Chapter Text
To the king I will bow
At least for now
One of these days a-coming, I’m gonna take that boy’s crown
‘Cause I am, I am a little wicked
I am, I am
Hands up, hands up
Just like you said
I am a little wicked
No one calls you ‘honey’ when you’re sitting on a throne
-“A Little Wicked” by Valerie Broussard
You were no stranger to would-be conquerors invading your home planet, but you’d never have thought you’d end up a prisoner of war.
A month ago, raiders had come to your city to pillage and steal anything of value. Your people had driven them off before, but they returned with force that wasn’t something you could handle as humble fishermen and blacksmiths. You’d been defending your family alongside your father, as you were the eldest daughter and a fully capable blacksmith, already trained in the ways of the sword for this very reason. Your father had been injured in the fight, so you sent him, your mother, and your little sister out into the woods to escape while you held the soldiers off so they could escape. You’d fought well—killing four of them—before their numbers overwhelmed you and you were imprisoned.
The raiders tied you up and dragged you back to their temporary camp. They’d thrown up a few tents and had captured any women they could find and tied them around a tree for safekeeping. You spotted a larger craft on the top of the hill. The markings on it confirmed they were Kree slavers searching for new meat.
And you’d just stupidly landed yourself on the menu.
You fought them when they tried to bind you to the tree with the others and got a fresh bruise on your cheek for your trouble. You struggled against the restraints until you had rope burn on your wrists, suppressing the urge to just scream into the sky in a howl of rage. You had to get out of here. You had to get free and get back to your family.
By the time the sun had set, the slavers had picked up as many women as they could and hauled you into the main ship, unafraid of hurting any women who tried to resist. They loaded you into a dank cage on the bottom of the ship, put you all on a chain link with old, rusted manacles, and then blasted off into space for God knows where.
There were six women including you who had been taken and you knew three of them. You all talked very quietly about what to do when you arrived to your destination. You suggested bum-rushing the guards when they came back to collect you all and getting hold of a laser rifle to defend yourselves, but the women didn’t agree. They wanted to try and remain docile for now until they had a better idea of where they had taken you. You knew acting alone would likely result in you being killed, so you begrudgingly agreed not to rebel when they returned.
Some time passed. You had a hard time determining how much, but you suspected it was around twelve hours of flight time. You knew they hadn’t landed thanks to the steady roar of the engines. At last, you heard them dying down and then footsteps approaching. One of the slavers unhooked the end of the manacle chains that connected the six of you and led you out of the vessel.
You couldn’t tell what planet you were on. The skies were a weird greyish-green and it was warmer than your home planet. The slavers had set up their own village, composed mostly of metal shacks built from scrapped ship parts. They corralled you into a hut with a stage up front so you could all be inspected. You weren’t about to let it get that far; before they’d taken you from your cell, you’d found an old, rusted bar that had fallen out of the door frame and hid it inside your boot. You stood close to the girl in front of you so no one could see you slipping it out and wedging it into the link holding your manacles together. You strained and pulled hard and the rusty metal cracked apart, freeing you.
You jumped onto the nearest guard and plunged the metal bar into his right eye. He screamed and fell back, allowing you to sprint away from the hut. You collided with another warrior and quickly snatched up his laser rifle, shooting him in the gut twice before you raced for the forest line. Shots kicked up dirt at your heels as the slavers chased after you. You wouldn’t stand down. You would either escape or die trying. And if you were about to die, then you’d take as many of these bastards with you as possible.
You didn’t know the terrain, so unfortunately, you tripped over an overturned tree and tumbled down the hill, getting the wind knocked out of you in the process. You lay there, wheezing as you tried to get your breath back, and could hear shouts of the men searching for you.
Just then, you heard a strange sonic boom in the distance and then a flash of brilliant light on the other side of the hill. You had no idea what it was, maybe a gunship had entered the atmosphere, but it didn’t matter right now. At least one of the slaves was about to crest the hill, so you crawled for the rifle.
And you were an inch from it when he appeared and stepped on your rope-burnt wrist.
He snarled something at you in his language, the barrel of his rifle aimed at your head. You sneered at him from where you were on your hands and knees, so he grabbed a fistful of your hair and jerked you to your feet. He shoved the barrel beneath your chin and gave you a nasty smirk. You couldn’t understand what he’d said, but it was likely insulting and vulgar. It was now or never. Time to go out swinging.
You jammed your elbow into his throat. He gagged and made a choking sound, stumbling back on instinct. You yanked yourself from his grip and grabbed a fallen tree limb to bludgeon him, but he’d steadied himself and aimed the rifle at you, his finger squeezing the trigger. This was it. Your last moment. You let out a battle cry and swung the branch.
Just as you did, a dagger appeared in the side of the slaver’s neck.
