Chapter Text
She had grown up in the shadow of gray walls and endless hallways, surrounded by children she did not know, yet who always seemed bigger, stronger, and crueler than her. In that cold orphanage, where voices echoed like hollow ghosts, she was nothing but another silhouette, a shadow among shadows. And yet, even there, she seemed different. Too quiet, too sharp in her gaze, as if she could see what others could not.
The taunts had started soon after her arrival. “Monster,” “witch,” “freak”, words that, repeated day after day, sank deeper into her skin than bruises ever could. When fists and kicks replaced insults, she learned to endure, to bite her tongue, to remain silent. She never cried in front of them, but the anger grew, pressed tight against her heart like a caged beast.
Then one night, she broke—and something inside her shattered. The shadows around her trembled, stretched, began to move like awakened serpents. They lashed out, striking, throwing her tormentors to the ground. When stillness returned, the children screamed in terror. That was the first incident, the first warning: she was not like them. To their eyes, she was not human. Fear froze her, yet at the same time a strange relief stirred. For the first time, she had felt she could defend herself.
~~~~~
The years that followed were a fragile balance between control and fear. She forced herself to hide her powers, to survive in a world that seemed intent on breaking her.
At thirteen, everything changed. That night, the dormitory echoed with cruel whispers. They were waiting, crouched like a pack. As soon as she entered, the blows rained down, fists, knees, feet. She curled into herself, protecting her head, her already aching ribs. Laughter rang louder than the pain, shards of cruelty piercing through the silence of the walls. She might have endured again, as always but this time, something shifted. One of them leaned so close she felt his hot breath against her ear. He whispered a threat so vile, so unforgivable, that her entire body froze. Fear gave way to raw anger, wordless and boundless.
And the shadows awoke.
At first they crawled along the floor, thin as smoke, then they thickened, black, heavy, icy. They surged from beneath her trembling hands, as if finally answering the silent call she had carried all these years.
The children backed away screaming, but not fast enough. A shadow seized an ankle, another snapped like a whip, flinging a body against a metal bedframe. The thud echoed, followed by a strangled cry. Panic filled the room, but the shadows were no longer under her control. They burst from everywhere, alive, ravenous.
One of them, the boy who had whispered in her ear—was caught. A dark mass wrapped around his throat. His eyes widened, his hands clawed at the air, trying to tear away the invisible grip. The girl screamed, begged it to stop, but the more she cried, the tighter the shadows squeezed. They throbbed with her terror, with her rage. Then came a crack. A sharp, brutal sound. His body crumpled like a rag doll. Silent. Too silent.
The others fled, their cries echoing down the corridor. She remained frozen, her gaze fixed on the boy lying still, his skin already pale. Her hands trembled, blackened as though the shadows had stained her flesh.
She had killed. Not by choice, not out of vengeance, but simply because she could no longer restrain what slept inside her. And that night, she understood: she was no longer only a victim. She had become a danger. Panic seized her. She knew she could never stay in that orphanage. So she ran into the streets, her heart pounding like a war drum, her hurried footsteps striking against the asphalt. The shadows stretched around her, following faithfully, as though they had just sealed a pact with her soul.
~~~~~
The weeks after the murder were nothing but flight.
She had taken nothing with her. No coat, no bag, no money. Nothing but her weary legs and that dull, tearing fear in her chest. The city was immense, hostile, every corner seeming to hide a threat. She hid in dark alleys, under crumbling porches, sometimes in abandoned subway stations where the smell of damp masked her presence but she was never alone. The shadows followed her. Sometimes they moved without her will, shards of nightmare clinging to her skin. When she closed her eyes, she saw again the crack, the boy’s body—and each time, the darkness shivered, feeding on her memory.
Very soon, she understood she was being hunted.
Black-clad figures prowled the streets, whispering into their earpieces. Unmarked cars rolled by slowly, as if they could breathe in her scent. Their eyes, cold, methodical, searched every corner. They were not police, not ordinary adults. They moved too quickly, too perfectly coordinated.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
The first time they found her, she had taken refuge in an old laundromat, abandoned for years. When the door exploded inward, she thought it was the end but her instinct spoke before she could. The shadows burst forth from everywhere: shattering glass, toppling machines, drowning the room in total darkness. The agents cursed, fired taser shots that ricocheted into nothing. She escaped through a vent, her hands bleeding from crawling against rust.
