The servant's name, I learn on the way to training, is Dessa. She's really nice and doesn't question me why I'm here.

"Have you ever been a servant before?" She asks me as we come to the door to the training room.

I smile sheepishly. "Nope." I meet her gaze. "Is that a bad thing?"

She smiles. "Not at all. It just means you have more to learn." She opens the door, gesturing for me to go inside.

I take a deep breath, then walk in. At first, it just looks like a ton of people in white rushing around, but then I begin to pick out patterns in what they're doing, and recognize it. They're in an assembly line, washing, drying, ironing. They're doing the laundry. I'm so entranced by the effectiveness of it, I don't notice Dessa close the door. As soon as she does though, everyone stops and looks in our direction.

I swallow, suddenly nervous. Should I say something? What do I do? Then, an old woman pushes through the crowd of people.

"There you are!" She exclaims, looking at Dessa and I. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?" She hobbles up to us, looking stern.

"Ma'am I..." I try to explain, but she cuts me off.

"I wasn't talking to you." She says sharply. Her gaze narrows on Dessa. "Where were you?"

Dessa straightens. "I was grabbed by Prince Loki, Margaret. He wished to have me bring Cameron here to training." She nods at me.

"Oh." She says, scowling. She turns around and surveys the crowd of stopped people. "All of you! Get back to work! Nothing to see here!" She commands. Immediately, they all begin working again, effortlessly melding back into their roles.

"Wow." I breathe.

Margaret turns back around and scrutinizes me. "What did you say?"

I tear my gaze away from the workers and look at her. "I said wow, Ma'am." I reply. "I'm just amazed at how.." I look back at the laundry line. "efficient it is."

She laughs, a warm, grandmotherly laugh that surprises me. "You won't be so amazed when you're doing it yourself, Cameron." She turns back around, still smiling. "Both of you now, follow me." She walks into the sea of people, not once hesitating.

Dessa and I exchange a look, then hurry off after her.

Once we catch up, Margaret leads us to a small door set off to the side from the assembly line. She opens the door, ushering us inside.

Inside, it almost looks like a Home Economics classroom with ovens, sinks, sewing machines, washing machines, and dryers scattered everywhere. "Here, you will learn to become a servant of Asgard." Margaret says, closing the door behind her with a soft click, silencing the clamor of the other room. She walks around and faces us, hand on her hips, her smile from earlier gone.

"I sort of already to know how to do all this already, Ma'am." I say hesitantly.

"Not the Asgard way." She counters, staring directly at me. "Things are different here than in Midgard."

I straighten up just as I hear Dessa quietly gasp. "How do you know that?"

Margaret slowly smiles. "As the head of all the servants in Asgard, I get to know some things."

"But I just got here." I protest. "Who could have told you?"

She gives me a funny look. "Why, the prince of course."

Loki. "How..." I can't even think of how he did that. I look at Dessa, who is staring at me with a shocked expression on her face. I sigh. "It's true." I tell her. Her face slowly loses some of the shocked expression, only to be replaced with curiosity.

"What's it like?" She asks.

"Enough." Margaret interrupts. "It's not important right now. What's important is your training."

I look back at Margaret. "It can't be that different." I say. She raises her eyebrows in response. I sigh, giving in. "Fine. Where do we start?"

"We start by you creating the perfect meal." She looks around at all the ovens. "Every meal."

I gape at her. "Are you kidding? That would take eons!"

She smiles. "And there's your main difference from Midgard to Asgard. Asgard has magic." I stare at her, shocked. Magic to create every single meal in a short amount of time? "How do you think you got here, by flying?" Margaret asks sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes and then looks at Dessa. "You have other duties to attend to, my dear, some of which you are very late."

Dessa reddons. "I'm sorry, Margaret."

"It's not her fault." I butt in. "You heard her."

Margaret looks at me. "Yes, but the nobles she's serving don't care about any of that." She nods at Dessa. "Go now."

Dessa nods, then leaves.

I turn back to Margaret. "Is she going to be okay?" I ask frightfully.

Margaret scoffs. "What are you implying? That we're all heathens? She will be fine." She walks over to an oven, and I follow her. "Now, let's begin."

After learning how to make every meal perfectly, (in three hours!) we move on to the sewing machines.

"What do you know about these?" Margaret asks, as we both settle comfortably in front of one.

I shift in my seat. "I actually don't know how to use one." I say sheepishly. "I've only seen one used before."

