Daughter Dearest

eleven

“Missss Venusss?” 

The cautious voice of the slithery resident cut through the silence of the lobby. Venus lifted her arm from over her eyes, exposing them to the brightness of the lights in the room. She winced, but hoped that she would soon grow accustomed to the bright light. 

She was nursing a headache the size of her family's egos from all the drinking she had done after her surprise call with Valentino. She learned just how much Asgardian ale was too much, rather quickly. 

The water that had been forced down her throat all morning only made the throbbing within her head worse.

“Yes, Sir Pentious? What can I do for you, dear?” She asked. Her back popped as she stretched out on the couch. 

“I require your assistance in the kitchen. . . I've tried to replicate that meal you made for us just nights ago, but I can't seem to get it correct.” 

Venus looked at Sir Pentious, adding pressure to her head. Slowly, she nodded and pulled herself up despite the discomfort she felt. 

It was almost as if being in Hell hindered some of her abilities. . . Like being able to not be absolutely hungover after a relaxing night of drinking.

“Any particular reason why?” Venus questioned out of curiosity, using any strength she had to produce a little glass bottle of a vibrant purple potion that would hopefully make her seem alive enough to survive the day. 

“I believe the King would love to know the cuisine of your people.” She almost choked on the potion as she swallowed it down quickly. It was already beginning to help, slowly reducing the headache to more of a tingle. 

The nausea and light sensitivity vanished just before she began to cough after swallowing the last bit of the horrid tasting potion. 

“I beg your pardon?” She gasped out once she finished coughing. 

“The King. . . He is visiting again today.” 

Venus stood and stretched her limbs better that time, looking around the room before once again laying her eyes on the snake sinner. She was still terribly disoriented and couldn't tell the time of day for the dark clouds that covered the entirety of the sky outside. 

Usually she could tell by the placement of the light, but the clouds and acid rain made it impossible. 

“How long do we have?” The answer would completely determine what she made and how much of it. 

Many of the dishes she grew up on took several hours to prepare, which is why her, Thor, and Loki were asked their input over breakfast. She could only hope that she would have the ability to make a better second impression. 

Her first impression hadn't been horrible, but she felt as if it could've been better. On Asgard, she would have been punished for how she acted in front of a guest. Regardless of their age, Odin disciplined his children with an iron fist. 

“Until 5:00 this evening.” Sir Pentious replied. 

Venus picked up her phone and looked at the ‘always on display’ that showed the date and time, humming at the discovery. It was barely 11 in the morning, so she would have nearly six hours to prepare a meal fit for Asgardian royalty. 

Without another word, she tucked her phone into the pocket of her robe and gestured for Sir Pentious to follow her towards the kitchen as a clipboard and Stark Industries pen appeared in her hand. 

The kitchen was in various stages of disarray as she entered. 

Niffty was scrubbing dishes with all her might while Charlie was scavenging through the pantry that was surprisingly still stocked.