A/N: OOOOOOMMMMGGGGGGG! PLEASE, DEAR READERS, ACCEPT MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES AND SUCH FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE. I'm positive no amount of explaining will excuse my absence, but you must understand why I've been so busy. Firstly, I graduated on the 19th of April, and two weeks before that I was cramming all the math my little brain could take. Then after two weeks, I finally received my GED in the mail, then came a CRAP-TON of paperwork for both my college and, well...everyone else. I'm still doing paperwork! But anyway, now I'm studying to take my ACT in less than a month, and then I have my summer given away to my church for VBS, youth camp and other stuff. So, yeah, I haven't had much time to even think about writing. But, here the next chapter is, despite all that! Yay!
Congratulations, you have made it to the last of the introductory chapters (Woot woot!), have a hug! After this, it's all smooth sailing! Not really, but we do finally get to move on to the tasty plot! This chapter, however, is so important and dear to me. Allow me to introduce Valda of Asgard. Spunky, spirited and special, Valda will take us to her home, and then further into the plot. I hope you—the reader—will come to love her as I do. So please, enjoy this chapter full of teen angst, and drop me a comment! I'd love to hear from at least a handful of the 1,000+ readers!
P.s. Thank you lovely ladies SilverPedals and Megan for helping me ace this chapter!
Disclaimer: Valda, Jarle and other original characters are trademarks of Kelli Enterprises, but the pre-established names, places and stories are property of Marvel...does that about cover it?
Chapter 7: Royally Miserable
Asgard Castle, Asgard. Thursday, September 4th, 2042. Late afternoon.
Thor stands on an overlooking balcony, his blue eyes cast out over the kingdom before him. The Prince's face—slightly aged and bearded—holds a serious expression, his gaze hardened with worry as he stares down several winter-gray clouds brewing in the distant mountains. The clouds had been there for days, slowly making their approach over the entire capitol. The mere sight of them isn't enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand. It's never cloudy in Asgard—ever. The few times he's seen storms in his thousands of years of life were when something or someone else caused them. These clouds resemble those that surged over the kingdom during the Jotun siege, bringing with them a blizzard of giant proportions.
The Asgardian Prince is torn from his worrisome thoughts by thin arms wrapping around one of his. "Thor, Jarle is ready and waiting for you in the entry hall," comes Jane's voice. Her small stature leans on the broad Asgardian and her eyes drift out in the same direction as his own. "Are you sure you want to take him with you to Jotunheim?"
"If our son is to become king of Asgard one day, then he must understand how to approach the Frost Giants diplomatically," Thor replies, placing a hand on his wife's.
"But what if…" Jane sighs. "What if these clouds, the snowing, is just a prelude to an act of war?"
Thor steps away, walking back into their chamber. "That is what I intend to discover."
Down in the entry hall awaits a young man. Tall and lean, he dons an engraved silver chest plate and runs a nervous hand through his short, light brown hair. He readjusts the straps of his leather knapsack for the seventh time, tugging at his heavy, brown hooded cape as he paces. His uneasy sky-blue eyes scan the hall around him, catching on little things like brass braziers and ancient weaponry and cloths decorating the walls.
From an adjoining corridor, the teen's younger sister watches him, contemplating whether to disturb his worrisome pacing. The young girl thoughtfully bats her icy blue eyes in his direction, deciding to interrupt his silent parade of self-doubt.
"Do not look so nervous, Jarle," her voice calls as she joins him. Jarle's head turns to find his little sister's reassuring smile coming his way, her long, ivory-colored curls bouncing as she walks.
"Forgive me if I'm a bit anxious, Valda, but I dread the idea of Jotunheim," Jarle says.
The girl rolls her eyes and turns her cherry lips into a smirk. Valda stands in front of her brother and straightens the cape on his shoulders. "You worry too much," she says, smoothing out the strap across his chest plate.
Her comment turns the corners of Jarle's mouth up into a weak smile. Valda knows her brother has always been jealous of her more confident nature, and if she were honest with him, she'd do anything to go on this trip in his stead. But then again, she's not going to rule over Asgard one day—no, that right belongs to Jarle. She only wishes she could gift her brother with an ounce of her confidence, then maybe he could exchange some of his meekness. Since she's been told over and again that she's lacking in that department.
"So," Valda breaks her thoughts. "Do you carry all that you need?"
"Aye. My knapsack is prepared for the journey with clothing and food, I have my spear on my back, and my cape for warmth," he says, touching each item as he names it.
"And what of your journal?"
The question hangs in the air as Valda watches the cogs in Jarle's head turn. Surely, he wouldn't have left the only thing that seems to keep him sane behind for the week-long trip ahead?
"Of course!" he exclaims. "I've forgotten it completely." Jarle starts to run for his chamber on the other side of the castle, but Valda stops him in his tracks.
"I already have it," she says, smiling. She holds out an old, leather-bound book—practically falling apart—held together by leather cord down the spine and wrapped across the middle. Her brother sighs in relief at the sight of the book and he takes it from her. "I thought you might need it."
"Thank you, sister," he says, tucking his written thoughts safely away in his bag.
