Another week passes in Asgard. Another week of darkness. Of long days and restless nights. Eir has done her best to keep your mind from wandering. During healing sessions, as you lie on your bed and allow her to wrap you in her magic, she recites riddles. Some you figure out quickly. Others take you several sessions to crack. And Thor visits often, spending several hours a day at your bedside recounting endless stories of his childhood with his friends. But you can tell he is careful to leave Loki out of each one.
But Thor hasn't visited today. Not even to bring you your breakfast - due several hours ago. Hunger coils deep inside your stomach, the edges razor sharp. Your insides twist and rumble with an empty ache that leaves you wondering just how long you'd be left forgotten inside this room.
Maybe I should just...leave.
Tempted by the idea, you stand from the sitting chair in the window - the one Thor had pulled over several days ago to allow you to bask in the sun, should you wish. Cautiously, with small steps and grasping hands, you start to make your way across the room. By now you've learned its layout well enough to know that it takes about thirty steps to reach the door. But Eir and Thor both have a habit of moving the furniture as it suits them. Or rather, as they believe it would suit you. Neither seems to grasp the concept that due to your eye wraps, each time they move a desk or a chair, you have to figure out a way around it. Usually at the cost of a painfully stubbed toe or a rolled ankle.
And it seems that sometime in the last day, someone shifted the couch.
"God damnit!" you shout as you walk straight into the wooden leg. With a grunt of pain, you collapse over the couch's arm and reach for your ankle - the same one only recently recovered. "Damnit Thor, for god's sake!" you seethe, rubbing at the place where there will no doubt be a bruise by dinnertime.
As the ache subsides, you try to stand once more, spurred onward by another loud growl from your stomach. But before you can take a step, familiar click sounds from across the room, telling you someone is entering. And the tell-tale clang of utensils against porcelain signals that someone is finally bringing you something to eat.
"About time!" you frown as the hinges of your door creak. "I'm starving, Thor. Where have you been?"
"I'm sorry, my lady," a sultry woman's voice croons. "But I have been sent in the Prince's stead with your breakfast."
"Oh," you answer, intrigued by the first new voice you've heard in days. "Okay. Um...sorry, who are you?"
"Marian, my lady."
Marian's footsteps grow closer, as what you assume to be the breakfast tray is set down on the coffee table in front of the couch. The hem of her long skirts drift over the bare skin of your shins as she passes in front of you. You wait until she clears the way before reaching out blindly for the edge of the tray. But Marian grabs your arm and directs your hand to the utensils.
"Do you require assistance?" she asks, as you grab one of the utensils and feel for the prongs.
"Nope," you answer stubbornly. "I got this."
You take a blind stab, hitting the plate but missing the food, judging by Marian's stifled laugh.
"Please, my lady, let me," Marian says, taking a seat at your side and sliding the fork from your grasp. You grumble stubbornly below your breath, but begrudgingly allow her help, appreciating how she only puts food on the fork before handing it back to you and allowing you to feed yourself. Thor's own stubbornness demands he actually feed you the mouthful he gathers.
"Thanks," you mumble through a full mouth.
"It is my honor, my lady," Marian says.
For several quiet minutes, Marian assembles forkfuls of some kind of roast and potatoes, handing you the loaded utensil and allowing you to take the bite on your own. You find yourself appreciating her quiet company.
"Let me ask you something," you say as Marian indicates you've finished the main course. "What's it like here?"
"Your meaning?" Marian asks.
"Sorry, let me be more specific. What does the palace look like?" you ask. "Are there a lot of people here? Have you met the King? What's he like? Do you live here?" the questions fall unrestrained from your lips. It's been almost two weeks that you've been here in Asgard, but you've never seen beyond the confines of your room. And even your room has always looked a bit fuzzy and out of focus even at the best of times.
Marian sighs, and sets down whatever she's holding as her position on the couch shifts. For a moment, she doesn't speak. But when she does, her tone has shifted. There's an edge of...something there. Anger, maybe. Resentment?
"The palace is...magnificent," she says, her answer short. Clipped.
"What about the people here?" you ask. "I mean, I know Eir. And Thor, of course. But...are there lots of people here?"
"Hmm," Marian huffs in a sour laugh. "Yes. There are many who live in the palace."
"Do you?" you ask.
At this Marian lets out a full-chested laugh - but not one of mirth. "No," she answers.
Made slightly uneasy by her tone, you bite your tongue. Clearly Marian isn't happy at the palace. Maybe it's a sore spot. One you shouldn't push on.
"May I ask a question in return?" Marian says, catching you off guard.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Please, do," you say.
"You're Midgardian?" she asks.
Suddenly, Thor's warning about not letting others know of your presence at the palace sends alarm bells off in your head. You wonder briefly if you've made a mistake in speaking to this woman at all. But she must see your hesitation.
"I don't intend to judge you," she says quickly. "I just...I've never met a human before."
You hesitate once more, debating between answering her question, and denying. But she seems to already know that you're human. And she was sent with your breakfast. Someone must trust her.
"You seem to already know the answer to that," you say.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Marian chuckles. "I wonder...how have you come to know the prince?"
"Which one?" you scoff.
"Which...? I was speaking of the first born. The Crown. Do you know the other as well?" she asks - a deep-seated intrigue in her voice.
You let out a burdened sigh and bury your head in your hands as a small headache takes root somewhere deep in your mind. "Yeah. I know him."
Marian is silent for a moment, but her intrigue is so intense you can feel her unasked questions burning within her even blind, and several feet away.