That was only the beginning.
Each night, she changed hiding places. Rooftops, sewers, abandoned buildings. She learned to steal food, to drink from fountains or broken pipes. Sometimes her bare feet bled, but she kept moving. Every sound made her flinch, every unfamiliar shadow drove her to run faster. And yet, despite it all, she survived. Her hunters never tired. The net was tightening. Drones sometimes hummed above the rooftops, searching for a silhouette too small to be noticed among the crowd. The agents spoke of her as a threat. “Unstable target. Dangerous powers. Neutralize on sight.” She heard them. Sometimes, hidden in a manhole, she caught their voices above her. Each time, the shadows helped her. They concealed her outline, muffled the sound of her steps, sometimes hurled back an agent who came too close. But the more they helped her, the more they seemed to claim her. Was she still the one making choices? Or was she becoming the instrument of the darkness that lived inside her?
Days passed. Weeks, perhaps. She lost track of time. Her body grew thinner, her cheeks hollowed—but her eyes… her eyes grew sharper, colder. She was no longer an ordinary child. She was becoming a shadow among shadows.
~~~~~
Night was falling over New York.
The sidewalks still swarmed with people, but no one paid attention to the staggering silhouette crossing the street, dragging her feet. Her breath broke in ragged gasps, every inhale tearing at her chest. She had been running all day. First through alleys, then across rooftops, then underground. S.H.I.E.L.D. never let go. Voices crackled over radios, spotlights swept across the night, sharp orders barked:
“Don’t lose her!”
“Lock down the sector!”
Her shadows, usually sharp, violent—were nothing more now than gray threads, dying, crawling around her like scraps of smoke. They had given too much, for too long. She was alone, weaponless, powerless.
Then she saw the tower.
A spear of glass and steel tearing through the night sky: Stark Tower. She didn’t know why she moved toward it. Maybe because her legs could carry her nowhere else, maybe because some part of her knew this place was different. She collapsed right in front of the entrance. Her knees struck the ground, her hands scraped against the concrete. Her shadows vanished entirely, swallowed by a glacial silence. For the first time, she had nothing left. No strength, no shield. Footsteps echoed fast behind her—agents closing in. She didn’t move.
The automatic door hissed open, and a voice cut through the air.
“Wow.”
A man in a crisp shirt, glass in hand, stared at her from the lobby. Tony Stark. His eyes narrowed, first surprised, then intrigued.
“Well… what do we have here?”
He didn’t get the chance to say more. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents spilled into the street, weapons raised, flashlights glaring.
“Stark, step aside! That’s an order!”
Tony frowned but didn’t move. His gaze flicked from the exhausted girl to the armed squad.
“An order?” he echoed, mock amusement in his voice. “You think I take orders?”
“She’s dangerous. She has to be taken immediately.”
Tony descended the steps slowly, his silhouette sliding between her and the agents. One hand lifted, casual.
“This? A half-dead kid on my doorstep? I think your definition of dangerous and mine don’t quite match.”
She trembled, tried to push herself up, but her body refused. Her eyes searched desperately for an escape. Nothing. Only this man who, strangely, wasn’t moving away.
“Stark, Fury gave the order. If you interfere—”
“What? You’ll shoot? Middle of Manhattan? In front of my tower?”
The smile vanished from Stark’s face.
“Go ahead. I promise tomorrow’s headlines will read: ‘S.H.I.E.L.D. guns down child beneath Stark Tower.’ Great publicity for you.”
The agents hesitated, but Fury’s order stood. They closed in, pulling out a device—a black bracelet streaked with blue light.
“Magic suppressor. Strap it on. She won’t be able to use her… shadows.”
The girl barely had time to react before cold metal snapped around her wrist. Instantly, searing pain tore through her chest. Her shadows screamed, literally. They recoiled into her skin, burning from the inside out. Her breath stopped, her eyes rolled back. She crumpled to her knees, suffocating.
