Dear Diary,
Wow, those are words I haven't typed for about 20 years, when I outgrew my 12 year old obsession with documenting my every moment. So, why now? Why the need to write this?
Maybe it's because it might give me a way to actually understand and come to grips with what has happened over the last few weeks. It's also because there are somethings that I definitely want to remember. Which reminds me if anyone else ever reads this I have to warn you there will be swearing and, let's just say, things of a very very personal nature that occurred that I am going to write down in great detail. Because those things I definitely don't want to forget about. I should also warn any readers that this isn't a full account of what happened on Sakaar or the fall of Asgard. I wasn't at all of it, and I'm no good at recounting battles or epic heroics I'm afraid. Luckily Asgardians are great at three things: feasting, drinking and writing sagas. Read those. They are also very good dressers, sort of like a celestial GAP look, all very colour coordinated.
Sorry, I digress. Anyway, the most important reason I'm writing this is that I don't know what is going to happen tomorrow, and I'm scared that whatever 'this' is won't be this when I tell him what I need to. He's here now in the room with me, laying under the gold silk sheets as I write this at the desk nearby. Asleep he looks almost angelic, with a body that sets me so completely alight that I'm going to have to work hard not to become very distracted...
Ok, so to start this at the right point I'm going to give a bit of context about why I was in Norway standing on a clifftop in the first place. A few months before, although it seems a lifetime now, my ex decided to become my ex. He had decided that he 'didn't see a future for them going forward because she was too emotionally distant and could do with losing a few pounds' but apparently did see a future in my size 6 ex-room mate he was now shagging. Emotionally distant of course because I was still grieving for my mother I had lost last year, spending months travelling down to Cornwall to support her through her cancer. Too tired to go to the gym as I was working a crap job because it was the only thing I could get when we moved to Reading so my boyfriend could start his dream job. Although how anything counts as a dream job in sodding IT, I don't know. I know I sound bitter, and I was. I was also sad, confused and desperately wanting to start over. So I'd finally made the trip to Norway, to honour my mother's wishes and to rid my head, and heart, of my ex.
As to why I had to go to a random cliff in Norway? All I knew is that my mother had wanted me to go there, to understand about where I had come from. I loved that woman with all my heart but she had never, ever spoken about my father. Perhaps stupidly I never pushed because I didn't want to hurt her, and so Norway was all I had.
The locals had told me the views from the cliffs were stunning, and they'd been right, so I hadn't been surprised to realise I was sharing the panoramic views with another. Just ahead stood the figure of an old man wearing a slightly tatty linen suit, just staring into the distance. I'd sat on a nearby pile of rocks, nestled in the long grass from the breeze and hopefully giving him the solitude he perhaps wanted, and that I too had come for.
So it was those rocks that only a few moments later I found myself hiding behind as, and this was the only phrase that seemed to make any sense at the time and now, "shit got weird" when two men had arrived through a circle of fire. When that sort of quieted down, I peeked over the top to see a woman in black with antlers appearing through a black storm cloud. At this point I have to admit, I'm not particularly heroic so I had crouched back down, ignoring the growing cramp in my legs, and hoped that they might just all go away.
Of course, that was the moment that I got dragged up a column of rainbow lights and then dumped on a completely different planet.
I woke up dazed on a rubbish tip being considered as a snack by extras from a Mad Max had only been good luck that I'd been picked up by one of the many small space ships circling through the air on the lookout for new arrivals. Grabbed by someone who smelt appallingly I'd been chained, stabbed in the neck with a big metal button and then manhandled into the vessel.
I hadn't immediately noticed that there was another passenger, he was sitting silently, looking as at home as you could be while wearing chains and with someone threatening you with a gun. Although, to be fair, he is pretty used to being in chains.
I can still remember the slight smile on his face when he had glanced over at me as his gaze took in my denim shorts and ripped t-shirt. He then promptly ignored me, trying instead to engage our captor in polite conversation. Of course, I'd recognised him in an instant, he'd been there on the cliffs - not dressed the same, but I was pretty sure it was him, before I'd dived behind the rocks a second time. Yes, I know, not the most heroic of actions - but I'd got a huge fright when they had suddenly appeared out of ring of fire. I was easily frightened two weeks ago.
What froze me in terror though was that I had also recognised him from the news reports a couple years ago - Loki, God of Asgard. He wasn't wearing those stupid horns, but almost every inhabitant of Earth had seen the news footage and read the stories about what he had done in Stuttgart and in New York and been horrified. The brutality, the obvious disdain for human life, and here he was, almost within touching distance. I put my head down but kept looking over at him, hoping like hell he wouldn't notice. It was like finding a wild animal suddenly in your lounge, a wolf perhaps. I wasn't sure if I wanted to stroke its beautiful fur and coo at it or run away screaming while it tried to rip my throat out.