Valda eyes her brother, examining his nervous movements. He absentmindedly pulls at the strap on his armor, occasionally rolling his shoulders to readjust his chest piece. She's never seen him so edgy before. Usually, between the two of them, Jarle is the more steadfast and consistent, able to keep his emotions and thoughts well-reigned in. You'd never know it from how he's acting now. Jarle has been on several diplomatic trips with their father before, but this is as anxious as Valda's ever seen him, which in turn causes a pang of worry to form in her gut. For a moment, she finally stops and considers what her father and brother are heading into.
Jarle has a right to be nervous. These are the Frost Giants, and they're not gentle creatures. In fact, they hate Asgardians—Thor specifically—with an icy passion. The idea that they might be the ones causing the snow clouds to appear isn't a far-fetched one, but still nerve-wracking all the same. The warrior and adventurer in Valda beg her to ask her father if she can accompany them, but the disappointment of past let downs reminds her she's not going anywhere. She'll stay here in Asgard where he thinks it's safe—mostly. Besides, there's no point in asking a question you already know the answer to.
Heavy footfalls down the hallway pull the siblings from their thoughts, and their parents come into view. Thor is armored and cloaked, with Mjölnir secured to his golden belt. Jane walks beside him with their youngest child, Astrid, in her arms and propped on her hip. At first, Thor smiles proudly—that smile he uses when he's trying to hide his own fear. But it doesn't stay for long as Valda raises a brow at him.
"So, father, what do you think will happen when you and Jarle arrive in Frost Giant territory?" she asks curiously, stabbing through Thor's thinly veiled appearance of confidence.
"Valda," Jane shoots, apparently aware of the girl's meaning. The baby in her arms wiggles around and garbles some noises at her sister.
"It is all right, Jane. I do not know what we will face in Jotunheim, but I do know that we will be prepared for whatever comes." Thor's words come hollow, empty, as if he's reciting a greeting from a cue card. "Heimdall assured me on the yester that Fandral and Hogun have made it safely ahead and are waiting for our arrival. So, we must hurry."
"Indeed," Jarle agrees. "I am ready when you are, father."
Thor nods to his son, but looks back to Jane with something in his eyes Valda has never seen before—uncertainty. The girl understands that the situation before them could be dire, and they have no way to know what waits for them in the next realm. Even in the face of such danger, Valda has always seen her father portray a strength and confidence she strives to achieve daily. But today, right now, he looks as scared as her brother.
Thor kisses his wife goodbye and pecks baby Astrid on the forehead, the cooing child grabbing at his blonde beard. The Prince proceeds to clench a fist over his heart, aiming the salute at Valda. She returns it, a warrior's way of saying goodbye. But that isn't good enough for her as she wraps her arms as far around her father's thick torso as she can, squeezing him tightly.
"Be careful, father," she reminds him, her voice barely a whisper.
Thor, taken back by the gesture, smiles down at her, resting a hand on her head. "I will."
"You keep your dad safe, okay?" Jane says to Jarle, winking at him.
"I shall, mother," he answers, smiling back. "We shall see you in one week's time."
With all their goodbyes said, the two men make their way out of the castle and capitol walls. Valda and Jane find their way up through the castle and watch the men from a balcony overlooking the gates. From here, Valda can see her brother and father approach Heimdall at the Bifrost, Balder standing with him to bid them farewell. The winds from the north begin blowing furiously as the clouds advance on the capital city, as if aware of Thor's departing. The two men step foot on the rainbow bridge and Heimdall opens a portal for them to walk through, leaving the realm of Asgard behind in his step-brother's hands.
Valda keeps her icy eyes focused on the portal as it dissolves, then bursts into light. A sense of dread and anger pulls at her stomach. The Princess has no doubt that Asgard will be protected should something happen, but with Odin in his Odinsleep, Balder the only guard watching over the castle, and only one of Warriors Three still in Asgard—Valda can't ignore the fact that her home is in a vulnerable position. It's bad enough that she's been left behind one more time, and these clouds could mean trouble with the Frost Giants. But now her father, brother and two of Asgard's greatest warriors are gone in hopes of discovering the truth behind it all.
A chill wraps her arms in goosebumps, and it isn't the effect of the downdraft from the mountains. This is going to be a long week.
Asgard Castle, Asgard. Friday, September 12th, 2042. Early morning.
Flurries of ice dance on the wind that whips outside the Princess's chamber window. The intense cold from the snow storm still accumulating outside forces the glass to fog around the seal, but the girl enjoys the warmth of her quilted blanket while she slumbers the morning away. The young Asgardian sleeps soundly with no concern for the howling wind outside, or the time of morning. Valda turns over to face the window, her pale blue eyes barely cracking open. The soft glow of light outside informs her that it's time to rise, but her warm cocoon of blankets begs her to stay. And she does a few minutes longer, long enough for someone to open the door to her room and sneak in.
A short and feminine figure approaches the side of Valda's bed, the Princess unaware of the intruder's presence. The girl to Valda's back steps into the light shining from the window and reaches her hands out towards the sleeping Princess, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
After a deep breath, the girl lunges at Valda and shakes at her shoulders. "Valda! Awaken this moment!"
Valda jolts up and off the bed, falling to the floor at the girl's feet. The angered and slightly terrified young lady pushes her mop of frizzy, sand-colored hair out of her face and looks to the intruder with blurry eyes, frowning in disapproval. "Eira! What are you doing?" she growls.
Eira—Valda's best friend and closest confidant—smiles down at her. "I'm carrying out your mother's orders."
Valda—Princess of Asgard, daughter of Thor, Lady warrior in training, not a morning person. She groans and flops back against the side of the bed, rubbing her face in exasperation.
