A pleasant warm wind of spring brushed through your (H/C) hair as you walked down the muddy streets of Asgard with your bag on your back.

The sounds of life filled the air.
Metal hitting metal made hammers vibrate and create a song of craftsmanship. There was the smell of hot coals and iron being forged.

Above your head a dragon flew up, ridden by a unit of Odin's loyal soldiers.

With wide eyes you tried to follow the shadow of the huge creature.

As a child, you had always dreamed of being allowed to serve the All-Father. But as time went by, it became clear that you were not cut from the same cloth as the warriors.

Instead, you had found another vocation to devote your times worth instead.

The animals of this city were as demanding in their variety as they were in their needs.

There was hardly anyone who dared to get involved with the mounts of the gods. The fear of making a mistake and being mauled by the wrath of the creatures was too great.

Literally.

But you were not afraid of them. In the end, it was how you reacted to the moods that mattered.

With a smile on your lips, you turned off the main street and instead walked through the narrowing alley where the non-divine inhabitants of Asgard offered their goods for sale.

Voices flooded the narrow space between the houses.

The smell of battle and war disappeared. Instead, it began to smell of freshly woven fabrics, fruits and vegetables that were so plump they could have burst at any touch.

You curiously examined the fruit at one of the stalls.

The grapes were so thick that the sunlight did not manage to shine through the skin. Apples were piled up in such a royal red that they almost looked painted.

"Good morning, (Y/N).", a woman's friendly face greeted you.

"Good morning, Agathe.", you nodded to your neighbour's wife and returned her peaceful greeting.

Agathe was a rather plump lady, old enough to be everyone's loving grandma, with auburn hair that she always wore tied in a knot at the back of her head.

Björn, her husband, was the blacksmith of your district. Whenever the hinges of your old door gave you trouble, he offered to help.

He had even forged you a knife to make it easier for you to defend yourself against the mounts in an emergency.

But you used it to cut fruit and vegetables instead. That way the animals could eat them better.

"Are you looking for something in particular?", she asked, pointing to a box of strange yellow fruit. "Oh, the Allfather brought these the other day. He calls them mangoes. Isn't he amazing how much he gives back to us?"

Agreeing, you made a noise and grabbed one of the fruits to feel what was to be expected.

"Smells sweet.", you realised. "But quite hard."

"You have to leave it for a day or two. Then it tastes like nectar."

Your eyebrows rose in interest.

"How much would you like for one?"

She raised her hands dismissively.

"No, no. You can have the first one."

An exhausted smile appeared on your lips.

Agathe always said that, but next time she would say it was a gift. And the time after that she'd say it was leftover anyways and you could have it before it started to rot and she had to throw it out.

Sometimes you thought of her as a mother to you, since your birth parents were unknown to you.

Or maybe she was just that good from the bottom of her heart.

"I want to pay for it.", you insisted. "How much?"

She shook her head.

"Child, you don't have to."

"But I want to."

A sigh made her plump chest quiver.

"Very well.", she grabbed a woven bag from under the table and began to fill it with a few apples, grapes and peaches before placing it bulging in front of you. "Five copper coins for everything."

One eyebrow raised and an amused smirk on your lips, you looked at her.

"That seems awfully little."

"It'll do.", she shrugged.

With an amused shake of your head, you reached into your pocket and fished out a few coins.

Your free hand reached for the bag. In the same breath you dropped the coins on the table with a clink.

Agathe's eyes regarded the payment for a moment, recounted.

"That's too much!", she cried out, almost offended.

But you were already gone.

Laughing softly to yourself, you ran down the street, clutching the bag of fruit tightly.

"I'll make it up to you!", you called over your shoulder. "Have a nice day!"

With one leap you jumped over a pile of fruit crates, dropped and slithered down a hill of perfectly green gas until you could make out the Allfather's palace among the blue roofs of the houses.

When you came to a stop your trousers were covered with green and muddy stains.

Not giving it a second thought, you knocked off the roughest dirt and jumped back to your feet.

Your work didn't allow you to keep clean clothes unstained anyway, so it didn't matter if you came to work dirty.

You hurriedly crossed the square in front of the palace.

The sun was already high in the sky, most of the gods must already be on their feet. Doing godly duties.

All except Thor. The son of Odin was known to be a drunkard. It was not uncommon for him to sleep through his handhohes until late noon. Only to go back to drinking afterwards.

You felt sorry for him, even though many people said that there was no need to feel sorry for gods.

After all, they were gods.

You had already reached the stables when your gaze happened to wander over your shoulder.

At that very moment, the gates of the palace opened and an old man appeared.

The Allfather.