The Flight of the Valkyrie

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: The Flight of The Valkyrie
Chapter Five: Thor's Hall
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index

The room was mostly dark, none of the torches lining the walls burning at the late hour. The only light came from the large fire pit in the middle of the hall. The embers glowed red, casting unholy shadows over the still forms of sleeping bodies that lay scattered around the room. Some of them slept in groups, others had stretched out alone. There were varying levels of snoring that were almost drowned out by the howling of the wind outside the sturdy building. It had been terribly cold out there, but the hall was almost too warm.

Perhaps that was why so many men had shed their clothes and crawled into the bedding scattered about to sleep the night away. Some had kicked their coverings away and lay as naked as the day they were born. Others clutched the skins that served as blankets closer to them. Of the entire room, Remy was the only one awake. He wasn't quite sure why that was. Something had woken him from a sound sleep and now he lay there, listening to see if he could figure out what it was.

Dare shifted in his arms, snuggling closer to him in her sleep. She'd dropped of exhaustion almost as soon as they'd stepped inside the hall. Thor's Hall. Thor Odinson. God of Thunder and one of the founding members of the Avengers. Why did he keep seeing faces from his life here in the past? What had he done to deserve such torture? Was God punishing him for something wicked he'd done literally in another lifetime? Why was he surrounded by these... ghosts of people yet to come?

The storm had been pure hell and he never wanted to experience anything like that again. He'd found it easy to get his 'sea legs', as Dare had put it. But the storm had been a test for even his agility and grace. When she'd ordered him below decks for the duration, he'd refused with the reason that he could handle anything the crew could. It had been the truth, but only part of it. He hadn't been willing to admit to her that he was afraid to let her out of his sight, afraid that she'd disappear on him and leave him lost amidst the tide of familiar strangers. He'd been glad he had disobeyed her order.

Lightning had made him slow. In one flash, he'd seen a wave wash over Dare's head to drive her toward the deck. In the next, he'd seen her tumbling for the railing. If she'd hit the water, she'd have been lost to them all. To him. It had been instinct that had driven him after her and he'd thanked years of training for the grace and speed that had allowed him to pull her from the jaws of death. And then the storm had suddenly broken, the night falling peaceful and silent around them. He'd known, even before the cry from the man on watch. He'd simply known.

It hadn't been a natural end to a storm. It had simply been too sudden and too clean. Part of him had known what was coming while the rest had hoped that he was wrong. And then the light had come out of the darkness, bringing with it a face he'd been both relieved and unbalanced to see. He shouldn't have been surprised to see Thor here. After all, Tony Stark was here in this time. But he'd been surprised all the same. And then he'd seen the way Thor's eyes had searched the ship and come to rest on Dare. There'd been a spark of recognition there that Remy hadn't liked at all. It smelled of plots and pacts to him and he'd been sure, almost from the moment he'd seen the Viking God appear out of the night, that something was going on.

Morgan had appeared and there'd been a short dialogue, then the dragon ship had tossed ropes over to The Valkyrie and her crew had hurried to tie it off. Remy hadn't been sure it would work, but somehow, that tiny Viking ship had managed to pull a ship much larger than it toward shore. Even though they weren't sailing under their own power, the crew of Morgan's ship, himself included, had spent the time used getting to shore staying busy and focused. There'd been no time to be exhausted.

And then they'd been pulling in to a cove that they shouldn't have been able to find in the dark. Not without some kind of lights to guide them. But they'd been there all the same and a large building had been looming up before them, its windows brilliantly lit with mellow golden light. Several men and women with torches had stood on the dock as the two ships pulled up against it and Remy'd been dismayed to find faces there that he recognized among them, too.

There'd been a blonde at the front of the group who'd kept himself helping the sailors spilling off Morgan's sloop down onto the docks. Any other time, the pirates would have shunned the help. But they'd all been worn and frayed after fighting the storm and had gladly accepted the hands offered to them. Remy'd known that face, with and without the cowl. Steve Rogers. Captain America. Instead of a red, white and blue suit, he'd been clad in a dark brown tunic and a pair of black breeches that suited his coloring well. Standing next to him had been a woman with hair that glinted with red highlights in the torch light. Though slight of build, there'd been something about her said she was used to hard work. He'd known that face, as well. Janet Van Dyne, also known as Wasp. She'd been in the middle of offering a hand to Rosemary, a soft smile on her face as she spoke to the other woman.

The biggest shock had been a face he knew but had never actually seen before. Not in person. He'd only ever seen it in pictures. Pictures that existed almost five hundred years in the future, in the office of Professor Charles Xavier. There were many pictures of the different teams of X-Men scattered around the mansion, but this one had been kept in a place of honor in the man's private office. It was of the original line up, the first five X-Men. Angel, Iceman, Jean, Cyclops and Beast. Henry McCoy had been solicitously offering his arm to a stumbling Morgan, his eyes crinkled with a smile as he'd worked to set the woman beside him at ease. Remy'd never thought to see the Beast without his fur. Ever.

It hadn't escaped him that he'd been confronted with more of the Avengers. Which had sent a trickle of warning through his brain, but there'd been nothing solid connected with it, just an intuitive feeling that had left him on edge. If he hadn't been convinced with the sudden cessation of the storm and Thor's more than timely appearance that something strange was going on, this would have been enough to send the thought tripping through his grey matter. Something was going on between Tony Stark and Dare and the sudden appearance of half of the Avengers left him feeling more than certain he was right.

The soft sound of a sigh drew him out of his thoughts and he turned his attention to the woman he held next to him. She was still cold despite the fact that they were under warm skins and the hall was almost sultry with heat. A woman he hadn't known had come by to collect their wet things almost as soon as Dare had picked this corner for their pallet. It had startled him to see her strip down to nothing and toss her soaked clothing at the woman's feet. Before he'd had time to wonder at her casualness, she'd slid under the blanket and drifted off. Remy'd stripped down and joined her in the blink of an eye.

The rest of the crew had spread out around them. He'd watched Morgan slip into one of the pallets in Bobby's arms. She'd never once glanced his way and Remy'd felt a pang of loneliness and jealousy twinge through him. But then Dare had rolled into him and snuggled close, whispering something in that language she'd used before. It sounded like she spoke of love and beautiful things. She was filled with a soft pleasure, as if it were little more than a remembered feeling. She had to be dreaming and he wondered what images filled her slumbering mind.

Her body shifted again, pressed more fully against him. Remy let go a faint groan. Her breasts were soft and full against his chest, her nipples tight from the cold. They poked him teasingly, enticing him to reach out and take hold of them. Or lower his mouth to them and lavish attention on them. Despite the chill to her skin, he could feel the moist heat between her thighs as her hips rubbed against his. He knew then what she dreamed of and there was a surging answer of heat in his groin. She muttered something under her breath at the feel of his shaft prodding her belly. One hand drifted, reached for him and brushed feathery touched across his aching length.