"Come along and dress. There is much we must attend to," Eira says, pulling Valda up to her feet. Standing face to face, Valda towers in comparison to short, red-headed Eira, but differences in height have never bothered the two friends.
"But training and my studies don't begin until noon, why must I rise so early?" Valda questions, picking up the pillows and blankets that fell with her.
"Do you not recall what day it is?" Eira asks, raising a brow.
Valda thinks for a moment as she dumps the arm full of pillows on her bed. Now let's see, tis not my birthday, tis not father's birthday—or anyone else's for that matter. Tis not time for the Hunt, or the Harvest Feast…so what day is it?
After contemplating, Valda shakes her head. "No."
Shock displays in Eira's bright green eyes. "Valda, Thor and Jarle return today!" she says. They stare at each other until it clicks in Valda's head.
"Oh-oh no! I must get dressed, I must clean up, I must—wait. Does that mean that I will not be training with Aunt Sif this afternoon?"
"Does it matter?" Eira questions, walking over to the Princess' wardrobe. She opens the beautifully carved wooden doors and picks out an outfit for her friend.
Valda wrings her hands anxiously. She forgot about her father and brother's return from Jotunheim being today. She's just been so focused on trying to get her mind off them being gone as not to worry, that it slipped her mind entirely. The thought of forgetting makes her upset with herself, but she gets dressed anyway. She pulls on the navy pants Eira set out for her but stops when she gets to the long-sleeved, beaded tunic laying on her bed.
"Eira," she starts. "I'm not wearing this."
Eira stops rifling through her friend's closet and whips around with a confused expression. "Why not? It's freezing outside and throughout the castle."
"I like the cold and the snow. Hand me something else, something less…formal." The red-head rolls her eyes and pulls out a short-sleeved shirt with gold trimmings and designs. Valda gives an approving grin then finishes dressing by pulling on her golden bracelets and strapping on a leather belt adorned with red draping.
"At last, now make haste! We must join your mother in the dining hall to help decorate," Eira says, pushing Valda out of her room.
"Decorate? I'm giving up my studies with Grandmother and training to decorate the dining hall?" Valda says, annoyance in her tone. The ivory-blonde stops in her place and crosses her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows in expectation of an explanation.
Eira sighs, propping her hands on her hips. "I know you would prefer swinging your sword at Sif till the sun sets, but you have duties. You cannot escape them," she says, "not this day, at least."
Valda rolls her icy blues and huffs in defeat. She drops her arms and clutches the hand Eira has extended towards her, following the girl down the hallway. Duties. The word echoes through Valda's mind as they walk, adding heat to the flame of her anger and disgust. Being the Princess of Asgard is demanding enough on its own, but when all these extra "duties" are tacked on to the list of expectations of her, it makes for a miserable teenage-hood.
As the two near the dining hall, Valda catches a glimpse of a certain, freckled palace guard positioned nearby. She smirks inwardly and the two girls push open the towering dining hall doors to find the room in a disarray. Strips of cloth and chain and flowers for decorations are piled in heaps on the center table, while ladies' maids buzz about with various floral arrangements, all looking disheveled. Valda and Eira glance at one another, then back at the mess in front of them. The Princess' eyes search for Jane amongst the chaos, and spots her on the far side of the room, speaking to one of the cooks about the meal.
"No, absolutely no grog. The last time you served some of that stuff, the men went crazy reenacting a battle and tore up the curtains," Jane says. "This is a welcome home gathering, not a victory feast." The cook rolls his eyes and walks back into the kitchen, grumbling all the way.
"Mother," Valda calls. Jane shifts her stance and smiles when she sees the two girls approaching.
"Val, I was wondering when you were gonna come help." She turns to Eira, "Thank you for getting her up for me."
"Of course," Eira curtsies to her ladyship. The red-head walks towards several ladies' maids to offer her help in hanging the decorations.
"Mother, I was wondering," Valda starts, following Jane as she continues to organize the mess around them.
"Must I skip my classes and training today? I know father and Jarle are coming home, but…perhaps we could shorten the lessons in time for the gathering tonight?" Valda offers an enticing smile while batting her eyelashes.
Jane picks up a flower arrangement and purses her lips, the expression on her face hard for Valda to read. "Mother?" she echoes.
"Yes, sweetie?" Valda looks at her with expectant eyes. "Oh, honey I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. There's just so much to do today, and I'm trying to remind these people this is a welcome home, not a get drunk feast." Jane chuckles and lays a hand on Valda's shoulder. "It means so much that you're willing to give up your day to help. I know how important training is to you. Now, what were you saying before I zoned out?"
The Princess' shoulders sink and she sighs, knowing she'll disappoint her mom if she repeats her question. Her hands find a loose flower petal on the table beside her and she picks it up, gently rubbing the soft flora between her fingers, considering what to say. "I just asked…if-if you wanted me to make sure the castle grounds were in order?"
Jane nods. "I hadn't even thought about the grounds. That would be wonderful! Thank you, Val."
Valda smiles weakly as her mother kisses her cheek, then heads on her busy way. "Of course, it's not a problem," she whispers. Valda walks out of the dining hall, she tosses the petal to the side and leaves her mother to her work.
She makes it a few steps down the hall before she hears someone walk up behind her. She notices the footfalls sync with hers and the girl instantly begins to smile. "Hello, Aric."
