Hello everyone! Welcome to a brand new story! Just a heads up to everyone, I started this when I was pretty young and though I did go back through and fix some mistakes and add some things, edit some others...there are still some parts that I am not thrilled with. But I like this idea and I have a couple of sequels thought out for it. I have a little bit more set aside ready to upload after some editing so I should have another chapter up somewhat quickly and the new chapters should be a little better thought out. One thing I will say about younger me, she had some interesting ideas (smh). Secondly, as for the timeline...like I said I started this forever ago. This is pretty divergent after Avengers as the other movies weren't out yet. As I picked at them over the years I did weave a few things in here and there that still worked but I tended to weave more Norse mythology in than the other Marvel movies as my plot was already completely different, so please keep that in mind while reading. Now that I am done rambling, please enjoy!
I do not own Thor, Marvel, or anything else. Thank you!
The man just glared at me; his piercing gaze unyielding. I stared right back. I probably should have been scared of him after the scene that had just unfolded in front of me, but I couldn't help but be in awe. At a first glance there was nothing special about this man. Quite the opposite actually. He was tall and haggardly thin, almost to the point of being lanky, but he managed to make it look graceful in an oddly awkward way. His eyes were an icy greenish-gray, hard and without any feeling. His shoulder length black hair was matted and greasy. I couldn't help but think that I would have hated to brush it if I were him. His clothing was emerald and gold, but I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a sort of fancy noble robes or some strange armor. When he stood from his kneeling position, I gasped. He was even taller than I thought. What kind of man was this?
His steps as he neared me were calculated and precise. I could tell just by looking at him that his mind was like a chess game. He already had decided what to do to me and what six moves should follow. When he spoke his voice was sneering, but holding power. "Stand up, boy." His dagger glowed a shimmered with an iridescent green glow in his palm and I knew that he wouldn't hesitate to plunge it into me if I disobeyed. I think he expected me to be scared, or start crying like a normal eight-year-old would do, but I didn't. Instead, I did as he requested. "What are you going to do with me?" The man seemed completely taken aback. I could almost read his thoughts. That's what scared me. How did I understand this man so well? I could imagine that it was like I was looking into a mirror, seeing an altered version of myself. "How dare you question me, boy! I am a god!" The only response I saw fit to give him was a disinterested shrug, which seemed to infuriate him even more. I probably should have stopped, my instincts shouted for me to do so, but as I had most of my life, I ignored them. "So?" His dagger burned brighter his hand clenched it more tightly. I could almost see the anger oozing from him in jade waves as water pouring over the rim of a glass. "Any last words, mortal?" I nodded, trying to contort my face into a contrite, terrified expression just for a moment to appease him. "You should really pay better attention to where you stand." As he looked down, I yanked on his pant leg and watched him slip on the ice. I smiled grandly before I waved and took off down the road, running as fast as my legs could carry me. Today was turning out to be a good day.
When I got home, I went immediately to my room. I should have probably told my parents about the strange man who dared threaten me with a dagger, but I didn't want to have to move again. It seemed like we moved almost constantly, but I liked Puente Antiguo. New Mexico gave me room to explore and keep out from my parent's ever watchful gaze. Mom and Dad loved it here too and if I stayed out of trouble I could see them letting us stay here for quite some time. Okay, I know what you're wondering... how was there ice in the middle of New Mexico? It's quite simple really. I put it there. I had been able to do little things like that for over a year now. That was just another thing I hid from my parents as I had a sinking suspicion they would not be pleased. And since I was just now getting control of it, I didn't see the need to worry them. I had tried to use it for other stuff, like cleaning my room, but it didn't always work out well. It usually turned out a bit like Mickey Mouse and the Sorcerer's Apprentice. Except I didn't have the Sorcerer to help me put things back together when I messed up. Sighing, I fell back onto my bed.
I felt strangely happy with myself. I always felt that way after playing a particularly wicked prank. I know I shouldn't enjoy that feeling, of watching someone be tricked, but if felt so good, as if I had just ingested a warm beverage and it soothed a pit of ice that had lodged itself in my soul. And today I had that feeling guilt free. If I hadn't of tripped that strange man, he would have hurt me or even possibly killed me. I had seen what he had done before he had noticed my presence and part of me knew that I had to now watch my back. The man didn't seem to be the type to let such a slight go. Besides, it felt great to know that I could protect myself.
When I was younger, before I found my gift, kids at school used to tease me just because I loved to read. My mom always encouraged me to read, telling me that as long as I could pick up a book, I had the world's greatest superpower. I could go on an amazing adventure in a world outside my own or I could learn an ancient secret locked away in an ancient text that would teach me something that no one else knew. I had begun reading at the age of four and I never stopped. My dad just told me that I needed to stand up for myself, that they thought I was a weakling. I don't think my dad meant it to sound cruel, just that I needed to show dominance as an animal who must prove themselves an alpha male. I always imagined that that is the reason I pulled pranks. Deep inside every word hurt and every punch stung, but on the outside, I would not show them that it fazed me. Why should I? I was off the charts compared to them in intelligence anyway, they could never hope to understand as an adult even half the things I understood now as a child. None of them could reconcile particle data or knew every constellation in the sky for any time of the year. Granted, my mom was an astrophysicist and my dad was a doctor, so I guess I had a head start.
