A/N: I've debated long and hard about doing this; writing out the week for Tessa. I was probably about fifteen pages for this chapter before I posted the previous one, and, looking at it now, I'm glad that I'm doing this. I do have the rest of the week planned – sorta. It's just titles and I have a general idea of how they're gonna go. One issue will be the length; you guys seen how long the previous chapters have been. I can't promise they'll be that long. Sorry. ^^;
Time for thanks! Since the last, gruesome chapter I've gained a few new followers who I'd like to thank: lunamoon1471998, PrincessRose0264, Ihavealittlechocolateaddiction, Regin, THBxS, Ladyofasgard, and flower666. Some have even favored this story, as well: THBxS, Ladyofasgard, flower666, FierceMarie, and 402. One individual even started following me: ArtemisLuna85.
Now, for more…pressing matters.
Is anyone else imagining a merman Loki, war trophy Loki, and/or a Jotun Loki who's forced to marry the Asgardian Princess, or is that just me? Since the voting is done, I'm thinking of so many AU stories with Loki and the Princess (I don't wanna say her name 'til the very end). A mer!Loki, a wartrophy!Loki, and Jotun!Loki are my three top thoughts, along with a What Could've Been scenario.
I wanna write them so bad!
Does that make me pathetic, for wanting to write an AU about my own fanfic? :/
Ch. 14: Day One of Seven – Big Village, Big Brother
A week.
Just one week before they find a way for me to go home and return here. Back and forth, like I'm a Golden Retriever with a ball.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Be with my family and friends, and fans. Be here with…a royal family and servants and magic.
It'll just be seven days. I can wait seven days. Saying, seven days sounds shorter than saying, one week for some reason. I can keep myself occupied until then. Explore the halls, the rooms, learn magic as Odin said, and get to know Thor, Frigga, and Gersemi. (Odin, too, maybe.) Then, there's the Warrior's Three and Lady Sif, I haven't met them formally yet. Today, Thor's seeing to it that I see the village. Villages if we're lucky with time.
Gersemi, whose round face and square jaw ending in a round chin is being framed by long coppery and wavy hair, stands behind me. She insists on doing my hair, taking the golden locks framing my face and braiding them, so that they may meet and be securely tied at the back of my head. I would've been fine having it brushed and left as is, but since we're meeting the "townspeople" – as she put it – it is best to look presentable.
Makes sense, I think. Every time I go into the city, with or without Madi (Gawd I miss her, I wish I could see her), I always dress to impress. I never know when I'll see a vulture or meet a little princess or prince.
Do they even have paparazzi here? I wonder, glancing around with fretful eyes, silently begging not to see the end of a winking camera. Not when I'm like this. Not when I literally have maidservants waiting on my hands and feet.
I can see the headlines now, just below my face: LOST MIND, ROYALTIY GAINED.
After making arranging my bed so that a quarter can be bounced off it, four maids (five including Gersemi) sat me down in front of the golden and ornate vanity with an oval shaped mirror.
Thankfully, I got dressed before they came in like S.W.A.T. team.
Now, there's a maidservant filing my right hand's fingernails to perfection and another doing the same to my left. There's two more down at my feet, rubbing warm lavender scented oil into my calves once I told them to leave my toes alone.
"What are you and Prince Thor doing today, Princess," asks a young woman, Ivonette, her unidentifiable accent is thick and some words nearly blend together.
Without moving, I glance down at her, smiling kindly. Her dark brown hair is done-up to rest atop her head, some wild curls spill out to frame her oval shaped face. Large sky blue eyes shine happily up at me in return.
"Thor is just taking me to see the village. And, please, call me Tessa."
"We cannot do that, Princess. We must call you by your royal title," says Viva, with her round and bright green eyes gleaming.
"Why?"
"It is an unwritten rule. Of us at least – we are not as…high as…as someone with Gersemi's standing. A high serving maidservant."
"That is why I have these golden clasps on my gowns, Your Grace." Gersemi smiles down at me through the mirror.
"Even so," Ivonette starts, a line forming between her brows, "we cannot call you by your name. Even someone with Gersemi's standing; it is unseemly."
Looking up at Gersemi, through the mirror, it's now an unspoken rule between her and me. In company, Gersemi will never call me by name nor will I be upset with her when she does. For her sake – I can't imagine what will happen when she does.
It's that glimmer in our eyes, that barely there twitch of a lip's corner, a subtle quirk of a brow. It's like I'm talking to Madi or Tommy again.
I look away; breaking our conversation.
Did she and the Princess do the same thing?