His shot missed you by inches, and your swing with the tree limb met its mark. It bloodied the side of his head as he toppled over dead, twitching, blood welling up around the dagger in his throat. You jumped as you realized there was a man in gold and green armor standing just a few feet away, his arm outstretched after having thrown the dagger. You faced him and brandished the tree limb, adopting a defensive stance, but then he lowered his hand and spoke to you in another language. You flinched when he stepped towards you, so he stopped and rested a hand over his chest. He said a word and you realized he was trying to communicate with you.
“Who are you?” you demanded.
Recognition flew across his face. “Ah, I see. You speak Enochian instead of AllSpeak. Forgive me for frightening you. I am Loki of Asgard.”
You eyed him. You’d heard of Asgard, but you knew little about it other than some said it was the universe’s equivalent of paradise. You’d never met an Asgardian either since your planets were nowhere near each other. “What are you doing here?”
“Odin has tasked his royal guard with keeping peace in the Nine Realms,” Loki said. “And we’ve been hearing about the Kree slavers raiding cities over the last few months and finally tracked their base to here.”
“So you know where we are now?”
“Yes, we’re on Klaxor.”
An awful icy pit opened up in your stomach. You’d never heard of this planet before. Loki seemed to notice your distress. “What planet are you from, my dear?”
“Gondar.”
Loki winced. “Mm. I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with that realm. That being said, I’m certain we can help you find your way home.”
“That would require me to trust you,” you told him. “Which I don’t.”
“I understand what you’ve been through,” he said softly. “So I know I can’t convince you that I mean you no harm. You are an extremely capable woman, so let me instead say that I know you would be able to defend yourself if I presented a threat. I am confident that you can hold your own in a fight. With that in mind, are you willing to come with me to Asgard so we can access the map of the Nine Realms to try to find your home world?”
You let yourself have a moment to consider the facts. True, his entrance had been amazingly well-timed, even suspiciously so, but he did at least sound sincere. He could still be lying, or a honey trap sent to trick you into giving him your trust, but your instincts said otherwise. Now that you weren’t in immediate danger, you took in his appearance more carefully. Sooty hair, a gorgeous jaw line, seawater eyes, long limbs, all beneath a very ornate but sturdy suit of armor.
You took a deep breath and decided to take a leap of faith. “Let me see your hands.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Just humor me.”
“As you wish.” He held his hands out, palms up. You examined them closely. No scars, no rope marks. You inched closer and lightly ran your fingertips over his right palm, his wrist, then the back of his hand, and examined his nails. All perfect.
You dropped the tree limb. His brows lifted slightly as if you’d surprised him, but he didn’t comment on it. “We came here via the Bi-Frost. My men are fighting them back and rescuing hostages, so we’d better get up there to help.”
“Do the other Asgardians speak Enochian?”
“Damn. Point taken. They don’t speak it, no. You’ll have to stay by my side for now and I’ll translate.” He offered his hand. “And you are…?”
You accepted the handshake and told him your name. He repeated it back and nodded, as if locking it into his mind. Then you ascended the hill together.
And you were met with carnage.
The Asgardian forces were formidable indeed; they were swarming and defeating the Kree slavers with vicious precision. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to stop at least one vessel from escaping, as you could see it speeding out of the planet’s atmosphere.
“The other girls were being kept down there,” you told Loki, pointing, and he followed at your heels. The two of you fought off a few slavers along the way and you immediately noticed how swift and elegant his knifeplay was for a prince. He moved with grace and deadly intent, stabbing in the weak spots on their armor up by the neck and at their knees.
You reached the hut, but found none of your people inside. That sinking gut feeling worsened. They may have been on the escaping shuttle. God help them.
You kicked over the wooden stand where a log of the slaves had been sitting, tears welling up in your eyes. Those poor women didn’t deserve that horrible fate and you would find a way to help them if it was the last thing you ever did.
“I know you’re frustrated, but we’ll find them,” Loki told you. “How many did we lose?”
“Another five,” you said, brushing your messy hair out of your face and attempting to calm down. “At least on the ship that brought us here. I’m not sure about the rest of my city and how many were taken aside from us.”
“We’ll scatter these bastards to the winds; that much I promise you. In the meantime, we’d best get away from the rabble. Follow me.”
The two of you left the hut and made your way through to the top of the hill beyond the small settlement. You expected to see a craft, but there wasn’t one. Instead, you saw symbols and sigils burned into the grass below your feet. You glanced at your companion, confused.
“This is the Bi-Frost,” Loki explained. “It’s a machine that can send people instantaneously to different planets in the blink of an eye. It’s powered by the Bi-Frost sword, which is wielded by the all-seeing Heimdall. I assure you it’s perfectly safe, but you need to hold onto me so we don’t get separated. It could spit you out anywhere in the galaxy if you’re not careful.”