Tony blanched, but his voice was razor sharp.
“Hey! You seeing this? You’re killing her, you idiots!”
“Fury’s orders,” one agent shot back coldly. “Her powers are unstable. She’s a threat. Without suppression, she could explode.”
“No.” Stark stepped forward, furious. “What I see is you cutting in half something that’s part of her and it’s killing her.”
He crouched beside her. Her lips trembled, her eyes burned with fever. The suppressor was consuming her.
Then Tony made a choice. He tore the bracelet off, ignoring the agents’ shouts. Shadows burst out with a rush, flooding the street in living darkness. The squad staggered back, weapons raised but Stark didn’t flinch. He stayed crouched, eyes locked on hers, as if he had never seen anything so terrifying and fragile all at once.
“You’re okay, kid. Breathe.”
Dazed, she felt her shadows slowly settle, curling back around her like a protective cloak. Her breath returned, the pain receded.
“Hey, kid. You planning to sleep out here, or you wanna come in?”
Her eyelids fluttered open. Her shadows, weak but alive, stirred faintly as if answering this stranger. And that night, in front of the tower that would become her home, Tony Stark chose to pick her up instead of letting her fall.
~~~~~
“Stark, you made a mistake.”
Nick Fury paced the floor, his single eye burning with anger. In front of him, Tony stood with his arms crossed, pretending to be relaxed, but ready to explode.
“A mistake? Seriously? She was what ? twelve, maybe thirteen and your men were hunting her down like a war criminal. What exactly did you expect, Fury? That I just stand there and watch her die on my doorstep?”
“That child is a threat. You have no idea what she’s capable of. You saw what she left behind.”
“I saw a kid covered in bruises, collapsing in front of me because she had nothing left.”
Fury stepped closer, menacing.
“If you think your conscience changes anything… She’s already killed, and she’ll do it again. So here are your options: hand her over to us, or lock her up with an inhibitor.”
Tony laughed, but his smile never reached his eyes.
“An inhibitor? Yeah… you tried that already, didn’t you?”
Silence. Fury didn’t answer.
“Right, I know, because I had the genius idea of checking her vitals. Her shadows, Fury… they’re not some weapon she swings around. They’re part of her. You cut them off, you cut her off. You really want to kill a kid just to sleep better at night?”
Fury stiffened, but Tony pressed on, harder now.
“So listen carefully. She stays here. You don’t touch her, you don’t threaten her. If you’ve got a problem, you send me an email.”
He stepped forward, his usual arrogance melting into something rarer: genuine fury.
“You want the truth, Fury? You’ve already dumped enough broken kids on my lap. This time, I’m handling it. I’m taking responsibility.”
Silence stretched. Fury clenched his jaw.
“We’re going in circles,” Tony snapped, exasperated. “You want her in a cage. I want her in a hospital bed with a shot at not ending up as someone’s lab rat.”
Fury locked his single eye on Stark.
“Fine. You want her here? Then you take responsibility. Officially. You house her, you watch her, you train her. You are my eyes and ears.”
Stark narrowed his gaze, suspicious.
“Translation: you want me to turn her into a weekly report?”
“Not weekly. Daily. Every discovery about her powers, her limits, you send it to me. And if there’s even one sign she loses control…” Fury paused, his voice like a blade. “…you hit the button, and you neutralize her.”
The weight of silence filled the room. Holograms crackled softly, projecting the ghostly silhouette of the girl still asleep upstairs.
Tony clenched his fists, his usual arrogance stripped away, replaced with a rare gravity.
“If I sign your little devil’s bargain, I’m putting my own skin on the line. You know that, don’t you?”
“Exactly,” Fury said flatly. “So you’ll think twice before playing sentimental hero.”
A long moment passed. Finally, Stark sighed, lifted his glass, and clinked it against the table.
“Deal. But hear me, Fury. You’ve dumped a monster on me, your words, not mine. I’m telling you, you abandoned a kid. And if I ever catch you sending your dogs sniffing around my tower… I’ll send them back in pieces.”
