Asgard
[Present day...]
There was no point in making a bed that hadn't been slept in. The wax of his fifth candle past midnight pooled in cooling clumps in its silver dish, the wick nearly submerged as ribbons of sunlight streamed through the champagne gossamer drapes. He turned the page and read on.
Do not stand so firm in the ominous shadow of your problems that you break against their weight, like the lonely rocky crag facing the raging sea. Be instead a mighty fir: flexible but well rooted in your dearest truths, that which bring sustenance to your mind, body, and spirit.
Strive to leave room to bend where bending can be afforded. Thrive swaddled in a thick forest of support by your fellow man.
However, be just as prepared to lean into the storms ahead. To escape unscathed from any conflict leaves too much room for cowardice.
Choose your battle cries as judiciously you would a steed.
No sword will shine brighter than the new—the unused—never taken up against waves of passion or ignorance. But even the brightest blade in unpracticed hands will be as useless as a dry stalk of wheat against the formidable enemy of your tribulations.
Squinting to concentrate and keep the words from bleeding together, his head pounded.
"Good morning, milord Consort," came a terse voice from the doorway.
Steve found his feet so fast he nearly upended his chair. He did, however, succeed in bumping the desk and sloshing wax out of the dish. He turned a sheepish smile at Marina and fetched a handkerchief to try and blot up the mess. Quicker than a sparkplug, she snatched the cloth away and gave his hand a smack for good measure. The lines of her eyes pinched with irritation.
"Wait for it to cool. Then a butter knife's edge will suffice. And you won't soil a perfectly good cloth," she snapped.
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, now painted as especially inadequate. "Right. Yeah. I knew that."
"I trust you slept well," she snipped, casting a pointed glance to the clearly untouched coverlet.
"Always a bit off kilter when Thor's away," he explained quickly. And she seemed crustier than usual. "But things are looking up, yeah. Yourself? And please. Again, plain old Steve suits me just fine."
"No, plain old Steve is not just fine. Stephen. As future husband to the Crowned Prince of Asgard, you're expected to maintain and command respect. Always."
The royal wedding, which had been postponed twice now, was three months away.
Thor had been called offworld two weeks ago by escalating unrest throughout the Nine Realms, instigated primarily by Thanos' tyrannical agenda. Due to complicating factors, Steve had been told to stay on Asgard until the newest blaze of battle abated. It wouldn't be safe to use the Bifrost for casual trips to and from Midgard. Still a fledgling in interstellar politics and warfare, Steve knew he wouldn't be much help anyway. Worry coupled by the lack of Thor's now familiar warmth kept Steve restless.
He spent some of his days tutoring himself in the ins and outs of horsemanship, the rest with fishermen and trade ships unloading wares on the docks. That had been the only job familiar to him, and the only one he wouldn't need copious amounts of training to do efficiently. Bothering anyone to help him compensate for his profound lack of usefulness was the last thing on his agenda. He had no clue where to fit in, what to do, or who to ask.
Lady Marina, one of the palace attendants, had been the only constant in Steve's new life. And he was starting to get the feeling that she wasn't too keen on that.
"I'm having trouble following you," he admitted. "I've always been just Steve, plain as vanilla."
She guffawed. "Hopeless. I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to that peculiar way of speaking of yours. Spice it up. Your colloquialisms are so very… simple."
The bite in her voice stung. "Lady Marina, if there is something I've done to offend you—"
"It is your entire manner, your whole definition that offends, Stephen."
"Pardon me?"
"You heard."
"Care to spell it out simpler?"
"You're infuriatingly humble, unbelievably clumsy, in no way qualified to be Thor's anything, and it's very easy to dislike you."
"Way to throw open the Chicago overcoat. How long have you been stewing on this?"
She scoffed. "Frankly, you're one of the most unstimulating people I've met in my lengthy three thousand years. You couldn't understand, nay fathom, how you undermine everything we stand for."
No point beating around the bush now. Out with it. "Is this about me being a man?"
"Ha! Oh, don't make me laugh. You're mistaking my ire with you for medieval prejudices? Is that why you shut yourself away? Out of indoctrinated shame? Spineless. You think I didn't see that way Thor looked at other men from boyhood? I nannied him for thirteen years, and tutored him for the seven come after."
Surprised, Steve tried to blink sense into his expression. "Then what's eating you?"