"You're hair is done, Princess." Gersemi smoothes down any fly-a-ways at the top of my head.
"And so are your legs!" Viva chirps. She and the other young woman pull down the long, satin silver skirt and the sheer medium purple overskirt. They brush away any wrinkles.
"We're almost done with your nails, Your Grace."
The filing becomes more urgent, still careful, but notably faster.
Remembering when Madi and I got our nails done at a salon a few years back, I tell them, in a gentle tone of voice, "Don't rush yourselves. The town isn't going anywhere." I beam down at them, silently pleading that the file won't cut into my skin.
The filing slows down considerably.
Thank you, God.
Once their done and I dismiss them, I examine the soft curves of my fingers; looking for any cuts that might need to be avoided during the day. Thankfully, they're fine. They look like claws though. I lightly giggle at the thought, pawing the air; imagining them extracting and retracting like a cat's. I've seen my parents' barn cats pawing the air – mothers and new born kittens mostly.
"Tessa?"
"Hm?" My hand curls into a loose fist and gently touches my sternum when I turn to face Gersemi, who's waiting patiently behind me with her delicate looking hands folded in front of her. Her eyes are kind, just like her closed-lipped smile.
"Are you ready to meet Prince Thor? He has said he will be waiting at the bottom of the steps."
"Oh, yeah, sure." I push myself up and walk towards the wooden and steeled door.
"May I make a suggestion first?"
If not for my many years of acting and learning the different types of accents, Gersemi's words would've been lost to me. Faint, unsure, and run together together.
I turn my head first to face her, then my body. "Sure, you know this place better than I do." I smile at her. "What is it?"
"You—She," the misstep is visibly ignored by me, "the Princess, used to wear cloaks or wraps when going out to the village. Though she was rarely allowed out of the palace walls, Odin had requested it of her; for her safety he claimed. Your face need not be hidden," she quickly adds on, "but…um…."
I lightly laugh; brushing off the annoying prickle I feel at the sides of my head. "It's okay. I understand." I walk to the closet. "Any ideas which one would look best?" Pushing aside skirts, gowns, blouses, and pants (leather, so badass), I look for any cloak or wrap that can match the outfit I have on now.
I hear the faintest sigh behind me, before the sound of flat-soled sandals walking across the thick rug. Without any loose jewelry hanging from her ears or heavy fabric, her shoes are the only sound she makes.
"I suggest the dark purple one with the hood." She pulls out an eggplant satin cloak with an extravagant sweep and twirl.
Rubbing the smooth fabric between my fingers, I tell her, "It's perfect."
Gersemi, with bright eyes glimmering, and to my shock, ties the cloak around my shoulders. She's completely focused on her task. I have to tilt my head up so that I don't stare at how fast and nimble her fingers are. When it's securely tied in a tight bow, she smoothes it over my shoulders; hiding my dress.
"Let's go."
Picking up the front of my skirt – just so that my feet are revealed – walking down the steps is easier. Though, now I wonder why there aren't any hand railings. There are a lot of steps, shouldn't there being railings for safety proposes? After a few dozen steps or so, even though it feels like a hundred going up, there are landings with tall windows that look out to grassy fields and mountains.
I don't stop to marvel the view; only taking a few glimpses from the corner of my eye. The sun is high up in the clear blue sky with not a cloud in sight. Thor sent Gersemi and the other four handmaidens up hours ago. They "had to get my make-up just right" and just…make sure everything is…princess-like.
No, don't think like that, I scold myself – my face unreadable. Keep a positive outlook on this; you're going to see the village today and you'll be able to go home in seven days. You might be able to ask Thor some questions.
"Tessa?"
"Thor." I smile brightly up at the large, blond man with twinkling blue eyes.
"You look beautiful," he tells me, offering his arm. The dragon scaled armor is like second skin on his massive arms. It's hard and cold and smooth; the pads of my fingers glide smoothly over it, not pinched by the small triangular shapes.
Makes sense, wouldn't want that annoyance in battle. Involuntarily, my nostrils flare and my nose scrunches when I remember feeling the sharp pinch from a bracelet I got from my grandma. That hurt!
"Thank you," I tell him, smiling up at him. "You look rather handsome." It's blatantly obvious that I look him up and down, grinning like the Cheshire cat, as we walk towards the entrance. Through the short, navy shoulder wrap I see glimpses of the dazzling silver armor on the dark blue armor. Bracers cover his forearms, navy blue with silver seams. His stomping feet are not lost through his heavy footsteps; the black and blue boots do nothing to hide his proud stride.
