The Girl with Lightning Eyes Pt. 2

At the prompting of others, I have expanded this story into a part two. You can read part one in my submissions.

Traces of her father’s electricity glowed like luminescent crackling residues only visible to her eyes. Thyra followed the trail left by Thor, the God of Thunder, disappearing in one lightning bolt and reappearing in another. Scenes of the world she had never seen appeared with each new manifestation. Riding the lightning was exhilarating, she thought, but then, she had spent the last two decades in a rubber room. Nonetheless, she was enjoying her newfound freedom.

She held her breath and a refreshing feeling washed throughout her- as if every molecule of her body separated for a brief moment and was cleansed by a pleasant rush of warm air. In a zap, she’d reappear with a new sight to take in. Thyra admired the beauty of the world that had been taken from her, moved to tears with each new setting.

Zap!

Thyra threw her arms out to her sides, teetering upon a lightning rod atop a skyscraper jutting into the night sky. Catching her balance, she stared over a bustling city. Hundreds of cars flowed through the streets, their streaking lights like a babbling red and white stream. Thousands of people swam along with the current below, tiny from where she stood. She was reminded of the ants she had played with in one of her few childhood memories before her abduction.

Zap!

She felt the warmth of the sun wash over her pale body. She couldn’t stifle a moan as the pleasant feeling massaged itself gently into her flesh so deprived of solar embrace. She breathed the fresh smell of the salty sea deeply into her nostrils. The sun was high in the sky in this part of the world. She twirled around happily as the daylight kissed her naked skin.

Zap!

She shivered, now standing upon a snowy peak, gazing over the frigid pristine beauty of a seemingly unending labyrinth of white fluffy dunes. She wrapped her arms tightly over her breasts, still dressed as she was upon her escape- that is to say, not at all. She didn’t regret taking nothing to wear, however. She wanted nothing to remember her captivity by.

“So, you were victorious after all?” A booming voice cracked throughout the frozen wonderland. Thyra jumped. Standing behind her, and at least two feet taller, was her father, the mighty Thor. Despite his intimidating appearance, there was a deep kindness in his eyes.

“Y-yes.” Thyra stammered. Conversing was new to her, she’d have to practice at it. “I shot… lightning, from my eyes. Into his. I didn’t stop- I couldn’t stop… until his face was black.”

“That’s my daughter!” Thor tossed his head back, laughing heartily. “You’ll make me a proud father yet.”

Thyra blushed, the concept of family was foreign to her. He was… proud? A tear tore through her eyelids, freezing upon her face. She turned to hide it, continuing to shiver.

“Lass. You try to conceal one set of cheeks and expose to me another.” He laughed again. “No child of mine will walk about with their body vulnerable to attack from the elements or foe alike.”

Thyra’s blush intensified. Societal norms escaped her, but even she felt embarrassed in her nakedness. A warm hand gripped her shoulder.

“I’ve brought you a gift.” Thor draped a cape of wolven fur over her. Thyra pulled it snugly around her figure.

“Thank you.” She smiled.

“Not to worry, child, but that is not the proper way to wear such a trinket.”

The God of Thunder snapped his fingers and a lightning bolt struck down from the heavens into Thyra, who gasped as its heat enveloped her then quickly dissipated. She was now fully garbed in silver chainmail adorned with a metal chest plate and leather pauldrons. She held her hands out, examining the exquisite fur-lined gauntlets that now hugged them from finger to forearm. Etched and scorched into the armor were runes and graceful artworks of knots and animals foreign to her. She sighed in relief as the warmth from her fur boots soaked into her feet. She looked to Thor questioningly as she ran her hands over her head, feeling the sturdy braids and plaits her dark locks were now entwined in.

“It is the duty of every father to ensure their children are clothed.” Thor smiled. “And any father worth his salt should fashion his daughter’s hair at least once!”