Fury didn’t reply. But the faintest flicker of a smile crossed his lips before he turned on his heel.
~~~~~
The light was white. Too bright. She opened her eyes with a start, every muscle screaming in pain. A cold breath escaped her: her shadows, scattered and fragile, pulled back into the corners of the room as if they were afraid. Machines beeped softly, an IV drip slid slowly into her arm. She tried to rip the wires out, but a firm hand stopped her.
“Whoa. Calm.”
Tony Stark, leaning against the bedside table, looked at her with that mix of arrogance and exhaustion that was uniquely his.
“I know it’s tempting to tear everything out for the drama points, but the doctors worked all night patching you up. Least you could do is wait until breakfast.”
She glared at him, wary. Her throat was too dry to speak. Her eyes darkened, and the shadows stirred, wrapping tight around her.
Tony raised a brow.
“Nice décor. But if you’re planning on turning my med suite into a horror flick, give me a heads up so I can grab some popcorn.”
He wanted to joke more, but for just a split second his expression darkened. She looked so frail—and yet that power inside her swarmed, untamed.
Stark moved closer, dragging a chair over to sit by the bed.
“What’s your name?”
Silence. She turned her head away, lips pressed shut.
“Okay, no name. We’ll start with a nickname, that usually works. Let’s see… Shadow Girl? Too much?” He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, forget it.”
A strangled breath escaped her, somewhere between a nervous laugh and a sigh—but she still didn’t answer.
Tony continued, his voice more serious now.
“Listen. I know you’re scared, and you’ve got every reason to be. But if you stay here… I can protect you. I can give you a roof, hot meals, maybe even a little sleep without nightmares.”
At last she turned her head toward him, her dark eyes glinting with mistrust and exhaustion.
“Why?” she whispered, her voice raw.
Stark drew a long breath, aware of the weight of his answer.
“Because no one else will. And because…” He stopped, ran a hand down his face. “…because I know myself. And I know what it feels like to grow up thinking no one wants you.”
A heavy silence settled, broken only by the steady beeping of the monitors. The shadows lingering around her slowly thinned, as if deciding to grant her a truce. Tony stood, tapping lightly on the bed’s railing.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll talk training, house rules, and… probably pizza.”
He headed toward the door, but before stepping out, he added quietly, almost to himself.
“And to hell if the whole world thinks it’s a bad idea.”
~~~~~
The first days were a strange mix of discomfort and discovery.
The child didn’t know what to do with all that space, with those vast, sunlit rooms and towering windows. Too much air, too much openness. She had grown up between narrow, filthy walls, where eyes only ever turned to her to strike. Here, everything breathed opulence… but also the unknown. Tony had given her a room on the fifteenth floor, wide and impersonal. The bed was too big, the sheets too soft. The first night, she slept curled up on the rug, unable to bear the emptiness around her.
~~~~~
One morning, Stark showed up with a tray of pancakes and his usual façade of casual arrogance.
“Alright, Shadow Girl, or whatever your future badass alias will be, we’ve got rules. No sneaking into my labs without me, no hacking FRIDAY, no shadows in the kitchen, and if you lay a hand on one of the suits… I ship you straight off to Wong’s culinary bootcamp.”
She stared at him in silence, a fork stuck in a pancake she wasn’t eating.
“Oh, and another rule: you eat. You can sulk, you can roll your eyes, you can ignore me, but you eat.”
A burst of shadow flared instinctively, making the glass on the table tremble. She immediately lowered her head, ashamed. Tony sighed, softening his tone.
“We’ll work on that. Control, not suppression.”
~~~~~
Training sessions started slowly. Tony took her to a high-tech gym filled with simulators.
“In here, no holding back. I want to see what you can do.”
The first time she unleashed her shadows, they erupted in raw chaos: shifting blades, claws, amorphous shapes. She dropped to one knee immediately, drained and trembling.
Tony, arms crossed, skipped the sarcasm for once.
“Okay… We start from zero. We build your body, your mind, and we channel that because if you keep letting your own shadows eat you alive… you won’t last.”
