Electrostatic

A Time of Obliteration

A Time of Obliteration

"Ill is the result of letting fear rule thine actions." - The Saga of Harald Hardrade.

What we perceived to be the dark hours back on earth were just the beginning. When the Aether tore apart the universe, Malekith spared no expense on plundering his gallant victory over light. He ripped open the earth from soil to sea. He left our planet as a barren unforgiving waste land with not so much as a spark of hope left. The depleting population scattered to survive, the dark elves thought it right to use us as toys in their psychotic celebrations, death wasn't an enemy. Every soul that was taken on that god for saken scrap of a planet, ached with joy to be set free from this torture.

That's when the 'almighty Asgardians' decided to... lets say "try again". They were alleged to be our saviours, the glorified gods that graced our ant hill of a planet with their presence, their strength, beauty and power. We the human race were supposed to be grateful for the sacrifice they were committing, that it was our decision to make. Stay on earth and perish or come to Asgard, to live a life of pure wonder and freedom, to seek our future in the stars, to ultimately survive another, cataclysmic war and to victor our problems. That vision never existed.

*** Present  ***

My blessed name is Dagný meaning 'new day' the council thought it quaint to brand every human female Dagný and every human male Bekan, meaning 'little one'. They promised a life of freedom and wonder, instead our former lives, identities and rights are stripped from us. My kind are shackled and preyed upon. Our men ridiculed for their weakness, used as entertainment and labour.

No torture or physical abuse is unleashed on us, rather that is what the Asgardian population are lead to believe by Odins laws. There are places in Asgard no light reaches, where dark persons dwell and no human dare venture for fear of uncharted horrors that lie there. Even the lightest of places can be just as deadly. I would have rather died, than exist in this outer dimensional hell, if only I had seen through their lies.

...

"But mother I must protest, I simply cannot attend this, dressed up facade of a what you call a celebration!" His greatness, the idiotic Thor boomed through Queen Frigga's chambers. The never ending petty quarrels Thor undertakes with is mother are a daily occurrence.

However, life in the palace is a luxury to a maid like me, I was lucky enough to be chosen along with the hundreds of palace slaves. I tend to the royals every need, serving wine, cleaning their chambers, taking care of the domestic things; they are above or incapable as I like to think of doing. But of course my thoughts are better kept to myself, humans speak when they are spoken too.

"But darling why should you protest so much? You know I only want the best for you." Frigga seems to sugar coat her schemes expertly, no one but herself can predict her ploys.

"You know well mother I do not intend to wed any paraded, empty vessel of a woman you throw in front of me. I am sick to the stomach of so called betrothed girls pleading to be future queen!"

He did have a point, all the time I'd spent with the queen, she has never failed in finding the most repulsive women to offer up to her son on a platter. But yet the arrogant son of a bitch never seems to bite into her arrangements.

"I would rather bed a human upon the throne of Asgard, than marry any chosen wife of yours!"

You know that silence before every battle that seems eiry? When you know something terrible is coming? Well lets just say, I want to fly straight out of the grand window, away from the deafening silence in this room.

Frigga strikes Thor across the cheek and sends him cursing backwards, crashing into the fruit garland I had just created for her highness' very pleasure. His body cracking the solid marble wall by my side, he rises to his feet and ready's his hammer gloriously in his right hand.

"How dare you say such a revolting thing in my presence! Why if you were any other, I could have you killed on a slab in the courtyard!"

Ouch, really? We're not that bad lady I could probably show your son a thing or two on that, over sized flashy chair of yours.
My abulma masks the grin playing on my face. My kind have a uniform in the Palace, the women sport golden headdresses with mesh to conceal our faces, and teal coloured, linen gowns with golden clasps and fastens. While the men wear gold scull caps and green tunics with gold trimmings, because everything in this place just has to be fucking golden.

"Well I would like to see you attempt such a thing mother, maybe I should just take your maid here out into the woods and fuck her upon the sacred Nemeton. We could bare a child of both races, inline to the thrown as well, would that suffice?" He'd gone too far.

I have never witnessed the Queen turn such a shade of emerald in my service. Her witchcraft pooling from every orifice of her being and her eyes a molten red. If there is one rule among the servants in the Palace, is do not place yourself between any Asgardians above you. And at this moment in time, I really wish I was put on kitchen duty this morning.

Thor makes many idle threats towards his mother, most are just that threats, he would never harm a particle of her being. He loves her dearly, and she relishes in that. However today I'm beginning to realise this is variant from usual.

Frigga unleashes her power upon the furnishings in the room, throwing banquet tables and chairs against the ceiling, to come hurtling down at such a force. I'm knocked from my feet, collapsing on the shards of glass blasted from the windows. Thor of course is stood unharmed and more furious than ever.  If I scream I could have my tongue cut out, or even worse they could turn on me for a stress release.
Blood trembles down my shaking forearms, pulling the thick shards from my skin I stifle a whimper, but my efforts of staying silent fail.

I attempt to crawl towards the arch entrance, but a solid force drags me to my feet, pinning me against the wall. Green mist sulks up my body rendering my movements still, and lifting me into the air. My abulma falls from my face, allowing my hair to tangle in the smeared blood across my shoulders.

"Mother stop this! You know as well as I, this is wrong! It is my punishment to bare not a Dagný's! Mother!" He bellows to his Queen, but his efforts are in vein. The air in my lungs is being stolen, I struggle to gaze towards Frigga, her fearsome form webbed in smoke and fury.

"Please... don't" I choke out, everything seems to lighten and I no longer feel the tightening grip of her, my vision impaired and the flashes of light blind me further. I almost feel like I'm flying, am I dead?