The young castle guard meets Valda's pace and walks beside her, a grin on his reddened face. "How did you guess it was I?"
The young Asgardian's voice comes out smooth and Irish, and Valda can't help but suppress a chuckle. "I noticed you a moment ago when Eira and I walked by."
Aric laughs and wraps his fingers around Valda's hand nearest to him, pulling her closer to his side as they walk. The girl's bare arm brushes against his silver guard armor, and she wonders what he's doing away from the Hall of Relics, his usual post.
"Aric, aren't you supposed to be on the other side of the castle watching old artifacts?" she asks as they near the entry hall.
"Yes, but I was waiting for you. I thought maybe we could take a stroll outside since you enjoy the cold so much," he says, both stopping at the entrance doors. The young man grins at her, but Valda simply rolls her eyes. Ever since Aric was promoted from stable hand to castle guard, he's had his eyes on the Princess. Valda will admit that she's fond of him, but she also denies any claim of encouraging his behavior. Just a little harmless flirting, that's all.
"Well, I did tell mother that I would inspect the grounds before father and Jarle's welcome gathering tonight. So, I suppose, if you were inclined, you could accompany me," she suggests, raising a brow. Aric takes that as a yes, pushes the doors open and braces for the cold that hits them as they leave the castle walls.
Valda's first step out lands in a thick layer of snow, and she fights to urge to roll around in it. It's true that this blizzard appeared out of nowhere a week ago, and could possibly mean war with the Jotuns, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy it while it's here. The weather in Asgard is always the same—pleasant, save for the few times the Frost Giants have made it snow just out of spite. But those were the times Valda longed for as a child and still does now. The girl tromps through the white blanket, grinning like a goof as she grabs at the snowflakes falling around her.
"I'll never understand yer fascination with snow," Aric comments behind her.
But Valda simply smiles and breathes in the crisp air, letting it chill her lungs. She glances out towards the cobblestone courtyard ahead and begins running towards it, hoping the stones are frozen enough to slide on. She pulls at Aric's arm, "Come on!"
Aric reluctantly follows along, trying not to fall on his face while Valda yanks at him. The two rush towards the snow-lined courtyard, the cobblestones glazed over with ice and traced with crunched down snow. Valda's boots begin to slip as soon as she steps onto the stones, and a childish grin pulls at her lips. Her icy eyes glance over to Aric whose freckled face twists into terror. The Princess snickers at the expression on the ginger's face, and she pulls him onto the cobblestones. The two slide several feet closer towards the Stable on the other side of the courtyard.
A not-so-manly squeak escapes Aric's lips as Valda wraps her arms around his to steady him. She smiles at him and pulls him along, gliding across the frozen-over stones with ease.
"Isn't this fun?" she asks, Aric's grip on her arms loosening slightly.
"It is not as bad as I thought...still not my idea of fun," he smirks. One of Aric's hands slips out of Valda's grasp, apparently a little more confident on the ice.
The two near the end of the courtyard and the Princess decides to make things interesting. "Let's race!" she yells.
She launches herself forward and let's go of Aric's hand. The young man almost falls forward without Valda's steadiness to keep him vertical. "That's not fair!"
Valda whips around and winks at him, jumping off the stones and bolting towards the stables ahead. Behind her, she hears the boy hit the snowy ground hard and laughs as she rushes through the stable's door. Valda darts her head around, checking to make sure no one is around, but before she can finish scanning the stalls, Aric comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Thought you could leave me behind, huh?" he says in her ear, trapping her in his grip.
"I am much faster than you at everything, so yes," she comments. He pulls her in tight hug and brushes his lips on her cheek, forcing the girl to blush. She cranes her neck to the side and their eyes lock, but Aric grins past the feigned daggers her icy blue eyes shoot at him. She watches him move in closer but jumps at the sudden sound of a throat clearing beside them. The two quickly separate, panic straightening their posture as a face is put to the source of the sound.
"Sif, I-uh…we were just, I mean to say, I was just…" Valda stammers, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.
Lady Sif raises a brow at the two, her dark eyes unreadable as she stares the teens down.
"M'Lady," Aric bows respectfully. "Valda, I'll see you later." The boy rushes out of the stables, leaving the Princess alone with her mentor.
"Sif, I can explain," she starts, wringing her fingers.
"No need," Sif smirks. "I was young once."
Valda heaves an inward sigh of relief. "So, you won't tell mother then?"
"Oh no, I plan to tell her this instance," Sif says in a flat tone. The Princess' eyes widen and her breath hitches in her throat. But as Sif begins to smile, Valda realizes she's joking. "I will not tell your mother."
Valda's nervous laugh releases the bubble of tension in her stomach and she rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. Sif strolls past the girl and resumes her work with the horses and Pegasi before she was interrupted. She picks up a brush sitting on a shelf nearby and tosses it to Valda. The Princess catches it, raising a brow at the item now in her hands. Her icy eyes drift up to Sif who nods to a grey steed in the next stall.
"Silva needs brushing."
The Princess shrugs her shoulders and approaches the horse carefully, offering the animal soft-toned affirmations. Valda has learned over her years of training with Sif that if she throws something at you, literally or figuratively, it's best not to question her. The girl begins brushing Silva's body with gentle strokes, scratching the horse behind the ear as she goes. In the stall across from her, Sif's attempts to untangle the mane of a jet-black Pegasus are met with struggle. Valda imagines she would have better luck combing his hair if Sif would keep her caramel eyes focused on the horse instead of her.
