"That's it, right step, left step then back again."

Two figures danced alone in an empty hall, the only sounds were of their steps against the tile and the barely audible music in the background.

"Good, now twirl." The man said as his female companion did a quick spin before rejoining his movements. "Excellent." He clapped, coming to a halt. The music also stopped as the two dancers took a moment. "It appears as though you have all the movements down, there was a little stumble at the end, but your partner will have his hand a bit lower so it should be less awkward."

"Thank you, Leopold, you've been a great help." Hela replied.

"It is an honor to be of service, my Goddess." He bowed.

The area around them started to shimmer out of existence, the large ballroom disappeared, and they were greeted by the sight of Niflheim's desolate landscape as Hela sat on her throne, staring at her dancing instructor.

"I mean it, you've been a wonderful instructor, is there anything you wish for a reward?"

"This old man is a hopeless romantic at heart, tell me how your evening goes with your beloved and I will consider that more than enough." He gave a small smile as his form too started to dissipate before turning into mist and joining the other souls in the layer of the realm that they inhabited.

"That man." She huffed, though she was nowhere displeased. Rather, she somewhat enjoyed his casual demeanor and his personality.

Not to mention he was quite the gossip, intentionally trying to distract her while they danced, a training exercise he called it. She was sure he just did it out of amusement though. But it was an interesting experience having someone to gossip with.

She stared into the distance as her vision penetrated a different layer of Niflheim. She rarely interfered with the area in which her souls inhabited, at least those that didn't offend her sensibilities.

It was no Valhalla, but she treated her subjects right.

She watched her dancing instructor sit down and share some drinks with his companions, smiling slightly as she waved the images away.

The goddess was happy, all seemed right in her world.

She could recall before all this happened.

To put a definitive timeframe on it was difficult, perhaps a century or so ago? Maybe even longer, it was hard to tell when you didn't care as the years passed by.

Before she started to make trips down to Midgard.

The goddess sometimes called in some of her subjects, or those who recently died, and had them tell her stories.

The ones that truly stood out were those from Midgard; the elves, trolls, dwarves and such were so boring. Almost always the same nonsense, some rather inflated heroic tales of their own making.

Bleh.

She enjoyed the stories those humans told her.

It was what first garnered her interest in that realm even though her race had long since walked away from it.

She was feeling rather nostalgic, her workload was oddly low this day, so she decided to take it a bit easy.

"Garm." She called out, just barely over a whisper.

A howl answered, the mists around her displaced as a large wolf emerged from the shadows of her realm.

A gigantic beast of a wolf, easily towering over anything in the vicinity.

It began to shrink as it made its way towards the lonely goddess. Its form began to settle, still rather large as its height was easily a good 8 feet high.

Hela stood up and walked towards the mighty beast, its massive head lowering down as it began to sniff her.

Unfamiliar scents filling its nose as it looked at her in confusion.

"You've been sleeping for how many years now?" She chided, gentle patting its rather large snout.

The wolf had the decency to look a little sheepish, opting to give her a quick lick. Eliciting a smile from his mistress.

"It seems the guardian of my realm is more a puppy than a wolf." She let out a small laugh.

Such a comment by any other being would have the wolf going for the throat, but to its master…..the large wolf just fell onto the ground with a large 'thump' and rolled over, staring playfully into her eyes.

She had barely enough self-control from throwing herself into the bundle of fur, opting instead to start rubbing her guardian's belly.

Yes, the wolf protector who guards the gates of the dead, was receiving belly rubs.

"Truly, I have a frightening protector at my disposal." She said dryly, though a small smile never leaving her face.

Before, Garm was the only being that even caught a glimpse of this side of her. The only being that had never forsaken her and even followed her into the depths of Niflheim. She could barely even recall when the wolf had come into her life, only remember bits and pieces of finding a scared wolf pup at the edge of a forest. Not that any blame could be placed on her for that, she was extremely young back then, even by Asgardian Standards, she was but a child.

Her eternal protector.

Willingly submitted himself to the laws of Niflheim, having his nature twisted and changed into a being of death.