"Then hopefully you'll pick it up quickly, because the clothes you're going to make we're going to wash next."

"Not all the clothes?" I ask hopefully.

"Every single article of clothing." She replies. I groan, closing my eyes. "But, you get to keep one of them for yourself."

I open my eyes, looking at her. "Anything?" I ask.

She nods. "Anything. As long as it's clothing."

I smile, already coming up with ideas of what to make. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

After we finish sewing the clothes, we load the clothes into the washing machines. "Now what kind of magic do these have?" I ask, gesturing to the washers.

Margaret, who's measuring out the correct amount of soap, pauses. "Nothing." She says. "These don't need any magic."

I gape at her, flummoxed. "We just made every meal is three hours, sewed every article of clothing in four hours, and now you're telling me the washing machine doesn't have any magic involved to speed it up a little?"

Margaret finishes measuring out the soap and hands it to me. I empty it into one of the washing machines. We move on to the next one. We do three more machines before she finally answers. "Magic is tricky. There's many different forms, and each form can only be used a certain way. The form we use is used to speed up the creation process. We aren't creating anything here, just cleaning."

I nod, understanding. "Then why don't we use some type of speed up cleaning magic?" I ask.

"Magic is not unlimited, Cameron, nor is it everywhere. Magic like that doesn't exist." She replies. We finish loading the washing machines with soap in silence, then wait for them to get done.

Dessa comes in as we're loading the dryers. "How did it go?" I ask.

She smiles sadly. "I got fired."

Margaret nearly drops the bundle of clothes she's holding, and turns to face us, wide eyed. "What?"

Dessa nods. "By everyone."

"Everyone!?" Margaret exclaims, this time dropping the clothes. Wincing, I quickly scoop up the clothes and put them into a dryer. When I turn back around, I see that Margaret is now hugging Dessa tightly. "It's okay, darling, we'll find you some work to do."

"What happens if she's not working?" I ask.

They separate, both turning to face me. "I'll get thrown out onto the streets." Dessa explains, sadness in her eyes.

"That can't happen!" I say. "That's totally unfair!"

"Fairness is relative when you're in the lower class, Cameron." Margaret says.

"We have to do something." I say desperately, looking around the room for something to help.

"Cameron." Dessa says softly, causing me to focus on her. "It's okay. I'll be alright."

"It's not okay!" I exclaim. "We have to do something!"

Margaret sighs. "The only thing we can do is hope she finds work before her time limit is up."

I look back and forth between them both. "What's the time limit?"

"One day."

I think my vision went dark for a second, I'm so upset. I finally make two friends, only to have one ripped away from me in a day. I can't let this happen. My gaze focuses on Dessa. She's my age, living the life of servitude, all so she doesn't end up on the streets. I can't let this happen to her. It's not fair.

"I have an idea." I say. They both focus on me. "According to Loki, because I'm Midgardian, I'm ranked higher than you." I focus on both of them individually. "That means Dessa can be my servant."

They both stare at me as if I'm crazy. I don't blame them, honestly. I don't know if this will work either.

"That's impossible." Dessa finally speaks. "You are a servant. A servant can't have a servant!"

"Unless..." Margaret starts, considering.

"Unless Loki approves." I finish for her.

"You are crazy." Dessa confirms. "The prince would never agree to it."

"Agree to what?" A familiar voice asks behind me. I turn, my eyes wide, to see Loki standing there, smirking.

"Um... how long have you been there?" I ask cautiously.

"I heard everything." He replies. He walks over to me, standing close. "Now do you really believe I would allow that?"

I swallow, feeling intimidated by his closeness. I push it aside and look up at him, meeting his gaze. "I do."

He smiles. "Alright then." He says, stepping back.

"Alright?" I repeat, shocked. "You're agreeing to it?"

"Of course. Why would I not?" He looks at Dessa. "Welcome back to employment. Meet your new master in her room in precisely one hour." He grabs my arm. "We'll be going now."

"Wait! I'm not done." I say, just as the dryers finish. I break out of his grasp and rush over to the dryer that holds my article of clothing. I take it out, folding it neatly. I walk over to Margaret, holding it out to her. "For you as a thank you for everything."

Tears fill her eyes as she holds the blue shawl tightly. "Thank you."

I nod and step back to Loki, who was watching all this with an amused expression on his face. He grabs my arm again, squeezing it tightly. A tingling sensation spreads through my body, and we teleport.