Afi

I don’t think anyone truly knows when you can start to remember things. First memories are an allusive thing, with everyone having them at different ages. I think most of the time they’re not even real, simply something our mind has made up.

I know my first memory is real. I can’t really call it a memory, not really, it feels more like a dream. A dream I try to pull into focus, to really see the face of the magical woman who rescued me. To see the faces of those who left me alone, leaving a picture of branches swaying the the breeze above me, the sun beating down on my chubby face. Until she appears. Her face blocking out the sun. I can see her smile, a beautiful smile, one I know belongs to my queen. 

Frigga is the woman who found me, abandoned under a tree in the woodlands outside the city of Asgard. It was no special tree, just the same as those around them. Oak I think. It was not the tallest in the forest, nor the one with the biggest trunk. It did not reach its branches far and wide. It was a plain and simple tree, it still is. A perfectly fine oak to leave a completely ordinary baby boy underneath. 

It did, however, give me my name. Afi, the ancient Asgardian word for tree. My true parents never claimed me, despite the Queen's best efforts, so I was to be given a new name and a new family. 

I like my name. It’s simple, and it reminds me of where I came from. Unfortunately, it also reminds everyone else.

Thanks to Frigga’s kindness I grew up the palace, although I do hope I have plenty more growing to do. Meaning I had the misfortune of meeting the princes and their similarly spoilt friends. We are all educated together, receiving an excellent education, one I am sure I never would’ve had otherwise. I know I’m out of place, I do not belong with royalty, or the children of royal advisors and generals. But here I am, surviving alongside them.

They know as much as I do that I don’t belong, and they certainly don’t let me forget it. The eldest of Odin’s children, Thor, doesn’t approve of my presence within the palace. He will find any excuse to tell me that, to back me into a corner and put me in my place. To tease me for being abandoned by my parents. His favourite thing to do is to treat me like a servant, always asking me to carry his books, or his sword, or to fetch him food. I frown at him and do my best to ignore it, but the laughter of his friends makes that a challenging task.

His younger brother, Loki, treats me a little better. While he does not stand up for me or tell his brother to stop, he never joins in, and he certainly never laughs, something I find rather kind of him. 

Loki is accepted into Thor’s little group, but I imagine that is only because they are related. It sounds simple to say, but Loki is different to his brother, focused, knowledgable, and diligent. Knowing that his intelligence and tactics will be his best ally if he becomes king. While Thor tends to take the violent, aggressive approach, refusing to understand why he needs such a detailed education when he is so skilled with a sword.

On few occasions Loki has spoken to me with kindness, a gesture I greatly appreciate. I don’t have any friends in the palace. Or outside the palace. But our brief conversations were put to an end when Thor questioned why Loki would associate with the likes of myself.

I don’t blame them for teasing me. Not really. I’ve known for a long time I don’t belong here and have always suspected my parents were poor farmers who couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. My scrawny body is another clue that helped me come to this hypothesis. My mother said it was normal for boys of my age to be this skinny, but even compared to the skinniest of children in my class, I seemed almost sickly.

My bones protruding out of my skin, almost as if they were about to pierce right through. It was the worst on my face, skin stretched over sharp cheek bones. I had noticed other men with striking cheekbones, making them look handsome, but on me it looked strange, almost skeletal. My hair was another thing I hated about myself. It was usual for royals and those of high society to grow their hair long, girls and boys alike, but mine simply refused. The straw-coloured mop on my head never grew past my jawline, more comparable with a nest.

Even by looking at me you could tell I was out of place. Both Thor and Loki had grown their hair out the past few years, now reaching their shoulders. They weren’t skinny, but strong, well-fed boys. And they were handsome. Thor in a painfully obvious way, his blonde hair flowing down his broad shoulders, falling beautifully either side of his perfectly symmetrical face.

Thor made the girls swoon with his charm and boisterous attitude, but Loki had a quiet, calm beauty to him. He was just as tall as Thor but hadn’t bulked out as much as him. Slender but strong, with large hands that gripped his pen tightly as he scribbled notes in class. His thin frame suited him, his slender face matching. His jawline was strong, making it easy to notice when he clenched it.  