And the truth was that he was beautiful - and it was completely unfair that I looked like someone who'd been dumped in a pile of crap and dragged through it, while his black and green leather clothes looked immaculate and closely fitted to his lean, strong body. Seeing him so close, and while not in the middle of causing death and destruction, I had to admit that he was better looking in person and that he had a certain physical appeal - if you were into beautiful, magnetically attractive men. Who thought that 'mortals' were best placed on their knees, submitting to him, worshipping him. I felt my face redden and cursed myself for it. How could I even think of that now?
My inappropriate thoughts were broken as the creature with the gun shouted and my head was viciously yanked up by my hair, exposing my neck and the gold chain around it. The pain as it was torn from my neck was nothing compared to the complete and instant devastation I felt.
"No, not that, please not that, take anything else but that. It was my mother's " I screamed, tears coming, and I descended into sobbing. She'd always worn it, a small golden pendant on a chain that looked like a funny shaped F. It meant everything to me. The bastard just laughed and took it into the pilot to show him his trophy. After all the stuff that had happened to me, that was the one thing that nearly broke me. It sounds like such a little thing, but it kept her memory close to me and I was desolate.
From the other side of the cabin I heard what sounded like an exasperated sigh.
"Stop your mewling! Rule One of survival - don't show any weakness". Loki paused. "Although given the look you just gave me you are probably from Midgard. In that case it might be difficult given your innate nature as a race - weakness is rather in your character"
That stopped my crying. I turned my head slowly and stared at him in disbelief. (just realising I feel like I should be footnoting this thing, because Loki now swears he was, sort of, trying to help. Not entirely convinced by that though. Sorry, as I was saying)
"What?" my tone was hard yet calm. It was the same tone of voice I had used when my ex boyfriend had told me that our three year relationship was over. I paused, trying to make sure I formed my phrases exactly right so he understood clearly how I felt.
"Why don't you shove your 'advice' up your arse, with that ridiculous horned thing you decided to wear when you VERY unsuccessfully tried to invade my planet?" I continued, my previous despair replaced with righteous anger?
"So why don't you fuck back off to Asgard, OH NO, you can't because you are in chains as WELL!"
At that point I decided to look intently out of the window on my side of the ship and watch the piles of waste and discarded bits of junk from everywhere in the Universe flash by underneath. I did hear something that sounded a little like a chuckle but I was determined not to gratify him with any more of my time or notice.
So by the time we were presented to the 'Grandmaster' (seriously though, who calls themselves that?) Loki looked calm, in control and put on the charm and I stood there mute, angry and very conscious of the sheer weird beauty of the building and people around me while I was looking like hell and definitely wishing I was wearing more clothes. Loki had ignored me on the way here, and I had ignored him, except for an occasional glance just to make sure that he was ignoring me as much as I was ignoring him. His mind was apparently elsewhere, trying to work the odds, find an angle to his advantage, the usual Loki strategy I've realised.
I remember standing in front of the Grandmaster, trying to loosen the metal bands they had fitted around my wrists, staring at all very busy and beautiful people in the huge rooms around us. It was like being in the middle of a huge and very wonderful party, but I was in chains, and not in a good way. Given the reception and introduction we had been provided with, I knew that the Master must indeed be very powerful and scary but it was hard to take anyone seriously when they had on too much electric blue eyeliner and face paint.
I was so distracted it took all my effort to drag my attention back to the conversation that Loki and the Master had struck up, getting on famously. The only thing I was getting, I noticed, was withering looks from the Grandmaster's grim female assistant who was holding a very ominous orange headed stick.
"And her…" Three sets of eyes descended on me. Oh fuck, they were talking about me.
"Did she come with you. Is this your Pet, did you bring her with you?" The Grandmaster asked Loki smiling, gesturing languidly in my direction.
I looked at Loki who seemed to be considering an answer, his lips curling into either a grin or denial. The complete unfairness of the situation and the crap of the last few hours finally took their toll.
"His!?" I snarled at the Grandmaster who slightly recoiled at my vehemence.
"Like fuck I am. I've got better taste than that. He tried to invade Earth and make slaves of us all! I'd rather die. I'd rather cut out my heart with a spoon than have anything to do with the slimy git!"
"Apologies, she has a rather indelicate turn of phrase" said Loki, using a condescending tone that make me want to kick him really really hard.
"OOh feisty, we like feisty don't we Topaz?" beamed the Grandmaster, although I was getting a bit worried about the way she was still pointing at me with the big orange headed stick.
