Chapter 1
Prologue
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The two young princes of Asgard, one fair haired and one dark, stood side by side on the decimated field of battle. Alfheim, the land of the Light Elves had been ravaged by the dark elves who had nearly succeeded in the extermination of their race. Led by their King the remaining small faction of light elves had risen from the ashes of their realm and brought war to the peoples of the eight realms. Now, all that remained of the Light Elves had fallen in the recent battle.
In the end, it was only King Odin of Asgard's swift and uncompromising action that prevented a further loss of life within the other eight realms. After the battle, Odin called for his young sons to be brought to the field to witness the surrender of Ljosalfar, the King of the Light Elves. They were both children, but even at such a young age it was important for them understand the nature of their responsibilities across the nine realms and the realities of war.
And so, the princes stood side by side under the watchful eye and protection of General Torik himself. The older fair-haired boy watched the soldiers standing at attention, their eyes gleaming with respect and fear as they watched the Allfather. Someday he too wished to stand over a fallen enemy after defeating them gloriously in battle. The Allfather had fought with his men. He had engaged in single combat against Ljosalfar himself. Despite the fairly easy victory over Ljosalfar and his small group of elves this day would be remembered as the day Asgard had gloriously defeated the rebelling Light Elves. The young prince rested his hand against the hilt of the small dagger at his belt. Someday this would be him. Someday, he would be the Allfather and lead the charge into battle. Someday he would vanquish the foes of Asgard in glorious battle.
The younger, dark haired boy was not watching the men in eager anticipation. Instead, his eyes were for the bodies of the light elves that littered the ash covered ground. They had been all that remained of a once proud and powerful race. And now, their king knelt before the Allfather. Blood was running from unseen places beneath his armor, mixing with that of his men in the mud. Despite his young age, the dark haired prince couldn't help but recognize the waste of it all. What few that remained of the Light Elves after the genocide by the Dark Elves had been lost to the Nine Realms this day. It was the end of something, though he was too young to understand why that made him so sad.
Ljosalfar leaned forward, bracing his arm against the ground as his breath came in ragged pants. The great king was dying before their eyes, his immortality leaking out onto the dead land of his once great realm. The Allfather's spear, Gungnir, capable of bringing death to the mortal and immortal alike, was still coated crimson with his blood.
"So, it has come to this old friend," Ljosalfar gasped.
Odin shook his head, his remaining eye clouded with resignation and regret. "You brought this upon yourself and destroyed what remained of your people," Odin said gravely.
Ljosalfar barked out an angry laugh, that turned to a coughing fit. He collapsed onto all fours as blood dripped from his lips. "The Dark Elves brought it upon us all. They notched the arrow, I simply let fly the string. Mark my words Allfather, you will rue the day you did not side with me. The Dark Elves will return."
"And what of the innocent lives you took?" Odin challenged angrily.
Ljosalfar shook his head, his silvery hair coming loose from it's braid to drag through the mud. "What of the thousands of innocents among my people who died? What of them, Odin Allfather defender of the Nine Realms? My entire race! What of them?" Ljosalfar challenged, though his voice was weak with the effort it took him to speak. "Where were you Odin Bor's son when my people needed protection? All that is left now is vengeance. Who will avenge them?"
Odin's eye was clouded with shame and regret as he regarded his long time friend and ally. The Dark Elves had struck, killing the Light Elves and decimating all life on their planet before anyone knew what had happened. There was nothing the Asgardians could do. By the time the Asgardians had arrived, all that was left was to bury the dead and offer aid to the few Light Elves who remained. The loss of Ljosalfar's people had twisted his mind beyond recognition. It pained Odin's heart to see how far the Alfheimian king had fallen. "Only time will tell old friend."
Ljosalfar sucked in a ragged breath and it rattled harshly in his chest. "In the name of our friendship and the friendship I shared with your father, I have one last favor to ask of you old friend," he fell then, rolling onto his back. The effort to hold himself up too great.
Odin squatted before Ljosalfar where the once great elven king lay, never to rise again.
The two princes frowned at one another, for Ljosalfar's next words were low and could barely be heard. Both leaned forward, towards their father, eager to hear what the fallen King of Alfheim would dare ask the illustrious King of Asgard. Above them Torik clicked his tongue in disapproval and the boys snapped back into a rigid military stance. Neither was willing to appear undisciplined or childish before the great general who would one day train them.
"Take her, keep her safe," Ljosalfar gasped.
Odin frowned down at his friend, not understanding the meaning behind the elf's words at first. Then understanding dawned and he looked around at the plains surrounding them. A female Light Elf had somehow survived the massacre. It was surprising, for unlike the Asgardians or Dark Elves, the Light Elves fought side by side as equals, male and female. For one to survive meant they must have hidden rather than die beside their brothers and sisters in arms. Cowardess was the gravest of sins among the Asgardian's. Odin narrowed his eye, he would not provide protection to a coward who stood by while her people died.
Ljosalfar gestured to the mouth of a cave behind where the princes stood. The simple motion of his hand seemed to take what little remained of his strength.
There was movement behind Loki and everyone in the clearing turned at the sound coming from within the cave. There was a flash of white movement, and General Torik leapt forward, putting himself between the unknown and the princes. The massive Asgardian general slung his arm out and caught the small figure lifting it off the ground before it could approach the Allfather. The small creature started swinging her fists angrily, beating against the generals massive forearm.
Loki blinked as he realized it was a tiny, crying girl. Though all elves were small compared to Asgardian's she seemed especially tiny and appeared a few years younger than the princes. She was dressed in an iridescent white gown that moved around her like water. A small twist of gold donned her brow. She was a royal of some kind.
"Let her through," Odin commanded.
Torik lowered the girl to the ground, not looking the least bit affected by her weight or her attacks.
The girl raced forward and collapsed over the body of the elven king, her small frame shaking with the force of her sobs.
"Your daughter survived," Odin said in surprise. It shocked him even more to know that his friend had kept this from him. Had Ljosalfar come to him Odin would have offered what remained of his family asylum.
Neither Ljosalfar nor the girl paid the Asgardian king any mind. The girl fisted her hands in her father's blood soaked cloak. Ljosalfar reached a blood covered hand up and held his young daughter against his chest as she cried. He whispered useless, comforting words to her in Elvish.
Ljosalfar lifted his gaze to meet Odin's one last time.
"I swear it to you old friend," Odin vowed, slamming his fist against his opposite shoulder in salute.
Then the light left the old king's eyes and it was done.
Both Princes thought often of that day in Alfheim as they grew to be men. Thor remembered it as the first time he coveted his father's place. It was the first time he desired to lead men and achieve renown on the battlefield.
Loki remembered it as the first time he faced the true horrors of war. For the Light Elves had once been a proud, powerful race, and now all that remained of their great empire was the memory of their fallen king laying in the mud and a young girl in a white, blood soaked dress.
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