Electrostatic

Dagný

Dagný

"Gold is little comfort for the kinsman dead." - Örvar Odd's Saga.

"I shouldn't have provoked her in such a way, there were no intent behind my words, just pure stupidity and disrespect. Now look what I have caused, another innocent life hangs in the balance through my actions alone. When will I start to take heed of my recklessness?" Thors dull rumble of a voice I've become so accustomed to, shrieks hurting my ringing ears. I feel as my insides have been torn apart and stitched together again by a rusty needle.

I attempt to take in my surroundings, my vision wavers with every breath that scrapes through me. Raising myself up, my body is sprawled across a grand bed of silk. The bedding ripples over my dress, my poor torn blue uniform singed into shreds of sheets, exposing my bruised dappled skin. Examining my wrists, which are no longer encased with my Dagný identity cuffs, I'm branded with abnormal waves of flourishing verdant.

"Are you hurt?" Thor hovers so close his strands of blonde hair fall onto my cheeks. His voice demanding but rushed. Visions of fleeting events stem in spots across the vast chamber, the blighted furnishings and root like cracks spawn up the walls onto the ceiling.

"I...um, a little sore." Shit. Clamping my hands over my mouth in disbelief, I spoke. Wide eyed I wait for the worst. His cobalt blue eyes, grazed over my body and ceased at my wrists. Callus palms slide around them, drawing them away from my face, my body is wrenched from my position and placed fluidly upon the lap of the blonde brute of Asgard. Stiffening, I hold my breath waiting for him to snap my neck or shatter my wrists.

"I am truly sorry for the damage I have caused to you, please do not fear me, tell me what is your name fair maiden?" I can feel his breath with every word he makes, this is uncomfortably close, the ability to fly through that very same window appeals to me greater than when my life was hovering in witchcraft.

"Dagný, your highness." my words are broken and my voice cracks, I can't hold it together, I knew this day would come, I've served too close to death for too long.

"No your birth name, what my father has done to your kind is unforgivable." his tone of voice steady and...calming?

What is this, some kind of false hope before it happens. His gaze is locked hard on mine, it's strange he is that same insane, pretentious dick I've hated for so long, but some how I feel safe?
No absolutely not, yet I'm not scared anymore. The terror that usually flows through my system at so much of a glance from a royal is gone, this feeling is foreign.

"Alison, my name is Alison. What are you going to do to me?" I'm trying my best to sound firm and convincing but, I've started to tremble in his grip, it's getting tighter. Not unbearable but noticeable, I don't trust him, I'd never trust one of them.

"Alison, I can assure your safety from this day forward. No human would have survived what you did, you are brave and remarkable. There is nothing I regret more than abandoning your world, I am in debt to you for not only my actions but my families also." His words were barely a murmur, spoken for my audience only.

"Then why did you do it? We were powerless, you swore to protect us in New York, where did you go? Why would you take us and enslave us, using us as your personal lapdogs?!" I refuse to believe this murderer retains any conscience or morality. I was not falling for his poisoned words, if I was going to die I want my questions answered.

"I simply cannot give you the answers you require, there is a purpose to everything my father does, it may not seem just or honourable. In due course you will see why these crimes have been committed."

That expression a parent gives a child to explain where other children come from, or where Granddad has gone. That patronising, false sense of belief they try to force upon you, he gave me that exact look. I don't think I've ever loathed someone so much as I do him. Yet the usual rage that is constantly encased in my mind refuses to surface. I finally have the voice, the opportunity to attack the man who could have stopped all this from ever existing. But I can't I feel something, a burning feeling in my core, my emotions are exploding inside me. Rage, betrayal, revenge, sympathy, lust, gratitude corse through my body I can't think clearly.

Thor waits from my anticipated response, but I don't have one I panic, my expression exposes me. His hand releases my wrist, dragging his gaze to the strand of hair that covers my right cheek, the last physical barrier between us. I stay rigid as his palm is placed at the base of my jaw, his thumb sweeping the suspended strand behind my ear.

He's is impenetrable, his emotionless face allows no reading, his behaviour completely eradicate and abnormal. Thor Future King of Asgard, Protector of all Nine Realms, has a tender touch soft enough to concentrate on a minuscule imperfection.

"The only way for me to ensure your safety is to cement you at my side, I refused to use humans as anything but free people. I have no slaves they are paid persons who tend to my chambers. I would like to take you with me Alison, at least give you something of a life. I cannot change my fathers laws, however I can blind him to but a few." His lips brush my lobe as he sweetens his offer to a chance of freedom. Another ultimatum offered, be abused most likely torn apart whilst in Queen Frigga's service or join Thor's make believe world of hope.

"I accept." a curvature plays upon his lips as they press against my bare collar bone, his facial stubble like bark grazing my skin. Like I had any choice... I want to pull away, I don't want this, he repulses me the idea of his touch used to make my skin crawl, I try to keep this kindled idea of hatred I've raised all these years.

"Stop, please don't touch me... stop." I try to push him away but the solid breast plate of his armour is firm in place. His grip stiffens holding my body in place, only as he travels from my shoulder to my arm I become conscience of what is occurring. His trail of contact is dissolving the emerald embellished marked on my skin left there by Frigga. He's healing me, but why?

"I am sorry again, now come with me I'll show you to my area of the palace." I feel so insignificant in his arms, he towers at least three feet over me and his build makes light work of lifting me, like I am feather weight he moves with ease.

"I think we'll take the short cut." That cocky smirk I am accustomed to returns, now here is the Thor I know well.

The dull noise of his Hammer courses towards his grasp, our body's whisk through the grand window, out into the humid air of the Asgardian atmosphere. Buildings, grand statues, golden arches and tubular architecture of the grand palace surge into one physical blur, to pin point the speed we rocket is impossible.

The feeling I dreamed flying would be is nothing but that, a figment of my imagination, this isn't soaring through the air with ease and admiration of this magnificent kingdom. It's brutish and ignorant.

Even though I detest the existence I carry out here, no creature in any realm can claim that Asgard is not the most exquisite sight known to man. The landscape is futuristic yet timeless, it seems every era of time and space is somehow characterised in the architecture of the buildings or the cobbled swerving roads woven together in harmony, as the Bifrost prism colours reflect the three suns blistering light. It is truly beautiful, yet conceals so much corruption and evil.