As I sit in my lessons, listening to an old man drone on about the history of Asgard, my eyes can’t help but wander to Loki. Sat to the left of me in the row in front, looking far more interested that the other pupils around him. His eyes were focused on the teacher at the front of the class, but his hand was moving frantically as he wrote down everything the man said.

Loki always made such detailed notes, something I was impressed by, despite being incredibly stupid. Sir Frode always gave much more detail than required, especially more than he ever tested on, so all that was truly required to write down were the essentials. Key dates, the names of generals and kings, and anything that Frode spent a lot of time explaining. If I missed anything, I could always search it up in the library anyway. But it was amusing to watch Loki write every single piece of information down, as if the world would end if he didn’t. It was better than Thor, who didn’t write a single word down, instead feeling the need to remind everyone that it was his father that defeated the Frost Giants, and his father that brought peace to the nine realms.

Thor was infuriately smug, constantly bragging about every single thing he possibly could. He bragged every time he got a new sword, or when his father promised that one day, he would lead Asgard to glorious battle, or that Brandt was always impressed with his fighting skill. I couldn’t say if that was true or not as I avoided the training lessons at all costs, but I could easily imagine it was. It is fairly obvious that I will never be a great warrior, as proven by my skinny arms and weak lungs gasping for breath just walking back from the library.

‘Now, we must remember that it was Odin’s bravery and leadership that brough peace to the nine realms. Once a truce was agreed between Asgard and Jotunhiem, peace was finally achieved, something we should all be grateful for,’ Frode informed the class, wrapping up his lecture for the day. This is how most history lessons went, praising Odin as being Asgard’s great leader, keeping us all safe from the darkness that lurked. There were murmurs among the class as Frode dismissed us, excitement as the school day was over.

The boys jumped up from their desks and ran off to the armoury to prepare for their training. Few girls were allowed to join them, only daughters of high-ranking soldiers were accepted into the army. Most had no interest, finding it all rather barbaric and preferring to learn other skills like healing or painting. Much more useful in my eyes.

One girl had fought her way into training, despite being the daughter of Frigga’s handmade, not a soldier. Her name was Sif and she had complained so much that Brandt had eventually yielded after she decided to attend the training lessons with or without permission. Sif fit in well with the boys, just as boastful and smug as the rest of Thor’s clique, not afraid to tell people what she thought of them, and certainly not afraid to resort to violence if anyone disagreed with her. I’m sure Brandt was now very happy with his decision to let her join his little fighting club.

I shook my head as I watched them run off, making a mess of the desks behind them. I was glad I wasn’t forced to attend these lessons, the thought of spending any more time with Thor and the others made my skin crawl, especially if weaponry was involved. I carefully packed away my notes, slipping them into my book for safe keeping. The rest of the class had filtered out now, and only Loki and I remained in the classroom.

He kept his notes in even better condition than I did, and I suppose you would if you wrote as much as he did. I glanced over at him, watching him roll up his parchment neatly and tying it together with a small piece of string. He carefully picked up his quill and ink, turning slowly to face me, forcing me to quickly look back down at the stationary in my hands.

‘You’re lucky you don’t have to attend training. It’s incredibly dull, and all the boys think they’re far better than they are,’ Loki said plainly. I was surprised that he was speaking to me, especially so freely about how he disliked the others. I hesitantly looked up at him, but not daring to look him in the eye.

‘I suppose yes, although if you were as skinny and clumsy as me you probably wouldn’t have to attend either,’ I smiled nervously. Even though we were alone, and there was no risk of anyone seeing us talk, it still felt wrong in some way. Everyone ignored me, even others that Thor found amusing to pick on, so it was always strange when someone, let alone the prince, had a conversation with me.

Loki laughed, a beautiful, charming, melodic laugh. I had made him laugh, which made my smile settle stronger on my face, the nerves dissipating slightly. ‘I imagine I wouldn’t. Maybe I’ll stop eating dessert, see if I can get out of it,’ he winked as he turned to leave. He left me there, stood in the classroom alone, still in shock at the casualness of our brief conversation. Let alone the fact he had winked at me. Loki, Prince of Asgard, had winked at me.

I walked alone down the corridors, just smiling to myself. It may seem sad that something so small could make me so happy, but it did. I was hopeful that Loki would continue to talk to me, even if it was only when no one else was around. Right now, I wouldn’t mind that.