Among the Asgardians: The Goddess of Love

Merry Go Round

"Back so soon?" Loki asked. His great, green eyes were wide with surprise.

"I'm curious," I sighed. "There are too many questions left unanswered. I wish to know more."

"I shall oblige. It is good for me to have you in my presence," he replied. "It soothes me."

"Will you tell me more?" I begged.

"No, but I will show you." He placed his palm on my cheek, and there was a bright flash of light as I found myself immersed in memories again.

......................................................................................................

In this memory, I found myself on Asgard. I was standing on a wooden platform. Choy and I held hands, but it wasn't for her benefit. It was for mine. She had done this before, whereas this was my first time to be sold.

We wore ropes around our necks. All the children did. Choy said it was to prevent us from wandering off. But I didn't see the point. It was rough and it choked me.

Suddenly, a man with green skin and deep, purple eyes, darker than mine but still purple, came up to me and grabbed my rope. "I'll take her," he grinned. "I see potential in this one."

"Deal, Ambassador. Just sign here," said the man who had put the rope on me. He was a fat, toothless man named Igor.

The green man signed the paper and pulled me from Choy's grasp. I didn't think I would ever see her again. As we walked away, he turned to me and said, "You are to call me either Master or Sir. I do not care which."

I gulped.

There was another bright flash of light, and the memory changed. Now, I saw myself. I was now a teenager of sixteen. I still belonged to the green man, whose name was Jargon Gemsbok. He had raised me, and taught me the laws concerning slaves who lived in Asgard.

We were not to speak to the native Asgardians. It was punishable by beating and starvation. It was forbidden to eat any food that our master hadn't given us. That was punishable by beating as well. We couldn't wear the clothing of another slave, for the punishment was labor beneath the streets. Few slaves lived through that. We were forbidden to have friends among the other slaves here in Asgard, though it was a rumor that slaves from other realms were permitted to befriend each other. We were not to speak ill of our masters, or we would be beaten.

But most importantly, it was illegal to fall in love. Such a thing was punishable by death.

Still, I had it lucky. My food was boring, but at least it wasn't the slop given to some slaves that was unfit even for pigs. And I was allowed to wear tunics.

There were two types of slave: the tunics and the burlaps. The former wore roman-style tunics and were allowed more freedom than the burlaps. We had the privilege of the freedom to bathe every day and keep our hair looking pretty. Burlaps were lucky to bathe once a month.

Here in Asgard, the type of slaves you owned were a symbol of status. The prettier the slave, the more power and wealth its owner was said to have. Hence, tunics consisted of only beautiful, young women. The burlaps consisted of the men, the ugly women, the crippled, and the elderly.

I was lucky Jargon was a proud man. I was treated better than most tunics. Instead of linen (the material most of the tunics wore) my tunics were made of Midgardian silk, the most precious material in all of the nine realms. It was prized for its feel and its rarity, as well as its subtle shine. All my tunics were made of this material. It had cost my master a fortune, but he was the single most influential man in the ambassadorial assembly, thanks to me.