He set a punching bag in front of her.
“Hit it. No shadows. Just you.”
She hesitated, then obeyed. Her frail fists held little strength, but each strike echoed with silent rage.
~~~~~
Coexistence wasn’t easy. One night, slipping down to the labs in secret, she was intercepted by FRIDAY.
“Miss, Mr. Stark has restricted access without supervision. Please return upstairs.”
She answered by hurling her shadows against the reinforced door… which didn’t move an inch.
Tony arrived two minutes later, wearing a bathrobe and holding a drink.
“Seriously? One week in and you’re already trying to hack my living house?”
Her fists clenched.
“You’re hiding things from me.”
He blinked, a little caught off guard by the raw anger in her voice.
“Yeah. I’m hiding a lot, because the world’s ugly. And if you saw all the people out there voting to dissect you in a lab, you’d lose it.”
She stepped back, her shadows flickering around her. Tony’s voice softened.
“But you know what? Here, this is your home. And even if you throw me against a wall with your beasties, I’ll still give you a second chance. That’s non-negotiable.”
~~~~~
The training room echoed with the thud of strikes. The girl’s fists hammered the bag, her legs kicking, her shadows curling and unfurling around her like a living black tide. Tony watched, arms crossed, protective goggles pushed up on his forehead, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Not bad, Shadowlette,” he teased, exaggerating the ridiculous nickname. “But seriously, who taught you that? Orphan Ninja’s Guide to Looking Badass?”
She froze, breathless, and glared at him with equal parts irritation and defiance.
“Shadowlette? Seriously?”
“Hey, it’s affectionate,” Tony shrugged. “I can do worse. Captain Shadow, maybe? Or… Mistress of Darkness.”
A faint smirk crossed her lips. She stepped closer, fists still cloaked in shadow but no longer threatening. For the first time, her guard seemed to lower.
“Fine,” she whispered, low but steady. “My name is… Aléra.”
Silence fell. Even the shadows seemed to pause mid-motion. Tony looked at her, his grin meant to be sarcastic but betraying something softer.
“Aléra, huh? Not bad…”
For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like just a weapon or a prey. She had a name. And someone to hold onto.
“But you know what, Tony…” she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “If you come up with another stupid nickname, I’ll sic my shadows on you.”
He mimed raising his hands in surrender.
“Deal, Aléra. But fair warning… Mistress of Darkness is still bouncing around up here.”
She laughed again, and for the first time in weeks, she felt almost… normal.
~~~~~
Fury’s office smelled of leather and cold steel.
Stark pushed the door open with a loud slam, coffee in hand, sunglasses perched on his forehead. He raised a brow at Fury’s stern expression, the tension in the room already palpable.
“You said this was just a quick briefing,” Stark drawled, sarcasm dripping.
“It’s always quick when I’m the one talking,” Fury replied flatly. “Sit.”
Stark obeyed, setting down his coffee with theatrical flair.
“Well, your one good eye looks darker than usual. What’s the crisis?”
Fury didn’t smile.
“The Avengers Initiative is shifting. You’ll all be relocating to Stark Tower for the time being. Temporary centralization.”
Stark arched a brow, almost amused.
“Oh… so you’re dumping the whole team in my house? And I assume I don’t get to say no?”
“No,” Fury said, curt.
“Alright, silver lining: they’ll finally discover my cooking.” Stark shot him a wink, but Fury’s face remained stone.
“That’s not all.” Fury raised a hand, cutting off the irony. “You’ll also need to introduce her.”
Tony frowned. Fury continued.
“She can’t remain a ghost. I want a full report, abilities, behavior, limits. No surprises.”
Tony rolled his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
“You want a report… on my adopted daughter?”
“On the unstable power you’re sheltering,” Fury corrected coldly. “And how she reacts to others.”
The silence thickened. Stark drew a slow breath, feeling the weight of the exchange.
“Fine,” he said at last. “She’s grown up here. She trains, she’s got more control than any rookie you’d throw at me. But…” He paused, his voice softening. “…she’s still herself. Independent, impulsive. And, yeah, sometimes unpredictable. But that’s on me, Fury. Not on you.”
