What Might Have Been

Chapter V

Snug and comfortable—that was Jane’s room. All the other royals had vast open balconies, grand furniture, rich tapestries decorating stone surfaces, and a plethora of fire pits; just not Jane. Her rooms weren’t even meant to house guests let alone a member of the royal family. Frigga only put her there until the servants set up on of the quarters in the royal wing. Oddly enough, once Jane set up shop she didn’t want to move. Small enough to be claustrophobic for Fenrir’s natural form, the room Jane constructed was a cozy lair thick with rugs, furniture built for leisure versus splendor and a bookcase that rivaled the one in Loki’s quarters. Sleek lacquered wood of a ruddy brown made its frame while engravings of runes and symbols danced around its pillars. An artful work of metallic adornment trimmed its edges. It was one of the most precious things Jane considered undoubtedly hers.

Since her second day in Asgard when Thor and Loki showed her the city Jane escaped the castle to make trips of her own. Sometimes Fenrir joined her, sometimes a guard, a very few times that grew in number the older she got Jane went by herself into town. She loved the sights, the smells, the sounds. Learning Norse was a great trial for her and not one her family was aware she undertook. They had the All-tongue. What need they do to learn another’s language to fluency and further more, what need she? Even some commoners could channel such a gift. But not Jane. Not a mortal from Midgard. You were a fool to think her disadvantaged due to it.  

Learning Norse was like learning numbers when Jane thought about it. She could read runes; all she had to do was match the rune to the sound, like a multiplication table. Asking strangers lost its fearsome aspect and many she judged to look malicious or Scrooge-like frequently proved to be the most helpful of souls. She met Rurk, who owned one of the finest silk stores in town (his words); Carsi, a dwarf fluent in Norse who hawked metal-based jewelry but not gems (odd for a dwarf); Zib and Glib who did not have an inch of uninked skin between the two of them (her first tattoo was to be drawn by them; they refused to take “scared of needles” as an acceptable refusal); and then there was Master Builder (seemed he didn’t really have a name, only a title), a not-so-small giant who sculpted wooden furniture and sculptures with tools too small even by Aesir standards. It was he who fashioned her bookcase.  Of course there were more people she met, many of whom names were never given or asked, and many who gave their names and she forgot. Not all relationships were made to last. 

Still, Jane came to know much about Asgard’s capital and more importantly, the people she now called her own. To Odin and the princes of Asgard the people may pledge their loyalty and sword but it was to little Jane they pledged their hearts. Most thought her an orphan or cast away, a terribly weak being as they never studied her with the care Loki did that one night. Her mortality was not a well-kept secret. Few recalled seeing her with the princes touring the city seasons upon seasons back and now whenever she did come into the city limits it was either alone or with a small puppy; alas, not all forgot the image of a young Midgardian in the protective embrace of Asgard’s two princes. Those same eyes took note of which prince favored her.

There was no Princess of Asgard. Startling to think about considering Odin took her into his house if only under heavy pressure from his wife. Jane was a dependent, a ward of sorts if you will and rumors circulated around the capital of whys and hows she came into being. Heinous tongues wagged of bastard origins, a half mortal child bore due to the king’s, or the queen’s given whichever rumor the gossiper favored, in flagrante delicto actions; the more circumspect minds watched and waited before speaking aloud their thoughts. All agreed on one thing: This adoption of a Midgardian mortal into the royal family bordered on heresy. Thereby, the public scorned Odin’s female ward, his bastard child, while they fawned over this little weak so-called Aesir who dallied in the city and gave plenty of smiles and love to strangers. The two forces were bound for a collision in the future but as to which side would emerge victorious—love for the little cast away that so clearly loved Asgard and its people or the scorn adopting a mortal into the royal house incurred—no seer can say.