I felt my mom's presence outside my door before I heard her knock. "Frey, time for dinner!" Dinner was always a mandatory family thing at our house, as long as Dad wasn't on call. My dad, Dr. Donald Blake, doctor extraordinaire. He would have been an extremely imposing man with his tall muscular build, his blond hair and electric blue eyes, if not for his leg. My dad walked with a cane and a heavy limp that caused him quite a bit of pain most days. Mom said it was from a car accident from before my older sister was born. His leg was completely scarred and he didn't really let me look at it much, I always assumed he was ashamed of it, I guess. Then my gift began to show up and everything changed. It started last year; one morning I glanced at it and swore that it was perfect, without a single blemish. I didn't really get a chance to peer closer though, as my dad caught me staring just a bit too long and rolled his pant leg down.
That sort of thing still happened sometimes. I would notice a small difference, just out of the corner of my eye, just a movement out of my peripheral or something not as it should be, but as soon as I turned to look it would be gone.
As soon as I sat down my dad's enormous hand clapped me on the back in a gruff, jovial greeting, jolting me forward so I bumped into the edge of the table. His bright blue eyes shined at me as he spoke through the large, rectangular reading glasses that perched at the edge of his nose. "Frey, how did thou fare this day?" Most people thought my dad talked strange sometimes. My mom said it was because English was not his first language. My dad came from somewhere in Europe, a town called Tønsberg. I found it on a globe once, right there in Norway. Not that I really cared. "Fine, Dad. How's your leg today?" Again, not as if I really cared. Parents didn't care what you really did, as long as you went through the motions of doing what was required of you. I had long ago learned to play their game. He smiled broadly, sucked in as if it were a play put on for his own enjoyment. "Worry not, Son. Verily, I am doing well this wondrous day." See what I mean? Totally nutso. What's even weirder is when he gets excited or mad. Then he starts throwing in "thys" and "thous" around like they haven't gone out of style. Maybe even a thee or two. Did I mention that I have a family full of weirdos?
I was momentarily saved from further conversation when Thyra came and plopped down in the chair across from me, suddenly taking up the conversation. "Dad, guess what!? My coach wants me to stay another hour after practice tomorrow so he can train me privately. He says I could be better than even the older boys!" I snorted. "Well, those boys must be idiots if they can't even beat a twelve-year-old girl in a boxing match." Thyra stuck her tongue out at me her face pinching into an ugly expression.
"You're just jealous. You couldn't beat me in a fight if your life depended on it." I smirked. "Oh yeah? I would just out think you. Strategy is a concept, like most, that continues to elude you, all the while I manage to have it in droves." My mother walked in and pressed a kiss to the top of my father's head. "This doesn't sound familiar at all, does it, dear?" My dad just shook his head. "Frey, do not think thus. You never know. One day someone might just come along that can out think you. And Thyra," Dad turned to her, tussling her hair gently, "someone might just be stronger than you." My snobby sister batted blue eyes at Dad and, as usual, he dropped the subject. I never understood how that worked for her. We had the same blue eyes! While I looked more like our mother with my brown hair and lithe body structure, Thyra took after our father. Her blond hair was cut short in a pixie cut and she was built like a pro wrestler. But yet, somehow, she was still beautiful by everyone's standards. I was already tall for my age and so skinny I was almost skeletal. Her strength was an asset, just as was my intelligence. The only difference...everyone loved her for her strength, while everyone hated me for my brilliance. Only my mother seemed to understand.
I remember when she first brought me into her lab. She lead me inside and calmly explained all her equipment, happy to have someone who listened, before setting me down on the floor with some blank paper and colored pencils. I quietly watched her work for hours before I calmly stood and walked over to her chalkboard, lifted a piece of chalk from the holder, and fixed one of her math equations. I was five. Mom walked over and looked at the chalkboard frantically. I could see her retrace her steps, hoping that her young child hadn't accidentally destroyed months of her life's work. Her brown eyes flitted over the equation back and forth for a moment before a hand came to her mouth in awe. As she turned to me such wonder poured out from her. "How did you know how to fix this, Sweetie?" I shrugged. "You miscalculated."
After that she brought me to work with her every day after school. She would go over her work out loud, teaching me the little I hadn't already figured out for myself. I then moved on to my father. I would follow him to work watching him quietly from the corner with patients when I was allowed, but when he was busy and I couldn't be with him, I poured over his books. I guess that's why the other kids hated me. I was already so far above my own parents, geniuses in their own right, let alone my classmates. That's also why I read all the time. At the age of eight I was already striving for more knowledge. I had already hit the ceiling of humanity's wisdom. Even my parents cannot grasp the extent of my knowledge. They go back and forth, wondering if they should let me test out of school or live a normal life all the while I stood on the outside, already bored with the education that would be offered to me if they let me move to the college level. I continuously down play my intelligence in front of them, they know what they need to know to survive in their happy little world. But I needed more. That's why this man intrigued me. That's why my magic caught my imagination. They were part of the unknown, something I needed desperately to keep myself from going crazy in a world full of mundane imbeciles. And that's why my parents must never find out.
So that's the start! Looking back I realized how kind of jerky I had Frey start out, but don't worry, he's going to find out that he is not always the smartest guy in the room. Also, if anyone has any good ideas for pranks, please let me know! While I find some pranks funny, I am not a natural born prankster and so they are hard for me to imagine. If you have one you would let me include, I would be more than happy to give you a shout out. Thank you for reading and have a wonderful week guys!