The silence of the moment is broken when Sif finally speaks. "Why are you not in the castle helping your mother prepare for tonight's gathering?"
Valda sighs and swipes the brush down Silva's back. "I am…or was. I offered to check the grounds, but then Aric followed me outside and, well—he distracted me."
"He certainly did. Valda, you know that as Princess, how you spend your time is important," Sif reminds her.
"I know, I know. But Aric follows me around all the time, it's not as if I run into him to get out of my duties," Valda pauses. A question comes to mind as she stares at Sif's appearance; her casual, long-sleeved attire, her raven hair woven in a tight braid down her back, with not so much as a dagger at her side. "Aunt, why are you not helping mother prepare?"
Sif chuckles, finally done combing the Pegasus' hair. "Because I have my own duties to attend to, as I do every day. I intend on joining Jane in the dining hall later, but for now, I have responsibilities to fulfill."
The lady warrior sets the comb aside and moves on to filling her stall's trough with fresh water and food. She continues this down the line of stalls in the large, spread out stable, draping a blanket over each horse as she goes. Valda watches and smiles at the level of care Sif uses with each movement she makes, the gentleness of each touch, the kindness of each word to the animals. It's hard to believe that Sif is a ruthless warrior from watching her take care of her horses. Only the soreness of past rumbles and training sessions remind Valda of how dangerous Sif is.
"Sif, how do you balance everything? Your work, responsibilities, training me. Do you ever have time to breathe?" Valda's question takes Sif by surprise, but she offers the girl a gentle smile.
"Most days I barely have time to eat, read, or even ride the horses I love so dearly, but the importance of my work helps me to focus on accomplishing my duties," she says. Sif relieves Valda of brushing Silva and finishes grooming him within minutes, dropping the brush next to the comb she used earlier. With the stables cleaned up, and the horses attended to, Sif motions her head at Valda, telling her to walk alongside her. "Valda, you do not appear happy for your father and brother's return. Is there a reason for this?"
The girl sighs, tucking some of her ivory curls behind her ears. "I suppose I wasn't prepared for them to come home yet. Of course, I want them home, so badly, but I didn't wish to give up my studies and training for a whole day. I know it seems selfish of me, but if I can't leave Asgard, then why should my schedule be disrupted."
The two enter the frozen courtyard Valda had come from earlier, but Sif remains silent as the girl rants. "Father's spent my whole life drilling 'duties' and 'rules' into my head and going on about the importance of 'doing what I'm told when I'm told'. Ugh…I just wish…I wish he would allow me some breathing room...some time to adventure."
Valda shoulders sink as her peace is said, and her inner thoughts exposed. Sif, her mentor and friend, wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Valda, my dear, I understand that Thor can be a little controlling when it comes to his children, but it is only because he wants the best for you. And if he sees fit to keep you in Asgard, then I would trust his judgment. I haven't always, mind you, but Thor loves you dearly. Eyes up, young Valkyrie, your time will come."
A smile returns to the girl's face as she accepts Sif's encouragement. "I hope so."
"I must return to my duties now, but I shall see you at the gathering." Sif and Valda go their separate ways, but it's as though the woman's words follow her as she meanders back inside the castle walls. Your time will come, echoes in her mind. "Perhaps one day soon," she adds.
Asgard Castle. Late Evening.
"Hasten, Valda! We're going to be late," Eira says as she drags at the Princess' arm.
Valda groans as the two girls run down a long hallway, struggling with her dress the whole way. "Must I wear this thing? I don't think father or Jarle will care if I'm wearing a fancy dress."
"Perhaps not, but Lady Jane asked you to, and you should do as she says. Now hurry up. I told your mother we would meet her in the dining hall, Thor and the others are on their way now!"
The girl pulls at the hem of the heavy, burgundy dress her mother chose for her while she was running errands around the castle earlier. After much arguing and deliberation, Jane allowed Valda to wear her boots to the dinner instead of those Odin-awful pinchy shoes she was supposed to wear. But this dress? The Princess is sure it will be the death of her. It's dragging the floor, slowing her to an irritating speed-walk, not to mention the beaded and tight bodice. It may be beautiful to some, but to Valda, it's just a reminder that she is under the control of others.
Almost to the dining hall, Valda and Eira make a final sprint to the entrance. The girls skid to a stop before entering, straighten each other's hair and breathe in deeply. They nod to each other then walk in, plastering smiles on their faces. Eira's smile is probably real—she's always liked these parties and gatherings—but Valda's is stiff and unnatural, like the one her mother gives when she's uncomfortable around some of Thor's Asgardian friends.
In the Hall, a small crowd has gathered around the elongated oval table situated in the center of the room. The middle of the table is colorfully adorned with special flowers imported from Alfheim, and woven runners with golden thread stretch down the center. The crowd consists of friends and Thor's fellow warriors such Volstagg, Valkyrie and Sif, and family—Frigga, Jane and Baby Astrid. Few more meander around, all tense with anticipation waiting for Balder to return with the men. The scent of freshly roasted meat and baked bread drift through the room, and Valda's stomach starts to grumble.