Need rushed through him and the desire to take her nearly overwhelmed him. It took every ounce of his will to simply hold her. To keep from taking her lips in a bruising kiss. To resist the urge that fired his blood. The one that demanded he sink himself into her now. He wouldn't do that when she slept. Not after the storm. Not when she wasn't capable of saying yes or no. He wanted her awake and alert, her mouth moaning out her need and pleasure before he took the air from her lungs and brought her to climax. He would not take her because she was all he had to cling to in this strange, mixed up world. He would take her when it was what she wanted as much as him. When she begged him to fill her and...

Blood pulsed thick and heavy through his erection, pulling another groan from him. Merde. It was going to be a long, long night.

~*~*~*~*~

The room was growing warm. Despite the fact that it was rather large and open, it was steadily growing warmer. Xavier sat behind his desk, watching the girl stare him down across its surface. Dare was pissed. So pissed that her hair was floating around her head as if it was caught in whirlwind. The last time Logan had seen her this upset had been when they'd done that last evaluation and Cyke had, in remaining true to his dickhead nature, programmed one of the robots to scare the shit out of Morgan. The only positive thing so far was that she hadn't lost control of the fire. Yet.

But she was rapidly approaching the boiling point.

"Alasdare, I understand your concerns, but you must realize that this is..." Charles began, but the girl's hair lifted up on the invisible current surrounding her and Logan felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Beads of the salty moisture stood up on Xavier's head. He should be afraid, but he was cool as ever. To be honest, Logan was surprised that he hadn't shut her down yet.

"Realize this, Chuck," she spat out the name with all the disrespect she'd learned living on the streets. In that moment, she was little more than a thug and she was going to try bullying him to get her way. Logan reached for her, his intent to being to calm her by laying a hand on her arm. She jerked away from him, though he knew she'd never even looked in his direction. She was teetering on the verge of nuclear melt down. "There are only a handful of people in this entire world that I really give a shit about. Right now, you sure as fuck aren't on that list. So stop fucking with me and find him."

"If you had bothered to pay attention, you'd realize that my powers simply do not work that way. I've tried more than once to locate Gambit. He simply isn't anywhere in our world."

"Then try harder!" she snarled and her hair actually crackled with static electricity.

"Alasdare, I..."

"Shut. Up." Her voice was tight and controlled. Logan could feel the surge of heat and waves of power shimmered around her. He couldn't recall ever seeing any physical manifestation of her power until the flames came to life and he had to wonder just what she truly was capable of. "Don't tell me you can't do it. Find him. Find a way and find him. Bring him back. I am not going to watch my family fall apart on me. I lost it once. Never again. I won't let you stand in my way. I'll burn the entire fucking school if I have to."

This time, when Logan reached out to lay a hand on her arm, she didn't jerk away. "This ain't gonna do any good, darlin'. You know it isn't as simple as all that. Back down."

"I won't let it fall apart for her, Logan. I won't." She turned to look at him and her eyes were haunted with guilt. It made an eerie picture next to the nimbus of hair that floated around her head. He understood then what drove her. She'd fucked things up once with Gumbo and she felt she owed it to him. If she could bring him home, bring him back to Morgan, maybe she'd be able to forgive herself. He frowned at her and wondered for a moment if that was the only reason she was so hell bent to see things made right again.

"Dare, this ain't yer fault. Bringing him home ain't..."

She jerked back from him. "Don't. Do not go there." She turned once more to face the Professor. "Who's the girl Fitzroy was going on about? Why does he want her? What does she have to do with this?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss that matter with you, Alasdare," Charles replied, his voice soft and firm.

"Wrong answer, Chuck!" she hissed and slapped her hand down against the surface of his desk. There was a sizzling sound and smoke rose into the air. When she lifted her hand back up, a perfect imprint of it remained behind her, burnt into the wood by the heat collected in her palm. "Tell me who the girl is and why that fucker wanted her. Tell me or..."

"Dare!" Logan barked.

She ignored the command in his voice, her eyes hard and flat as she stared at the Professor. He understood, in that instant, that she hadn't remained at the school because she felt she belonged or because she felt that they understood her here. He'd seen the way people looked at her before she'd taken up with Remy, they way they'd avoided her. He'd seen her act like it hadn't mattered. Maybe it hadn't. Then, he'd seen how they'd looked at her after she'd ended up in his bed. Almost everyone but her team treated her like some kind of side show freak. No. She hadn't stayed all this time because she'd thought she fit in here. She'd stayed simply because it was where Morgan was. That was how important the other girl was to her.

It was one thing to know they were occasional lovers. It was another to fully understand just how deeply she loved Morgan. And there hadn't been anyone else until Gumbo. And then himself and her team. That was why she stayed, why she hadn't packed up and left a long time ago. Because everyone she cared about was here. And it was because she didn't care about anyone else that she was standing before the Professor, ready to burn his cajones for him. Girl had brass, he'd give her that. That didn't stop him from thinking she was asking for a world of hurt.

"Find Remy. Find Fitzroy. I don't care which. Just find one of them and fix this shit. Because if you don't," she growled. Flames actually wreathed her hands for a moment. "If you don't find Remy or Fitzroy, if you don't do something about this mess, I will." The flames died, but a ripple of heat remained to halo her hands. "The girl is important to the son of a bitch. He can open portals in time. I know that much. Obviously, she can do the same or something similar. So fucking use her to do something. Fucking find Remy. Because if you don't, I will."

"How long do you think you'd last against him, Miss Scott? He can drain your energy and leave you empty. If he doesn't stop, he could very possibly kill you." Charles' voice was quiet and Logan could hear something in it.

"Like you give a shit," she retorted. "I know I don't."

"Dare..." Logan glanced at her, unable to believe she'd just said that. She didn't look at him and the emptiness of her expression was frightening. She meant it.

"Find Remy, Professor. Find him and bring him back to Morgan. Do something." The heat was swelling again, her hair dancing violently around her head. "Fucking do something. Or I swear to whatever gods you believe in that I will. And I promise you I'll leave charred corpses behind. His and anyone who gets in my way."

Her hand drew back and Logan reacted. He was suddenly between her and the desk and the man sitting behind it. Her hand caught his arm and the smell of burnt flesh filled the room. He hissed softly as searing pain shot up his into his brain. Horror filled her eyes, leaving them empty while fear crept over her face. She stared at him, as if she couldn't believe this had happened, her hand jerking away from his flesh so suddenly that he didn't know it was gone until he saw her staring at her palm as if she'd never seen it before. Then her eyes shot to his arm and the color drained from her face. "Oh god. Logan, I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean it. I wasn't going to..."