He devoured the souls of the dishonorable, those filthy ones that she would happily throw into the deepest pit she could find.

Part of her wondered if this is what it would have been like if her brother had never been chained and banished.

She let out a sigh, of which did not go unnoticed by her companion. "I have much to tell you, my guardian." She whispered, stroking his head. "I have somehow ended up married while you slept."

That got a rise out of the large wolf.

Its form betrayed its intelligence. It was a fully sentient being, capable of completely understanding the words spoken to it. It didn't quite understand marriage as a whole, being a wolf and all, but it understood the underlying concept.

His mistress found a mate.

The odd scents making sense now, though there were a few in particular that set him on edge.

One of them carried a familiar smell, almost like death but more specific. It was a flavor he'd tasted on some of the souls he'd consumed over the years, almost like the embodiment of killing.

How odd, but not unwelcomed.

The other perturbed him.

He recognized the origin, having had his own run-ins on their kind, as reclusive and arrogant as they were. He'd leave Niflheim every few centuries for a day or two to go hunting, something that no one seemed bothered with as technically he wasn't as quite bound to the realm as his mistress was. And she didn't mind him going out every now and then, and he also brought back some souvenirs, even if she looked rather put off but what he brought back, he knew she liked them.

Yes, he'd run into their kind before. Some fighting him, others actually speaking to him as more than just an animal, as they were both intelligent races, even if they were both apex predators and enjoyed indulging in their baser instincts.

One of his most cherished hunts was taking down one of those particularly annoying ones.

He ate well that day.

Dragons.

Why did his mistress smell like a dragon? As faint as it was, it was hard to mistake one of their kind.

Not that it mattered much, if his mistress found a strong mate that made her happy, then he was fine with it, even if he didn't like those flying serpents much.

Questions the wolf had, answers he didn't seek.

His mistress was smart and strong, he would inspect her chosen when he eventually is brought before him. If whatever being didn't meet his standards, he would take her mate under its paw and teach it the ways of the hunt and make it strong like him.

For now, though, he just opted to give her another lick, earning a small yelp from his mistress.

The goddess of death wiped off the drool that covered her face.

She was much happier than her expression let on. She had dearly missed her protector these past few years, or was it a decade?

She didn't quite recall when Garm went to sleep, as he tends to take long naps.

The days only starting to be counted recently.

Even though he was supposed to be the realm's foremost protector, he often was asleep. She didn't really mind all that much, he was also Intune in the realm to an extent and would immediately awake if it came under attack.

And, well, she felt like she owed it to her old companion to allow him his own time to use as he sees fit. If he wished to sleep the centuries away, she wouldn't wake him unless it was important, for the most part. She did need to keep him abreast of the worlds ever so often, so she did waken him now and then.

It was only happenstance that she felt his eyes shuttering in the shadows and called out to him.

She hummed happily as she waived her hand.

The ground trembled slightly, splitting apart before her as an object was pulled to the surface.

Garm raised his head but lowered it back down after recognizing the device.

It looked like a rather large birdbath.

The goddess weaved her magics, activating the object as the water inside turned crystal clear.

It was one of her finer creations, made a few centuries ago amid her boredom and loneliness. A scrying pool, she aptly named. She didn't have the inherit ability to pierce the veil of realms like old one-eye or Heimdall. For her to do so, required tapping into her domain of death, which went counter productive to the point of her wanting to do so to begin with. She very well didn't want to just watch people dying all the time.

She started off initially looking towards the other immortal-like realms. The trolls, elves and dwarves. Not quite as immortal as Asgardians boast about being, but extremely long-lived compared to humans.

It was one of the driving forces of her wanting to go to Midgard originally. The stories piqued her interest, actually 'seeing the sights' so to speak was what pushed her over the edge.

The other realms were so…..stagnant.

Midgard though…Midgard was always changing, so much to do, so much to see. It had completely changed every century to be almost unrecognizable.

She remembered when wood and mud constituted a living space for the mortals, now though, she saw towers that exceeded even the height of Odin's palace.

Wanting to go there, she had devised a plan several years ago, it had taken long to complete, but the magics used would have made even her father impressed.

