silver that became brighter whenever she used her magic.

Frigga had once told her that her eyes looked like the stars reflected upon the waters of the Great Rainbow Bridge.  Elara had laughed. "Then I must be very beautiful indeed."

Frigga had smiled and kissed her forehead. "You have always been beautiful, my darling. But your heart is far more precious."

Elara had never forgotten those words.

She wore white and gold armour, crafted especially for her by Asgard's finest armourers. It was unlike the heavy armour worn by Thor.

Elara's armour was lighter, designed for speed and agility rather than brute strength. White metal curved elegantly across her shoulders and chest, edged with delicate gold detailing that resembled rays of sunlight. A golden Asgardian crest rested over her heart, surrounded by intricate patterns representing the stars.

A flowing white cape fell from her shoulders, its edges embroidered with gold thread. At her wrists were golden bracers, each etched with ancient Asgardian runes.

And beneath her armour was a deep white tunic, soft against her skin and secured at the waist by a golden belt bearing the symbol of her royal house. She had been given the armour on her eighteenth naming day.

Thor had insisted upon accompanying her to the armoury.

Loki had insisted upon testing every weapon before she was allowed to touch them.

Elara had spent the entire afternoon laughing at them both.

She had never known a moment when her brothers were not protecting her.