Misfits

Chapter 2: Clown School

Despite his promise, Loki didn’t kill Jane that day. Instead, he spent a good deal of time showing her how to draw and properly hold a dagger, how to use it to block a blow without losing fingers, and how to quickly shift her grip on it without giving her opponent an opening.

Jane thought she was doing well when she used just one dagger, but as soon as she tried to use both at the same time, she inevitably lost one or the other. She quickly realized that two-handed fighting required an entirely different set of reflexes. 

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes after he easily disarmed her and both daggers clattered to the ground. 

“You’re thinking too much. Your mind has to be focused on tactics, not mechanics. These,” he held his daggers up, inches from her throat, “are an extension of you, nothing more. If you have to think about what you’re doing with them, you’re dead.”

“I’m already dead. So are you,” Jane snapped, though she was mostly disappointed with herself. I thought this would be easier.

Loki’s eyes flashed angrily. Jane thought for a moment that he was about to make good on his promise, but instead he grabbed her by the hair and hissed, “Do you think this is a game, my Lady? That we’re just here to play ‘let’s pretend’ for all of eternity? I hate to break it to you, but if — no, when — you die in the Final Battle, that’s it. You’re done. The curtain drops and you won’t be around to take a bow.”

He gave her a small shove and let go. 

“Normally,” he continued, “I wouldn’t give a fig for what happens to you, but if you’re not ready to fight in a reasonable amount of time, Odin will blame me, and then I will be displeased.” His expression made it clear that his displeasure could make her afterlife extremely uncomfortable.

Jane swallowed her retort. She reminded herself that Loki was doing her a favor by teaching her — and apparently he wasn’t particularly happy about the arrangement either.

“Okay,” she said, holding her hands in front of her in a calming gesture. “I’m sorry. I’m as frustrated as you are. I just… I don’t have the muscle memory yet. I am trying.”

Loki nodded and took a step back. “I suppose you’re only human. Fine. Pick those up,” he replied, nodding toward the daggers lying on the ground. 

Jane bent to grab them, but as her fingers closed over the hilts, they changed shape in her hands. She stood up to find herself holding two brightly-colored cloth balls that felt like they were filled with sand. Confused, she looked at Loki, who was now holding three more balls. He began to juggle them.

“Change of plan,” he said. “I don’t suppose you already know how to juggle?”

“Juggle? Um, no. That wasn’t part of my graduate program.”

“You’re going to learn.”

She spent the next half hour swapping the two balls between her hands and trying to keep them in an even figure eight, per Loki’s instructions. 

One, two, stop. One, two, stop. Welcome to clown school, I guess. This better not be one of his little pranks. One, two, stop.

Once she had that down, Loki handed her a third ball and stayed until he was certain she at least understood the proper form. She eventually managed to do two or three rounds consistently before one of the balls went flying in the wrong direction.

“Keep going, and keep those with you. You’re going to practice tonight and first thing in the morning, every spare moment. Tomorrow, we’ll see if this enterprise is worth continuing.” With that, he left her, heading toward the battlefield, daggers in hand. He still radiated anger, and Jane didn’t envy whoever had the misfortune to be his first opponent.

Jane kept practicing. Somehow, knowing that someone else was depending on her to get this right helped her focus, even if that someone was the guy she’d slapped — for good reason — the moment she met him.   She suspected he wasn’t lying about Odin potentially blaming him if she failed.

For the first time, she wondered what it had been like for Loki growing up in Asgard. Was Odin’s obvious preference for Thor due to Loki’s rebellious nature, as she had assumed, or did Loki only act out because Odin ignored him? 

At any rate, it was clear that the relationship between father and son was still a thorny one, at best.                                                  

By the time the battle ended, Jane was able to keep the balls in the air for almost a minute before losing control. She walked slowly back to her rooms to freshen up before the evening meal, juggling as she went, trying to ignore the odd looks she was getting from passers-by. 

Back in her room, she changed out of her sweaty tunic and into a fresh one. After a moment’s consideration, she left the balls on a small table near the bed. She was nervous enough about joining in the mead hall without having to explain why she was doing something so seemingly frivolous.

