Contest of Champions

1

I wake up with sweat covering my body. Bolting into a sitting position, my eyes rake across my room as if trying to catch a nonexistent intruder. My pillow is soaked with sweat, my black hair is damp, and I'm panting, trying to catch a breath. Beads of perspiration roll down my face and I swipe at them with my sleeve.

Slowly, my heart rate returns to normal and I swing my legs out of bed, my bare feet landing on the soft covers I had restlessly flung off myself sometime during the night. I stand and hop off my blankets, leaning down and tossing them back up onto the mattress. My mother is going to scold me again when she sees my mussed bed, but let her. Today I actually have a good excuse for my restless night.

I run my hand through my black hair, sorting out the tangles, before pulling on my usual black tunic and adjusting the golden collar I know my father is going to insist on. He will demand my brother and I dress as our status dictates; as sons of Odin and princes of Asgard, Thor and I have to look the part, especially on Reaping Day.

I ease my arms into my black and dark green jacket, fidgeting with the various straps that go with my customary outfit. I yank on my boots and then grab my twin daggers from underneath my pillow. Carrying weapons on your person is usually prohibited throughout the districts, but everyone – including the Children of Thanos – underestimates knives. Besides, the daughters of Thanos assigned to Asgard don't care too much about the weapons we decide to wield.

As I straighten, I feel something brush against my legs and freeze, before quickly realizing that it's just Goose, my tan flerken which looks very much like a Midgardian house cat. He was a gift from my sister, a long time ago, and I have yet to see evidence he is anything more than what he looks like: a cat. I glance down at him and lift my eyebrow as the flerken meows, sitting down on my foot and pressing his paw up against my leg.

"Sorry, Goose," I whisper. "I don't have time to play with you. I need to get out of here." Gently, I lift my foot slightly and wiggle it until the flerken gets the idea and, with an injured meow, removes himself from my boot and jumps up onto the rumpled bed. He gives me a look before turning his attention to patting at the blankets with his paw, attempting to make them acceptable to lie on.

I hurry through the arched hallways of the old palace of Asgard after leaving my room. It used to be beautiful, my mother tells me, in the days when being king of Asgard meant something. Now, I can still see the beauty, but it means nothing. It's just an empty façade, a show of an authority that was stripped from us long ago.

Most of the place is rather deserted. Thanos only let Odin keep his throne after the Infinity War because he knew there was no way my father could rise up in rebellion against him. Nobody could, although several tried and failed, and he lorded it over us by forcing us to compete in his Contest of Champions, his brutal celebration of the Balance he claimed to have brought the universe.

As soon as I exit the palace, I take off running. My feet barely make any noise on the paths of Asgard as I head out toward the sea. Nobody's up yet. It's typical for Asgardians to spend as much time inside on the mornings of Reaping Days. You never know when it might be your family's turn to contribute to the Contest, to sacrifice for the Balance.

When I reach the bridge to Himinbjorg, the path beneath my feet shimmers with the colors of the rainbow. No railings hem it in, which makes this run exciting. Drift too close to one edge, or to the other...you fall into the sea beneath and will be swept toward the edge of the realm. On some days, it's tempting. Passing through the gates, I continue on to the Bifrost observatory.

My pace slows as I enter Himinbjorg and reach the large window looking out into empty, cold space. I pant, catching my breath as I stare out at the distant stars beyond Asgard. The intricate clockwork that spans the walls is dusty and rusted from disuse, a couple of the gears misaligned and broken. The Bifrost hasn't seen traffic since the Infinity War.