"Many thanks. Are you excited about today?" His eyes flicker down to me, and back over his shoulder to Gersemi only for a moment.
"Very, I can't wait to see everything. What are we doing today?" The grip on Thor's arm tightens the smallest bit, while a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I even take notice of the extra skip in my stride. Finally, finally, I'll be able to see something other than the never ending halls and too-numerous-to-count rooms. I don't think I saw everything in this plaace! At least outside looks different.
Fresh.
Alive.
"We will be seeing the merchants – our vendors. They are a pleasant people, lively." He chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. "There are multiple Silver Districts on Asgard; we'll be visiting the one closest to the palace. Perhaps, if you're willing, we can visit the others as well. We'd have to go on horseback, though."
"Please, I grew up around horses. My dad and uncle trained them, and people, to be theatrical jousters."
There's a brief pause before Thor asks, "We have theaters here as well, but our horses are of two men under a sheet – puppets. How are your horses portrayed?"
I let out a small laugh under my breath. "First off, that's a very funny image in my head. And, to answer your question about the theatre horses, we use puppets, too, just not two men under a sheet. There was recently a Broadway production, called War Horse, where the horse was a puppet. That was pretty cool, beautiful in a way."
"Were you a part of this play?" Thor gently asks.
I shake my head. "No, my forte is in front of the camera. At least I think so; I only ever entertained the idea of doing a live performance. I would love to perform on stage though."
"I'm positive that you would be a wonderful performer."
"Thanks." I let out a small laugh, finding the sudden idea funny. "Maybe, after I get home, you can watch one of my movies? I'm sure my parents have some." If not all.
"I would like that."
…
Asgard, in a simple word, can be described as magnificent. High archways, buildings so tall they look as if they're caressing the sky, sharp and smooth edges, and complicated designs that would never work on Earth.
Despite the majority of the castle being gold, or having accents or shades of gold, the buildings of the homes and stores are an ivory color. Stone upon stone of ivory with intricate detail. The most common pattern I see (when I'm not rushing to different vendors, pulling on Thor's hand) are of vines and leaves interweaving and wrapping around the base of the building. Those patterns, and the block entirely, are an olive green color.
When Thor is able to keep me still, he tells me it's the pattern of Yggdrasil the Tree of Life. Its great branches stretch out over all of the Nine Worlds, and extend up and above to Valhalla – the heavens he said when he saw my confused face. I think he was about to say something more, but saw another shop with sparkly objects.
Shops run down either side of the road; they're made of stone and wood. Funny, I'd thought the roofs would be thatched. The vendors inside the open shops shout just like those in New York; loudly. (And rather obnoxiously.)
"A diamond necklace," one man shouts, thrusting a large, glittering necklace in the air. "An exquisite necklace, for an exquisite lady!" He smiles at me, urging me over with his hand.
My eyes linger on how the necklace glimmers and winks at me in the sunlight. It's begging me to come over and buy it. To touch it! Ignoring the imaginative whispers in my head that say, Come to me, Tessa. Come to me, in a squeaky voice, I shake my head and smile at the vendor. I hold onto to Thor just a little bit tighter; to resist the temptation of going over there and purchasing it with the money I don't have.
Thanks to the peripheral vision, I catch the glimpse Thor throws down at me. there's a upwards tug to the corner of his lips.
"Fresh bread," shouts another vendor. "Fresh bread! The freshness is in the sound!"
Looking around Thor's massive body, I see a man with a circle body shape holding a loaf of bread in the air as if it were a new baby and I'm brought back to the opening of Walt Disney's Lion King because of it.
He offers it to a young woman with two young children by her side. They exchange words, the young woman nods and points to other sorts of bread. The children tug at her long skirted dress and point one with flour sprinkled on top. She laughs and points to that as well.
They're all so…normal.
I've seen them before, working and milling about…Gawd, how long has it been? At that point they only seemed like tiny dots. I could only guess what they were doing down there at the time. It seemed like this though.
Even though I can smell all of the different scents baked bread, overly sweet things, ladies' perfumes, and strong spices they don't mingle together. It all just wafts past my nose, so that I can catch each single thing as we walk by, and up into the air to nothingness.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Tessa?" Thor asks, smiling down at me.
His smile is like the sun; large and bright. His bright blue eyes glimmer like far-off stars.
"Very," I say, matching his grin. "I especially liked the puppet show – it was cute. Is it true though?"
He chuckles deeply in his chest. "Yes, but to some extent. Some of the singers like to over exaggerate certain things. The battle was gruesome and lasted for days, but not many lives were lost. They have realized our—my father's strength after a single month."