I swear I haven't eaten since breakfast, what with all this running around I've been doing, she thinks, nibbling her bottom lip. Jane and Frigga stand near the doors and greet people as they come in. And although Jane looks slightly uncomfortable with all these people, Valda can't help but notice how lovely her mom looks standing in the starlight pouring in from the stained window beside her. The two girls join Jane and Frigga, Valda's grandmother bouncing her little sister in her arms.
"Hello Mother, Grandmother," Valda greets.
"M'Lady, your Highness," Eira says with a bow to Jane and Frigga respectively.
"Valda, my dear, you look beautiful!" Frigga says, pulling Valda in for a tight hug. "You both do."
Valda smiles as her cheek squishes against her Grandmother's. "Thank you, Grandmother. And don't you look lovely you little dwarf," Valda says, poking her little sister's nose. Astrid grabs at her finger, giggling and gurgling to convey her annoyance.
"A dwarf? Hardly," Jane says, combing Astrid's raven hair out of her face.
Valda and Jane's eyes meet for the first time tonight, and they share an empathic smile. Without warning, Frigga begins pulling at her best friend's arm. "Eira my dear, may I consult with you on a particular spell I'd like to teach you?"
Eira walks to the other side of the room with the Queen, nodding excitedly as she goes. Valda snickers, but Jane raises a brow.
"I wonder what that was about?" she asks.
"Who knows?" Valda shrugs. She links her arm around her mother's and rests her head on Jane's shoulder. The two silently watch the people gathered around them stroll to and from, mingling and such with each other. Valda sighs, wishing she could ask her mother's permission to leave. It's not that she doesn't want to greet her father and brother on their return, it's simply that she'd rather do so under less public accommodations. Sure, she knows most of the people here, even enjoys their company, but there are some she wished had stayed home. Specifically, the ones who impose themselves on her parents' good nature.
The sound of hurried footfalls drags Valda and her mother from their thoughts and people watching. A young castle guard bursts into the hall and starts yelling. "They have arrived! They have arrived"
The small crowd clumps together around the hall's entrance, whispering amongst themselves in excitement. Valda and her family are at the front, taking their places as the first to greet the men, along with Volstagg and Sif beside them. The sound of heavy boots clomping down the hallway echoes into the dining hall, an everyone eagerly awaits with baited breath. The steps come to a climactic halt, then the doors open to reveal the weary travelers dusted with snow. Balder leads Thor, Jarle, Fandral and Hogun in. With tired and reddened faces, they smile at the welcoming and are soon tackled by their loved ones.
Valda is first to plow into her father, squeezing Thor's torso in relief. Jane wraps her arms around Jarle, and the four end up in a suffocating group hug. Volstagg parts the group and pulls all his friends in, Thor included. Sif simply stands back and lets the men for men have their moment before shaking each one's hand and offering a "Welcome Home." But the crowd parts when Frigga makes her way forwards, forcing Thor to lean down for her to kiss his chilled forehead.
The Queen turns back to the group smiles brightly. "Our Warriors have returned home, now, let us celebrate." And with that, everyone finds a seat at the table, some taking longer to sit than others. The food is already spilling out of the kitchen on platter after platter before Thor, Jane and several others are even seated. Valda has so many questions bumping around in her head but walks alongside her family quietly, allowing the others to ask their question first.
"Was everything all right while we were away?" Thor asks, his arm wrapped around Jane.
"Yes, everything went smoothly, nothing to worry about," she answers.
"What I should like to know is how things faired in Jotunheim," Frigga says, cutting straight to the point.
As would I, Valda thinks.
"There will be a time for revelations after the party," Fandral suggests. He leads Frigga to a seat while Thor sits at the head of the table. Jane sits to his left while his mother sits to his right. Valda takes a set next to her mother and Jarle, rolling her eyes impatiently as they wait for the others to sit.
With all finally are in a chair, Thor stands and greets the group whose undivided attention rests solely on him. "I thank all of you for this warm homecoming, we were not expecting such a crowd of friendly faces," he starts. But as he continues with his ear-pleasing short speech, Valda can see the discomfort in his eyes. She can hear the thinness of his voice as he dances around the real reason they left in the first place. Someone from the other end of the table speaks up during a pause in Thor's words.
"What of your findings in Jotunheim?" a man's voice booms. Before Valda can praise whomever for their directness, Fandral speaks up.
"Our findings will be reviewed by the court tomorrow, when we're not all falling over from exhaustion. Tonight, we feast!"
Thor nods in agreement, and most of the room concurs loudly, but Valda notices the glances thrown between Frigga, Jane and Jarle. And instantly, she can tell something is off. The weight of it carries on through the entirety of the meal. Valda picks and pushes her food around her plate, meat and leafy greens don't interest her tonight. No, she'd much rather hear what Thor and the others found. Or didn't find. I wonder if they had to fight any Frost Giants, or perhaps they were forced to slay one. I hope the Jotuns aren't preparing an assault, or maybe we're going to attack them? Valda's worsening speculations draw her attention to the darkest corners of her mind, feeding off her concerns.
After sifting through a flood of ideas and assumptions, an elbow gently bumps her side. Her eyes refocus and search for the elbow that jabbed her to find her mother's bright blues staring at her. They exchange a worried glance, then both redirect their focus to Thor, who sits quietly and prods his food while Fandral spins story after story to entertain. Occasionally, he leans on Jarle and Hogun to support his grand tales, both halfheartedly agreeing. Balder tries his best to redirect the conversation every so often, but is unsuccessful. Questions from up and down the table fly towards the men and most of them are settled with an extravagant answer, but Valda notices that before any of the questions are answered, the men look at each other, almost as if confirming their stories before they speak.
