Timeless

◈ 20 ◈

Eir was right. I didn't get any sleep at all that night. I tried dozing off once or twice, but it never lasted more than five to ten minutes because I jumped at the slightest of sounds. I'd never been a heavy sleeper, but being back on Asgard for the first time since it's destruction sent me on edge.

At one point, I fell into a deeper sleep for a bit longer, but the nightmares of the city being consumed by fire woke me up again. I could still vividly remember the screams of the stragglers left behind; their lungs filling with smoke as they cried out for help and watched their own skin peel and melt away from the heat of the flames climbing up their bodies. The air had smelled like charred flesh and, in a strangely twisted way, the bonfires that Thor and I would spend time at when we were younger.

Perhaps the memory of the bonfire-like scent was the reason that I found myself on the terrace outside of the healing chambers, afraid to close my eyes against the soft breeze and gradually lightening sky. It reminded me too much of what that terrible golden monstrosity of a kingdom had meant to me. Yes, the relics of the past horrors had been painted over and covered up by lies and deceit and garden parties, but it had been my home.

Part of me wished that it still could've been, as I stood out there on the terrace staring at the sky as it slowly faded from grey to blue.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp morning air to erase poisoned memories of choking on smoke as I raced to escape a damned kingdom. To escape my home. The only place of comfort I'd ever known.

I could sense Odin's presence before I even heard his boots thumping across the marble floors. We were far past the niceties of greeting each other or even acknowledging each other at all, so I continued to peer down at the city below us like a hawk stalking its prey. If I really wanted, and if I put in just enough effort, I could have that kingdom down on its corrupted knees before anyone could even blink.

But I had grown tired after all that had come to pass. My magic was still greatly drained after my short stint as king under the guise of Odin, and I had little desire to do anything but sleep or at least relax since Sakaar had become almost too chaotic for me to handle during my stay there. It was safe to say that I'd had my fill of a planet overflowing with expensive alcohol that tasted like jet fuel and sex-crazed maniacs running rampant around the city like it and all of its occupants were all theirs for the taking.

I had trouble finding shame in admitting that I did indeed miss the simpler times. I'd already been run bone-dry of shame in the past decade, and there wasn't much else left to be exposed. At that point, I was an open book, spread out wide for all to see every flaw and imperfection that were carelessly exposed under the pressure of maintaining a mask.

Odin came to a halt when he was standing right next to me on the balcony.

"My son."

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the name. To me, it held no meaning. Not anymore.

"Odin," I responded, coating my words in a thick and damn-near unbreakable ice. Not even the most powerful mage could even come close to deciphering exactly what hidden meaning lied behind such a simple word.

He sighed as if exhausted, and watched me out of the corner of his good eye.

I crossed my arms on the railing and dangled them lazily over the edge, tapping my fingernails lightly against the metal. The small, insignificant sound seemed impossibly loud as it broke through the heavy silence.

"Thor told me to tell you that he left for Midgard with Jane Foster late last night. He assumes that he will be back in a few hours."

"He must've broken it off with Jane. But a few hours? Why does he need that long just to tell her goodbye?"