"Wow, that's gotta be the shortest battle I've ever heard of."
Thor's smile softens, the light in his eyes remain ever bright. "Yes."
"Mommy," a small child sounds from the side of me, "who's that with the prince? Will she marry him?"
That causes us both to stumble and stop – even Gersemi, who looks more shocked than us. A tickle of a laugh rises to the back of my throat; it's quickly swallowed and is hidden with a cough. Thor coughs, too. It doesn't hide the airy chuckle that escapes past his lips.
"No, sweetie. That's his sister – the Princess."
She knows? All sense of peacefulness is replaced with curiosity. Glancing at them doesn't sate my gradually growing interest.
"Oh…she's so pretty!" the little boy stares at me with big, round eyes. A smile settles itself on my lips when I look at them fully.
My arm slips from Thor's as I walk towards the duo with a smile on my lips. "Thank you, little prince." I crouch down to his level – a princess role seeping in. He clutches onto his mother's skirt, smiling bashfully.
"You're welcome," he says bashfully.
"Your Grace," voices his mother with a kind voice, "please forgive him, he didn't know."
"There is nothing to forgive." I stand to see her more clearly, beaming. She has a round face ending with a round jaw and chin, her eyes are hazel in color and oval in shape, they're surrounded by short lashes, on either side of her narrow nose are pronounced freckled cheeks, and her full red lips are set in a firm line. Her long, frizzy, fair hair is tied back from her face.
"If you don't mind me asking," I continue, "how do you know of my status and relationship with Thor?" There isn't another way to say this. Five minutes into our—my adventure, I've heard far off whispers and bluntly obvious stares and glares. Over the years I've grown used to hear them – along with the soft ca-click of a camera. Then, a swarm of flashing lights and people shouting my name. This is entirely different. They whisper behind their hands and stay their distance, smiling as we pass. There is never malice in these peoples' expressions; just sheer kindheartedness. They have yet to crowd me where I feel like I'm suffocating and about ready to scream at them.
The youngest of teens and children do not hold the same restraint as the whispering adults. Before they can ask, like this little boy did, their mothers turn them away and shush them. The mothers' backs are to me, but, if I get Thor to walk just a little slower, I watch the kids eyes widen in wonder.
The mother's eyes get to be the size of saucers for a moment, before relaxing and a caring emotion fills them. "I cannot speak on the behalf of all of Asgard, but I have treasured seeing the brief glimpses of you. They were such…peaceful times. We have not spoken—we've never spoken."
"Why?"
If the Princess truly was a kind and open woman, why didn't anyone talk to her on her rare occasions out? Were the guards really that terrifying?
There's a pause that falls between us. All the smells and sounds fade away; expect the sounds of our breathing. Not even the gentle breeze passing between us shatters it. It grows and grows until she looks down while her brows knit together. In deep concentration to find the right words or loathing, I don't know. The woman's hand knits itself in her son's hair.
"Prince Loki," – the smallest groups of muscle along my lower back tense at the name – "was a rather scary sight."
Just as I open my mouth, to ask her to elaborate, a meaty hand gingerly falls onto my upper back. I jump slightly at the unexpected touch. Looking up, I see Thor standing beside me a toothless smile barely tugging at his lips.
"Sister, there is something I wish to show you."
As we reached the front entrance of the castle, Thor asked if he could call me by his sister's name. Saying that the people weren't under the influence of the potion his mother and Lodur created. Seeing me—seeing her has the peoples' minds bring up moments from the past.
It feels weird to be called that so casually. Maid and I have joked before of how we're sisters, Thor doesn't seem to. He wears it on his heart; branded on his skin.
"One moment, I wanna hear her speak." After turning to him to say that, I look back at the woman. She has shielded away, curtseying at the sight of Thor. "What has Loki done to you while I was away? I was not aware he was doing anything."
Thor harshly says his sister's name.
"What?" I match his tone of voice, looking up at him with a spark of rage in my eyes. I can feel it dwindle at the concern evident in his eyes.
He moves his massive hand down to my hip; the satin cloak smoothes and then bunches up slightly. "I will tell what Loki has done while you and he walked about, but not here."
He did something while she was still with them?
"Why not?" It has taken a great effort not to add a certain expletive there. Thankfully, it came out smoothly and eloquently.
Here, away from Earth, away from everyone I know and love, I have to play the part of a princess. Dressed as I am, with my hair braided back, and smelling of a lavender flower on a summer afternoon I'm not…me out here. I'm another part – I have to act out here just as I do in the palace. When I'm eating Frigga, Odin, and Thor I have to be on my best behavior like I'm eating at a stranger's house.