"What's eating me is that you are not a native born to Asgard. Regardless of your special circumstances, you have no right to stand beside Thor on a common street let alone a royal dais. You are a Consort, a king's conjugal companion only." She gestured toward the desk and the stacks of reading material pilled at the corners. "These books are for seasoned scholars and our warriors. You are neither, and have thus far taken no initiative to better your chances."
"I should like to think that a Consort's duties extend beyond the obvious."
"Think whatever you'd like. I'm sure His Majesty has filled your head with all sorts of sweet things about your marriage that amount to little more than empty wind. Thor never lies. But he does have a way of polishing the truth."
"I only want to support him."
"Then start acting like it. You being here, abiding silently in the castle, a resident from another, lesser world without an ounce of title in your blood disgraces the Allfather's lineage since time immemorial. The gossip hounds have all but devoured you."
Steve fought to keep from withering. "That was never my intention, Marina."
"I wish I could say that was a relief. Moreover, I guess we won't have to worry about a lineage from now on. That is, unless your special circumstances endowed you with more than we've been privileged to know." She gave him a surly, sharp once-over.
Steve felt his face heat up like a boiler room. "I was trained in—I guess I just thought I should stay out of the way."
"There's your simplicity talking. Keep acting like a pet and that's what you'll be treated like."
"Then why can't I be a warrior?"
"You are a soldier of Earth: of gun powder, trenches, and espionage. Not swordsmanship, archery, formal combat, or any honorable form of warfare for that matter."
"I think the boys down at the VA might have a thing or two to say about that."
"Simple, simple, simple minded man. A month's wages say you can't even ride properly."
"I'd ask what I could do to cool you off, but that's starting to seem a little above my pay grade."
She marched over to the book that lay open on his desk and shut it with such force that the gust extinguished what little remained of the candle flame. "Your sole duty here is to keep His Highness happy, healthy, and satisfied. Do not go poking your nose into sacred history and looking for ways to insert yourself or your blasphemous traditions into our military."
"Army life is all I'm good at. It's what I was made for."
"And here I thought your only talents fell under nocturnal entertainment."
For the first time, Steve visibly bristled, his voice bordering on the next notch up. "Maybe if you'd help me cook with gas instead of hanging me out to dry for things I can't change—"
He saw raw anger pour into her face and ignite her eyes a livid green. "You are an alien with unclean, unholy power, granted to you not by gods but by meager men, pulsing through your veins! The only way you are akin to us is that you cannot die anytime soon. I owe you nothing, least of all my help." With that, she abruptly turned from him, seized a riding cloak in need of laundering, and made a beeline for the door.
"I don't have anyone else," Steve whispered tightly, a ragged, dusty confession that he never wanted to acknowledge. Everything he knew, everything that had shaped him into the man he was, had died.
She stopped in her tracks, the fabric of her dress whispering around her ankles as it settled back into place.
"Not even back on Earth. Everyone I knew is dead and gone. I'm pathetic. Thor, bless his big heart, has tried to shelter me from the true breadth of the galaxy since the moment he brought me here because even he knows I can't stomach it. That it's too big for me. That the existence of this place throws into question the religious foundation on which I built my life. I'm tired of not knowing. I want to be what he needs. I want to be a help to Asgard. So help me."
In a huff, she crossed her arms and began to tap her foot.
"You think I don't see how people look at me? You think I don't feel like a codfish in a shark tank? Like a pigeon trying to be a peacock? I'm not asking you to get chummy with me. But, please. I love him, Marina."
She cast a scalding, suspicious glare over her shoulder. "No one is debating that. In this room, at least."
He crossed the floor and moved to stand toe to toe with her. "For the sake of his honor and respect for the throne, teach me how to talk. Act. Think. Interact. I'll never have the pedigree I should. But the least I can give him is a spine thick enough to give sound counsel and comfort when I can. Please."
Her eyes finally lit on his face, their frustration lessened and her voice almost pleasant when she replied. "That speech was… not a completely disappointing start."
His heart jumped. "Then you'll help me?"
She sighed through her nose, her lips pursed into a grim line. "Firstly, put that rubbish away." She fluttered her hand dismissively at the pile of books. "You're trying to eat the boar by the hooves. You already know how to be a solider. What you don't know is how to play the game that is Court. And that, you'll not learn in a book."
"And you're going to teach me how to play?"
Her eyes slit to daggers as she turned a smirk that smacked of wit. "Heavens no, milord Consort. I'm going to teach you how to win.~"