VAIN | Inside the Universe

Chapter Seven • Black Bag

My eyes shoot open to the desperate need for air.

Silk sheets, bookcases, double doors

The checklist meets with my memory, easing my mind into the unfamiliar morning. My shoulders relax, relieving the tension on my shirt straps, and allowing myself the comfort of solitude.

I had fallen asleep reading the book Frigga had left. The placement was undoubtedly intentional, but I felt guilty with each turn of a page.

It was trusting to lend me her journal, nonetheless the accounts of when her lowly son had been presumed dead.

Her words are vulnerable. They plead mercy for the wicked. Such compassion poured into a non receptive void.

It was unproductive, helpless, straining, yet they could convince Hel itself to bring back it's best constituent.

No, it was not pity. Frigga's optimism is aspirational. That makes her request even more heartbreaking than I could have assumed.

Asgard had learned of the god's revival when he had made his appearance in Germany, but it was not met with solace. He had come back vengeful and with a purpose that so perfectly compliments his mischievous nature. Odin and Frigga believe he had bargained for his life—A deal with a being much more powerful than the name devil.

She wrote stories of his upbringing and how this was almost expected— a genius sorcerer with the ability to do dimensional damage, but chooses to indulge in petty schemes that do not represent the extent of his power in the slightest.

He lived in Asgard as Thor's shadow beyond childhood, which he had learned to adapt to, but still resent. Frigga explained that he spent his time reading, practicing magic, fining his military skills, and busying himself with disposable women. Her words laugh when they talk how he would hide that side of him from her with great effort, but she is no passive presence.

I blink a few times to get me out of the daze I had fallen into. I could only think of him for so long before I start to picture a bullet in his head.

Under all his features holds only one thing, may it be his greatest. He excelled all men in the art of cunning, where every success is cheated and every undertaking is a deceitful reward.

I want to believe that Frigga had seen it once before—The true extent of his power—but i don't think she would be surprised if he had kept it hidden from her for her own good. Despite reality, her words written here would choose to believe that.

Slowly, I make my way out of bed and pull the full length curtains away from the window. I had caught the sun at either dawn or early evening as it struggles to bring the last of its heat onto my skin. My bare feet quickly make their way across the wood floor to the door, cautiously swinging it open just enough to fit one side of my body.

"Good evening, Ms. Natalle." The guard rushed out, straightening his stance to my unexpected presence.

"Right. Good Evening. May I ask you what time it is?"

"4pm, My Lady."

I nod my head pleasantly before ducking myself back in the room. I guess I needed the rest.

Before the door closes, I quickly turn to pop my head out again, hugging the door as the guard straightens himself once more.

I couldn't help but smile at his sense of obligation. "How long was I out?"

"Almost two days."

I kick an eyebrow up. "And how long have you been standing outside my door?"