"Go suit up, Dare. Meet me in the Danger Room in ten minutes. Do it now," he ordered, his voice soft and controlled. For a fleeting instant, he saw in her eyes the fear that had once been there, when she'd first started her training with him. She blinked hard, trying to keep tears at bay, then turned and damn near ran from the office.

"Thank you, Logan," Charles began but stopped as soon as Logan turned to face him.

"I didn't do it for you," he replied coldly. "I did it for her. As it is, she ain't gonna forgive herself for this."

"She has to understand that there is nothing I can do because I don't know where to begin," Xavier sighed, spreading his hands wide in a gesture that looked too much like surrender.

"Morgan's her best friend and damn near her whole world. Gumbo was part of that for a time. She blames herself for this. She's trying to set it right. I'll try to convince her that you ain't giving up on him. But I can promise ya one thing. If you don't do anything to find Remy or Fitzroy, she'll do exactly what she said. She'll hunt the bastard down herself. And whatever comes it of, it ain't gonna be pretty."

With a faint snarl of disgust, Logan turned and stalked from the room.

~*~*~*~*~

Haley yawned and sat up, hands high above her head to stretch the kinks and knots out of her spine. Noise had brought her out of an exhausted slumber, something that was unfamiliar and that had put her on her guard the moment consciousness had crept into her brain. She frowned. There was a hard floor under her ass and she couldn't feel the gentle bob and sway that the ship usually made. Nothing moved. Where the hell was she?

Memories of the storm rose up, blackness surrounding her until she could recall every single swell the ship had taken while rain had slashed down at the sloop. The Sea God had been angered and had done his best to drag The Valkyrie down into his watery depths. But she was a fine ship and had yet to come through a storm in anything but tip top shape. There'd been a few moments, even when she'd been below decks, that she'd wondered if this would be the end of their luck. Then the storm had simply cleared, as if it had never been. She'd hurried up onto the deck, Rosemary and Jehnna behind her.

There'd been a man's voice, almost booming in the silence after the aborted storm, offering help to the crew of the ship. When she'd made it topside, she'd found herself staring at a bare chested blonde who looked as if he could have been one of the Norse gods made flesh. And the man had been staring straight at Dare as if he'd found himself a prize. She might had dismissed the look if not for the recognition that had flickered in his gaze. He'd known her on sight. Haley'd found that more than a little disturbing.

But the help had been welcome. Even in the grips of night, she'd been able to see that the ship had been damaged by the storm. They'd be forced to put into port to make repairs. After a brief discussion between Morgan and their strange rescuer, who'd still not taken his eyes off Dare for more than a few seconds at a time, his crew had thrown them a rope and he'd told them that he'd tow them to shore. She'd been skeptical that his small dragon ship could manage such a feet, but it had done it.

They'd anchored at a private dock, where a score of people had been waiting to help. Haley had caught images of a few small ships docked in the darkness. The cove that the dragon ship had taken them to was private and she'd known they'd never have found it without the other crew to guide them in. A large structure had sat up high on the land, well away from the water and blazing with candle light. Despite the fact that she hadn't been on deck, she'd struggled with exhaustion as she'd tried to climb the steps leading up to the building. She'd been glad to find herself ensconced in the warmth of the large, spacious hall.

Pallets had been spread all over the floor and the crew had picked places to drop. Many of them had gone to sleep without bothering to remove their sodden clothes. Haley'd been lucky in that her clothes had been dry. She'd gone to sleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillows.

Standing, she could see that life was beginning to stir amongst the sailors camped out in the hall. She found Morgan curled around Robert. She knew that they were both naked beneath the skins they were covered with. Rosemary blinked sleepy eyes up at her and slowly crept from under the blankets. Jehnna rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but the noise brought her grumbling to her feet. For a moment, Haley fought a tide of panic. She hadn't remembered seeing Dare after leaving the ship and worry took her that something had happened. Then she spied a pallet that was some distance from the others and found a familiar dark head there.

The fire started was curled around the man who was either Robert Lord or Remy LeBeau and it was plain to see that they were both naked. Had it been any other night, Haley might have thought more about that. But Dare had to have been exhausted after hours up on deck, fighting to keep the lanterns lit against the darkness. She'd have been soaked to the skin and Haley doubted very much that she'd have been able to stay awake for a lusty bout of bed play, much less be in the mood for such activity. Chances were good that they'd slept naked because they'd had nothing else to wear.

"Where are we?" Rosemary asked quietly. Haley looked around the hall again and shrugged. There was a fire pit that ran almost the entire length of the hall. It was filled with glowing embers, wood and bricks of peat. There were several serving wenches working at building the fire back up and men were beginning to rise. Windows had been set into the walls and she moved toward the closest one. The sun was low in the sky, telling her it was late in the afternoon. Despite the darkening sky, she could see water glinting with reds and oranges thrown off by the setting sun.

"I haven't the faintest clue."

"Thou art welcome guests in my hall, fair ladies," a voice announced behind them. It came loud and boisterous and Haley heard a snort from across the room that told her Dare'd been woken up. There'd be hell to pay for that, no doubt. She turned and glanced at the owner of the voice. It was the blonde god from the night before. He wore only a pair of tight leggings and leather boots. His chest, again, was bare. For a moment, Haley forgot to be suspicious as she ogled the exposed expanse of flesh. A rumbling chuckle shook her thoughts loose and she lifted her eyes to meet his face. The man looked upon her with a smirk that told her he'd expected no less.

"That still doesn't tell us where we are," Jehnna returned softly. The man's blue eyes shifted to her and his smile grew.

"Forgive my manners, fair ladies. Thor Odinson. I welcome thee to my hall. Thor's Hall." He looked for all the world as if they should know precisely where they were and be thankful for it.

"Your arrival last night was quite fortuitous," Haley commented softly, her suspicions returning to plague her. "There's no telling what could have happened had you not been there to show us the way out of the storm."

"It pleases me that I was able to help," he said in a tone that suggested he meant what he said. There was also something there that suggested he wasn't saying everything. Before Haley could open her mouth, he clapped his hands together and a pair of women suddenly appeared at his side. "My wenches will show thee to the bathing house. Relax and take the time to wash the salt away. The bath is hot and will ease the stress from your muscles."

"Bathing sounds wonderful," Rosemary agreed. Morgan joined them, wrapped in a dressing gown that was too large for her. Her hands held it closed.

"We cannot zank you enough, m'sieur, for your `ospitality," she told the blonde with a neutral voice. Thor smiled at them, then seemed to realize one of their numbers was missing. Haley watched, curiosity and suspicion riding her hard, as he turned and finally spied Dare in conversation with Remy. A few words from Thor in a foreign language saw one of the women hurrying to her side with a bundle of cloth in her hands. Their shipmate turned to the woman, listened to her speak, looked at the material she held, then dropped the skin she'd wrapped around herself and took the garment the woman offered her.

