Misfits

Chapter 1: Reunion

Jane’s first day in Valhalla felt like a dream. 

Odin and Frigga were waiting for her in front of the hall by the time she made her way up the hillside.  Frigga embraced her warmly.  Odin beamed at her and invited her to dine with them privately for the first night.

Over supper, Odin patiently explained what would be expected of her as a warrior of Valhalla. 

Jane had picked up a bit of Asgardian and Scandinavian folklore during her time with Thor — and a great deal more in New Asgard — but nothing had really prepared her for this . She was a scientist. She’d never believed in any sort of afterlife until she found herself face to face with Heimdall at Valhalla’s gate.

“Your duty is to fight, to train, and to ready yourself for the Final Battle,” Odin told her.

The gist of it was that she would have to join the other warriors on the battlefield — and most likely die — every day, only to be resurrected in time for the evening meal in the massive mead hall. 

When she asked what and when the “Final Battle” would be, Odin was less forthcoming. Thor had told her that the army of Valhalla was a no-show at Ragnarok. Maybe they were being held in reserve for something even worse?

By the time supper was finished, Jane felt overwhelmed and exhausted. So much for ‘rest in peace’, she thought. Seems like being dead is more work and a lot less peaceful than being alive.

Frigga took pity on her and showed her to a surprisingly spacious suite in a nearby building reserved for the nobility and honored heroes. She urged Jane to get plenty of rest, telling her that she would return in the morning to show her around and help her get settled.  

As soon as Frigga left, Jane collapsed on the bed. Her dreams were filled with images of battle, blood, and fighting. 

When morning arrived, she inspected her new home. There was no kitchen, but on a table she found a basket of fruit, cheese, and bread that she was fairly certain hadn’t been there the previous evening.  She munched on her breakfast while she looked around. 

In a closet, she found an assortment of clothing and armor, all in her size. There was even a near copy of her ‘Thor’ outfit. She didn’t know yet whether she’d be expected to fight today, so she opted for a simple tunic, a tough leather jerkin, comfortable trousers that tied at the waist, and brown leather boots.

Frigga arrived and took her for a walk around the compound. A horn sounded in the distance, a mournful, martial sound. Frigga explained that Heimdall sounded Gjallarhorn to start and end each day’s practice. Moments later, the sounds of armed fighting drifted up the hillside from the battlefield below.

They walked through the practice yard — a flat area with hard-packed earth — and into the armory. 

Inside, Jane found a wide assortment of weapons in racks and on display along the walls. She picked up a hammer, but found to her dismay that it was much too heavy for her to wield effectively — that had never been a problem with Mjölnir. The longer haft felt strange, too. Mjölnir’s unusually short haft had actually suited her quite well. 

Unfortunately, Thor’s hammer was still in the realm of the living. She would have to find another weapon, but she was at a bit of a loss there.

The truth was, she had to admit, Mjölnir had done much of the work for her. 

She’d trained hard every day with King Brunnhilde in New Asgard. If not for the stupid cancer, she would have been in the best shape of her life when she died, and a fairly decent fighter. Still, without her magical weapon, she would likely be no match for the Asgardians and humans — most of the latter were Norsemen (and a smattering of women) who had been here for over a millennium — almost all of whom had trained in the arts of war from childhood.

She tried several other weapons: a sword, a mace, an axe, but she had no expertise with these. Finally, Frigga encouraged Jane to go watch the battle while she went to consult with her husband.

Jane leaned on the balcony railing in the practice yard, observing the action on the battlefield far below. 

It didn’t look so bad from up here, but she was quite certain it would be a chaotic nightmare once she found herself in the middle of it. Anguished screams carried up the hillside and echoed through the valleys, somehow carrying over the constant din of metal crashing upon metal. From time to time, another distant figure would fall and be still while the fighting carried on around them. In some places, groups of warriors seemed to work together, while elsewhere it looked like a free-for-all, with fighters attacking anyone and everyone within their reach. 

One band of warriors managed to destroy their nearby foes in a brilliantly coordinated attack, then immediately fell upon their own comrades. Jane watched in horrified fascination as a mace-wielding berserker spun around, clearing the field around him in seconds, only to be cut down by a thrown axe.

What in God’s — er, Odin’s — name am I doing here?  

Jane wasn’t afraid of a fight, but she hadn’t particularly enjoyed it either. There was so much more to life — or, well, afterlife — than that, wasn’t there? It didn’t help that she had no idea what it was all for, in the end.

No longer really seeing the carnage laid out before her, Jane sighed. She didn’t even know many people here. There were Odin, Frigga, Heimdall, the Warriors Three — whom she had met briefly in Asgard — and a handful of New Asgardians who had fallen when the little town was attacked. No family or close friends. No Brunnhilde.

No Thor.

She wondered if it was too late to back out. Would Odin and Frigga be offended if she —

“Oh dear. I know that look.” The low, silken voice interrupted her thoughts. 