"Is he...a friend?" she finally asks. You can hear her unspoken implications. "Or an enemy?"
"He does tend to have a lot of those, doesn't he?" you ask sourly.
Marian lets out a strange, almost manic cackle. But she quickly sorts herself. "I apologize, but...you speak truth. The younger is...different."
"Tell me about it," you grumble.
"You seem affected by even the mention of him," Marian says. "Are you his consort?"
You scoff. "Not anymore."
"But...you were?" she presses.
"Yeah, I guess so," you say. "Maybe even thought I was more, but...I guess not."
"Hmm," Marian says, almost to herself. "Fascinating."
You shift uneasily on the couch, hoping Marian is out of questions. But it seems she has one more.
"Then...you aren't the Crown Prince's paramour?" she asks.
"What, Thor?" you scoff. "No. Absolutely not."
"I see," Marian answers, a note of something akin to relief in her voice. "Well, to catch the eye of a prince is no small feat. Even if it is the younger."
"Yeah, thanks," you say sarcastically.
The room falls silent. The silence stretches on long enough for it to take a turn toward the awkward. But before it can fully get there, Marian stands, and gathers the tray.
"I will leave you, my lady," she says. "Unless you require something more?"
"No," you say. "Thanks, Marian."
Marian's footsteps shuffle across the room. And the tell-tale creak of the door hinges tell you that you are once more alone. For a brief moment, you miss having another young woman's company. You start to wonder what Marian had looked like. After all, you've never met an Aesir before. Well, you've never met a non-royal Aesir before.
Full, sated, and now a little sleepy you rise from the couch and feel your way back to the chair in the window. As you curl into its overstuffed cushions - warm from the sun - you let your mind wander. From Marian, to the other Aesir, to Asgard...to home. In your mind's eye you can see how Steve's hair always sticks out at weird angles in the morning before he combs it. And how Tony always has a grease stain on his shirt somewhere. You can hear Natasha's laugh - rare as it is - and how it chimes like bells. It makes you wonder what they're all doing right now, at this very moment.
It makes you wonder what Loki is doing.
Heimdall had said he stays in your room. Is he there now, laying in your bed? Curled up in your sheets? Or maybe he's retreated back to his tower - alone and isolated.
The thought sends a pang of discomfort through you, despite your anger.
As you try to force away the flashes of raven hair and green eyes, distant footsteps echo in the hallway beyond your door - heavy and rapid. Only a few seconds later the door is thrown open with abandon as the hinges scream, and the floor creaks.
"My lady!" Thor's voice comes from across the room - along with the pleasant scent of something familiar to what you've just eaten. "I am sorry. I'm here."
"Where the hell have you been?" you frown. "I was starving!"
"It is my fault," Thor says, as it sounds like he drags something heavy and wooden across the floor toward you. "The Lady Sif was supposed to be back from her hunt this morning. But in her stead a letter arrived. She was waylaid by a band of skemmd ljós. I went to find her, and aid in her battle. I've only just returned."
"Wait, by what?" you question.
"Never you mind," Thor says reassuringly. "I am here now. And Sif and I are both safe. But...alas, I am late. And you must need sustenance."
Something cold touches your lips, and you lean back, throwing up a hand. "No, uh...that's okay. I already ate."
"You...but, how?" Thor questions.
"Some girl came with food," you say. "Marian. I didn't catch a last name."
"Marian?" Thor questions. "I...am not familiar with a servant by that name."
"Servant?" you question, appalled. "You guys have servants?"
"Aye," Thor answers. "Who did you believe her to be?"
"I don't know!" you say exasperated. "An employee, maybe? Or, I don't know. A cousin or something? You can't have servants, Thor...that's not okay!"
"I am confused, my lady," Thor says. "How else would the palace be run?"
"Hire people!" you say. "Pay them!"
"Our servants are compensated in warm meals and palace protection," Thor states. "They are given days of rest and have private quarters. They are free to come and go from the palace as they please, so long as they return before their duties begin. Is this not what a servant is on Midgard?"
"Oh," you say, relief coursing through you. "No. I mean, yes, but...I don't know, we tend to use servant differently. It's a little more...not optional."
Thor laughs, loud and hearty. "Have no fear, my lady. We tend well to the servants."
"Sure you do," you say skeptically. "But, whatever. Someone already brought me food. So, I'm good. Thanks though."
"Very well," Thor says. "In that case, what do you wish to do today?"
"I get to pick?" you question, excited.
"For today? Yes," Thor says. "As an apology for my tardiness."
You're almost giddy with choice. Normally Thor simply tells you what you're going to do. And although he's taken you to do many different things, they've all been activities hidden inside the palace - away from others. Your excursion to meet Heimdall has been the one and only time you've been allowed outside of the palace.
You wonder if you can swing another outdoors activity.
"The water," you say immediately. "I can hear the seagulls from the window. I know there's water nearby."
"The Ringsfjord, aye," Thor says. "It is a vast sea - unlike any on Midgard."
"I want to go," you demand. "Is there sand?"
"Yes, my lady," Thor laughs. "There is sand."
"Okay, then let's go," you say, leaping to your feet. "You can tell me more stories on the way there. And I want to take the horse."
Thor simply laughs and slides his gloved fingers between yours - as he always does to guide you. "Whatever you wish, my lady," he says. "So long as you agree to let me return you to the palace before your evening healing session."
Feeling lighthearted for the first time in days, you allow Thor to pull you forward, not caring how he hides your presence as you both sneak through the halls of the palace.