It would have normally been impossible to teleport between Niflheim and Midgard like she had been doing without the aid of the Bifrost, but she finagled her own means to traverse the metaphysical distance.

A clever use of her domain, the thinnest part between the realms, and copious amounts of magic.

She had managed to set up a static teleport location.

Her first trip had been rather…. humbling, in a way.

The crowds of people that did not recognize her…..didn't care about her. Different from the glares and calculative looks she was used to receiving. She was utterly irrelevant to the masses.

Of course, she turned heads though, even after disguising her attire. Just because those men on Asgard were afraid to approach her didn't mean she was blind to her own looks. But, having most of the opposite gender treat her like she had three heads and six eyes most of her life had not done any favors on her confidence as a woman.

It was an odd sensation the first time it happened, someone trying to 'pick her up' as the mortals called it. But she wasn't so easy as to bed the first male to show her any romantic interest.

Eventually she got closer to her modern-day routine.

Familiarizing herself with where she ended up, purchasing the plot of land that her teleport was set at. Apparently, it was an abandoned office building that was closed due to 'being haunted'. It would have been comical had it not probably been correct. The veil that separated the realms were extremely thin at that location, some roaming spirits could have accidently slipped through for a few moments before being pulled back.

Her gain.

The rest as they say, was history.

Meeting her husband not long after and the train wreck that was their first encounter.

How they even ended up dating was ridiculous, but it somehow turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her.

Since then, she hadn't really used her scrying pool.

What need was there to spy on Midgard when she could simply go there? And she dared not point it anywhere towards Asgard, she was confidant in her creation's ability to be discreet, but not that confidant.

But….she was rather bored at the moment, so old habits kicked in.

Tapping away at the water, the images in the bowl began to change.

She zeroed in on her own home.

Her faithful protector looking over her shoulder, he was somewhat curious of the other realms at times.

A familiar house came into view.

Pushing forward more, her magic was easily able to penetrate the walls.

She noticed immediately, a certain ball of fluff casually sleeping on the sofa.

"You little furball." She huffed. "You disappear for several days and make me worried, now here you are sleeping away without a care in the world. You best be prepared, when I get home, you're cute little behind is mine."

She tapped away on the thin screen of water. "Speaking of cute behinds…..where are you, my dear husband."

The images shifted until she recognized her bedroom, changing again until it focused on the connected shower.

The steam doing nothing to hide what was going on.

"oh my…." She bit her lip. "I should turn this off…it's an invasion of privacy and….." She trailed off, mumbling to herself. Garm had the sense to leave, as certain scent made itself known. Sometimes having such a powerful nose wasn't a blessing, he made himself scarce without disturbing his mistress.

Atleast he got a look at his mistress's mate, he wouldn't forget his face, though he hoped to forget everything else he saw.

Arthur busily cleaned up the house after his wife had gone off to work.

He was fine keeping up with the housework since he didn't actually have a job. Not that he was unemployed due to failure to find any work. He sometimes wondered if he should find employment somewhere just to keep busy during the days.

There were plenty of things he enjoyed doing, but the thought of turning many of them into an actual job usually dissuaded him.

Sometimes hobbies stopped being enjoyable when you're forced into them.

Maybe open a bookstore or something?

He didn't need the income so it could just be something he did for fun, and it would give him an excuse to order books in bulk.

Hela had been giving him looks due to the piles that were stacking in their study.

Something about selling or getting rid of a book, even if he'd memorized it, just didn't sit well with him.

Perhaps the several decades in the 6th century had skewed his view on it. Books were a treasure, something passed down family lines. Gold couldn't buy books, more often than not. Even simple things like a cookbook would be hoarded and guarded as a family secret.

How novel it was, when he first appeared in this era, that things like public libraries existed. Not to mention that being literate was considered the norm.

Though they were quite different about a hundred years ago, they still existed in some capacity and only got better as the years went on.

It was an interesting time to find himself waking up in the modern age. The era being referred to as the roaring twenties, these days.

He spent most of his time in his homeland of Britain, refamiliarizing himself with the world.