He offered you his hand. Strange that it had happened so many times in the last few minutes. You wiped your sweaty palm on the leg of your trousers before reluctantly holding his hand. His skin was cool, pleasantly so, and his fingers were soft. You’d been counting on it, after all—princes with rough hands had rough pasts.
“It’ll be bright, but it should only take a moment.” Loki lifted his head and called out, “Heimdall?”
A blinding light speckled with brilliant colors like that of a prism enveloped you. You let out a little yip of surprise as gravity simply ceased to exist around you and you were pulled upward as if by an invisible hand. You couldn’t see outside of the circle of light, but you felt the tug of the Bi-Frost around you as you traveled through the stars.
And then you landed on solid ground. Thank God for that.
There was a black man in gold and brown armor standing by an enormous portal with an equally enormous sword stuck in it. He looked rather intimidating at first, but then he smiled and nodded to you, saying something you didn’t understand. You glanced at Loki who translated, “He said welcome to Asgard, milady.”
You nodded to Heimdall in respect and then observed the enormous chamber you were in with intricate gold wheels and patterns with markings and symbols you’d never seen. The chamber had a spout pointing back towards the planet you’d just left and the other end was connected to an enormous crystalline bridge. A few miles up, you spotted a golden castle near the horizon with a city in its mountainous shadow.
“This,” Loki said, gesturing to the outside. “Is the Rainbow Bridge, and beyond it, Asgard.”
“I pray you don’t expect me to walk there,” you asked dryly, which made him smile.
“Not at all, milady. Follow me. We have horses.”
You did have to walk, but it wasn’t too far. You and Loki mounted horses and rode across the Rainbow Bridge and onto the streets of Asgard.
You passed through a grand marketplace that made up much of the city center, with dwellings lined along the streets. A great river spread beneath the city and gave it an ambient sound of running water; a sound you had always found comforting. You didn’t see anyone impoverished and in rags. They all seemed happy and healthy people, and they all either waved or bowed to their prince as he strode by. You weren’t used to this much attention as you were a bit of a wallflower back home, but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, just unusual.
After you’d ridden through the city, Loki took you to the stable to put the horses up and then told you it was time to visit the palace. You asked where you’d be staying while he did that and you got your next surprise.
“You’re coming with me.”
You blinked. “I’m what?”
“Madam, you are a guest here, not a prisoner.”
“But…why would that mean I get to stay in the palace? I’m just a commoner. A blacksmith.”
Loki shook his head. “Regardless, you are my guest and under my protection, which means staying in the palace.”
You glanced down at your scuffed boots and torn, disheveled clothes. “But I’m not presentable.”
He chuckled again. “The handmaidens will sort you out, don’t worry. Come along now.”
You nervously fell in step beside him as he took you through the stables onto the palace grounds. Guards in their golden armor nodded to the two of you as you entered one of the great halls, the ceilings elegantly painted with murals depicting Asgard’s history. It was huge and ornately beautiful unlike anything you’d ever seen before.
He turned right down another hallway and then stopped at a set of double doors. He knocked and a young brunette woman in a burnt orange gown appeared, curtseying when she saw him. He spoke to her and she nodded, smiling at you and offering her hand. You shot another nervous look at Loki, who smiled again.
“This is Loretta. She’ll take care of you. I’ll be back shortly to take you to the observatory so we can work on locating your home world.”
“Okay. Um. Thank you, your highness.”
Loki inclined his head to you. “It is my sworn duty to protect the Nine Realms and all those who reside within it. Think nothing of it, darling.”
With that, he left. You took Loretta’s hand and allowed her to lead you inside the room.
The room inside was spacious and decorated in the same style as the great hall. There were futons surrounding a small reading table, a fireplace to the left, and a set of cabinets along the far right wall. There were women inside talking and drinking from goblets, some by the fireside knitting, others out on the balcony. She took you over to the cabinets and opened one, taking out a towel and a bar of soap that smelled of honey and spices. You lifted the edge of your shirt to indicate you needed clothing and she understood. She opened the cabinet beside it and sifted through the dresses on hangers until she found a pale blue one that looked as if it would fit you, so she gave it to you and then pointed to the doorway to your right.
You opened it to find a communal wash room with a few women inside. They were separated by glass walls that obscured most of their nudity from view. You walked in and found a booth for yourself, then examined it. You spotted a hole in the ceiling and when you stuck your hand beneath it, hot water poured out in a torrent. You undressed and stepped underneath its spray, relieved to get some of the grime off of you.
You showered and tried your best not think about your poor family. You prayed they’d made it out safely and your father was leading them to another city. They’d be worried sick about your fate by now. You hoped you’d be able to find your home in the observatory with Loki.