There's some normalcy when it's just me and Gersemi. Only some. I can see a glimmer of some distant emotion in her eyes.
"Because, here is neither the time nor the place." Thor whispers harshly in my ear. Then, he gives a big smile to the woman and her son. "Please, forgive my sister. She's been more protective of Loki lately."
Protective? Of Loki?
A small nail begins to drive itself into the forefront of my head. It's being hammered in over and over again. I hear small sniffles and tiny shouts under jeers and laughter. I gently shake my head; it doesn't do anything. It only seems to thicken the fog and jumble the voices.
"All is forgiven, Prince Thor." Quickly, she and the boy leave. The boy smiling and chattering about how he got to meet the Princess that he didn't know existed.
"Okay," I say huffily, the act falling apart a bit, "now that they're gone, can you explain why she never came out? And why Loki terrorized people?"
Thor walks us deeper into the village where men, dressed in silver and black or gold and black armor, march by us more and more often. Those that have curved horns on their golden helms and yellow capes I know are the Einherjar.
"Now is not the time, Tessa."
"When will be the time? 'Cause the only thing I have to go on are books and the stories I heard about her from Frigga and…and…those three guys and the woman."
"When we return to the palace and away from prying ears, I will tell you."
I look behind me, raising a brow at the silent Gersemi, motioning to Thor with my eyes. I wanna sign to her, Is this guy serious? Had she been Madi, she would've smiled and possibly laugh to herself.
She isn't.
But she does smile. Barely.
Sighing, I turn my attention before me.
"Those that you speak of are Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, and Sif. They are my truest friends and allies." Thor says with a brim of pride. "They're eager to meet you; though Sif has caught a glimpse of you yesterday."
Blinking up at him, I ask if she's the woman that was dressed in armor with dark hair.
She didn't do what I thought his friends would do. She didn't walk up to me to talk, say how I didn't change in the "years I've been missing," and what I intend on doing. Stay or go?
Then, again, they only ever told me stories about her and her brothers.
"Yes, that was she. She is eager to speak with you."
Just as I open to mouth, inhaling to ask, he continues, "You will meet them all soon, tomorrow if we're lucky. During this week, you will see what Asgard has to offer."
"So that I stay?"
"So that you may see beyond the palace walls – that you may not feel trapped."
Making a small, defeated sound in the back of my throat wondering just how much he knows. I haven't said anything obvious when Gersemi showed me around the many halls and pointed to distance places.
Even though I have to act around these people, when we get too close to stands, I can breathe easier out here. There isn't the constant stomp and clank of the Einherjar; I do see them, but not as often as I would at the castle. I don't hear the hushed, gossiping whispers of the…servants…handmaidens? It's weird to think that. I don't want to think like that.
Why else live in the suburbs of New York and not in some expensive hotel or mansion?
I'm used to doing things for myself. I like doing things for myself.
If all those roles I've played are completely true; I don't want to be a princess.
"Would you like a sweet?"
Smiling politely, I say, "Yes, thank you." I love all types of food really, I want to add. Standing in front of a vendor with sweet-smelling baked goods; I resist.
Cradling a small, circular piece of baked bread with a fruity jam in the center in his hand, he tells me that it's a plum tart.
There are thin slices of plum circling around it.
Taking a delicate bite, I let out an involuntary hum at the sweet and tangy taste. The flavor leaves a sharp sensation on either side of my neck – just under the corners of my jaw. The jam is rather juicy, and dribbles onto the napkin, yet it has that stickiness to it so it doesn't gush out. Slices of the fruit meet the bread and dance along my tongue until it slides down my throat.
Covering my smiling mouth, giggling, I tell the merchant, "This is absolutely splendid!"
His round, red, bearded face glows. "Thank you, Princess. It means everything to me that you enjoyed it," he says, folding his arm across his chest and bowing at the waist.
While I continue to eat like royalty (I really just want to gobble this up), Thor gives the seller a silver coin.
"Oh," I exclaim, whirling around to Gersemi, "would you like some?"
She raises her hand, palm facing me, and gently waves it from side to side. "No, thank you. I'm perfectly fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes." She folds her hands in front of her.
"Okay, then."
The merchant waves at us enthusiastically as we turn around and walk down the even stone road. He wishes us well on this fine day.
Acting has always come naturally to me. Doing the research for a part, slipping into the role in costume, and bringing that part to life is always fun, too. The roles that belong in the fantasy genre – princesses, queens, knights, elves – are the most fun. They're so interesting to learn about and to physically be them. Of course it's only for some odd hours during the day or night, for two years or so.