The first time he saw a map that pictured the entirety of the world….it was humbling. How small he truly felt in the grand scheme of things.

That and having people give him odd looks when he introduced himself as Arthur Pendragon.

It was a little funny thinking back at it now.

He kind just muddled along from there, trying his best to integrate into modern society and such.

Feeling a bout of nostalgia, he finished up his housework and made his way up into the attic of their house, pulling down the ladder from the ceiling.

The amount of dust that had accumulated, a good indication of how long it had been since he'd been up there.

He owned the house well before Hela and him had married, he properly moved into it when they settled into their relationship for the long term. It had been sitting, almost vacant, for a few decades previously.

A lot of his more…sentimental possessions were stored up here.

Upon making his way up, he was immediately greeted by a familiar painting.

Carefully wiping the dust away, he noticed the few runes around the edges, preserving the canvas even after all these centuries.

"Hey, dad." He whispered, staring at the painting of his adoptive father.

It was fairly accurate, all things considered.

When he had initially awoken in this era, he was in some sort of tomb, it was obvious after a few minutes in there that it was in fact, his tomb.

Why it was filled to the brim with expensive objects, he had no idea.

Besides things like gold and jewels, there were other items of value, if more so on the sentimental side. There were a few armaments, mostly mundane but a couple mystic codes piled in.

There was of course his Dagger sitting on a pedestal in the corner.

He remembered that Dagger, supposedly a gift from his birth father that Sir Ector passed down to him. It was immaculately beautiful and extremely strong, but it wasn't until he had awoken that it had ascended.

He knew what it was, he wielded several others of its kind during his life, but this was the only one that had sublimed itself after his death.

A Noble Phantasm.

He had an almost instinctual knowledge of it's working as soon as it took it into his possession.

And there were the paintings that sat around in that odd chamber.

Many of them having familiar faces…..many of them he could bare to even look at so he hid them away in his attic.

The years that passed made it easier, but it was still hard to look at the faces of people he'd failed.

He didn't even know why he was up here, perhaps a moment of poor impulse control? A yearning to see his father again? It was hard to tell.

"Would you still look at me fondly, if you knew of everything that happened, Sir Ector?" He asked, gently setting the painting to the side.

He reached over and picked up a small metal container. Opening it up, he carefully pulled out the object inside, once again, wiping away excess dust.

A memory, one of the most precious he held, even after all these years.

It was probably the most precious object that was inside his tomb when he had awoken. He would have gladly given up even his dagger if it meant keeping this oddly carved animal.

The small stone lion his brother had carved for him when he had fallen ill while their father was out. Though, only he would probably ever know it was in fact a lion, anyone else who saw it would probably assume it was some form of mutated dog.

Speaking of mutated dogs, he was still unsure of how Fou ended up with him, just popping up randomly one day. He wasn't even sure if it was the Fou he was familiar with, it seemed to like him, maybe. It was a bit odd; it still retained its form as Cath Palug, yet its nature was closer to the Beast of Gaia.

But, after the years went on he realized that the small creature had no desire to cause wonton destruction, it seemed rather content to just experience life.

He sighed putting away the small sculpture.

Setting it near another, larger, metal container.

He looked down at the larger container. "Not going to even open that can of worms." He muttered, pushing it away.

It was his old locker from when he fought in the second world war.

That was a nightmare he didn't want to have to repeat. It was one of the reasons he had been so reclusive over the years. He'd fought and killed since he was a young lad, as somber as it was to think about, he was used to death. Some of the things he saw in that war though, that showed him the depths of human depravity.

And he gained a bit of attention he didn't want to have.

At that point in his life, he hadn't sealed his powers yet. He used them sparingly while fighting, though there were a couple of occasions where said use were rather…. spectacular.

He may have lost his temper once or twice.

A facility that was experimenting on children.

Yeah, not his brightest moment, but certain lines should never be crossed.

The war wrapped up and he didn't want to come under any additional scrutiny since resources were now more available, so he did the most sensible thing he could think of.

He moved to America.