On her way out, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She thought she looked pretty good for a dead person. At least I’ll never have to worry about the damned cancer again.

She found her way down to the mead hall. The noise from hundreds of conversations bouncing off the walls and the clatter of plates and cups hit her almost like a physical barrier. Jane had never been a fan of crowded places, but she supposed she’d get used to it. She stopped just inside and scanned the room for any familiar faces. Not finding any, she started to make her way to an empty spot at one of the benches near the doorway. 

The room was cavernous and seemed much larger than it looked from the outside. Long rows of tables and benches stretched from side to side. To one side and halfway down the length of the room, there was a raised platform with another, smaller table, but it was empty. Jane assumed that was where Odin and family sat when they deigned to eat with the riff-raff. 

Odin really is a snob, isn’t he? Jane thought, remembering the time he compared her to a goat at a feast table. 

“Jane? Lady Jane?” a voice called out from another row of tables. She turned to see who had hailed her and saw a Lycan waving to her, a werewolf-like refugee she knew from New Asgard, a fellow classmate from the “Intro to Asgardian Culture” class that Brunnhilde had set up for the humans and aliens living there. The Lycan had been by far the most enthusiastic student, wanting to know everything and anything about their adopted culture.

Which probably explains why they’re here instead of some Lycan afterlife. 

They had been among the handful of people killed in Gorr’s attack. Relieved that at least one person here knew who she was, Jane made her way over, trying to dredge up a name from her memory. Zed?No, wait… Zev, that’s it.

Zev scooted over to make some space, and Jane sat down next to them. Lycans were polymorphic, with clear physical differences between males and females, but Zev fell into a third category that was somewhere in between, with hair on their head and body thicker and curlier than a female’s, but not quite as thick as a male’s.  Their tusks were closer in size to a female’s but shaped more like a male’s. Apparently, Lycans like Zev were fairly common and had their own traditional gender roles. Many of them, including Zev, were soldiers.    

“I heard you were here!” Zev told her, smiling. A Lycan smile could be alarming at first, but Jane had gotten used to them. “I’ve only been here a few days myself. Do you have any news? Is New Asgard okay? Who attacked us? The fight was so chaotic I couldn’t figure out what was happening, and then suddenly everything went dark, then I was in Valhalla! Can you believe it?”

Zev’s questions came out in an excited rush and Jane did her best to respond after they paused for a breath. “Um, well, we were attacked by this guy named Gorr who was going around the universe killing gods. He took all the children, but Thor, King Brunnhilde, and I went after him and got them back. We lost a few people, but the town and the kids should be okay now. I didn’t make it back.”

Zev’s expression turned serious. “Oh. I wanted to ask if Brita’s okay. She was right next to me when I fell…”

Brita was Zev’s Asgardian partner. Jane rushed to reassure the worried Lycan. “Oh! No, I saw her after Gorr left. She wasn’t hurt. Just, well, you know.” Jane gave Zev a sympathetic smile. “It’s hard to lose someone,” she added, suddenly wondering how Thor was handling things.

Zev nodded, eyes filling with unshed tears. “I hope she makes it here someday, but she’s not really a fighter, so probably not.”

A young Asgardian man across from them said, “You never know. Nobody ever expected me to be here.” He had a scruffy tuft of shoulder-length blond hair and an open, honest face that immediately put Jane at ease. He turned to her and clarified, “I was never a warrior, just a scholar. I was in the library when the dark elves attacked, trying to enchant a sword to make it hold its edge forever. When they came at me I tried to use it, but it just sort of drooped and flopped around.” 

He made spaghetti motions with his arm to illustrate the point. 

Jane felt a pang of guilt. If I hadn’t gone to Asgard, this poor guy might still be alive.

“I guess Valhalla still gave me points for trying,” the young man added wryly. “But Odin has me working in the library here, doing research, mostly — nobody wants me anywhere near the battlefield, for some reason”

“Oh, sorry!” Zev said. “Jane, this is Rune. He’s been showing me around. Most people here don’t know what to make of me, but Rune’s been great.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Jane. I saw you training with Prince Loki earlier.” Rune looked like he wanted to say more, but thought better of it.

