Cold-Blooded

[]Chapter 1[]

They are coming, I hear them. Their machinery makes great noises as it travels through the sky, which has been empty long before most of their time. Only animals dare to disturb my peace, but now all has changed. My solitude is gone.

My pale hand grips the sword of ice firmly in its palm, relishing the refreshing sting of the frosted material. I could hear the sounds of their modern-day inventions closing in, and I knew that alone I would never fend them off. It was just impossible. So I resolved to give them hell.

I pulled my thick hood over my head, masking my face. Below, my cold, steel blue eyes glared out from beneath the fur. Blond hair fell from it's binding in the back of my head, but I did nothing to put it into its proper place. I had bigger priorities at the time being.

As armored men, and women, marched their way across my plane of snow I narrowed my eyes, counting their numbers. Each was armed extremely heavily, with machines I can't even put to name with my out of date information. Whatever they were, they nearly made me laugh. So much, for one simple woman like me? Looks like they weren't too cocky after all.

They would still loose plenty of numbers to me, before the end of the day. I was not going to give up my freedom and solitude easily. My grasp tightened on the sword forged from the cruelty that was the North, and I charged forward into their ranks.

Let. It. Begin.

~*~

Now I'm certain all of you wish to hear about the epic battle, where the great mistress of the wild overcomes her enemies in a short-fought war, but that is not the truth. Far from it, actually. Let us go to her, in her cage at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. 

~*~

I sit by myself in a large cage, clicking my feet together with a growing impatience. I am still dressed for the freezing temperatures of my past residence, in a large coat made of polar bear fur as well as a long sleeved shirt and pants, of the same material.

My booted feet had planted themselves firmly on the floor after being carried in here, kicking out in random attempts at freeing myself. My heart hadn't been into it however, and I only got a few agents out with a bloody nose.

They had thrown me into here, where I have been for the past several hours. No one has dared entered the room, as my anger has made the temperature plummet several degrees. I figured they were dressing up to see the show.

Right after that thought was made, a man dressed in a black coat and an eye-patch walked in. His aura informed me that he was a "no bullshit" type of guy, which I vaguely approved of. Obviously, he was little affected by the cold. Maybe I wasn't so angry after all.

"So you are the legendary guardian of the North?" He asks me boredly, giving me the impression that he was not impressed with what he saw.

I shot him daggers, and it was only enough to shut him the hell up. Normally it could kill a man. Hmph. Strong-willed.

"Yes, I am whom you seek. If you may, call me Astridr," I stated, glancing up from my place on the floor. Ivory hair tinged slightly gold fell in my face once again, yet this time I pushed it back. I did not want my vision of this man blocked, for I did not trust a single hair on his head.

"Astridr?"

"Yes, Astridr. It means 'divine beauty' in Norse, o' wise one. Don't you know anything about the one you hold in your possession?" Sarcasm dripped in heavy amounts from my voice, yet it still sounded silky. It was the voice that had called several into oblivion.

The man looked slightly uncertain, which I immediately diagnosed as uncharacteristic. I could already tell that little shook this man up. A smirk played across my pale face.