Startled, she turned to see Loki standing next to her. 

How did he…? Oh, right. Yeesh. Someone should put a bell on this guy.

The God of Mischief smirked at her surprise. “Didn’t expect to find me here, did you?”

Jane thought it odd that Odin and Frigga hadn’t mentioned that Loki was here too. 

He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in a green tunic with gold embroidery, a long green and gold coat styled to make his shoulders look larger, and matching leather trousers with black boots. 

Still just as vain, even in death. 

She wondered whether he had a closet with clothing in it, or just conjured clothing to match his mood. 

“I, um, I guess I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest.”

He chuckled. “Not to worry. Trust me, nobody was more shocked than I was when I came to and found myself walking next to Heimdall on the road to Valhalla. Never saw this in my future.” He gestured, his arms encompassing the massive hall and the field of battle below.

She managed a weak smile and nodded, not knowing what else to do. This was unexpected. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what it meant that Loki was here. Should she be worried?

“Neither did anyone else,” he added, with a touch of — was it sadness? Scorn? A bit of both? “They drew lots to decide who would have the chance to kill me first. There was a line…”

Jane found herself horrified and amused in equal measure. “I’m…sorry,” she choked out. “That sounds terrible.”

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, it wasn’t so bad. I even let several of them win — guards killed when the Frost Giants invaded Odin’s vault. I took them all on at once to make their ‘victory’ more believable. Turns out people are more willing to forgive past transgressions once they’ve brutally murdered you a few times.”

Jane snorted in spite of herself.

He winked at her. “Makes room for new transgressions.” 

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the mercurial, unpredictable god. She hadn’t forgotten that he’d killed quite a few people in her world. 

Then again, he had risked his life to help save her from the dark elf, Malekith. True, he’d been motivated by a desire to avenge his mother, but he’d also jumped to shield her from the blast of a black hole grenade, saving her life when Thor wasn’t even watching. 

Loki seemed to be full of contradictions. I wonder if even he knows what he really wants.

Jane mentally went over what she knew of Valhalla’s entrance requirements. It wasn’t like the Christian Heaven, she remembered. It wasn’t about how you lived. It was how you died that mattered most. 

She’d thought that Loki had died in Svartalfheim, which probably would have landed him here if it hadn’t been an illusion. Later, Thor had told her about Ragnarok and the nasty business with Thanos. Apparently, Thor was right. Loki really had died that time — and again, he’d died a hero. 

More or less.

They stood silently a moment, watching the ongoing battle. Jane stole a sideways glance at Loki as he gazed down at the field. He seemed older than she remembered. Sadder, somehow, which was odd given that the last time she’d seen him, he’d just lost his mother and had now been reunited with her in death.

“What were you saying before? You know what look?” Jane asked.

“The look that says there’s been some terrible cosmic mistake, which will no doubt soon be corrected and you’ll be sent packing, off to where you really belong.” He mimed wrapping something up and tossing it into the distance. “I was the same when I first arrived.”

“And where’s that? Where do we really belong?”

“In my case… Hel. In yours?” He shrugged. “Wherever good little scientists go when they shuffle off the mortal coil.”

“But you don’t think that now?”

“Valhalla doesn’t make mistakes. If we’re here, it’s because we belong here.” He shrugged again. “Or so they say.”

“You’re not so sure?”

Loki turned to face her again, his mask of arrogant superiority slipping smoothly back into place. All trace of the vulnerability and uncertainty Jane thought she’d glimpsed had vanished. 

“As it happens, I didn’t come here just to discuss theology with you. Odin, in his infinite wisdom ,” his voice fairly dripped with sarcasm, “has decreed that you, my Lady, shall be trained in the subtle art of dagger combat.” 

“Daggers? Why?” Jane couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. She had been ‘The Mighty Thor’, defender of New Asgard, after all. Now they were going to throw her into battle with nothing but a knife or two?

“I’m afraid we’re running low on magic hammers here. You’re tiny, but quick, and…reasonably intelligent,” he replied, haughtily. 

“Gee, thanks.”

“Daggers require a certain finesse. Intelligence counts for more than brute strength.” 

Loki leaned in. She was surprised by the way he towered over her. 

He’s taller than I thought. I didn’t notice when he was with Thor.  

“And you may not wish to thank me by the time we’re done,” he whispered. “As the resident expert, I’m going to train you.” He stepped back and grinned wickedly as a pair of daggers appeared in his hands. The edges looked very, very sharp.

“Okay…”

Loki spun the daggers around in his hands and offered them to her, hilt first. She took them, hesitantly.

“Don’t worry,” he said in a mock-soothing tone that was anything but reassuring. “I promise to kill you quickly the first few times.” 

“What?” 

He laughed at her alarm. “You’ll get used to it.” Another pair of daggers appeared in his hands. He flipped them in the air and caught them expertly, then adopted a fighting stance and cocked his head, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Now then, my Lady. Shall we begin?”