Walking down this road, or in the halls, I find myself acting like a princess. Kind, gentle, soft-spoken words, always think of others, and flowy and ladylike actions.
If it weren't for this growing headache I might actually enjoy myself.
Even sitting beside a fountain, the water arching high behind me and falling down into the clear blue pool beneath, my hands are folded in my lap and my back is rod-straight. Even when I was being interviewed I didn't have to sit this straight. Then again, I wasn't dressed like this either.
Still, this beats being in the palace all day.
Thor stands a few vendors down, speaking to the merchant loudly and boisterously. About what, I don't know. There are too many mingled voices to hear them clearly.
Gersemi sits beside me, whispering what each person sells and who's who with a smile on her face. The dull headache presses itself on the top of my head. It grows heavier and heavier with each face she points out. I have to dig my nails into the pads of my hands, so that I don't rub my temples. Keeping my lips closed, I take deep breaths through my nose with a heaving chest.
A small group of children run by us, giggling and squealing as all kids do. With them there's a high buzzing sound, before it suddenly stops. Or it could just be my head.
The tallest boy with tussled sandy blond hair takes out a golden ball, from a bag at his hip. The ball is so large he has to hold it with two hands. The little kids cheer happily, clapping their hands. The blond boy throws the ball in the air; it elegantly explodes into ribbons of metallic gold and silver. The silver, are interlinked ribbons that slowly move and clink together around the floating gold. Tiny, paper green dragons seem to fly along the silver ribbons.
Like a force of nature, something invisible and heavy slams down onto my head. I have to jerk my head to the side and brush my fingers through my hair, to make it seem innocent and to hide the sudden onslaught of tears filling my eyes. Closing my eyes, a few escape passed my lashes. Opening my mouth, quick and quiet breaths escape me. A groan lodges itself in the back of my throat.
When I look back, the boys and the bustling village are gone.
Instead of sitting by the fountain with Gersemi, I'm by myself in a room with pale ivory walls and candy apple red accents. I'm sitting on a fluffed bed with a burgundy quilt, watching to young children play with floating object.
I've seen enough childhood pictures of myself to recognize the little girl as me. Even though her hair is a tad longer, and is in a complicated up-do with a silver beret to hold half of it, and she's wearing a taffeta, velvet Byzantium medieval dress with silver leaf trims. She dances under the floating object with a little boy, clapping her tiny hands. The long, loose sleeves look like wings on her short arms.
I'm smart enough to know that the little boy is a younger version of Thor. He's an inch or two shorter than her with wild yellow hair and is dressed in a royal blue doublet with cornflower accents, a white dress shirt is under it, and black breeches hang from his hips. Their feet are bare; slapping against the floor with their wild movements.
Why am I seeing this, I want to cry. What does this have to do with me? What does this have to do with the village that's separated into how much coin they make? Where's the older Thor, the now Thor? Why isn't he here; he'd like this more than I do.
They talk in a different language, with their toddler-like voices squealing up at the floating thing. Maybe it's a secret twin language? They do that, don't they?
Tiny Thor jumps up on a divan wildly moving his arms about, shouting something in their secret language, and he points to the floating thing.
Bit by bit, a sense of nostalgia blossoms inside me. Why was I so mad again? This is so nice and…calming. Thor looks so cute, too.
The floating thing looks a little like what those boys' were playing with. Only the dragons are red dragons with golden underbellies. Minuscule bursts of fake fire come from their mouths time from time.
The Princess squeals, clapping her hands.
Then, Frigga opens the door. "What are you two doing," she asks with a gentle smile. There's a bundle of blankets in her arms.
"Nothing." Little me and tiny Thor chorus together, grinning.
Carefully, as to not disturb the anything around me, I get up from the bed. Under my breast, my heart pounds relentlessly. My breathing is noticeably heavy to my ears. There's a lingering ache in my head with a dull ring in my ears.
It fades with each step closer to the floating and softly clinking…thing. A toy? They seem to treat it as such – it brings joy as mine did when I was a child. That's right, it's a toy.
Almost unsure, the corners of my lips tug upward as I stand under the slow moving toy. The bursts of fire almost seem real, surely they can't be. It's a child's toy!
Slowly, delicately I raise my hand to the flying dragons, watching how their wings flap up and down mechanically. I only want to touch those passing the underside, of course; if the fire is real I don't want to get burned. It can't be real….
A name, said softly and lovingly, rings out from a ways.