Everything was rather chaotic in the first few months of the war ending, it was easy to quietly disappear among the ensuing mess.

And after a few more years; he, or rather his Grandfather, died.

Any odd questions or what not, he could just throw at his 'Grandfather' and no one would be any wiser.

It wasn't exactly uncommon for grandchildren to look like their grandparents either.

His fortune being an inheritance from his grandfather, once more, no one would ask any questions. All he had to do was feign ignorance on how his 'Grandfather' had acquired it. Frankly, it was such a resounding shield against any kind of uncomfortable questions, he was astonished.

Sitting up and patting away the dust, he took one last look around the moderately sized attic.

He was about to leave until something grabbed his attention.

A mild longing as he looked at it.

A small weapon rack in the corner, a few weapons of varying degrees. A couple swords, an axe and a spear.

He picked up one of the identical swords, a couple of runes on the flat of the blade.

Runes were probably the most wide-spread magecraft during that era. Atleast in his homeland, he didn't know about the goings on of the rest of the world. Though, he'd read some literature about some of the lore in the far east, they seemed to have a similar system in place.

The familiar weight of a sword in his hand, he'd somewhat missed this.

There was no harm in just a few practice swings, right?

Sealing everything up and making his way out to the backyard with his prize in tow.

Stepping outside, he carefully unsheathed the weapon.

The passage of the years doing nothing to wear down on the blade, but that's basically all the enchantments did, besides some form of increased durability.

Rather mundane as magic swords go, but arguably the most useful.

It was a perfect practice blade.

Closing his eyes and taking up the stance that felt so natural.

Opening them, he saw the sharp edge infront of him, and in tune with his breathing, he swung.

There was no discharge of power, no displacement of the terrain to welcome his swordsmanship, but after not having held a blade in years…..it felt good.

He just continued to swing, left, right, center. Each one done with precision and practiced ease. The thousands upon thousands of previous swings building upon one another to give his body a memory that it could have never forgotten.

How much time passed as he lost himself in these familiar motions?

An hour, two?

By the time he came to his senses, his body was drenched in sweat and his arms were aching.

Letting out a breath, he put the sword back into Its sheath and sat down on the outside bench. Picking up the phone, he checked the time only to realize just how long he'd lost.

"Hela's going to be home soon." He mumbled, taking another look at himself. "Better take a quick shower."

"Husband, I'm home." Hela called out, walking through the door. She waited a moment without a response. "I also come bearing dinner."

She was greeting with the sound of various objects falling to the ground and her husband cursing under his breath as he made his way through the house with haste.

"Hello beautiful woman who brings me food." Arthur called out.

She snorted, putting down the warm boxes on the table. "What a welcome, I'm swooning." She said dryly.

"Apologizes, my lady." He said doing an exaggerated bow before wrapping his arms around her and quickly placing his lips on hers. "Mmm, tastes like donuts." He broke the kiss. "Truly, you know the way to my heart." He stated, eyeing the bounty before him.

"Yes, if only I knew during our early days of courting that all I needed was pizza and donuts, perhaps it would have saved me much trouble." She couldn't stop herself from smiling at his antics. "By the way, why is there a sword on the table?" It was rather hard to miss the authentic looking weapon laying on the table.

"Ah…. I forgot about that, I was going through the attic and found it among my…grandfather's possessions and I was bored so I took it down."

"Boys" She said, rolling her eyes.

"Hmm, is it real?" She asked, in mild curiosity as she also partook in the glazed treat.

"Yup, pretty sharp despite being absolutely covered in dust, like most of the stuff up there."

"What's that right there." She said, pointing at the hilt.

"Hmm?" He said in confusion, only for her to reach over and grab the box of confections out of his grasp.

He narrowed his eyes, watching her grab one.

She met his gaze with overexaggerated chewing.

He reached for the sword.

She raised an eyebrow, daring him.

"I will fight you." He stated.

"Well then, come at me." She replied.

"…..those are going to go straight to your hips. Truthfully, I would be doing you a service."

"Really, that's the best you can come up with? I work hard to keep this figure." She snorted. "Besides, don't men like a bit of width, at least that's what many of today's songs say."