"Something weird is going on, Mother," Valda whispers to Jane.
Jane nods. "I'll get to the bottom of it before the night is out." And the two continue to observe the strange behavior.
The meal finishes after a while of people munching and conversing, and those that don't go on home afterward, gather around the fireplace behind Thor. Many pull up chairs or simply stand by to hear more stories from the warriors, Volstagg joining in with a leg of meat in his hand. Valda stays at the table and listens from where she is, but rolls her eyes at the fruitless and idle conversations.
After sitting through all she can bear, or until the stories begin repeating themselves, Valda stands from her place at the table and exits the dining hall in silence. Once outside the doors, she heaves a heavy sigh and begins pulling ribbons and clips from her pinned up hair. As soon as her ivory curls fall down her back, a weight is lifted from her neck, and being upright doesn't seem as tedious as before.
On her walk down the hallway, her frustrated attitude returns. If she had her sword with her, she'd gladly go outside and chop away at some practice dummy made of wood and hay just to release some of her anger. It wasn't fair that they were keeping things about their trip from her. It's bad enough Jarle got to travel and she didn't. All she ever wanted was to travel, if but for a few days. She would take any time away from this palace she calls a prison. Valda remembers early in her childhood, hearing stories from both her mother and father of the beauty and adventure on Earth. All she ever dreamed of as a child was going there, seeing all her parents had seen. Leaving Asgard is the only gift she has asked for since she was seven, and around that time is when the stories stopped. When her father no longer shared his memories of Earth with her.
Valda scoffs at the thought of him. High and mighty Prince of Asgard, honorably ruling in aging-Odin's place, how noble is he. With his secrets, double-standards, and favoritism. This Princess has had her share of being under his thumb, trapped by his worries and imprisoned by his fears. She's had just about enough of having her one dream—her one and only request—denied. She'll show him one day, even if she must get to Midgard by her own means.
Her walk takes her to the Hall of Records, or as her mother calls it, the library. She cracks open the towering door, cringing at the creaking that echoes off the walls. She enters what she considers her sanctuary, her quiet place, and sighs in relief. The smells of old parchment and leather fill the air like a burning candle, warming her very essence. Valda walks further into the room, smiling at the area of table and books scattered about, with a wooden bench tucked under the center table.
Valda approaches the table, and glides her hand over it, catching on school books stacked up from her and Jarle's lesson here the day before. She sighs, taking comfort only in books and the ancient scrolls.
There's something about the bookshelves of the library that give the girl a sense of security. As much comfort as the library has always brought her, it is also her reminder that this is her prison. The pages of stories around her may hold thousands of years of wisdom on them, but they also tell her that she's trapped here, held hostage by her father's will. These books and scrolls tell of great adventures, of the Nine Realms and the good and evil surrounding them. But these stories are her only way of seeing these places, experiencing these adventures. These books are her window to the outside world—her window, and her cage.
Valda walks a narrow path between several rows of towering shelves. As she walks, she runs her hand on the spines of the books she passes, her fingertips catching on leather cords holding them together. After a few shelves, she stops, her hand stopping with her. Her icy eyes turn to the book her fingers have landed on and pulls it out. The book's worn leather cover and faded, etched gold edges bear the title, "Legends of Old."
The girl scoffs. "Legends of Old, indeed."
She cracks open the cover, rubbing the frail and discolored pages between her fingers. The edges rough and cracked, she proceeds to turn the pages carefully. The first chapter begins by recounting the events of Asgardian creation, of the beginning of it all. The tale is nothing she hasn't heard all her life, so she skips it. After flipping ten or twelve pages, she lands on a chapter that catches her eye. The telling of Odin and his brothers, and their attempt to destroy the fire demon Surtur.
Within this chapter tells a gripping story that glues Valda's eyes to every word she reads. She'd heard this story before as well, but not like this. This more realistic and harsh version spares no gruesome details of how Villi and Vi gave their lives so that Odin could rule Asgard. The image of Surtur trapping the two gods in Muspelheim with him, dragging them into the lake of fire...
With her full attention on the book in her hands, Jarle slips into the library unnoticed. His sky-colored eyes catch on his sister standing in the shadows of dark-wood shelves, then drift down to their lesson table. On the table's quartz top is a spread of various books and scrolls, all likely to have been part of today's schooling with Frigga, if Jarle hadn't been in Jotunheim at the time.
He returns his gaze to Valda and speaks. "Catching up on some reading?"
Valda jumps and slams her book to a close, sucking in air. "Jarle! I uh…What are you doing away from the party?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," he says, approaching her. "What are you reading?"
Valda's expression tells him that what he asked hasn't registered yet. "Oh, what I'm reading?" She glances down at the book, then back to him. "Just some old tales."
"May I?" he asks. The young man meets her in the narrow aisle between shelves and she hands over the book. She watches as his eyes carefully scan the aged cover, his pupils stopping at every detail they find. There is one thing about her brother, his attention to detail is matched by none. "Legends of Old, huh?"
"Just old tales," she echoes. Her body shifts away from him, keeping her eyes' focused on anything but her brother. Jarle opens the book and flips through the pages absentmindedly, no intent to land on a certain page.