Remy said something to her. Despite the distance, Haley saw a blush rise to Dare's cheeks. She leaned up and whispered in his ear. The look on his face when she pulled back left little doubt as to what she'd told him. She shook out the bundle of cloth and stared at it, then wrapped the dressing gown around her, slipping her arms into the sleeves as she did so. Remy reached out and tied the belt on the gown shut. Then he tugged her to him and kissed her so long and deep that Dare was left dazed when he was done.

Thor held an arm out toward one of the doorways that opened off of the main hall. The woman who had delivered the dressing gown to Dare was already standing before it, waiting on them. "Hilda will escort thee."

Haley glanced at her fellow shipmates, then turned to lead the way. The others fell into step behind her. Dare brought up the rear because she'd refused to leave her swords behind. The soft creak of leather and the clank of metal marked her steps behind them. The blonde who was Hilda seemed to flow along the corridor, the soft buttery color of her gown swaying gently with her steps. She took a left and a right, then finally stopped before a closed door on the end of the hall. Offering them a smile, she worked the latch and the door swung wide. Hilda motioned for them to step into the room before her.

The five of them entered and simply stared in wonder. The room was about half the size of the main hall and there were two large basins set into the floor. Haley could see they were about two or three feet deep and made of wood that shone even under the water filling them. Benches lined the walls, obviously a place for bathers to sit and relax. Steam rose up off the surface, proving that Thor had spoken true about the baths being hot.

The walls were whitewashed stone, with a few glass lined windows set into them to allow sun to fill the room during the daylight hours. There were also a pair of large hearths in the room, one on either side, that filled the open space with heat. There were fires burning in both, combining with the lanterns on the walls to cast the room in flickering, mellow light. There were several cloth draped tables on the far side while one wall contained piles of cloth, soaps, oils and lotions and the other had benches and chairs lining it. A quick glance showed Haley that there were hooks on either side of the door. Several wooden tables were piled high with thick drying cloths.

"There is a bell. If you are in need of anything, please ring it." Hilda motioned to a length of rope hanging in the corner, then slipped from the room and closed the door behind her.

"It will feel good to have a bath," Jehnna said as she began slipping from her clothes. Haley and Rosemary followed her lead and the three of them left their garments hanging from the pegs on the wall. Dare and Morgan took off the dressing gowns and Morgan crossed to hang her's up while Dare simply left hers where it dropped. She padded to the table with the soaps and began sorting through them, then finally chose one that she obviously liked and returned to the tub with it. Haley noted that she left her swordbelt on the floor within reach of her when she slipped into the basin. One by one, the rest of them joined their shipmate in the tub.

Conversation was light and focused on things other than the storm, the state of their ship and how long any repairs needed might take. Instead, they avoided such topics and stuck to more mundane things. The girls gave Dare a gentle ribbing about her bed partner, which earned them a sound cursing in Gaelic. Still, she smiled through most of it and barely managed to put the proper amount of anger into her words. They'd grown accustomed to the privacy, as they hadn't seen a soul since Hilda had shown them in, and so were surprised when the door opened and Thor swept into the room. Hilda was behind him, along with a handful of other women. They were carrying piles of material that were topped with what looked like brushes and slippers.

Even before Thor spoke, Dare had a sword in hand, her face cast in lines of distrust. The blonde ignored the danger presented by her bared blade and allowed his gaze to brush across each of them. The smile he bestowed upon them was wolfish and entirely too smug for Haley's liking. "My ladies. There is a feast prepared in your honor. We poor, humble men await your presence in the hall so that the festivities may begin. It would honor me were you to come sup with us."

Haley let her gaze drift around the circle of her friends. Each of them shrugged and looked to Morgan. Except for Dare, who refused to take her eyes off the blonde. Haley got the impression that her friend would be unable to best the man in combat. Dare should have seen it, too. Damned Scots woman was too stubborn for her own good. Finally, Morgan nodded her head. "We would be most `onored to attend your feast. It is kind of you to offer."

"It is my pleasure. My wenches will help you dress." With a courtly bow, the man was gone. Hilda regarded them with a critical eye, then began snapping off orders to the other women with her in that same language that Thor had used with her earlier.

"If you will step out of the bath, we will help you prepare for the feast," she said in a voice that was soft, but in a tone that brooked no argument. One by one, they climbed from the tub and found themselves caught up in the efficiency of the serving women's movements. In no time, they were dried off, the water rubbed from their bodies briskly by soft drying cloths. Then the women applied perfumed lotions to their skin and helped them into their clothing.

The women had brought gowns. They were simple things that hung straight with ties at the sides to draw the waists in. Each one had a scooped neck and long sleeves that hung like bells away from the wrists. The skirt was to the floor and wide enough to allow walking but not belled like the skirts worn at court. Haley found herself in a gown of emerald green linen. The neck, wrists and hem of the garment were trimmed in black and the only decoration to be found on the garment. Each of her crewmates was in a different color.

Morgan was sheathed in bronze. Jehnna had been given crimson to wear and Rosemary was wrapped up in gold. Dare wore blue. Each of them were trimmed in the same black edging. Their slippers were dyed to match their gowns. Once all five of them were dressed, the women set about attending their hair. Problems arose when the wench attending Dare tried to put her hair up. There was the sound of a sword clearing its scabbard and everyone looked to find that the Scots woman had her serving woman held at bay by the tip of her sword. "Dare. Behave yourself," Haley scolded.

"Its bad enough that I'm wearin' this thing. I'll no' wear m' hair up!" Dare snarled.

"You look like a lady, Dare," Jehnna commented softly. Haley watched her as she ran her hands over the fine material that hugged her frame. It was obvious that each of them were actually pleased to be clad in such lady like clothes again.

"Bugger all! The next person tae say such a thing will find their tongue cut from their head. I'm no' a lady!" Well, that was for damn sure. The woman backed away and Dare busied herself by belting on her swords.

Bloody hell. It was going to be one of those nights. Haley sighed and shook her head. Maybe she could find herself a quiet corner and something to drink.

~*~*~*~*~

He needed another drink. Something strong that would wipe the images he was seeing from his brain. Something that would help drive the oppressive cloak of anger away. And take with it the other jumble of emotions that had been driving him to the brink of madness for years now. Lord Anthony Stark, Earl of Whitmore, had always and ever been a ladies' man. There'd been no wench capable of denying him his wants and desires when he set his sights on her. Rank and standing made no difference to him. He'd wooed common whores and virginal queens. He'd avoided the intricate traps of marriage laid for him by scheming mothers and anxious ladies. There was no one in the realm as highly regarded in the area of seduction as himself. He was the absolute best at whatever he did.

