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Chapter Two: The Bifrost

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I felt a strong pair of hands lift me up, draping my good arm around their shoulders so that I could lean against them for support. I was in a state of semi-consciousness, and could hardly tell up from down, but I could make out the vague shape of a room that scintillated gold around me.

Was this the part where your life flashes before your eyes? But, I couldn't recognize anything around me, not the room, and not the tall, dark-skinned man, who wore a heavy helm and was helping me along. Perhaps this was heaven? But then, why was I still in so much pain? My vision faded in an out as we exited the room. Then, there was an iridescent bridge that stretched on for hundreds of meters, but where it led, I couldn't see. Everything was so bright. Too bright.

I felt a deadly chill seep through my body, and my legs went limp as I stumbled to my knees. I heard a distant voice which sounded urgent, but I couldn't understand what it was saying. All I saw was a pair of golden eyes, before I felt my eyelids grow heavy, and I let them fall closed. And finally, I fell unconscious.

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My eyes flickered open and I was met with a flash of blinding light that seared through my head. I really needed to move my bed away from the window, that burst of light every morning was pretty annoying. I breathed in deep, before opening my eyes against the bright room, feeling my brow furrow in confusion. Usually Mae had the coffee on by now, but all I could smell was... Fresh, outside air? My apartment had a lot of smells, but that certainly wasn't one of them.

And when my vision adjusted, I came to a sinking realization. Mae wasn't there. And neither was Gale. Because this wasn't my apartment. I could tell that much from the ceiling alone. My eyes fell next to the columns, which were carved and pale, and spun from the ceiling to the tiled floor.

I pushed myself up to a seated position, and bit my tongue, holding back a string of curses at the searing pain that shot like a bolt of lightning through my body, which I then noticed was clothed in a weird, Shakespearean looking article. A cream coloured corset and red sleeves that extended to just above my elbows, and similarly coloured, flowing skirts that stretched down to my feet.

I turned my head to survey the room, and nearly jumped from the marble slate I'd been lying on, when my gaze met that of the dark man sitting quietly in the corner of the room, hand propped under his chin, and eyes focused on me. His hair was shoulder length, slicked back at the top, and a little tousled at the tips. His skin was a pale white, and his eyes an even paler blue.

"Am I dead?" were the first words I could think to say.

He sat a little straighter, dropping his hand, "You tell me and we'll both know."

"I don't think so," I spluttered, "I don't feel dead."

"Well that is a surprise. When they brought you in I thought for certain the breaths you were taking were your last."

"I appreciate your optimism," I said blankly, reaching a tired hand to my aching rib cage. It was tender to the touch.

He bowed his head, smirking.

"Hold on," I said, my frown deepening evening further, "If I'm not dead, then where the hell am I?"

"You don't know?" his brow furrowed.

"If I knew where I was, do you think I'd be asking you?" I said.

"Well you must forgive me of my confusion. See, if you don't know of Asgard, I can't figure how you managed to use the Bifrost to get here," he responded, standing, and revealing that he was, in fact, quite tall. He wasn't brutish, though. He was lean and long limbed, with a slender neck and sharp face.