"I know all of this is difficult for you, Val," he starts. "The party, the people... the dress I'm sure."
Valda offers a raised brow and a smirk. He knows me too well, she thinks. "This one is not as bad as others I've worn. But, I would have been happier in something else."
Jarle chuckles and slips the book in the shelf's gap. "Of course."
A pause in dialogue turns into an awkward silence. Valda contemplates what her brother will say next, or what she'll say for that matter. But no words are spoken as Jarle drags out the bench from under their work table. The bench legs scrub loudly against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the room. Valda watches and cringes, until he finally sits down, prompting a sigh of relief for her poor ears.
"Are you angry with me?" Jarle asks out of nowhere.
Valda blinks, taken aback by his question. "Why would you think I was angry with you? You've only just returned—"
"Which is precisely why I'm confused by your attitude towards me."
"I wasn't aware I had an attitude," she says, her brow furrowing.
"You can't pretend with me Valda, you've had a chip on your shoulder ever since we walked in the dining hall," he insists. The two exchange expectant glances, their eyes locking in a stare down.
Valda breaks and turns her face away, crossing her arms over her chest. "I-I'm just…it's not fair."
"What's not fair?" Jarle asks. He keeps his eyes trained on his little sister's back, waiting for her to face him again. Her shoulders sink, and she looks back at him.
"Everything! All I've wanted since I was little is to travel—anywhere. It's all I've ever asked for. But Father has taken you all around the realms and back. You don't even like to travel," she says.
"Val, Father's trips with me are part of my diplomatic training, it's part of becoming a responsible member of the royal court," he explains.
"And of me? Am I to be excluded from learning these diplomatic skills? I am just as much a part of the court as you are," she says, raising her voice.
"But I am to be King one day," he returns. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Valda's head drops. "Val, I…I didn't mean—"
"No. I know I'm not in line to rule, but I am still a Princess. I deserve as much as you do." Her voice, now small and soft, drops off, unsure of what to say now without sounded self-absorbed. "I…I just want to see what you've seen. I want to go where you've gone."
Jarle sighs, his heart filling with sympathy for his sister. "Valda, did you ever consider perhaps Father is keeping you here to protect you?"
"Protect me from what?" she wonders aloud.
"Yourself. And before you cut down my observation, let me explain," he reasons.
"Please do," Valda says, rolling her icy eyes.
"I know you would never admit it, but you have a lot of Father's spirit in you. And I believe he knows that. I also believe that he knows if you leave and travel to another realm, Midgard specifically, you might never want to come back. He's only looking out for your best interests," Jarle offers. Her brother's words force Valda to ponder on them a moment. She knows Jarle despises when she flies off the handle without considering his perspective.
"I know it may seem as though I am, but I am not our father. I know I can't stay in Midgard or any other realm besides Asgard, but that doesn't give him the right to trap me here, and prevent me from leaving at all!" she exclaims.
"Valda, I understand that you want to see Earth, I would enjoy seeing it once myself, but Father is under a lot of pressure right now, he couldn't take you even if he wanted," Jarle says.
"Then maybe I should go myself," she says. She immediately throws her hand over her mouth as Jarle bolts up from the bench, propping his arms on the table top for support.
"Valda," his voice now a whisper. "You mustn't say things like that."
"Why not?" she whispers back.
"Because I know you, and you are not going to run away," he says.
"If you know me so well, then you'll know how much I want to leave," she returns, a fire burning in her icy blue eyes.
"Not enough to run away," he tells her.
She smirks. "Try me."
The two stare at one another, postures stiff as they both search for any sign of hesitation in the others' eyes. They watch each other from across the table for what seems like an eternity until Jarle finally gives in, and relaxes his body. He sits back on the bench, shaking his head in defeat.
"Valda, if you are smart, you'll not entertain this ludicrous idea any longer," he warns.
Valda waits before she answers him, eyeing his changes in expression. "And if I do...if I'm serious about leaving, would you stop me?"
Jarle snorts, then cracks a smile. "Have I ever been able to stop you before?"
"No, I suppose not," she says, returning his smile.
Valda watches Jarle turn his attention to the side, his eyes scanning the lofty, glass windows to the right.
"Valda," he starts. "Theoretically, if you do...I mean," he turns his head back to meet her eyes. "Know that I won't lie for you. But, I won't tell Father."
The girl breaks into a huge grin. This was Jarle's way of giving her permission, and she couldn't be happier. Valda rushes around the table and tackles her brother, nearly knocking him off the bench. "Easy! I'm still sore from the journey."
"Right!" She pulls away, her expression still beaming. "If I do go, I know it'll only be a couple of days. But it's enough for me."
"My only question Valda, is how are you going to get there? Surely you can't convince Heimdall into pitying you."
He makes a good point.
Valda looks around the room, specifically at the books strewn on their lesson table. Her eyes catch on one, a dark green book on ancient relics with ancient powers, and she begins to smile devilishly. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something."
A/N: FORESHADOOOWWWW! Don't you love it? Anyway. Like Val? Like my story? Wanna know what happens next? Me too! Hopefully something good... NOW, UNTO GLORY. I can't wait to blow some minds with where this is going. Anyone connecting any dots yet?
Up Next: Barton, Stark and Rogers are reminded that the struggle is real.
Hey I just posted this...and this is crazy...but since you've read it...review it maybe?