And here he was, brought to his knees, ruined and felled by a fickle, feckless girl. Alasdare Scott had finished him. She'd done what no other woman had ever managed in all of his years spent tupping wenches. She'd stolen his bloody heart. Bloody pirates. They took everything.

One of Thor's serving wenches approached with a pitcher in her hand. He held out his tankard in silent request for a refill, then took hold of her arm when she made to leave. The fresh glass was swallowed down as quickly as he was able, then he motioned for yet another refill. The wench filled his tankard, then hurried off before he could waylay her further. Not that he bloody cared. He'd catch her again the next time. He only wished that there was something else to drink besides bloody mead. Bloody Viking bastard would allow him nothing else. Perhaps he'd take the blonde git to task later.

Laughter brought his gaze up out of the golden liquid in his tankard and his eyes focused on the smiling form of his wench. His wench. And Alasdare, clad in a soft linen gown dyed the same shade of the sky on a cloudless day, was held tightly in the embrace of that bloody bastard she'd collected at the pub. Anthony forgot his name, didn't care one way or the other. She was his, by God, and she should bloody well know better than to tempt another man in his presence.

Not that she'd looked at him all that much. Her eyes had been only for the man who bore too bloody much resemblance to Robert Lord. Anthony had been sitting in one of the spots designated for guests of honor when Alasdare and her friends had joined the group at large. They'd entered the room, looking every bit like priceless jewels in their feminine attire. Except for the fact that Alasdare had belted on her swords. Even that slight reminder of her life had done little to distract from her beauty. And she'd immediately allowed herself to be pulled into the arms of that bloody charlatan. Whoever the bloody hell he was.

The feast Thor had promised was in full swing. There were a pair of long trestle tables set up to run the length of the hall, benches pulled up to either side of them. Each one was crowded with Thor's people, the crew of Anthony's ship and the crew from The Valkyrie. While the men and women talked amongst themselves, there was a subtle division between them, setting each group apart from one another. Alasdare was surrounded by her friends and crew. "Bloody ungrateful wretch," he muttered into his cup.

"Who, sir?" The question came from his first mate. Anthony shook his head.

"No one, Rogers. No one."

Several of his crew began sweeping their gazes along the tables, carefully eyeing those seated at them. Finally, they brought their gazes back to one another and shrugged. Obviously they were trying to figure something out on their own. The soft murmurs between his men grated on his nerves. "Well. Bloody well get on with it!" he snapped irritably.

"What?" Young Parker blinked wide, innocent looking eyes Anthony's way. Stark snarled out a curse he'd learned from Alasdare and slapped the palm of his hand down on the table.

"Get on with it and ask the bloody question that's burning the tips of your tongues. I'm in no mood to muck about tonight, lads."

There was a moment of silence, as the men stared back and forth between one another. Finally, Barton cleared his voice and spoke up. "Where's the boy?"

Anthony blinked at them. "Boy? What boy?"

There was a shared glance between his men again. "The one you've been chasing all over the seven seas."

Stark scowled and emptied his tankard again. His men were silent as he lifted his hand and signaled to the wench for another refill. He waited until after she'd come over and poured him more mead, then glowered at the lot of them. "There is no boy."

Again, his men shared glances between one another. "Begging pardon, sir. But there is. Alasdare," Barton said, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. Anthony snarled under his breath and slammed the tankard down onto the table top. Mead sloshed over the lip, splashing his hand and the wooden surface beneath it. Barton pressed on. "Which one is he?"

Anthony's face cleared slightly, then he shook his head and motioned toward the spot where Alasdare sat with her... companion. "He is the one with the ripe breasts and the rounded hips. And she'd run you through with her cutlass if you were to call her a boy. Trust me. She's very much a woman."

He watched his men stare across the distance to where she sat. Her hair shone soft and silky in the flickering light from the torches and hearths. While her friends had allowed Thor's wenches to dress their tresses, his prickly Scottish pirate had elected to wear hers long and free. He knew it for the snub it was. Anything with which to deny that she was a soft and tempting woman. A lady. Damn the bloody wench to hell for her ways.

"Oui. She is very much a woman." Anthony started and turned to find that Alasdare's captain stood just behind Barton. She was staring across the distance with a faint smirk on her face. Her eyes shone with something not quite of this world. "And she is woman enough to bleed you if she were to over`ear you speaking about `er in such a manner."

"Good with those swords, is she?" Barton asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at the woman there. She was gone and he frowned, giving confused eyes to Stark. Anthony shrugged and glanced back toward Alasdare's table.

"The wench is a pirate, Barton. She's good enough." The blonde turned wide, disbelieving eyes his way. Anthony snorted and motioned to the table where the bloody wench and her bloody mates all sat. "You are looking at the crew of The Valkyrie. Most notorious pirate ship sailing the waters today."

"There's no bloody way that's the crew of a pirate ship." Barton turned back to the table and stared at the five women. They shone like the brightest gems in the land, nestled as they were amongst the dull and lifeless men around them. Anthony waited for the obvious statement. "They're bloody wenches."

"And the lot of them run the ship." Anthony confirmed. Barton stared at him a moment or two longer before shaking his head.

"You're full of shite, my lord. Too much mead has done odd things to your head."

His men were watching him, curious as to how this was going to play out. "Quite obviously, you don't believe me," Anthony drawled slowly, then motioned toward the table with one hand again. "Go ask them. Talk to those sea-faring harpies and ask them what they do. Ask anyone of them, I dare you. They'll all tell you the same thing."

Barton watched the women a second or two longer, then turned back to Anthony. "Which one is Alasdare again? So I know who I should avoid. I'd hate to earn your wrath." There was a hint of challenge in the man's voice that put Anthony's back up. He flicked a hand negligently toward the spot where the heartless bitch sat. "The one currently wrapped completely around the..."

"Aye," Stark snarled and slapped his tankard down on the table with force. Barton turned a knowing smile his way. Anthony regarded him for a few heartbeats, then smiled slowly. "And while you're at it, I've a task for you. I know you're handy with the wenches. See if you can't convince whichever wench you bed to tell you everything she knows about the bloke Alasdare is presently spending her time with."

~*~*~*~*~

Haley sat between Jehnna and Morgan, carefully watching the goings on around her. The evening had already been a trial and looked to get no better. From the moment they'd entered the hall after their bath, there'd been a subtle tension in the air. She'd wondered at it until she'd spied Dare glaring daggers at the slouched figure of Lord Anthony Stark across the room. She'd tried to put the look on his face out of her mind but had only been partially successful.