She looked down to hide a hail of yet more icy tears. She felt undeserving- spoiled. After the life she’d suffered, this was a dramatic change. A thought occurred to her; why had it taken him twenty years to free her?

“Thank you… Father…” She gazed at him with rippling eyes. “But why—”

“Thyra.” Thor cut her off, his own eyes pooling. “I know what it is you are thinking. You are already a grown woman, and I have been absent while you have, undoubtedly, suffered at the hands of men more akin to the monstrosities of Hel. You wonder why it was so long before I intervened? Where I have been all this time?”

“Yes.” Thyra nodded. Thor turned away, flicking an icicle forming its descent from his eyelid.

“The truth is, I didn’t know of even your birth until recently. Time is different for us gods and, traversing between the nine worlds… I don’t come to Midgard as often as I should.”

“Midgard?”

“The realm of humans. Earth, as you call it.” Thor explained. “The Norns, it seems, did not weave it into the fates for me to learn of you until now. Your mother died honorably- a warrior’s death, fighting to keep you from being taken. It would seem that Freyja chose her for Fólkvangr instead of allowing her entry into Valhalla. It was only recently I came across her in Vanaheimr, where she told me of your fate. I’ve spent every moment since seeking you out on her behalf.”

Thyra’s mind swarmed with questions.

“If my mother is dead… how did you speak to her?”

“The end of one’s life in Midgard is not always the end as you would assume it to be.” Thor smiled slightly. “I’ve spoken to my father, your grandfather, that is. We aim to negotiate your mother’s passage to Valhalla in Asgard, the land of the Aesir. I, however, set out to find you without further planning… I had to ensure your safety.”

“I don’t really remember her… Will I… see her again?”

“Gods willing.” Thor smirked. “Come child, you’ve much to learn yet. Where once you thought there was one world you knew little about, there are now nine you must study. You are half-Aesir after all. There are those that would seek to do you harm for only the crime of existing.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’ve dressed you in such fine warrior’s attire, where do you think? Only the place for the best of warriors, the most honorable of the lot, Valhalla, in my world of Asgard!” Thor’s prideful tone boomed throughout the mountains. “It’s time to meet your family, Thyra!”

Zap! Zap!

Two lightning bolts struck the peak and with that, they disappeared.

Thyra reappeared with a gasp. Thor stood beside her, smiling at the gargantuan gates before them and the mountainous golden palace beyond. He slammed his hand upon her shoulder, gripping with a gentle firmness.

“Behold! The glorious gem of my father, Odin, and all of Asgard! Valhalla!”

Thyra pivoted in awe. Fields of gentle swaying grass and forests alive with the chirps and calls of mystic fauna encircled the lands leading up to the gates. Snow-capped mountains lined the perimeter as far as the eye could see. Huge eagles and winged beings elegantly soared through the skies above. Sunlight drenched the fields in warm embrace as the fighting of mighty warriors tickled their way through the tall grass. Thyra eyed the battle questioningly.

“Do not worry, lass. They fight for sport. There is no greater glory than battle, and this is a land forged from and earned through that same glory. Someday they will have the honor to fight and die for that glory once more as soldiers in my father’s army when Ragnarok approaches.”

Thyra cringed as one man beheaded another. He held the head up victoriously, sent it rolling through the grass then roared, running towards other combatants.

“But… how can they fight if they’re dead?” Thyra inquired.

Thor laughed.

“As I said, child. You have much to learn yet. They fight all through each day. Each night, the dead are resurrected, the wounded are healed, and we all drink and feast together as equals in Odin’s hall!”

“Does it hurt? … Dying?”

“Lesson one, my daughter, do not fear pain, do not fear death. There is no room for fear in a warrior’s mind. It will only grow clouded with doubt. A warrior must always be decisive, and always keep their focus on what lies before them. Fear leads to doubt. Doubt leads to hesitation. Hesitation… Well, you saw what that can lead to.” Thor gestured to the decapitated body. Thyra gulped.

