Featured Story
A Norse God in Camelot
By Scarlet Silverweaver
"There's someone I'd like you to meet," Morgan said to Loki, grinning widely. The two of them had arrived in Camelot only moments before, having had some interesting conversations on the way. Loki was getting the hang of speaking English, instead of just understanding it. The god had been unsurprised by the city of Camelot, having lived in Asgard for centuries, though the marketplace was somewhere he'd love to stop in to look around at all the new developments in Midgardian technology. "There is?" the Trickster asked distractedly, gazing interestedly at the varying colors worn by passing Midgardians. He noticed Morgan was the only one wearing purple, and assumed (correctly) that clothing color showed some sort of rank in society. "Of course," Morgan said. "So I know you mentioned your nephews. Out of curiosity, do you have any children of your own?" Loki's expression turned grim. "I had five sons and a daughter." Morgan stopped walking. "Had?"
"I'm not sure how many of them are still alive," Loki replied. "Oh. I'm sorry." "Don't be," Loki said distractedly, a forced-looking smile upon his face. "You couldn't have known. Let's go see this person you're so eager for me to meet, shall we?" "You'll have to soon, anyway," Morgan said. "He's been waiting for me to get home since I first left. Ah, here we are." Loki had honestly been expecting more than a hovel. "He lives here?" "I live here," Morgan said, sounding more than a little offended. "Arthur let me stay at the castle for a time, but I simply couldn't stand it after a while. His royal highness has too many visitors I'd rather not associate with." "You have problems with nobility?" Loki asked interestedly. Morgan took a key ring from her pocket and picked one key without looking at it, then unlocked the door. "What can I say?" she asked. "Most of them are supercilious idiots." To read the rest of the first chapter and to await further chapters, go here.