Survivor's Guilt ~ A Marvel Story

~ 2 ~

"No one would've needed saving if you hadn't convinced Heimdall to leave his post with 'that power.'" I couldn't raise my voice at him but oh how he could raise his voice at me. "I expect an apology to him and I forbid you to use any of that witchcraft your mother is training you in. You will forget you have ever been able to read people's thoughts. You will only work on your energy manipulation." He emphasized the word, mocking me. 

I refused to let the tears out. If only my father's mind wasn't as strong as it was, I'd be able to solve a lot of problems. He began to storm away, brushing past me. 

"You will need my powers one of these days and it will be your fault they're gone!" I yelled after him, my voice cracking.

"No!" He shouted. "I have your mother and Heimdall for that if I ever need it! Your power makes you and your allies weak."

He turned away from me again and this time no matter what I had said, he wasn't turning back around. I clenched my jaw and stared as he walked away. "I'll set you up a training session today," He shouted from down the dark hall.

I didn't know what I felt. Anger, sadness, disappointment. It was all there at all the wrong times. 

Maybe he was right about one thing. I hadn't focused on the power given to me by the Gods. I suppose both gifts were given by the Gods but the true power was raw and deadly while the mind control took hours of lessons and fine-tuning.  

My brothers always told me that if I really put my mind to it, I could be on the front lines of battles with them. I'd never believed them but in some strange way, my father had managed to piss me off enough to actually listen to him.

And I was going to make him regret it. 

I slammed the door to my room shut with a force that would knock any regular door off its hinges. 

After a frustrating effort of all the pins and ties getting stuck in my hair, I finally let it down. It fell just above my waist in waves. I practically tore the dragon scales from my shoulders and slipped the straps of my dress down.

I stepped out of the fabric that now lay in a messy heap on my floor. My corset, still tight around me, was the next thing I shed. 

After I got the feeling of being able to breathe again, I slid open my closet door. I stepped into the large room that could fit my bed, times two. At the very back was a glass case that held my armor. Almost everyone, including my family, wore their armor around the castle. My mother told me that it wasn't typical for women to do so as well but I did it anyway. She never once stopped me.

It wasn't as clunky as most of the guards and soldiers because death wouldn't come so quickly or easily to me. 

Layer after layer, the armor was finally on. I adjusted the main black bodice that fit flush to my skin but didn't compress me like a corset. Patterns of gold ran along it, carving runes and shapes into the metallic shell. Black shorts that were attached to the bodice also had this imprint. I slid the brown leather boots on and laced them halfway up my calf. 

I stood up, looking at myself in the mirror. The jumpsuit came up my neck and formed a collar that ran down into a sharp v-neck. 

I picked up the last two items from the glass case and slid them on. First, I attached the white-painted metal shoulder pads that ended with a sharp point right above my elbows. I'm sure that just those could be used as a weapon themselves. Finally, I slid on a golden belt that hugged my waist gently, contouring my shape as it swooped down in the front. A white skirt, that had two long slits that ran up my legs, fell just below my knees. These were perfect for fighting it since they weren't constricting.