“Loki is training you?” Zev asked in surprise. “That sounds terrifying. I heard about what he did in New York.”

They paused, considering, then continued. “Brita said he saved her life during Ragnarok, though, so I’m kind of grateful to him for that.”

“Yeah,” Jane responded. “He saved my life before, too. And he died trying to save Thor.” And he destroyed large sections of a major city, she reminded herself.

“Back in Asgard, I always wanted to talk to him,” Rune said, “You know, about magic, that sort of thing. He’s really smart and knew the library even better than I did. But I never worked up the courage. He’s a bit stand-offish and a lot of people were afraid of him, even before he went and attacked Midgard.”

“So how is it?” Zev asked. “Training with him?”

“So far, so good, I guess. He’s… teaching me to juggle.”

“What?” Zev laughed. “Seriously? I mean, I know he’s the God of Mischief and all, but shouldn’t he be training you to fight? Sounds like he’s just messing with you.”

“I don’t think so,” Jane said slowly, considering. “He wasn’t in a joking mood. Pretty sure it’s just to improve my coordination.” 

Better be that, she thought darkly.

Their chatter was interrupted by a tall woman clad in a tunic, leggings, and light armor. Her long, light-brown hair was tied in a braid that fell to her waist. From a serving cart, she hoisted a heavy tray laden with several kinds of meat, fruit, bread, cheese, and nuts and set it on the table in front of Jane and her new friends. From the bottom of the cart, she pulled out a small keg and set it next to the platter, along with wooden bowl-shaped cups with handles, one for each of the diners. 

Jane had heard much about the Valkyries from Brunnhilde, the last survivor of that famous sisterhood. 

They were some of Asgard’s greatest warriors, and now they’re relegated to waiting tables in Valhalla? What a load of patriarchal B.S.! 

The smell of the food distracted her from her annoyance — she was hungry. 

I guess the revolution can wait.

“Thank you!” Jane called as the Valkyrie quickly moved on to the next group. The woman looked back over her shoulder and gave a quick smile and nod.

“That just doesn’t seem fair,” Jane said to Rune. “The Valkyries are warriors, not serving girls.”

Rune shook his head. “You misunderstand. The Valkyries are exempt from the daily practice battles. They’re wearing their armor because if we — well, you — get called up during a meal or at night, they’re the first line of defense while the rest of the warriors get suited up. They serve the meals because they want to, so that they can get to know everyone else, and vice-versa. They consider it an honor.”

The conversation slowly died down throughout the hall as the warriors turned their attention to the feast. Rune filled the cups with an amber-colored liquid from the keg and handed them to his companions. Jane took a sip — it was much sweeter than she expected. Oh, right. This is the mead hall, not the beer hall.

Jane took the opportunity to observe the people nearby. Aside from the Valkyries, there was very little armor in evidence; most of the crowd had evidently taken the time to change first. The scene reminded her of Asgard, but whereas Odin’s city had clearly visible signs of hierarchy everywhere, here there was nothing she could see to differentiate rank, other than the empty table on the dais. 

“How often does the royal family eat in here?” Jane asked. 

“Odin and Frigga join us once in a while,” Rune responded. “Maybe once or twice a month? I’m not sure, really. It’s easy to lose track of time here.”

“What about Loki?” Zev asked. 

“Almost never. I’ve seen him at the high table a couple of times, but I think that was only because his parents insisted. It’s strange, though. Back before all the trouble started, he almost never missed a palace feast,” Rune told them. “Well, from what I heard — I was never invited to those things. But apparently he was always leading the songs, storytelling, dancing… trying to be the center of attention.”

Jane tried to imagine Loki singing, laughing, and generally having a good time. The image just didn’t fit with the angry God of Mischief she knew.

After the meal concluded, a few people drifted out of the room, but most of them stayed to drink more mead. The hall began to get louder and more raucous, and Jane decided it was time to say goodnight to her friends and excuse herself. 

On her way back to her rooms, her thoughts returned to Loki. Clearly there was more going on with him than she’d thought.