Thor led her to the gates, where wolves seemed to circle endlessly. The beasts growled as Thyra approached, but a stern look from Thor quickly silenced them. The canines bowed, as if kneeling, and allowed them passage. The pair strode through a courtyard and up the steps.

They entered through an elaborately engraved door into a brilliant hall. Thyra’s eyes widened at its magnificence. Mighty spears stretched up to the ceiling, serving as support pillars for the roof- cast with thousands of golden shields. Great wooden tables spanned the vast distance of the hall- which Thyra would have thought stretched for miles. However, upon blinking, she suddenly found herself striding alongside Thor towards a hulking older man in a throne atop a short series of steps only mere feet away. She performed a double-take, noting the point of their entry far off in the distance behind them. A long table sat sideways up against the man’s throne, and to each side were several more thrones- just as elegant, though smaller in size.

The man wore an engraved metal eye patch, tied with leather cord. He looked much like Thor, even bearing the same kind and wise aura despite his fearsome appearance. They even had similar bushy beards, braided brilliantly and neatly held together under the burden of rune-bearing beads.

“Thor, my son!” Odin boomed. “You have returned! With company, no less! I assume your task was a success then?”

“Father!” Thor knelt briefly. Thyra stumbled as she tried to replicate the formality. “Indeed, I was successful! Suffering at the hands of twisted men, I found her. I set her free, and left to her the opportunity to attain an honorable and glorious escape. Alas! She slew her tormentor and took with her victory the spoils of her own freedom!”

“Is that so?” Odin nodded approvingly. “Then a proud father you have been made once again! We shall throw a feast tonight to rival all others in celebration!”

“Thank you, father!”

“You have done well, child.” Odin smiled at her. “Have you a name?”

“00LTG1.” Thyra stammered and shook her head. “No. I mean, Th-Thyra. My name is Thyra. Sorry… I haven’t had a real name for very long…”

“Hm. Thyra… Befitting!” Odin stood, raising his arms. “CHAMPIONS OF VALHALLA, BEHOLD! A NEW WARRIOR STANDS BEFORE US! DAUGHTER OF THOR, GRANDDAUGHTER OF ODIN! THYRA THORSDOTTER!” His voice thundered throughout the entire hall, shaking the shields and spears.

Thyra lowered her head shyly, unsure of how to react.

Thor led her to a room that had been put together just for her. It was a simple room. Animal furs lined the floor, the only furniture was a bed and desk, but it was hers. She plopped onto the bed, sighing in relaxation as its softness and warmth seeped into her. Thor raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never had one before.” Thyra explained.

“A bed?”

“Yes…” Thyra looked away shyly.

“Well, you will always have one here. Do not worry about the past any more. You will never be going back to it, after all.” He walked to the window, smiling in the light of the setting sun. “We feast soon, girl. Join us at our table in the great hall when you’re ready.”

Thyra did as told, taking seat in a throne of her own at Odin’s table when the feast began. She was introduced to many supposed relatives and great warriors of legend she was not familiar with. She felt bad not knowing who they were, but the gods took joy in her lack of knowledge, eager to recant tales of their heroics and past tragedies alike. One figure in particular stood out to her, a man introduced as Odin’s brother- her granduncle, Loki.

“Ooh! Here’s a tale I rather love telling! Have you yet wondered why your father’s chair is so much less glamorous than the others here at the table?” Loki leaned over, smiling menacingly to Thor, who scowled.

“… No.” Thyra said. Loki burst into laughter.

“You’re certainly not very observant for the daughter of a god, then.” Loki sneered. “It brings him a lot of shame and embarrassment, that chair he sits in. He used to have quite a nice one- a gift from another god!”

Thor sighed.

“Well what happened to it?” Thyra asked.

