Ensoulment

by Valerie Vancollie
valeriev84 at hotmail dot com

Characters: Red Skull, Tony Stark, Nebula, Dr. Strange, James Rhodes, Okoye, Rocket, Thor, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Thanos, Gamora, Frigga, Óðinn, Loki, Norns, Shuri
Note: As I mentioned in the summary, this fic is entirely unrelated to Avengers: Endgame, of which I have stayed almost completely spoiler free. No, this fic was inspired entirely by Avengers: Infinity War and the fact I'd been thinking of the Soul Stone before going in to see the movie. By the time I walked, the beginnings of this fic had already been hatched.
So why am I only just posting it now? Because I'd already started a Loki fic which I wanted to finish first. The problem is that fic grew and grew and grew and is now over 350,000 words long and still isn't finished yet. So I switched tracks just to get this one done in time so as to start posting it before it's blown completely out of the water. I debated dropping it entirely, but the plot bunny wouldn't let me go, so here it is and I hope you like it!
For anyone who has been following me on social media, this is not the fic I've posted snippets of before, that's from the other one.
As for a posting schedule, I aim to update this fic daily.

Prologue: Vormir, 965 A.D.

The air was still despite the evidence of storm clouds in the distance and the threat of rain. The light was dim, a heavy red, but it was still clear enough to see the figure appear from nowhere. Simply there one moment, but not before.

The figure was tall and cloaked with a large cowl over their head.

At first glance the figure appeared large, but when they started to move towards the mountain it became apparent there was something odd about their dimensions as the footprints they left behind in the sand were too small.

The wind picked up as the figure walked, seeming in no great hurry despite the rapidly approaching storm. The figure's cloak started stirring gently in the breeze but was soon blowing about, alternatively up against its owner or trailing behind them, revealing a dress underneath. It added more mystery to the figure's shape, revealing slender legs and a smaller upper body, but a strangely huge midriff, though the exact shape was concealed by the cloak's fastenings which kept it closed there. One hand had also come out to keep the cowl in place against the wind trying to unveil her face and head.

Despite the ever increasing wind which was rapidly building up into a gale, the woman moved with the same grace and speed as before as if the wind were no more than a gentle breeze despite all the sand it kicked up. Soon the woman was at the mountain and her cloak stilled as the wind was caught behind it. The sudden calm was eerie given what had come before, but still the figure moved with a steady pace, making her way up the side of the mountain towards the old structures above.

As she neared them a second figure suddenly detached itself from the shadows behind a stone arch, hovering in the air, its tattered clothing floating all around it.

"Welcome Sága, daughter of none."

"You are not of this time, Red Skull."

"It is my curse to know all who journey here, regardless of when they may come."

"Then you know why I have come."

"You should know-"

"I do," Sága interrupted. "Take me to it."

Red Skull hovered in the air a moment more before lowering himself to the ground. He cast her another glance before turning on his heels, silently leading the way. Together they walked out towards the twin pillars as snow began to fall, until finally they were at the edge of a steep precipice.

"What you seek lies in front of you," Red Skull said. "As does what you fear."

The woman moved forwards to stand upon the very edge of the cliff, glancing down without any seeming concern for her own wellbeing.

"The price-" Red Skull began.

"I sacrifice my unborn child," Sága interrupted calmly.

"Your unbor-" he began, eyes growing wide as they dropped to her swollen stomach. "How?"

One side of her mouth curled up into a wry smile as she turned to face him, but the movement was graceful, almost as if the ground moved to turn her instead of her taking steps to do so herself. Then she raised her arms, palms up, before she dropped backwards off the precipice. Her hair streamed upwards as she fell, a black curtain of silk, but her arms stayed stretched, swollen belly up, and she remained silent.