Fury studied him, his one eye sharp and unyielding.
“As long as I don’t have to intervene… everything will be fine.”
Tony nodded, already knowing what was coming. This was going to be delicate. He’d have to protect Aléra, introduce her to Avengers who didn’t know her, and manage both their suspicions—and his own fragile bond with her.
~~~~~
The tower’s kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee.
Aléra sat at the table, arms crossed, watching Tony fuss over a frying pan like cooking could somehow tame the chaos of his life. Her shadows swayed lazily around her, calm but present—an extension of her watchful mood.
“You know,” Tony began, setting a plate down in front of her, “soon you’re gonna have a bunch of… people showing up here.”
Aléra raised an eyebrow, chewing absentmindedly on her toast.
“People? Like… your friends who come over for pizza?”
“Not exactly pizza,” he said with a crooked smile. “The Avengers. All of them. They’ll be staying here for a while, working together, and…” He sighed, searching for the right words. “And they’re going to meet you.”
Aléra let out a nervous laugh.
“Meet me? Like… decide whether I get to stay or if I get tossed out?”
Tony shook his head, setting the spoon aside.
“No. Not like that.” He moved closer, sitting across from her. “Listen, I know you’ve been through some… rough stuff, and that you hate being shoved in front of strangers. But… it matters that you meet them. That everyone knows who you are, what you can do… and that we all figure out how to handle things without setting the tower on fire.”
Aléra looked down at her hands. Silence stretched before she lifted her gaze again, a spark of defiance in her voice.
“So… I’m supposed to make a good impression and stay calm. No biting, no burning, no blowing stuff up…”
Tony laughed.
“Exactly. But you know me—I’m not expecting it to go perfectly.”
She sighed.
“You know, it’s nice of you to warn me, but I bet they’ll be scared of me.”
“Maybe,” Tony admitted, laying a hand gently over hers. “But that’s no reason to curl up in a corner. You don’t have to impress them… just be you.”
Aléra lowered her eyes again, her shadows flickering nervously around her, betraying every tremor of her heart.
“Easy for you to say…” she whispered. “What if I panic? What if I screw up and they reject me?”
“Then you get back up,” Tony said, his tone balancing seriousness with a hint of humor. “And I’ll cover your back. Like I always do.”
The only sounds were the faint hiss of eggs in the pan and the soft drip of coffee. Aléra drew in a shaky breath, her shadows still restless, echoing her fear.
“I… I’ve never been part of a real team,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
Tony nodded, his gaze softening.
“I know… and that makes you strong, but also vulnerable. And that…” He gestured to the space around them. “…is exactly why I want you ready to meet them. They need to know who you are.”
At last, Aléra lifted her eyes, letting out a small, nervous laugh.
“I guess… I can try.”
“That’s all I’m asking, kid,” Tony said with a reassuring wink. “And trust me… once they see you in action, they’ll realize you’re not just some spooky kid with shadow tricks. You’re… you. And that’s worth more than anything.”
Aléra exhaled, her shadows calming, wrapping gently around her like a cloak of reassurance. For the first time in weeks, she felt like maybe she could face what was coming… even if part of her still trembled.
“Alright…” she whispered, a little steadier. “I’ll try.”
Tony grinned, standing to grab his plate.
“Perfect. Now let’s finish breakfast before I have to remind you that even I have limits when it comes to your explosions.”
She shot him a small, amused glance but inside, her heart still raced. She wasn’t ready… but with Tony at her side, maybe she had a chance not to fall apart.
~~~~~
Aléra followed Tony into the main lounge of the tower, her hands gripping her training jacket, shadows quivering around her nervously, as if sensing every quickening of her heartbeat. Her eyes flitted from face to face, searching for signs of threat, judgment, or worse… rejection. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, each scenario ending badly in her mind. And now that it was happening, her whole body trembled slightly.
Tony stopped in the center of the room and looked at her, offering a reassuring smile.
“Everything’s fine. Breathe. Be yourself.”
Aléra took a deep breath, trying to calm the shadows that rippled around her, but every movement from the Avengers made them shiver, stretching out like tiny, nervous tendrils.