The feast had consisted of roasted pheasant and venison and beef. The slabs of meat had been carried in on trays by Thor's wenches and they'd served each man and woman there some of each. Following had been a kind of stew that had a thick broth and hearty vegetables in it. There was a dish that consisted of fish and sliced, fried potatoes. Roasted vegetables on spits came, along with individual pies. There was more food than Haley had thought to see and still more kept coming.

The men ate heartily, all the while talking about wenching and sailing and pirating. There were several women dedicated to the serving of mead and she didn't notice how often Lord Stark had his tankard refilled. With enough drink in their systems, the men broke into dirty song and told stories of sexual encounters. Some men simply dragged women into their laps as they passed and ignored their food in favor of another kind of feast. Haley had heard stories of the kind of behavior that could be seen in a Viking hall, but she'd never thought to be part of it herself.

She hadn't even really believed that such things still went on in this day and age.

The atmosphere was relaxed and easy, though that hadn't always been the case. Earlier, when they'd first returned to the hall from the bath, when Dare had spotted Stark, there'd been a moment or two when she'd thought the other woman would burn the place down around them. But she'd turned herself into Remy LeBeau's embrace and the feeling of impending doom had lessened. It hadn't entirely gone away, though.

Even now, so far into the evening, there was still a subtle tension there. Conversation had been sparse with her friends. Morgan had taken a seat beside Robert Drake and the two of them had been lost in one another's conversation all night long. Rosemary and Jehnna kept her company, with Dare and her man occasionally adding their two cents worth. It was an odd situation.

She hadn't ever seen Dare react to someone the way she'd reacted to Anthony Stark this evening. It wasn't anger, but something else. Something that Haley was willing to bet was more along the lines of betrayal. It made Dare hard and angry, made her ignore the man's presence entirely. It also made her turn all of her attention to the man she'd rescued from the Black Unicorn. If Haley'd had to hazard a guess, Dare was purposely being flirtatious with the man to spite Stark.

As if that wasn't a bad enough thing, there was open hostility between her and their host. That had sprung to life the moment Thor had intruded on their bath. Haley'd wanted to tell her to behave herself, but felt that it would have been pointless. Still, she'd been embarrassed by her shipmate's lack of manners where their host was concerned. One didn't draw one's sword against their host anymore than one used one man to get back at another.

It was an entirely stupid thing to do.

Sighing, Haley picked up her tankard and took a sip of her mead. She was tired, truth be told, and she wanted to rest her head. It had been a bad week, the storm hard on all of them. She wasn't fully recovered from the hours spent battling the elements. But it wasn't as if she could lay down and rest her head whilst the feast was in full swing. Perhaps a walk in the night air would help. She was just getting ready to gain her feet when a hand touched her shoulder. Turning, she looked up and found herself caught by a pair of lovely blue eyes.

"Good evening, fine lady," the man greeted her with a smile. Before she could respond, he scooped up her hand and pressed a kiss to it. She felt a blush stain her cheeks as the smile became something infinitely more sexual and predatory. She'd seen him talking to Stark not that long ago and realized, based on the way they'd conversed with one another, that the two men knew one another. Her thoughts turned tumultuously in her head. "Can I have the pleasure of your name?"

"Haley," she replied, her mind turning over possibilities. Perhaps, if she could maneuver him into some kind of intimate situation, she could question him about the goings on here. She was still convinced that something odd was going on. He might have answers for her.

"My name is Clint, my sweet." He bowed over the hand he still held. She couldn't hold back the smile his actions brought to her lips. "Perhaps we can go somewhere and... chat?"

"I think I might like to do just that. I was considering a walk outside. There's far too much noise in here for me. My head aches and I wish to clear it. Would you consider escorting me? I should hate for something terrible to happen to me out in the dark."

"Never fear, my sweet. I'll be happy to protect your virtue." Haley smiled at him and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He turned her toward the door, one hand carefully placed on her back. She had absolutely no worries about her virtue.

Absolutely none at all.

~*~*~*~*~

She was still curled around that bloody git. He would kill him, would run him through with a sword and cut him into little pieces. He would rid them of the man and then they could be together once again. She'd been like this once before and it had taken a while, but she'd finally warmed back up to him. This time, though, she'd never see the body. She'd never know he was dead for sure. Only that he'd run off. Anthony would have a good deal of fun feeding those little bits to the sharks...

Anthony was shaken out of his morose thoughts by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked up through blurry eyes to find that Thor had joined him. The Viking lord bore an expression that told Anthony he really didn't want to hear what the man said. But the blonde glanced at him, then looked to the other table and the young woman in blue. "You have feelings for the wench?"

"Of course I bloody don't. What on earth would make you ask such a question? Bloody idiot," Anthony snorted out his reply. He hoped that it would encourage his host to leave him to his thoughts. It didn't. Instead, Thor dropped into the seat beside him and took a long draw from his tankard of mead.

"Then why do you sit here and frown? Why not find yourself a wench for the evening? Bury yourself between her thighs and forget about the girl. `Tis obvious you mean nothing to her."

"If you hadn't had quite so much mead, I would challenge you to a fight. As it is, it simply wouldn't be fair. I'd have you on your knees, my sword at your throat. You'd be begging me for mercy," Anthony replied.

Thor's laughter echoed throughout the hall. A few eyes turned their way, but they only glanced at them for a moment before turning back to their meals and their mugs. "You are no match for me, little man. Not when I'm drunk and not when I'm sober. Why this woman, Anthony? Why not one of the others? You know my wenches are more than willing to warm your sheets."

"I have no desire to tumble your wenches, Thor," he muttered, gaze still locked on Alasdare.

"Then tumble one of her friends. Do to her as she is doing to you." The man's word were soft and thoughtful, prompting Anthony to turn and look at him. Thor motioned with one hand toward the table and his finger picked out the dark headed wench in bloody red. The color made her eyes spark and catch the light, gave her a peaches and cream complexion. Anthony struggled to find her name, his brain little more than fog. "That one. Take that one with you when you retire."

"She's the look of coldness to her," Anthony made the excuse.

"A cold exterior often hides a fiery passion. I would wager that wench could suck the very life from you," the blonde said with a thread of heat in his words. "She has high, firm breasts and flared hips. Her eyes are as cold as the fjords of my homeland. And beneath it all, the warmth of a goddess made flesh. Her lips would be especially sweet wrapped around..."

"She's a very lovely woman. But she doesn't stir me."

Thor made a noise in the back of his throat, then pointed this time to the wench with the tanned skin. She was wearing gold and it brought out the glints in her hair, accented her darker coloring perfectly. "What about her? The woman carries and aura of wildness around her even though she appears civilized and tame. Imagine the feel of her body beneath yours. Her limbs are supple and would hold tight to you. She is stunning, a true beauty."

Anthony said nothing, merely snorted his opinion. Not that the wench wasn't attractive. It was simply that, as with the other woman, she did nothing to make his blood pound in his veins.

