The Morning After

Thrud mumbled to herself as she slowly opened her eyes, looking about her bright bedroom. Her brain felt… foggy. Like someone had taken the fluffiest fur blanket that could be found in Asgard and stuffed it between her ears. It wasn’t unpleasant at all; in fact it was rather nice. The last few weeks had been a steady slog of dugery and misery. Her father dead, killed by her grandfather for the sin of simply not wanting to kill someone. The fall of Asgard and the Aesir **** to relocate to Midgard, settling in a valley to the North of the Lake of Nine along with the survivors of New Midgard. The news that Loki had left without really saying goodbye and that his father had left shortly after, needing to go to the Realm of the Dwarves to help deal with the damage her grandfather had done; he’d left Thrud’s mother in charge of the Aesir as Frig… Freya… was mourning the **** of her brother.

(Unlike her mother she wasn’t bitter about Kratos being around, as he had shown kindness to her father. He had spoken of the Midgard god almost… fondly. That had upset her mother of course and Thrud was careful not to bring him up.)

Every day before that morning she had woken up before the sun had risen, her dreams haunted by her father crumbling away before her. She would allow herself only that time to cry, and once more before she went to bed, before she would steel herself and march out to face the day, training even harder to prove herself worthy to wield her father’s hammer.

But that morning was… different.

First and foremost that it was light out. And she was well rested. She had dreamed but instead of that horrible moment during Ragnarok it had been her reliving what she had done only hours earlier. Drinking with her mother (not that her mother had drank anything potent, having sworn off all liquor and ale and unlike Thrud’s father stuck with it) and swapping silly stories. Spotting some midgardians and some Asgardians and dancing with them. Listening to the lively music and just getting lost in it.

The memories were all there, all the darkness that haunted her. But it was like they were… muted. Like a bruise that had been carefully padded so that it barely ached.

She liked it.

Thrud smiled and got up, running her fingers through her hair before stretching and moving to get dressed.

“Are you awake?” her mother asked.

“Yes, come in!” Thrud called out, not caring in the slightest that she was completely naked. Her mother had seen her many times; she had seen her parents in the buff as well. She knew that some in the other Realms frowned upon that but honestly Thrud didn’t mind at all. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” her mother said with a smile, shutting the door and settling on Thrud’s bed as she began to get her clothing on. “You?”

“I did,” Thrud said, frowning as she tugged on her breast plate. “Hmmm.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’ll need to see a blacksmith. This isn’t fitting right.”

“What do you mean?” her mother ask.

Thrud pressed her lips together. “Usually it fits perfectly but right now it-“ She turned, not wanting her mother to see the flush she knew that was coming to her cheeks. Because the cloth inside the plate that kept her skin from chaffing was pressing against her nipples and she only now realized how stiff and hard they were. She wiggled the breastplate again and bit back a murmur of pleasure at the sensation; they were so puffy and sensitive that morning! “Its fine,” she said, hoping that the feeling wouldn’t distract her from her training because as she turned and walked over to grab her britches (which she should have put on first… where was her mind that she’d almost walked out with her quim exposed!?!) the cloth seemed to massage her tits, sending little jolts through her. It was made all the worse as she yanked her leggings on, which felt rather tight. One of the washerwomen must have cleaned them wrong and allowed them to shrink because she could feel them riding up on her ass.

Her mother though look at her carefully. “And your boots?”

Thrud frowned at that odd question but put them on. “Fine,” she said, not noticing her mother sighing in relief.

“Good. Now, I know you usually train but it rather late… what do you think about going out and exploring a bit of Midgard? Maybe visit a few villages and thank the young men there for helping us? Afterwards we could always head back and have another drink in the mead hall-“

At once Thrud nodded her head. “Yes!” she said excitedly. She felt so well rested and so much better after the night before… she didn’t want to risk returning to a sleep filled with nightmares!

Sif, for her part, smiled at her daughter agreeing to skip training. ‘Perfect. The watered down Giant’s Brew is doing the trick. Its helping her loosen up and forget her troubles. And with none of the side effects.’

Except… Sif had no idea that it hadn’t merely been Thor who had enjoyed the drink. Or that he had brought more than 5 bottles with him. In fact her husband had an entire cellar of the stuff hidden on Midgard, as well as each of the other relams, and had often journeyed to the Giants’ Realm to get more. And when he’d courted Sif he had secretly slipped her the drink. Sif had merely forgotten that before she’d met Thor she had been rather flat chested and with narrow hips. And that Thrud didn’t merely take after Thor but herself when it came to training, as Sif too had once dreamed of becoming a warrior who traveled the realms. But the Giant’s Brew had altered her, making her into the buxom woman she now was and, during her dirnking days, a hard partying lass who was known for being rather lustful. Swearing off all booze had slowly caused her old personality to return, though her curves had remained.

And now the same process was occurring to Thrud, Sif having no idea what she was slowly unleashing on the world…