“Ooh, questions, signs of intelligence, I like you!” Loki chuckled. “You might notice the magnificence of your father’s beard. He’s always been, well, rather vain about such things. So, one day, whilst he was otherwise distracted, I crawled beneath the table, and you know what I did?” Thyra shook her head. “I tied a very special knot- one that could not be untied, with your father’s beard, attaching it quite snugly to his oh so precious little chair. Your father, God of Thunder, mighty Thor, had to make a hard decision! Cut his beard, or break his cherished chair to undo the knot!”

“And you broke the chair?” Thyra questioned Thor.

“Indeed I did.” Thor whipped his beard up, letting it fall back against his chest while glaring at Loki. “Your granduncle is quite the pest. I couldn’t let him just win.”

“And yet, you lost your favorite seat.” Loki laughed giddily. “I’m quite a fan of win-win scenarios, and you would have lost either way. Only, you didn’t have to wear this loss on your face. Instead, you bear it under your ass each night!” He giggled furiously, very nearly falling from his own seat. Thor cleared his throat.

“Father, have you spoken to Freyja?” He asked of Odin.

“Mm.” Odin drank deeply from his mead horn. “She has declined to negotiate.”

“I- is this about my mother?” Thyra asked.

“I’m afraid so.” Odin nodded. “She was short for words, making only one offer, refusing to explain or talk further.”

“And what’s that?” Thor asked.

“An exchange.” Odin said grimly. “Thyra. For her mother.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Thor retorted angrily. “Freyja isn’t one for such cruel trickery, she—” Thor’s face turned red, he stood and glared at Loki. “You.”

“Me?” Loki fluttered his eyelashes innocently. “Why ever would I play a hand in such a thing, my dear nephew?”

“This has your stench all over it.”

“My stench?” Loki chuckled. “Clearly you’ve never had to occupy the same room as yourself after you’ve returned from a hunt!”

“What did you do, Loki?” Thor demanded. “Father, you know this is just like him. Are you going to tolerate this in your hall?”

“Did you have anything to do with this, brother?” Odin asked sternly, setting his horn down.

“Oh fine.” Loki shrugged. “Perhaps I… persuaded her into seeing a sensible solution to this… trivial matter.”

“You imbecile!” Thor started at Loki, but the trickster vanished from his seat, reappearing standing atop the opposite end of the table.

“Oh come on!” Loki sneered. “You have to admit, these halls are getting quite crowded. What use does Valhalla have for another god- a half-blood no less!?”

“This was not your affair to meddle in!” Odin boomed. “Undo this at once!”

“I’m afraid I can’t. I may or possibly may not have done something to piss off our sweet maiden of Sessrúmnir when I paid her a visit. She’s sure to have noticed by now.”

“What have you done!?” Odin barked.

“Do you like my necklace?” Loki giggled as he looped his thumb under the jewelry around his neck, pulling it from beneath his shirt and allowing the lavish necklace to slap against his chest.

“You didn’t?” Thor and Odin spoke in unison.

“Oh, but I’m afraid I did. Once again I’ve taken Brísingamen from that dimwitted wench! Let’s see Heimdallr try and take it back this time!” Loki cackled. “Another child of Thor in these halls? I won’t stand for it!”

Loki laughed maniacally as his facial features warped. Feathers sprouted from his skin, bones popped- muffled beneath flesh, as he took the shape of a giant eagle. Freyja’s necklace still dangled from his neck. He flapped his wings, ascending to the height of the golden hall. His eagle head then changed shape to match the likeness of Thor.

“Don’t bother visiting her, my sweet nephew.” Loki’s laugh rang out from the false face of the thunder god. “She might be under the impression that it was not I who paid her a visit! Get rid of the girl, and perhaps I’ll consider returning it.”

With a final burst of his wings, Loki tore off across Odin’s hall, barreling through the doors and into the night beyond. Odin and Thor sighed. Thyra sat in confused silence, struggling to begin to understand what had just happened. Thor smiled at her.

“Welcome to the family, girl.”