Thor's finger stabbed toward another of the women. This one was crowned with dark auburn hair, her petite frame wrapped in a gown of bronze. She bore striking similarities to the woman who'd stood behind Barton and warned him of her shipmate's temper not that long ago. "Then take the little one with you. She is a beautiful little morsel, captain of her ship. She would be a worthy liaison. A woman like that would draw the very breath from your lungs and make the angels sing for you."

Anthony made a weak gesture with one hand toward the young man he'd seen greet the woman when she'd come from her bath earlier. He sat at her side and his eyes had barely left her face once during the night. "She already has an admirer. Something tells me he would not be willing to share her with me. And I have no wish to battle someone for her honor."

Thor snorted and finally turned his hand toward the only remaining member of the women. This one was taller than the rest, with fiery tresses that accented the porcelain fairness of her skin. There was a soft smile on her face and the green gown she wore clung to her curves. She, like her companions, was lovely to look upon. "What about her? Surely you find her beautiful."

"I find all of them beautiful," Anthony said.

"Then why do you turn each of them down?" There was genuine confusion in the man's voice. When Anthony made no reply, Thor pushed on. "The redhead is indeed comely. And shapely. Look at the fullness of her breasts. You'd find it difficult to cup them in your hands fully without some spilling past your fingers. And her legs are so long, she could wrap them around you and still there would be more..."

"I'm certain she, and all of her friends, would be quite accomplished at bed sport. But that does not change the fact that they are either already spoken for or do not quite send my pulse racing in my veins."

"This one is..." Thor began, but Anthony cut him off, already knowing what the man was going to say.

"She's spoken for, Viking." Anthony motioned toward the blonde head that had only just bent down beside her. Barton had wasted no time in moving in on the girl and, should he prove to be successful, would have information for Anthony in the morning.

"Excuses, Lord Stark." Thor's voice rumbled with a hint of thunder to it. He frowned, then sent a curious glance toward the other women milling about the hall. Some were sitting with men, feasting and enjoying the company. Others were his serving wenches, women from the man's homeland and graced with beauty. But none of them did to him the things his Alasdare did. "There are plenty of wenches here to satisfy yourself upon. You need but pick one. Do not let this one female rule your heart and your body."

"I let no wench rule my heart and my body. Leave off or I'll put my sword through your gullet," Stark commanded. Thor heaved a sigh, but said no more. The two men lapsed into silence for a time, each keeping his own thoughts company. That changed, though, when Anthony noticed a young couple in one corner of the hall. There were actually several people there and they all seemed to be avoiding the rest of those gathered to feast. They seemed oblivious to the loud revelry, the drunken debauchery and the ribald singing that echoed throughout the large room. He motioned toward the small group. "Who are those people there? Why do they not join the celebration?"

"They're refugees, Lord Stark. From your own island home and across all of Europe."

"Refugees?" What are they running from?"

"Their own deaths, my friend. They are what your people call Witchbreed. Each of them bears some strange power that frightens those without. They've seen their friends die, their families torn apart. They've lost everything they have."

Anthony turned his head to look at Thor. There was no smile on the Viking lord's face. "You're hiding them?"

"I offer them sanctuary. They will come to no harm here." There was a current of something in Thor's voice. Anthony couldn't quite find a name for it. Then something else caught his attention and he asked the first question that came to mind.

"How do they find your hall? You told me that it was protected and hidden."

"Those who have a need will find my hall. Always has it been thus. Do not forget, my friend. You found me."

Anthony snorted at the reminder and found his eyes drawn back to where Dare still sat with her young buck. Muttering a curse under his breath, he beckoned a wench over for a refill. Thor's tankard was topped off, too, and the two men sat in companionable silence, drinking and thinking.

How much time passed, Anthony couldn't be sure. But he was well and truly into his cups. His host had spent much of his night floating between drinking, feasting and shouting questionable encouragement to his men when they scooped up a wench with whom to pass the night. Many of the paired couples had retreated to the shadows and the sounds of bodies coming together could be heard. Some, like the women of The Valkyrie, were still sitting at the tables, eating and drinking and making merry. As they had for much of the night, Anthony's eyes sought out his woman and the man she'd taken to her side.

They were caught up in one another's embrace, mouths working against one another without regard for who might be watching. He snarled out a curse and banged his tankard down. Thor chuckled beside him and reached out to scoop the mug from Anthony's grip. "Enough for you, my friend. You are a mean drunk and I've no wish to feel the lash of your tongue in your temper."

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Thor."

Thor turned to look at Anthony, the expression on his face and in the blue of his eyes speculative. Then a cheeky grin spread across his face and he turned his gaze back to the table where she sat. One hand waved in her general direction. "Your woman has a lovely body."

Anthony's newly emptied hand reached for his sword. Thor continued on, unaware of the action. "I was gifted with a view of her without clothes when I announced the feast. She was still in the bath, but her breasts floated to the surface, beaded with water and begging to be suckled until she would moan and ask for more. I imagine her legs could squeeze a man until he died from pleasure. I can see why you would turn down the other wenches. She must truly do amazing things with her..."

"Finish that statement and you are a dead man."

Thor made a noise, then shook his head and spoke again. "I have decided that I am pleased you asked me to look after the wench. She is most pleasing on the eyes."

Anthony turned to look at him, his gaze steady and filled with anger. "I asked you look after her. Not ogle her. Stop watching her backside as if it will do something interesting. Trust me. It won't," he replied, knowing fell well that Alasdare had pushed the dirtied dishes from her place and settled her bum on the table's surface while she continued to embarrass herself with that man. He finally let go a hint of a smirk. "Besides. You aren't the type of man she likes."

The Viking smirked knowingly. "Perhaps she would be interested in viewing my hammer. It is quite large. I believe it would impress her greatly."

That comment brought a laugh to his throat. Anthony shook his head and made a motion with one hand that was meant to encompass the woman they were discussing. "Such things do not impress her at all."

Thor turned to him and offered him a look that Anthony chose not to understand. "I ask you again, Lord Anthony Stark. You have feelings for this wench?"

"You bloody well know that I do not," Stark snapped at him.

Thor seemingly studied him for a moment or two, then turned his attention to the woman in blue. The blonde's gaze narrowed as he studied her. There was silence between them for several long minutes, then Thor nodded his head as if he'd come to a decision about something. "Do you know what I would do, were she my woman?"

"She isn't your woman," Anthony replied.

"Were she my woman," Thor said, speaking as if Anthony hadn't opened his mouth. "I would cross this room and pick her up. I would sling her over my shoulder, carry her off to my pallet and show her which of us is the man. And then, she would stop playing foolishly with other men. She would devote herself entirely to me."