My fingers curl and I cringe at the name. That's not my name, is what I want to say. Those words fail to pass my lips and I still stare at the tinkling dragons – still reaching for them. "I wanna touch them," I say softly. My voice is not my own.
"But we're going to the village!" Tiny Thor boasts.
Frigga calls to her daughter again, more sternly this time. Loudly, urgently.
I'm jolted back, headache gone and forgotten, when a grown Thor calls to her.
The very tips of my fingers are skimming over the moving silver bits of the floating object. Quickly, my lips pull back from the gentle smile to a toothy grin. It all happens so fluidly with how I point to the thing above me and turn to Thor and Gersemi standing a ways away.
"This toy is absolutely wonderful!" It's not what I would say; it's too wordy, too formal. This once-ball-floaty-thing is "absolutely wonderful," it's just…something a princess would say aloud.
Thor smiles, walking up to me with a powerful stride. Gersemi follows behind him.
Looking up at the thing, my hand lowering to my side, I continue, "The dragons are simply immaculate! They're so life like!"
The soft sound from the toy fades and it snaps shut. A yelp tears from my mouth and my hands jerk out instinctively to catch it. I have to hold it with two hands just like that little boy.
I continue the princess act; saying how well-kept it is and how much I wish to know how it works. All the while ignoring the face staring back at me.
"Tessa," Thor whispers in my ear, his short and bristly beard brushing against my ear, "you have to give back their toy."
I immediately take my nails away from the small crevice. "Oh," I say, startled that I almost (possibly) broke a children's plaything.
"Here you go!" I toss the large golden ball at the annoyed looking children. The blond boy, the one who brought it, squeals when he catches it and he and his friends run off.
Once my cloak is readjusted and my hand rests on Thor's arm we resume our walk.
"Were to now, dear Thor?"
Above the huts and golden monuments, the sky is painted with reds, oranges, pinks, and purples. The puffy clouds catch these colors and give the world above a texture. There are young men running about to light the inside of wide rimmed torches and a few windows of homes spark to life with a single candle.
"We are heading home now," says Thor.
"What? Why?" After all these hours of smiles and laughs, he just ups and says we're going home? He…he can't do that! Do all older siblings do that?
"It's late," he speaks softly, shushing my shriek. "I, nor my mother and father, think you're ready for the night life of Asgard."
"I lived in New York for years," I hiss. "And let's not forget other foreign, non-American cities where a movie was taking place. I think I can handle an alien city. Hell, some of those foreign cities were alien." (8)
Thor, for all his largeness and loud voice, speaks gently. "It'll be dark soon."
The muscles along my back tense and my spine straightens more so. I know the sun is practically gone now, if I look up long enough I can see the twinkling diamond stars through the thin veil of clouds, and the shadows on the ground seem to stretch out for us. I don't know how illuminated the streets are at night. I don't know if this dress can tear easily if I'm grabbed. I don't know how loyal these people are. What types of monsters are here?
"Let's go," I whisper, tightening my hold on him.
Even though he leads the way back, I set the quick pace. I kick my legs up and step down; the satin skirt and cloak whirling around me. My heels echo in my ears. Long gone are the sounds of the village people. I just need to keep walking. If I keep walking like this I'll be back in my—her room. The room that is full of light and peace and quiet. Away from everything that's evil. Where nothing can hurt me or take me away.
~ House of Odin, Eastern Tower ~
Gersemi watches as the Prince leads Tessa up to her chambers. She listens to the sharp clicks of her heels and the rather panicked breathes leaving her lips. The handmaiden wrings her hands together nervously as she waits at the bottom of the stairs. From time to time tiny, rough fingers glide down to smooth wrists, absentmindedly tracing the veins underneath. An act she hasn't done for many years.
Auburn locks brush over her thin shoulders to hide her face. She was told to go back to her chambers, that she wasn't needed for the rest of the night. Tessa had told her that with such an air of royalty and kindness Gersemi saw her friend for just a moment.
Fear was—is closing in on her; the handmaiden saw it in her eyes. She practically flew up those infuriating stairs with Thor behind her. The Princess never reacted in such a way when night approached; she adored seeing her father's kingdom alive at night. She said that's when people's true colors often come out, if you looked and listened carefully.
Heavy footsteps stomp down the steps; growing closer and closer to the worrisome young woman. Gersemi straightens her back and throws her shoulders back, her chin held high. A powerful stance that the Princess taught her long ago.
"If you stand like this," she said softly, "you'll be as tall as any man."
"How is she? Is she well?" Gersemi asks concern etched in her tone.
Thor isn't the least bit surprised to see the handmaiden standing at the foot of the stairs. Her first concern has always been his sister.
