Gone Missing

Ch. 4 - Asgardians Do Not Possess the Abilities to Ward Off Demons, Which Sucks

{ Okay, I need to make something clear before we start the chapter to avoid confusion. This fanfic would take place pre-Thor, so before the coronation, before Loki finds out he's adopted, ect.

So keep that in mind, and enjoy. }

Ch. 4 - Asgardians do not possess the abilities to ward off demons, which sucks.

"Vindara we have to stop for the night. And you have to sleep. There's no arguing so hush and go to bed."

Boys suck. Here I was, all excited that civilization, potential witnesses were close, and Fandral was making me rest. /Rest/. After the giant fight, the hints, the possibility of redeeming Loki and they wanted to camp out in tall grass just because the sun has vanished and the moon resumed it's previous position. Thor was already sprawled out on the dirt, hands behind his head, snores escaping his thin lips every few seconds while Fandral and I argued.

"We can stop, but I certainly do not have to sleep." Fandral sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

I had to stand my ground. Not only is stubbornness in my nature, but with the nightmares... The never ending pain of watching someone suffer and not being able to help... It's unbearable. Horrible. Treacherous.

And mostly frightening.

Fandral would have no clue. He didn't experience them. Not even a mere inkling of the volatile illusions could compensate for really experiencing them. It was watching murder. Slow, painful, ruthless murder, and being one step behind, one moment away from ending it all floods me with guilt. I think the mystery woman knows this. It's like killing two birds with one stone. I lose energy during a hunt, Loki continues to be hurt, and she gains time and energy.

I grit my teeth sharply and Fandral winced.

"What if I stayed with you through the night? If you awaken in any sort of... trouble, I'll be right here." Fandral extended his hand generously.

I sighed and tucked my palm within his.

"Alright... We'll test it out."

I knew Fandral was relieved at this. The worry evacuated from his ocean like eyes as he beckoned me to the ground, inching his body close to mine. His right hand nestled itself into my dirtied curls, the left resting on the small of my back. I buried my head into his muscular chest and closed my eyes, breathing slowly. The smell of flowers and aftershave wafted from underneath the grime and dust that coated his clothing.

The tension released from my limbs gently, arms and legs becoming relaxed. I hate to admit this, but Fandral was right, I did need sleep. And it felt marvelous to slumber peacefully, to gain energy and power.

Plus, I was treated to a rather lovely surprise.

No nightmares, no torture, no blood. A giant meadow of various flowers greeted me with soft winds and calming blue skies. Some of the plants I could identify; roses, bluebonnets, carnations, rhododendrons, sweet peas, sun flowers, violets, so on. Others I could not. Tall pink blossoms with yellow stems and transparent pollen-coated leaves. Tiny green buds that unravelled to reveal thousands of amber petals chunked together. Blue and orange berries coated tall trees that resembled conifers. It was absolutely breathtaking.

In the middle of the meadow sat a little pair, a young woman and a small child. I immediately recognized the woman as Frigga. Her light hair seemed lighter, skin smoother, eyes brighter. Her hands were as nimble as ever, weaving strands of grass and blooms of flowers in fluid motion. Her golden robes stretched out along the grass around her, forming a blanket of metallic fabric.

The child was harder to identify. It was a small boy, maybe around the age of five or six. Thick and messy black hair blew with the wind, falling in and out of his large, forest green eyes. A smile nagged at his lips, forming a grin that extended cheek to cheek as he copied Frigga, tiny fingers intertwining the plants as well.