He opened his mouth before closing it again, finally replying after a moment. "Well…..you're not wrong. But what do you mean work hard."

"I walk to and from work every day." She stated.

"Everyone does, this is New York, that's hardly difficult."

"And that doesn't take into account the workouts I get at home." She said quietly.

"What?"

"Oh, don't feign ignorance, it takes hard work to keep up with you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about?" He looked at her in confusion.

She looked at him, mouth slightly ajar. "I have no words…"

"Do you have weights here or something that I don't know about?"

"Am I really going to have to spell it out to you?"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"When we…" Her face started to heat up.

"You look a bit flushed, are you okay?" He asked, stepping closer, placing a hand on her forehead.

"I-I'm fine." She stuttered slightly.

"Oh, that's good, then I won't feel bad about this." He smirked, taking the last donut from the box.

"You!" She yelped.

"It's so cute when you get flustered." He chuckled.

"You horrible tease!" She huffed, slapping his arm. She tossed the empty box on the table, opening one of the four pizza boxes she brought. "See if I bring home any deserts next time."

"Where did you even get them, I'm pretty sure Antonio's doesn't bake donuts along with pizza." He asked, helping himself as well.

"There was a new bakery a few stores down….they were an impulse buy." She shrugged.

"They were good, we should order from there again." He nodded, Thursdays were their takeout nights and it was also nice to find more good restaurants. Especially since they were both quit the gluttons. "How was your day, do anything interesting?"

"About the same….." She replied almost instinctually, her eyes not daring to meet her husbands as she recalled the little 'show' she got. "But someone came in that I hadn't seen for awhile."

"A friend?" Arthur asked.

"I suppose, in a way. I've known him since I was a child, and he's been my subordinate ever since."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, Hela rarely talked about her childhood, for reason's the former king could understand. She gave him the broad strokes of a neglectful family, such he didn't pry. So, it was a bit surprising she had something good to say about someone she knew as a child. "Will I get to meet him?"

"Possibly, he's a bit busy and comes and goes for the most part. I'm lucky to be able to see him even this once in the past couple years." She smiled fondly.

"Should I be jealous." He teased.

She let out a small laugh. "You have nothing to fear from Gar-" Cutting herself off from saying his full name.

"Gar?"

"Its…a nickname…short for Garfield."

"Like the cat?" Arthur asked in amusement.

Hela almost choked, trying her best to hold in the laughter. "Exactly like the cat." She said with the best straight face she could. "What about you, My husband?" The goddess quickly changed the subject.

"Just did a bit of cleaning and a bit of reading. I found myself in the attic, going through my…..Grandfather's things. Nothing too exciting except finding the sword."

"May I?" She asked, eyeing the weapon.

"Sure, just be careful, it's rather sharp."

She nodded, picking up the weapon. The weight already telling her that it was more than just a modern decoration.

Carefully sliding it out from its sheath, she immediately noticed the carvings on the weapon.

Runes.

Norse Runes.

Real Norse Runes that were strung together in a legitimate runic sentence. It was simplistic, but a reliable string, basically making it extremely durable as it took in the ambient magic to make itself harder to break.

Even now she could barely make out a small stream of magic entering the weapon and dispersing throughout its length.

"Arthur…..do you know where your grandfather got this sword?"

"Uh…..its an heirloom, I think? Yeah, it's been in my family for centuries."

"I see." She nodded, it made sense and a little bit worry dissipated. Something like this would have easily survived the years if it were even moderately taken care of, sitting in storage or passed down a family line would have assured its continued existence. And her husband had said that his family hailed from the British Isles where the worshippers of her people often fought in the past.

She gave it a quick swing, careful not to hit anything in the dining room. The weapon presented no harm, so she just pushed aside any worry, it wasn't the first time coming into contact with a magical item that survived the centuries.

"You…..you know how to wield a sword?" Arthur asked in surprise.

"Huh?" She was a bit taken back.

"Your stance, the way you shifted your body when you swung, it basically screams of years of experience."

"How could you possible know that?" She was taken by surprise herself.

