Memories
Convincing Sif to leave had morphed into a vexing ordeal. I was suffocated with her usual grievances and accusations. Bound by Thor’s summoning, the fierce warrior eventually fled, a fateful glare tossed over her shoulders.
I released an enduring sigh as the door clunked closed behind me. I slid down the dwarfing piece of craftsmanship slowly, allowing my legs to slip out from under me and my rump to smack against the floor.
I loathed my return. Yet, worse still was the venom in which Sif forged my way. I loved my sister; she filled a vacancy our mother left unoccupied. While I could never repay her for her sacrifice, her hell-bent demeanor vexed me beyond measure. Why was she so concerned about my reproductive habits—especially pertaining to fandral? Why did it matter? If she hadn’t of forced us together in the first place perhaps I would not have abandoned Asgard. Perhaps instead I would have thrived here, loved here, and succumb to my books here for the stretch of eternity. It certainly would have been simpler.
I smirked in my stupor, knowing I could not fathom a life lived here, tethered to a marriage or not. I knew why; it was no mystery. I had chosen my path from the very day I laid eyes on that scrawny boy in the court yard all those eons ago.
***
“Why do you refuse to be more aggressive?” Sif roared, jabbing her sword in my direction in exasperation. “Attack me!”
“I do not like this,” My adolescent voice quivered. I was merely 6, my sister 16—pugnacious as ever. “ It is booooring.”
“You are bored?” Sif sputtered, hazel eyes drawn wide. “Perhaps if you fought more valiantly this would not be so! To arms, Rayna!” She rallied her efforts once more, saber poised.
“Sif, I am just not interested. Might I go read, now?”
“Rayna, no! You cannot read! You will fight!” She shoved my shoulder fiercely. “Fight!”
Sif was seized abruptly from behind, a meaty forearm slung across her shoulders. She groaned irritably and fought to shrug off the appendage, inept for games. “Thor, you Oaf, lay off me!”
“Only if you desist your harassing of our Dear Lady Rayna.” He grinned, his teenage body bent in on itself, stopping to my sister’s height.
“She is a coward.” Sif snarled, the venom in her voice evoking a chuckle from the Prince.
“She is a child.”
“She most certainly is not!” She bickered, poking him squarely in the chest. “You are the child for intervening in endeavors that do not involve you!”
“On the contrary, Lady Sif! I am merely a Prince—a God! I adjust the rules of equality! And I ridicule your unwarranted probing!”
“Probing?!” She grit her teeth, lodging the tip of her sword under Thor’s chin. “Is this a challenge?”
I fled upon the final stretch of their banter, allowing them to their own devices. I trotted over to a spot of trees where I left my books and ventured to the main courtyard, delighting in the vast array of flowers and greenery that surrounding me. I caressed crimson moon lilies, blew upon a stray dandylion, and giggled at the absurdity of the ducks that trotted in the grass, seeking after one another. Encapsulated in bliss, I settled under the shade of the great weeping willow, stretching my short body out as I lay on my stomach. I hummed to the tune of the breeze and propped my chin on my hands, mesmerized by the words that played out before me. Lost in the words, I swung my legs. Haphazard in their execution, they fisted the air until they hit something rather solid. I winced and withdrew from my book, sitting up to cradle my foot.
“Accursed tree.” I scolded, scowling after the rough bark of the Willow.
“That was not the tree.” A soft voice amended. I whirled my head around to glimpse the youngest prince, his lips contorted in agony, clutching his shin.
“Oh, sorry, your highness.” I offered. I settled quickly back into my text only to be halted by the Prince’s grumbling. “May I help you?” I inquired, unamused.
“You nearly amputated my leg and all you offer me in a haphazard apology?” He grunted, fixating me with taunting emerald orbs. “I am a Prince!”
“Yes, and I’m a girl—who makes mistakes. Get off it, already.”
The Prince’s eyes widened minimally before he broke out into an infectious grin. “Fiesty, are we?” The young price, but mere years older than I, came to lounge beside me, pushing the hair from his face. It was long, untamed. Suiting. “What are you reading?”
“A book.” I replied, unabashed.
He chuckled. “Obviously. Is it a redeemable one?”
“Well…” I contemplated. “I suppose if you fancy distorted main characters, yes. They are all quite unique—strange.”
He pursed his delectable thin lips in thought. “Oddities compile to equate greatness, wouldn't you agree?”
I tilted my head to the side, nibbling on the idea. “They can, I suppose. It would depend on the severity of the oddity.” The Prince regarded me shrewdly, urging me with the bob of his head to continue. “Take a… Let’s take a Prince, shall we? An odd Prince. He loathes sparring, totes about insolence--wears it as an excuse to justify his mischief. This oddity serves as both a vice and a virtue. Virtuous because he could hone his talents and responsibilities and blossom or succumb to the to his excuses, bite the wrong fingers. ‘Tis an ambiguous line.”
The Prince grinned. “What about defiant adolescent who bails out of her lessons?”
“Moot point,” I smirk, plonking my nose with the pad of my index finger. “Considering the Prince does the same.”
“Clever.” He amends, stretching his arms behind his head leisurely. “Since we are both shirking our lessons, we might as well enjoy it. I’m Loki.” He beamed, inclining his head to me.
I glanced over at him fleetingly before returning to my book, the slightest hint of blush dusting my cheeks. Had I honestly acquainted myself with a future King of Asgard? “Rayna.”
***
I was jostled from my meanderings as the hearth within my quarters rumbled to life, flame engulfing the ornate structure. The flame traced the figure of a man; lithe, trimmed in muscle. I grinned in spite of myself, anticipating the reunion to come.