Lesser Gods

The sun shone in through the thin curtains in Loki’s quarters — it was nearly mid-day. However, this was not what woke Raeyn hours after Loki had already risen and set to work. Instead, she found herself stumbling to their bathroom and sitting next to the lou, waiting and waiting for the sickness to pass. Eventually it did, not causing her to become sick. Picking herself up, she fixed a large breakfast in which she took back down to level B7.

Many, many files were left to be read — but since Raeyn had finished the first lot of them, she had been given time to think over it. Was it truly her husband’s past that she was concerned with, or was it the present and the future, what could actually affect their child? With this in mind, she did not wander far into the maze, but rather stopped at the first cabinet that she came upon. Opening it, she found that the files were dated merely a few weeks ago. Thumbing through them, she realized quickly that they were only reports of the going ons in Midgard — ranging from drug lords rebelling in Indonesia to the execution of traitorous humans in Wisconsin. Sighing, she gently laid them right back into place before pacing a few cabinets back. This process continued as the dates continued further and further back — eventually, she even found a very rough sketch of herself. Or at least, it had her name written underneath it.

Based off of rumors passed on by fleeing Asgardians, there is only one more goddess in this realm. She is young, average height, and average Asgardian blonde hair. It is said that they only thing remarkable about her appearance is her jade green eyes.

Raeyn flipped back to the sketch, and saw that, in fact, the eyes were colored in green.

Though I have heard many contradicting rumors, it is apparent that she is alone, and has been for the past seven centuries, give or take. No one knows why she still resides in Midgard, but she has yet to make contact with any other Asgardians or Asgard itself. Some say that she is in love with the idea of being mortal — for her sake, I will choose to take this as simple hearsay, because no Asgardian wishes to be a weak mortal, as Asgardians are typically revered as the superior race of the nine realms! Though it has only been a matter of days, and I still have yet to fully take my place as the king of this realm, I will set out to find her shortly. I do not fear that she will rebel like the other Asgardians have — she has not been taught to fight for herself, or have enough pride to anyway. However, I do not wish to leave that to chance. With the others imprisoned or otherwise subdued, she could very well be my last possible, remaining threat to my rule. I set out the day after tomorrow.

Curious, and a little uneasy, Raeyn flipped to the next page, where there was quite a more accurate depiction and an even shorter foot note.

While the rumors of her life on Midgard are true, she is quite a bit more fragile that she was made out to be. Though she is calloused to the evils of this realm, she is quite sheltered from all things out side of it. She is very peaceful, though sometimes defensive and proud, and I see no future conflicts arising with her residence here.

The next date was several weeks after this one — the handwriting was scrawled deep into the paper, and the splatter at the end of the statement led Raeyn to believe that the pen had been snapped in two. She only had to scan over it to realize that it was Loki’s note of her encounter with the Chitauri, leaving her injured. Then, at the bottom of the page:

The twelfth floor was completely destroyed with all its inhabitants and equipment. Do not place anything of importance here for quite some time. It will be sealed off to all officers.

Raeyn’s eyes widened a fraction — she had never known. She had, of course, been fast asleep while all this had been happening.

She delicately closed the folder and placed it back in its file before opening the one directly next to it. Letting out a long, slow breath, she opened the cabinet slowly.

As she had suspected, there were files not labeled with dates as all others had, but with names. Thor Odinson, the largest of them all, was placed on top. Her fingers trembled a little as she acknowledged the privacy she was about to intrude on, before opening it.

A picture, not a sketch or painting like all other depictions had been, was placed on top. It was Thor, knocked out and laying on his back in what seemed to be a pile of broken glass with the city behind him. The caption read: Thor Odinson, unconscious, before capture and after defeat.

Raeyn’s jaw fell. Capture? Had he been executed then? By his own brother? She had the sudden urge to close the file and run as far as possible from level B7.

“I do not know if we want to know all this, Little One. This is your Uncle Thor. Some introduction, right? But most likely the best one you will ever get. It would be nearly impossible for him to be alive. It is said that he was the fiercest and bravest of warriors, but apparently he was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. Daddy did not like him very much, at least at the time of Uncle Thor’s defeat. Is it terrible that I am not sorry we will ever meet him? I did not know him, and so even if he is my brother, is it horrible I cannot mourn him?”

Raeyn swallowed harshly before turning the page. What she found were notes, listed in chronological order, starting with two days after Loki’s reign began.

Odinson has been incapacitated and is currently locked in a glass room surrounded by pure energy from the Tesseract and one more layer of glass. If he were to break through, he would immediately be electrocuted, and he is aware of this. Yesterday I (rather reluctantly, I must add) sent healers to tend to him. He is nearly completely healed —

The note continued for that date, and then for several more pages, but Raeyn had heard a sudden pounding — it almost sounded as if on glass. She froze, her wide eyes staring blankly through the room. Was this Odinson’s ghost haunting the Tower he had been killed in?

Breathing heavily and clutching the closed file in one hand and her belly in the other, she wandered towards the sound. Though, she had to physically climb over several rows of cabinets, she finally came across the “cage” that had previously been described for her. Her heart nearly stopped — if this was where Thor had been kept, then his spirit could easily still be here. The thought of such hatred between brothers — enough to drive them to fatal violence — suddenly weighed Raeyn down. She dropped the file, and touched the cold glass as she slid to kneel before it. Inches from her fingers, the energy ran static and wild but did not harm her.

So much hate tainted her husband. So much murder and death. And to think of how Loki used to look up to Thor — worship him, practically, when they were just boys. They had been so protective of one another. They had been brothers, whether by blood or illusions and lies. Love is love.

Her eyelids flickered shut as she took a moment, far too late, yes, but a moment still, to respect her brother’s death. But just as she was about to open her eyes once more and ascend to her quarters, she heard soft breathing -- directly in front of her. She froze, her eyes closed and her body tensed. Surely this was part of Odinson still lingering in the place of his death, seeking revenge? Slowly, she forced herself to open her eyes, and in the glass crouched the spirit of Thor, his wide, slightly crazed eyes staring straight into her.