Steve immediately stood, his expression serious and protective.
“Tony, who is this?”
“Aléra,” Tony replied calmly. “She’s been living here for a while, and I think it’s time you all got to know her.”
Aléra’s eyes swept across the group: Steve, Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Natasha, Clint, Banner… Each wore a mixture of curiosity and caution. Her stomach knotted.
“Hello…” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Her shadows rose slightly behind her, creating an almost menacing aura despite herself. She shivered with panic and tried to calm them.
Peter, fascinated, stepped forward.
“Wow… you control… shadows?”
Wanda nodded slowly, studying the young woman carefully.
“Impressive.”
Aléra bit her lip, fear blending with anger.
“I… I can. I… I’m careful.” Her hands trembled slightly, and her shadows flickered more violently, betraying her inner tension.
Bucky frowned.
“And what if you lose control?”
Aléra took a deep breath, trying to appear more confident than she felt.
“I… I’ve never hurt anyone here… I’m not going to start now.”
Steve crossed his arms, skeptical.
“Tony, you’re sure this is safe?”
Tony laid a reassuring hand on Aléra’s shoulder.
“She’s under control. And you’ll see she’s more… human than you think.”
Aléra felt a small weight lift in her chest, though her shadows continued to twitch, a constant reminder of her fear and power. She knew these Avengers could be impressed… or frightened, and that first impressions mattered. She took a hesitant step forward, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
The Avengers watched this blend of raw power and vulnerability, a fragile strength, ready to burst if threatened.
“There you go…” Tony said with a wink. “Aléra, from now on, she’s part of the team.”
Aléra lowered her head, a mixture of nervousness and gratitude. She didn’t yet know how she’d survive the day… but for the first time in a long while, she felt less alone.
~~~~~
Two years had passed, and in that time, she had learned to survive within the team, to be accepted by some, and to remain wary of others.
Aléra sat on the kitchen island, legs swinging in the air, a half-spilled cup of coffee in front of her. Peter was bustling around, making sandwiches, talking a mile a minute, while Tony leaned against the counter, arms crossed, wearing a half-amused, half-annoyed smile.
“Seriously, kid,” Tony said, frowning, “can’t you just sit still and drink your coffee like a normal person?”
Aléra raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with a small, teasing smile.
“And miss the moment where you try to lecture me on life? Never.”
Peter laughed behind her.
“Brat,” muttered Tony, rolling his eyes. He knew this was the kind of dynamic he’d never fully control. Aléra had changed since her arrival: she was no longer the shy, withdrawn kid, but a young woman who knew her worth, who dared to speak, who dared to provoke… and yet, still kept her fears hidden just beneath the surface.
~~~~~
The Avengers were gathered around the large conference table, silence heavy as Fury swept the room with his piercing gaze. Even Natasha and Steve, accustomed to surprises, exchanged a wary glance.
“Alright,” Fury began, his voice grave, “I have an announcement that will… shake up your usual routines.”
Tony raised a brow, crossing his arms.
“Great start…”
“If I’ve decided to bring you all together at Stark Tower, it’s for a very specific reason. You will be… living with Loki,” Fury stated, without flinching.
The room seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
“Under total supervision. He needs to learn to work as a team, and you need to learn to live with him.”
A murmur ran through the room. Aléra, who had been on the sidelines during the Battle of New York and had never met Loki in person, felt her chest tighten. She straightened up, her shadows flickering nervously around her fingers.
“Loki… the god of mischief?” she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and unease.
“Exactly,” Fury confirmed, crossing his arms. “Odin punished him for his actions in New York. His latest penance: to atone for his mistakes by being part of the Avengers. He is under strict supervision. The slightest misstep… he goes back to Asgard, to prison, for life.”
Aléra swallowed hard, realizing that this cohabitation would be more than a simple schedule adjustment.
“So…” Tony interjected, sarcastic, “we’re supposed to welcome the prince of mischief into our apartments, watch him like hawks, and pretend it’s going to be fun?”
Fury didn’t smile.
