For my first month in Asgard, I permanently resided in the library, leaving only for meals. Each morning, I would awake in my own bed in the room next to the one Frigga had said was my father's. After remembering that I was on Asgard and not Earth, I would roll out of bed, throw on the simplest pair of clothes that I could find, and then rush to the library to keep up with the stack of books Frigga had left for me.
While I loved reading -- Frigga said I took off after my father in that aspect -- I found myself engrossed in books not purely for the desire to learn about Asgard and its magic, but to keep my mind off of everything that I was missing. I missed SHEILD and annoying Agent May when she trained me. I missed my visits to Tony Stark with Coulson whenever he needed to have a word with the philanthropist who treated me like a niece. I missed sneaking up on Natasha and Clint and pulling every practical joke I could think of on the pair. I even missed practicing my death glare at Director Fury and mocking him behind his back when he scolded some new recruit. As unstable and unsuitable of an environment SHIELD was for a young kid, I wouldn't have traded it for anything. It had been my functioning home, family, and friends for my entire life. There, I had learned how to take a punch, stand up for myself, and take action not on my own behalf, but for others. I could help people, make the world a better place, fight for the good guys. On Asgard, I had nothing but books and the hope that soon, my questions would be answered. For now, I had to bide my time.
A soft creaking noise jerked me out of a dusty, leather-bound book, its thick pages full of ancient gods and goddesses. I glanced up from my armchair and craned my neck to get a look at the large wooden doors. Sure enough, they were slowly springing open. In the dim light of the morning sun seeping in through the windows, I watched as a large figure stepped inside the library, heavy footsteps thudding across the floor as they approached me. I stood, the figure coming into focus as he neared. Thor.
"You've been holed up in here for days, little one," he said with a slight laugh as I frowned up at him. "Come, your books can wait." I slowly set down the thick volume on the chair, reluctant to go along with my uncle. After everything that transpired on the rainbow bridge, I wanted to keep to myself, to submerse my consciousness into an activity that would take away the fear, worry, and homesickness. Now, I could avoid it no longer.
Thor held out his hand to me and I took it slowly. "Don't be discouraged," he announced as he led me away from my secluded corner of the library and out into the golden halls. "You can't master magic in a week, it takes years. Even for the most dedicated students," he added with a wink.
The shimmering halls were void of people at this early of an hour, the palace still yet to have woken up for the day. As Thor marched gallantly down the middle of the corridors, servants ducked away into rooms and strayed into the shadows, out of sight. That's how things were, he told me when we had broken free of the golden constraints of the palace and journeyed outside into the rising sun. The palace would stay quiet, the halls desolate until All-Father took his seat in the throne. Only after that would the halls fill with the sound of voices, footsteps, and bright, golden light.
Outside of the palace, however, the cobblestone streets were already alive and bustling under the flaming gaze of the rising sun. The sky slashed with pink and red hues above a busy city of people, all situated at the bottom of the hill behind the Asgardian palace. We weren't going there though, not today.
"Here we are," Thor announced as we reached a patch of roughed up grass white circle encasing the ground. Behind it stood what appeared to be a shed. I glanced up at Thor, unsure of where we had just arrived.
"Where are we?" I asked, an eyebrow cocked up at him. He just grinned.
"You'll see."
He tugged gently on my arm before steering me inside the shed. Inside stood racks upon racks of swords, sets of armor, shields, and weapons galore. My jaw dropped. Part of being raised at SHIELD meant that I had basic weapon training. I could take disassemble and reassemble a pistol in under thirty seconds. I could load any sort of gun with my eyes closed. I could hit a bull's-eye with a bullet, knife, and on occasion, arrow. I was familiar with about ten different types of martial arts. I was beyond prepared for fighting Earth-style. Compared to the weapons of the developed world, this seemed... medieval.
"What is this, the armory?" I asked, walking the length of the walls, admiring the weapons on display.
Thor let out a booming laugh, placing a large hand on my shoulder as he steered me away from a rack of maces to a wall of swords. "No, Bryn," he began, "the armory in the palace is larger and much more grand. This is just the training grounds." He gave each sword a once-over before selecting a small blade from the bottom of the rack. He balanced it in his hand for a moment, tutting to himself, before swapping it out for a second, slightly longer sword. He repeated the same process, and after deeming it satisfactory, handed it to me gently.
"We used these blades long ago when we were your age," Thor instructed, positioning my arms so I held the sword upright. I didn't bother asking who we was. I knew he meant my father and the wound was too fresh to pry for further information. Instead, I kept silent as he circled me, adjusting my arms until the sword was held vertically in front of my face.
"This is called front guard," Thor said, motioning to my stance. "It's a defense position." I nodded slowly, trying to remember the feeling of the blade in my hands and its exact position before he quickly altered my stance again and again to different defensive stances. There had to have been half a million different 'guard stances,' each varied from the next, the names all too easy to forget. There was both half and full iron gate guard, short guard, tail guard -- the names of each stance and the blade's position all faded together as Thor went over them one after another, finally stopping when he noticed the perplexed look etched over my features.
He grinned, motioning for me to hand over the blade, which I did all too eagerly. The sword was heavy and awkward to maneuver. I had only held it for about fifteen minutes, but my arms were already beginning to feel the effects. Heaving a sigh, I took a step back, stretching my arms above my head, thinking our lesson was over. Thor, however, had other ideas. Without warning, he tossed me a wooden replica of the blade, which I caught with one hand. I held it up, testing its weight. While lighter than the initial sword, the dense wood, I suspected, was weighted down to simulate holding a real sword.
When I looked up from examining the practice weapon, Thor was brandishing a second, larger wooden sword in his own hands, swinging it around for good measure. "This way," he said, taking me back outside the building to the circled patch of grass.
"This is where we do all of our training," he said, motioning to the circle. "We fight in this circle. The first person to step out or yield loses." My eyes widened in shock. "Don't worry, little one," he said with a laugh. "I'll go easy on you. You're learning." I nodded and raised the wooden replica into what I hoped was the front guard position. After Thor motioned for a small adjustment, he swung his sword towards me slowly, giving me time to adjust my stance and lift my own blade up to meet his. "Good," he said gently, reaching out to adjust my arm. "Very good."
Then our wooden blades met again with a clash.