Anthony laughed. He couldn't help himself. Thor knew nothing of the woman if he thought that such tactics would do aught but anger her until she skewered him with her swords. "I should bloody well like to see you try. She'd never allow such a thing. She'd never go for it. You don't know her the way I do. She needs no man and gives her heart to no one. She's a cold little bitch with no care for anyone but herself. Throw her over your shoulder, indeed. I should bloody well like to see you try it."

Thor studied him a moment or two, then nodded again and stood from his seat. The hall fell silent as they took note of him. On the silent feet of predator, the Viking stalked toward the table where Dare sat. A glance showed him that her newest toy had gotten up and left her. He'd probably taken himself off to the privy.

Every eye in the place watched the blonde's progress and they held their breath in expectation as he stopped beside the table. Anthony watched as Alasdare turned to look at their host. There was a cool look on her face. Thor smiled at her, then reached out with both hands and hefted her up. Alasdare let go a loud curse in Gaelic that was brought to silence when the brutish Viking tossed her onto his shoulder. He completely ignored the sword belt, her kicking feet and the way her fists pounded upon his back.

Her shrill demands followed after them as the two of them disappeared into the hallway that led to the private rooms. Anthony frowned after them, unable to believe what he'd just seen. Bugger all. That wasn't supposed to have happened.

"Wench! More mead!"

 

Comments

*squee* :D

[dazzledfirestar.livejournal.com]

Oh those Avengers! Incorrigible! The whole bloody lot of them! LOL Ladies… we may be in trouble. LOL

No worries about her virtue huh? Bullshit. LOL Go get him, Haley! :D

You did beautifully, hun! Seriously, not a missed note. Absolutely wonderful! Drunk Tony is fabulous. Remy’s reaction to more and more familiar faces is perfect. I absolutely love the moment when he recognises Beast! Oh! That was beautiful! :D Thor… well, you’ve nailed him, hun. LOL (And apparently, he's going to get you back for it! LOL)

I can’t wait to see where you take this next! (I have a suggestion that involves going outside… but that might just be me. ;) ) Wonderful work! :D

Re: *squee* :D

[ladydeathfaerie]

oi. she's squeeing again. *sighs* i guess this means i did okay with this bit then, huh?

the virtue conversation between Haley and Clint was done because i really needed some of that smart assed feel to it. i didn't think he'd just not be a smart ass. its what he lives and breathes for, yeah?

as for the rest... i really wasn't sure how i would do with Tony and Thor. i have no knowledge of Thor. never read him at all. and Tony... i figured he'd just slip into mean, nasty snark mode with all that mead in him. and poor Remy. geez. the man is just not having any luck here, is he? none at all. gonna have to make it up to him somehow...

as of yet, there are no plans for the next chapter. but i'm sure your suggestions will be taken to heart.

glad you enjoyed, hon.

Re: *squee* :D

[dazzledfirestar.livejournal.com]

Oh come on... it was just a little squee. ;)

Yeah... the smart ass-ness... *sigh* I think it might be genetic. He just can't help himself. Though, I am kinda looking forward to her calling him on the hand kissing gentleman routine. She'll see through that in a heartbeat. ;) LOL

You did beautifully! I'm going to keep saying it until you believe me. :P Thor... yeah, most of my knowledge of Thor is second hand (ie, he's there, he's on the team but he doesn't do anything until they need him to call down the lightning lo). Snarky, mean drunk Tony... that's... yeah. That's it, hun.

And Remy's screwed. Totally. LOL Make it up to him later all you want, but he's screwed. LOL

Love it. Totally LOVE it! :D

Re: *squee* :D

[ladydeathfaerie]

thanks, hon. i'm blushing. really.

[sessys-fangirl.livejournal.com]

Great chapter LDF! Great! Loved every moment.

There was humor where it was needed and seriousness when it was needed as well.

And the interaction between Tony and Thor was a gut buster.. * snerk * A drunk Tony is a funny Tony... And Clint. It took me a while to combine Barton and Clint and then it was a face palm moment. * chuckles *

I can't wait to see what happens next and I'm sure it will be just as good as this one. :-)

[ladydeathfaerie]

glad you enjoyed, sweetie.

i was trying to balance the heavy and the light in this one, so there were moments where someone got to be the butt of the joke.

i was literally panicking the entire time i wrote out the conversation between those two because i felt i was going to fuck it up royally. Daz has assured me more than once that i did really well with them.

i'm not sure what's happening next, either. but i'm sure, when we get there, it'll be fun. dunno about good. but it'll be fun.

[sessys-fangirl.livejournal.com]

I'm in the same boat with Thor. I don't know much about him. So don't worry. :-)

I think you balanced it just right. Though I was a bit worried about Dare. She was about to spit and put the Prof. over a bonfire. Glad it didn't come to that.

I wonder how they are going to find Remy.

[ladydeathfaerie]

no worries, they'll find Remy. got that all planned out already.

i don't think Dare would have gotten that far. Daz and i talked about it and she assured me the Professor would have shut her down before she'd gotten there. not to mention Logan would have gotten into the middle of it long before then. so yeah. its all good.

[ginevrasm.livejournal.com]

*chuckle*

The Viking smirked knowingly. "Perhaps she would be interested in viewing my hammer. It is quite large. I believe it would impress her greatly."

Kind of reminds me of something...

Excellent work. Impending doom and laughter...Awesome combination.

I'd be worried about Thor if he wasn't Thor. This should be amusing...

[dazzledfirestar.livejournal.com]

*chuckle* Come on, Gin. Everyone wants a look at Thor's hammer. ;) LMAO

[ginevrasm.livejournal.com]

*whistles innocently*

[dazzledfirestar.livejournal.com]

Innocently? Really? Why am I not buying that? LOL

[ladydeathfaerie]

glad you liked it, Gin. i really wasn't sure about Thor and almost let Daz read it to tell me if it was okay or not. but i held on and figured i'd sink or swim on my own. guess i swam it really well.

yeah. can't imagine where that whole hammer thing came from. not at all. *whistles*

[nanaeanaven]

Wonderfully done, Lady. I enjoyed it muchly. I'd go on, but my brain is half-asleep right now. *yawns*

Lots of faces, jeez! I wouldn't be surprised if you end up emptying the Marvel stables with this one.

[ladydeathfaerie]

glad you liked it, honey. i understand about the half-asleep brain. mine has been doing the same to me here lately.

yes. lots of faces. i'm trying to decide if i'm a masochist or if i'm that good. Daz keeps telling me i do okay. but... i'm not sure about it.

here's hoping i can keep it up.

[nanaeanaven]

I'd vote for you're just that good ... but you are a bit of a masochist too. ;D

[ladydeathfaerie]

i think you're right about the masochist part. not sure about just being that good. but oh well. as long as everyone is having fun...