"Exactly. And not just for Loki. I also want to see how you, Avengers, handle pressure when everyone is confined to the same space. You’ll learn to collaborate, manage conflicts… and keep control of your abilities, especially you, Aléra.”
Fury’s words echoed through the room. For the first time, the young woman understood the magnitude of what lay ahead: living under the same roof as a punished god, all while being observed and evaluated at every turn. Her shadows twitched slightly, as if reminding her that she wasn’t alone in this new trial.
“Loki arrives tomorrow. Be prepared,” Fury concluded, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, leaving the Avengers to contemplate the promise of chaos to come.
~~~~~
An unusual silence hung over the panoramic terrace of Stark Tower. The Avengers, gathered in small clusters outside, scanned the sky as if a storm were about to break. Suddenly, the air vibrated. A blinding light split the sky, illuminating the top of the tower with a supernatural glow. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet as a swirling portal opened, crackling with magical energy.
The Bifrost first spat out Thor, imposing and radiant, his hammer raised in a posture of natural power. His gaze swept over his earthly allies, a sly smile lighting up his face.
“My friends!” he boomed in a deep voice, full of warmth and humor.
Then, with a subtler but equally impressive crash, Loki appeared behind him, his features taut, a restrained expression betraying the tension he carried since his punishment. His cape floated slightly, and his piercing green eyes scanned the terrace with calculated precision. Dark hair tousled slightly by the Bifrost’s wind, he stood tall. Every movement, every glance, testified to the discipline Odin had imposed upon him.
Aléra, standing near the railing, felt her shadows shiver at his presence. She had never seen Loki in person. The mere presence of the Asgardian triggered a physical reaction, as if her shadows tensed instinctively.
Tony couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
“Oh great… our roommate for the next few weeks has finally arrived. Hope you’ve got gloves for cleaning up the chaos.”
Steve pressed his lips together, clearly ready to evaluate the dynamics. Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance, both aware that Loki’s presence would not make cohabitation easy.
Loki stepped forward a few paces, his gaze sweeping over the team before landing on Aléra, who stood a few meters away, both defiant and intrigued. A tense silence settled, only broken by Thor’s booming voice:
“Brother!” he exclaimed, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll learn from these mortals.”
Loki crossed his arms, his look icy and calculating. He gave an enigmatic smile, his green eyes settling on Aléra as if to gauge this stranger with such unusual shadows. She felt the weight of his attention, and despite herself, a small, electric tension ran through her body.
Fury stepped slowly toward the god of mischief.
“Listen carefully, Loki,” Fury began, his voice low but heavy with threat. “You arrive here under Odin’s authority, yes… but believe me, his judgment won’t protect you if you make a single mistake. Slip up, cause a stir… I guarantee you’ll return to Asgard to rot in prison for the rest of your days.”
Loki furrowed his brow slightly, but his face remained impassive. His fingers clenched subtly, barely betraying the tension coursing through him.
“I did not come here to be judged by mortals…” he murmured, low and venomous.
Fury tilted his head, a sneer of contempt on his lips.
“Mortal or not, you’re just a spoiled brat adopted by gods so we can correct your mistakes. You think being an exiled prince gives you the right to trample everything?”
A shiver ran through Loki. He felt each word strike like a cold blade, yet he lifted his head, chin high, refusing to show any weakness.
“I… understand the terms of my stay,” he finally said, controlled, his eyes gleaming with a dark light.
“Believe me, Loki, I have no mercy for those who think they are above the rules.”
Loki drew in a deep breath, stiffened, and pressed his lips into a thin, nearly imperceptible smile, defiant.
“Very well, Director. Consider your… threats duly noted.”
Fury stepped closer, so near that Loki almost felt the heat of his gaze.
“Note this well: you are not here to be clever, to play games, or to prove anything. You are here to follow the rules, to learn, and to keep the chaos contained. Otherwise… believe me, the cost will be very, very high.”
Loki stiffened for a moment, then took a step back, eyes fixed on Fury, immobile and defiant.
“I… will be careful.”
“Remember, Loki… even a god cannot escape those who hold the chains.”