"She is well. Resting as we speak, with firelight surrounding her." The Prince of Asgard leads her to her chambers, which are nearby should Tessa require her assistance in the morn.
"She doesn't not enjoy the dark?"
"No," Thor shakes his head, "there's a fear in her eyes that I've never seen. I haven't asked her why nor will I. If she wishes it, I will be open ears when she comes to me."
"As will I."
A fond smile tugs at the corners of the eldest son's lips. "Thank you, Gersemi."
"You're welcome." She bows her head. "And many thanks for escorting me to my door."
The smile turns into a grin, where Gersemi sees a few of Thor's teeth, as he bows to her in a gentlemanly manner. "It was my pleasure. Pleasant dreams."
"Pleasant dreams."
With a twirl of her skirt, the young looking woman enters her chambers. The room is small, yet bigger than most of the servants' quarters. Orbs of pale yellow light float in the four corners of the room, so that she may navigate safely about.
Having locked the door after she entered her room, an instinctual action, she walks towards her dresser. Her movements are stiff – robotic in her deep thoughts – as she takes out her night shift. Unclasping her golden belt her long dress losses all shape for her figure. Placing it on her bedside end table, next the clasps on her shoulders come off with a click. Kicking it up from where it pools around her feet, she walks towards her bathroom's hamper. Reminding herself that she needs to wash her and Tessa's clothes soon.
Again, the pretty little maid wonders how many more washes that pink nightgown will need to get the blood off. As the personal handmaiden to the Princess, she has been assigned to clean it. Now, it unfortunately resembles a shade of orange rather than a lovable pink.
White linen places cool, small kisses on her skin as the shift gracefully falls to her body and walks toward the inviting bed.
Try as Gersemi might, she can't stop seeing Tessa standing under the child's ball. The cloak had fallen behind her as she raised her hand up to touch the toy. A lazy smile was on her lips. Her bright blue eyes were glazed over, too. Gersemi could only watch Tessa as her expression went to someplace far away.
An actress, she reminds herself. She's an actress.
Asgard has its poetry and theatrical plays; she knows what an actress is. They pretend to be something and someone else. Gersemi had seen great plays of battle and war, and those of true love. Truly awe inspiring.
Tessa was in another world as she stared at the toy. She saw it.
What Gersemi is really unsure of is whether or not the silver diamond key pendant truly glowed or not. In the dwindling sunlight, with how the light caught it, she remains curious as sleep consumes her. Dreams of the past fogging her mind.
A/N:For this ending, I really wanted to include something about Gersemi's past. But it wouldn't…fit, which makes me so fucking made! I hope I kinda hinted at it. The scenes themselves involved Gersemi and Frigga speaking about Tessa. And, then, there was one where I hoped to have Tessa meet a blacksmith and speak with about Mjölnir. *blows a raspberry* Bummer.
By the way, I've updated my (fanfiction) profile with my upcoming projects. True, it's mostly Avengers/Marvel stuff, but who cares? Not me. I don't know when they'll be posted (most likely after PoA, or when it's close to an end) – I just think it's nice to get my thoughts together now.
Please, lemme know what you think.
Answers to reviews:
Amy (Guest)- Awww, I've missed you, too! ^-^
Hehe, thanks. It's something I'm striving for – with how people of Asgard view Tessa – that's why I haven't said the Princess' name. I know what her name is…was, but I want this presence of being a princess be great and (near) overpowering for Tessa. I've seen something similar with Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca. We don't know the new wife's name; however, we know the former wife's name and since she was sooooo great it's practically overpowering for the new wife. I liked that.
I'm gonna try. Oh, it's no trouble I enjoy doing it. I only wish that I could reply sooner like I do with my Archive account, instead of replying when I update. (Not that I'm saying you or anyone should not review here and instead review there. I need these reviews here!) It especially comes in handy if a reader has a question or something. I only hope that I don't offend people and lose readers. :'( That would just suck.
Thanks! :D That's what I'm hoping for.
Ladyofasgard- *the corners of my lips pull up to give you a toothy smile, eyes glimmering* Yay! My second review for this chapter.
Thank you, for telling me you love this story/chapter. I'll do my best to update on a regular basis.
END NOTES:
8) The one the Internet has taught me, it's that people take great offense to something's. That being said, to those "non-American" cities I (and Tessa) mean you no offense. Tessa's merely trying to stay out of the palace a little while longer and enjoy what little freedom it brings. She's trying to make a point with Thor. I would love to go to a non-American city! However, lack of money (and knowing the languages) prevents me from doing so.