Marvel: Short Stories

Story 1: God Save the Outcasts

Asgard, about 500 years ago

The golden Asgardian sun seeps in through the gaps in the drapes, landing on your face. The pressure of the heat is enough to stir you, making you conscious of your surroundings once again. You open your eyes, raising your hand to shelter them from the light. The door in the corner of your bedroom creaks as your maid Olivia enters.
"Good morning, milady. Odin requests your presence immediately," she says in a calm and soothing voice.
You turn onto your back and rest your arm on your head. "Tell my uncle I'll be through in a moment. I'm sure the old goat can wait a few minutes." This wasn't supposed to be a joke, and yet Olivia struggles to stop herself from giggling in the corner. Your heart feels lightened by the sound of her laughter; so much of Court business has been filled with absolute seriousness and concern, that many have not laughed in weeks. You take a moment to enjoy the laughter and then prop yourself up on your shoulders, allowing you to see the usual view that sits outside your window. To anyone else, this would be the most beautiful thing they've ever seen, but to you, it's just another day trapped under Odin's command.

Once dressed and fed, you open the wooden doors to the Great Hall and make your way towards Odin's throne. Each step becomes more and more nerve racking, the feeling that this may be the day that Odin betrays your father's trust builds in your gut. As you reach the bottom of the dais, you drop to your knee and dip your head - granting no response from Odin. The fear grows inside of you, though you try to suppress it. If Odin were to see how afraid you really are of him, he'd make your life hell. You return to standing on both feet and look in the direction of the King.
"Thalia," his booming voice pauses. "Have you seen my sons?"
You look towards Sif and Fandral, hoping for an indication of what to say. After a moment you begin to shake your head. "No, your Highness."
Odin moves slightly in his golden throne. "Thalia, I have been good to you, have I not?"
The feeling of dread creeps it's way inside of you. "Yes, your Highness," you lift your head to look at him. "But that does not mean that I keep tracks on the whereabouts of your children."
He tuts and his facial expression tightens. "The two of them haven't returned to the palace in three days. I want them found."
"With the greatest of respect, your highness, Thor is most definitely drunk in a nearby tavern, and Loki is undoubtedly causing mischief on the outer edges of the city. I do not think it would be proper for a niece of the King to go searching in such areas,"
He stands sharply. "I do not ask of what you think! Retrieve my sons before tomorrow morning, or I will forget the promise I made my brother and leave you on the streets like a harlot!" You try to disguise the small jump that you couldn't avoid as his volume rises. Knowing that there is no point in arguing, you bow your head and make your way out of the hall down and the servant's entrance.

The stairs to the kitchen are long and winding, and at some points they seem endless. Once you finally reach the rickety old door that separates the fortunate from the unfortunate, you push it open and feel a sense of comfort as the smell of food fills your nose. The cooks and maids working inside startle and stare at you, worried that the great Odin himself has finally come to cast judgment upon them all. You step closer to the old oak table that sits in the centre of the room and pick up a discarded loaf of bread. You hear a sudden rustling behind you as someone also enters the kitchen. She places a golden tray filled with empty plates beside you and stares at you harshly.
"You'd better not be causing mischief down here, girl," she barks as she moves to stand before the sink.
You shake your head and take a bite of the bread. "Never, Charlotte!"
She looks at you and smiles. "Then what's the point of being down here?"
You let out a short laugh and place the bread on the counter. "You haven't seen my cousins, have you?"
She shakes her head and begins washing the dishes in the filthy water. "Not today, milady. In fact, I haven't cooked for them in... gosh, it must be three days now!" Your disappointment shows on your face and she notices. "Why, are they in trouble with the King?"
You tilt your head to the side slightly and begin to help her by drying the wet dishes. "Not exactly, but if I don't find them within the next few hours, we're all screwed!"
Charlotte frowns. "I don't know where they are, Thal." Your heart aches slightly as the name makes its way out of her mouth. Your mother was the only ever person, besides Loki, to call you Thal. It was a rare thing to hear nowadays.
You take another bite of the bread and place the rag you've been using to somewhat dry the plates on the table. "I suppose I'd better get to finding them, then!" You say with a false confidence. You place a gentle kiss on the side of Charlotte's forehead and make your way out onto the streets, brushing past the market sellers and city dwellers until you arrive in the backstreets of the city.