"I….learned fencing when I was younger, and I was tutored in various weapon crafts." He replied.

"I see…my family also taught me various weapons." She added.

"Huh…..this is odd."

"Indeed, I did not think this would be something we had in common as it never really came up in conversation."

"What….other weapons are you familiar with?" He perked up slightly as he asked.

She too smiled a bit. "I am familiar with swords of various types, spears, axes and I'm alright with a bow." She enjoyed training with various arms, it was one of the few fond memories of her childhood.

"I'm pants with a bow, but I can at least hit a target, if only barely." He chuckled. "I'm good with a spear and best with a sword. I'm also pretty decent with knives, specifically throwing knives."

"I was always fond of throwing axes myself." She shared his laugh.

"Theres….a festival in a couple months, one of those renaissance things where people dress up like the olden days. It's only a couple miles outside of New York…do you want to go with me?" He asked.

She looked at him strangely. "Are you asking me out on a date? This hesitance isn't like you, My husband."

"Well, I didn't plan on even bringing it up until now, I didn't think it would be anything you're interested in."

"You are a silly man." Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around him, leaning in and placing her lips on his. "I would have wanted to go regardless because it's something you would have wanted. But to abate your worry, it sounds quite enjoyable and I would love to go." She kissed him again, not giving him a chance to respond.

"But I assume there is a reason you brought it up all of the sudden after learning about my skill in weaponry?"

"There are some competitions, Archery, Swordsmanship, I think there was even jousting you could sign up for if you signed a waver, and…..axe throwing." He smirked.

"Well…..it appears we should make some space on the shelf for any trophies we acquire." But putting that aside for now, how are preparations for the Charity Gala this weekend?"

"Everything should be ready by tomorrow, Elaine left a message earlier that your dress is ready and she worked together with the guy who took the measurements for my Tux, so apparently we're going to be matching quite well."

"I cannot wait." She beamed, she saw the designs for her dress and well….she was quite happy with it. "Some friendly backstabbing in the political arena then some real stabbing in an actual arena later, truly you are spoiling me."

"Only the best for my wife." He chuckled.

"Only the best, huh? Is that why you say after stealing all my donuts?"

"Ah…I hoped you forgot about that, how about I make it up to you?"

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"Well….I still have room for some more desert." He quickly swept her off her feet.

"You are terrible" She squeaked as he carried her out of the dining room, the only sounds left heard were muffled giggles coming from the bedroom.

Author's Note:

Hey everyone, it's been awhile. I'm still here and alive, i've been getting some messages asking if i'm okay and i am so far, so thanks for that. I've been just been extremely busy with real life stuff so writing has taken a back seat, this hopefully somewhat makes up for it as it's two chapters in length sitting at about 6k words. I have a good amount of A sword Reaching towards Avalon finished for Chapter 2, so that should be up in the next few days.

So, for the chapter, some more backstory comes out. Hela being a little bit of a voyeur, Arthur still not quite over the past. Some more background building for them both, Arthur's introduction to the modern world coming to light. Some cute moments between the two as some odd things turn up that they have to muddle their own way through without giving away too much. Nothing to quite make the other suspicious on it's own but something that may add on if things escalate.

Hela is kinda fun to write. I consider her the type of person that isn't a prude but at the same time has trouble openly talking about things like sex so she gets embarrassed when it gets brought up so blatantly. Having been denied affection her whole life, she's rather weak to being showered in it and is easily teased. I also didn't want to write her as some weak 'damsel in distress' kind of character either, she has her own flaws and own issues she works through, but she is most certainly a strong woman. She doesn't need some knight in shining armor, but she would enjoy having one nonetheless.

I havn't mentioned much of Arthur yet, i feel like he's more 'known' i guess so it's easy to assume quite a bit about his personality and how he would handle things. He's more insightful and more open to showing his affection. Able to read Hela's mood easily enough to not push any boundries she isn't ready to cross.

Anyways, next chapter is going to be about the Charity Event and Tony Stark gets an introduction, woo plot!

So, any questions or concerns, as always i read all the comments. Stay safe everyone!