Speaking of Loki, you’d never met a prince before. He wasn’t how you thought a prince would be. You’d expected a prince to be pompous and rude. He had been kind to you, a commoner, after such an abrupt and violent meeting. You’d expected a hero to want to carry you off like a reward from the spoils of war, yet he’d been downright gentle with you. You only hoped you’d be able to repay his kindness someday.
Once you were clean and dry, you combed your hair with a nice brush and comb set that were inside the booth and slid into the dress. You weren’t used to dresses. You really only wore them for special occasions in your city and were far more comfortable in a blouse, trousers, and boots. You had bruises and cuts that you’d washed thoroughly with soap and water, but nothing needed bandages.
You returned to the common area and shyly sat in the corner, watching the other ladies and wishing you knew what they were saying. Loretta came by with a tray of nuts, fruits, and cheeses along with some cold water. You were starving and tucked in immediately, careful not to get anything on your borrowed dress. Sometime later, there was another knock at the door and it was Loki.
“My, my,” the prince purred as he saw you. “Don’t you look lovely.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to wear this thing,” you told him, which made him laugh. “I’d feel far more secure in a pair of trousers, your majesty.”
“All in good time, I promise. I suppose I could bore you with Asgard’s history, but I’d rather give you the abridged version. Odin is king. The queen is Frigga. My older brother is Thor. We protect the Nine Realms: Asgard, Midgard, Jotunheim, Svartalfheim, Vanaheim, Muspelheim, Niflheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir. We’ve been in a peace treaty with the other realms, though some are more secure than others, and so whenever there is a menace within those realms, we provide support and assistance. But we’re just one realm so we can’t always get to the worlds requesting our aid as fast as we’d like—”
“It’s not your fault,” you said frankly. “We’ve never been dependent on others to fight our battles for us. My people are strong. They will recover.”
“I believe they will, yes. You said you’re a blacksmith, right?”
“Yes.”
“We have a several forges here, so if you wish to work while we search the archives, you’re welcome to do so. Your lodging will be taken care of by the handmaidens as will food and clothing. You aren’t bound to me, either. If you wish to try your luck with finding your home on your own, I can find you a vessel.”
You shook your head. “It would be foolhardy to try it that way. I should stay here for now until we have a better idea of the state of things. Earlier, you mentioned something called AllSpeak. Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes. AllSpeak is a language that is as universal as they come. Most of the people in the Nine Realms speak it, so I can offer you some materials to help you get past the language barrier.”
“Thank you.” You huffed. “It seems every other word out of my mouth is thank you.”
“Yes, I noticed you’re not used to it,” he mused with an edge of slyness to it. “You strike me as the independent type.”
“What was your first clue?” you asked dryly.
“Everyone needs help. Even strong people. Especially strong people.” He opened a large door to your left and gestured for you to enter. You walked into a cool, dimly lit room that had a dome ceiling depicting the constellations. There was a round platform in the center of the floor that had an otherworldly glow. The outside was all gold with different colored buttons in Asgardian language. Loki walked over and swiped his hand over it to wake it up, then switched one of the scrolling bars on the device until he’d chosen Enochian.
“Good evening, Prince Loki,” a woman’s dreamy voice said. “How may I serve you today?”
“I need you to locate a planet for me,” he said. “Gondar.”
The device glowed more brightly for a few seconds. “I am afraid I do not have this planet in the archives, your highness.”
“Damn it,” you muttered. Loki offered a sympathetic look before continuing.
“Do you have access to any materials that mention the planet in our archives?”
“I’m afraid not, your highness.”
He turned to you. “Have you ever visited other worlds?”
You shook your head. “Give me the names of other worlds or stars and constellations that you know. Maybe we can narrow the area for the archive to search.”
You named every planet, solar system, and galaxy that you knew. And the Asgardian archive couldn’t find a single one. Dread began to fill you and made you as cold as you’d been when those bastards tied you up.
Loki lay a hand on your arm. “Don’t lose hope. The archive is limited to what information has been added to it by the scholars. My people are well-traveled. I shall put out a call for anyone who has heard of your world to ask them to help us locate it. I swear to you that I will not rest until I return you to your people and return the kidnapped women as well.”
“Why?” you asked as you fought back tears. “Why would you go so out of your way for someone you don’t even know, Loki?”
“Because I was charged with keeping peace in the Nine Realms. I take my responsibilities very seriously.” He studied you for a moment. “And once, a long time ago, Asgard was just a young nation and were under attack from the Frost Giants. I understand how terrible it can be when you are a realm at war. Survival matters the most.”
He squeezed your shoulder. “And you, my dear, are a survivor. How can I not act?”
You wiped your tears away. “Thank you, Loki.”
His smile warmed you through and through. “You are welcome, milady.”