Plotted out Starter for @indirecticn
Yards of fabric and Jane still felt naked. On Midgard, since ‘Earth’ and other variants in global languages were used only by the resistance, Asgardian fashion was reserved for the politically connected and wealthy. Jane Foster was neither. At least she had not been. Very soon her status in both departments would be changing.
The dress in question had been fashioned to impress Asgardian nobility and any guests at the court who would be attending the presentation of the Crown Prince’s bride-to-be. Which meant that it was the most extravagant and impractical thing Jane ever wore on her petite body. Layers of gold silk, because of course it was gold, with artful beading and embroidery across the entirety. Somebody had done Jane’s make-up and her fine mousey hair had been coiffed into something elaborate that she could never hope to replicate. Then again as the royal family’s new doll Jane would never have to do it herself. Her scalp itched and Jane fought the overwhelming need to scratch. This pauper to princess transformation was something out of a child’s dreamy fairy tale.
Jane could not be more miserable.
In a handful of hours she would be locked away in a gilded cage, officially betrothed to Prince Thor Odinson, a man she had met twice and certainly did not love. She was at best a puppet and a political prisoner at worst. Jane glared out the transport window at the blurred scenery of Asgard as it passed. If only she could slouch against the cushioned seat. She had been sitting for several hours now, not counting the time spent molding her into something beautiful, but the metallic bodice, once again gold, kept her spine rigid and upright. It was excellent for posture and painful for extended travel.
How much longer until they reached the city? And did she really want to get there?