"Feisty, I've give you fucking feisty!" I desperately pulled against the two guards holding my arms, but stopped, a little unsure of wisdom of my previous outburst as the Grandmaster seemed to be considering them as an actual option, well at least Topaz did. Loki on the other hand, looked amused by me which did not improve my mood.
The Grandmaster smiled " Loki, I have to say I like a man with ambition, even if it doesn't quite succeed" He seemed to really like Loki, but his smile faded slightly as he turned back to me, and my stomach twisted in fear. Never underestimate a man with blue eyeliner.
"but you young lady - while I appreciate your spirit and your desperation to end your wretched existence, death is such a boring thing, let's make this fun." He turned to his dour companion Topaz
"She's got a bit of get up and go, let's see if she's a contender". As I was dragged away, I looked back at Loki who shrugged almost apologetically and then gone back to his conversation with his new friend.
"Fucker" I may have growled.
Well, I had been wrong to worry about the inappropriate shortness of my shorts and tshirt- clothing wise things had only gotten worse. Well, medieval was probably a more accurate term. I'd been thrown into a weird sort of circular cell and had my own clothes taken away so I was forced to wear what I supposed was some sort of gladiator outfit. The cell was already occupied by a couple of human sort of looking men, a rock man (Korg, love Korg), a sort of large slug like creature with knives for hands. And me. Dressed up in what could only described as like a really anti feminist pervy Wonder woman costume - if, given the smell and the stains, Wonder woman had been wearing something obviously worn by at least 10 women before, all of whom had had boobs at least a cup size smaller than me. The corset did come with a skirt, although the term was rather too generous for the three inches of fabric that made contact with the very tops of my thighs. It was mostly made of tan leather, as were most of what the others were wearing. I looked like an extra from Spartacus.
After a very uncomfortable night, due to a) not really having anywhere to sleep b) being quite aware that some of the other gladiators were a little too interested in me (although Korg did make himself my unofficial bodyguard), we went down to the arena area for 'sparring practice and weapon stuff'. This mostly involved me picking through racks of weapons on the first day, with absolutely no idea of what to do with any of them. Some looked positively gruesome and too heavy to consider. Korg had tried to help and in the end I went for a battered sword I could at least lift and a small shield. He tried to teach me some decent blocks so I'd at least last a few seconds without losing my head, but lovely guy though he is, he can be a little downbeat and he seemed pretty pessimistic about my chances at survival.
Not that I could blame him. Any athletic prowess was due to about 5 Crossfit classes I had attended over the last year and the occasional (slow) job around my local park. Given that my complete fighting knowledge came from watching Vikings and Game of Thrones box sets while eating chips, I couldn't blame Korg for his low estimate of my survival chances.
The next day we were told that we would fight in the evening, and that I'd have my own, personal 1 to 1 fight. Korg whistled softly when he heard this and looked even more concerned - well, as concerned as a face made out of granite can look I suppose.
"Wow man, that's really unlucky" was all he would say, and then patted me on the shoulder. Not only did that hurt, it also made me very worried. I later found out that most women who were gladiators got to do sort of group fights, more for the spectacle of women wearing not very many clothes manhandling each other to the delight of the crowd. Sort of mud wrestling but with no mud, and with a blunted sword. For some reason that wasn't going to be my fate - the other team no longer had a female gladiator at all, so I was going to have a real fight against a guy, with a very sharp sword. Apparently the audiences at these things liked to see women bleed and die as well/
I should have been panicking, crying, shitting myself in fear, but although I hated him for it, I knew Loki was right. Weakness wouldn't get me through this.
On the afternoon before 'kick-off' we spent time getting ready in a holding area, which for some weird reason was beside a bar - taking the whole gladiator spectator sport to yet a new level. Unfortunately we seemed to draw quite a crowd as gamblers and punters tried to decide who would be a good bet. I noticed that I attracted a bit of interest as a novelty, but I could have laid bets I was being touted as a short-lived one.
"Nice outfit, very ….fetching.." I looked up from where I was sharpening my new sword to see him standing on the other side of the laser wires that separated the two areas.
To be honest, I had really tried not to think about him at all over the last few days. I had certainly not let myself consider whether I should have waited to hear his answer - and what would I would be doing now if he had said yes. I refused to acknowledge that I felt any attraction for him, although I had a horrible suspicion that my mind and body were of different opinions on this. I could feel my whole skin prickle when he was near and my breath catch in my chest. Meanwhile my mind that kept screaming that he was completely and utterly bad news -quite literally. Perhaps some of my body's reaction was fear not lust - I was entirely justified in being afraid of him.
I'd watched CNN, seen the destruction, the terror and the utter contempt for human life. What was it that he had said in Germany? Oh, that was it, he thought that 'mortals' should kneel before him in submission. Fuck, why did I keep thinking of that, it really didn't help. Keeping my eyes firmly on his face, could feel my own face grow pinker. Yup, ok, that was definitely a thing not to think about…
"What do you want? Shouldn't you be planning world domination, or doing whatever it is you are doing with the Grandmaster to stay alive?" I tried the sarcastic approach, and hoped he hadn't noticed that he was getting to me.
"I'm having a short break. No, I thought I would come down, see what lovely new friends you were making… and of course give you that chance to beg for me to get you released .." he drawled, with that cut glass almost upper class English accent he somehow had.
Never show weakness I thought as I tried a humourless chuckle and walked closer to the wires, our faces almost touching through the shimmering red lines.
"Fuck you"I said quietly.
"That is very much part of the plan, but first, I think the begging" his voice was soft as his eyes took a languid look over my body which I knew my leather outfit only accentuated. I felt myself blush deeper as I took in the intention behind his words. This wasn't going well.
" I never beg for anything" I replied, trying rid of my voice of any tremor.
"When you change your mind, and you will… I'll be here" He laughed and started to walk away, but paused, then turned back to where I was still standing at the barrier. His smile and swagger were still there, but there was another emotion playing across his face that I couldn't quite place.
"Take this" he slide a slim blade under the lazers and I picked it up. I'd never thought a knife could be beautiful before, but this one was. Narrow, with a curved smooth hilt to hold it, it gleamed dark black, almost green. I'd never seen anything like it. I looked at him questioningly, confused as to why he was giving it to me.
"Put it inside your boot, you won't be able to feel it, but when you reach for it, it will be there" I did as he told me, and he was right, I couldn't feel any discomfort having it shoved down there - just a sense of security.
He'd completely flummoxed me, why was he being helpful? He seemed to read my thoughts.
"Rule 2: whenever possible - cheat. I've got a large wager on you tomorrow, try not to die" and then he left, and I just stood there watching him go and trying to work out whether I should feel grateful. I decided against it.
So, yeah, the fight. We were the red team, I knew this because slaves would come up and daub us with stripes of the colour, so I looked like Wonder woman but with red face paint. There were a few planned fights each tournament. Korg and Miekke went out for a group pitched battle - five of ours against five of theirs. Three returned, the last one bleeding heavily, he fell into back into our holding pen. I went to go over to help but Korg held me back.
"Nothing we can do but wait, chest wound, right in the lung, poor Doug" he said sadly
Two solo fights - firstly huge mountain of a man from our team fighting a similar sized fighter from the blue team. We watched through the bars of the arena gates as he lost quickly and was dragged off. Nerves, fear, I'm not sure how to explain how I felt when I entered the arena.
I was deafened by the roar of the crowds from above, and almost paralyzed by the overwhelming size and colour of it all. Fear had turned to gut wrenching panic as I'd seen my opponent enter from the other side - it took all my will not to run screaming back to the gate through which I'd been pushed and beg to be let back in. I knew that was death, I'd get a sword to the back as soon as I turned, but how could I stand and face the alternative? The guy opposite me was huge, massive arms holding a sword twice the size of mine.
And then, sorry, well I really don't remember much. Maybe ask Korg, he saw it. All I can recall, apart from small disjointed fragments is the clarity and stillness that I'd felt as my opponent had charged at me. I'd had the same feeling before, when I was in a car accident, skidding off an icy road on a sharp bend. Everything slowed down, everything became crystal clear. I can remember blocking his furious sword thrust and feeling like it was the most natural thing in the world when I spun and sliced through the back of his leather jerkin with my blade. It was like doing a dance but I hadn't realised I knew the steps.
At the end I found myself panting and bloody kneeling on the sand, the arena erupting into applause for "Red Red Red". For me. I got up unsteadily, realising that most of the blood wasn't from me but feeling light headed with the come down from the adrenaline rush and exhaustion finally hitting me. Walking slowly back to the now open gate, I looked up to the Grandmaster's box, with its long white couch and hordes of attendants standing behind. The Grandmaster was clapping excitedly, but at the far end I could see Loki, sitting, leaning forward, arms in his knees as he stared at me, his expression unreadable. I hoped he saw the middle finger I thrust into the air in his direction as I limped off, clasping myhand to a cut my opponent had inflicted on my upper arm. I couldn't look back as they dragged the body of my opponent off the sand. I got into the pen and threw up until there was only bile left.
Weirdly though, that wasn't the hardest thing emotionally I had to go through during my time on Sakaar. Worse was to come…