Hi guys! I know I have a million other stories to update but... this happened. Eh. Anyway, I know for a fact that the mythology I use in this is completely butchered but I took creative liberty so... yeah.
oOo
"Stableman!"
It was called in a firm voice, one laced with authority and a thick Asgardian brogue. Had he not heard it before, the stable boy never would have believed it to be a female. Its sharp yet graceful tone had only ever touched his ear in the High Court, of course, during one of his few visits.
The woman- just barely out of her adolescence, really- was possibly the most powerful non-male figure in all of Asgard, now that the queen had passed.
Having recently been promoted to Head Mage, not to mention raising six children by herself, more than proved her vast her maturity and strength.
The scrawny young man stepped forward from his place near the stable doors.
"Yes, M'lady?" the boy bowed his head in acknowledgement of the woman's high social ranking.
"Bring me a horse, Sir." The slicing edges of her tone had smoothed into a silky lower octave, affording the man the oppurtunity to meet her gaze.
"Yes, M'lady. Which mare would you have?"
"Bring me Skynda." the High Mage demanded, and after a moment of thought, added "And ready the stallion, Soltimm."
Now this, the worker mused, is a problem. Surely a woman of such grace does not wish to mount the mustang, Skynda. The wild beast found mere months ago in Vanaheim. He who has thrown every rider which attempted to tame him. That monstrous creature does not deserve to carry such a magnificent girl.
"Lady Sigyn, surely you have confused Skynda with one of our other animals. Perhaps I could fetch you the prized mare, Vaetta. She has not been ridden by anyone of the Royal Court in quite some time and-"
"Bring me the mustang, Good Sir. I wish to have Skynda and no other. Do as I say, now, before my patience leaves me."
After another silent moment of doubt, the lad scurried off to fix the two horses with their riding equiptment. Upon his return, the woman smiled sweetly at him.
"Thank you, Sir. They shall be returned by sundown, no later."
And with that, the beauty mounted that feral thing- for some reason, it didn't even make a fuss- and trotted down the dusty pathway that led back into the city.
oOo
"That was not fair! Jorgumand used his silly magic tricks on me! I would have won, had he not cast that stupid illusion on my sword!" the brown-haired child waved his wooden practice weapon in his sibling's face.
"It is not my fault you are scared of a little snake!" the older, black-haired youth exclaimed, proudly puffing out his nonexistant pectoral muscles.
"It was cheating! Padraig, was that not cheating?"
Both of the children inclined their small heads to stare heatedly into they eyes of the bulky man seperating them.
Padraig, their personal training instructor, was not unused to their squabbles. Vali and Jorgumand had similar skills when it came to combat, the only difference being that Jorgumand utilized seidr, where Vali had no interest in such a thing. The younger of the two, Vali, would often accuse his elder of foul play- and, in Padraig's personal opinion, was absolutely right- but considering who their parents were, the older man had a hunch that telling them so would be the equivilant of requesting death at the gallows.
"As I have told you many times in the past, Vali, Jorgumand can use whichever skills he pleases, including seidr."
This, apparently, was not what the child wanted to hear.
He stomped his sparring boots roughly on the ground, causing a cloud of dust to disperse, tainting the air around the three of them, and marched off to put away his oak-carved sword.
Across the training grounds, in the shadow of an old pear tree, stood Narvi, his ginger lockes falling into his eyes, only to be glued to his forehead by the beading perspiration. The orange and brown tunic he bore had melded with his skin, at this point, as he crouched down to take his brother's hands in his own.
"Come, Fenris. Learning seidr will protect you so that you do not have to be afraid all of the time!"
The toddler's stare had long since drifted to the patch of dry grass he was pulling and plucking at before his sibling had removed it from his tiny fingers.
He had wonderful magical potential- Narvi could feel the energy thrum at his touch- but the boy was bound and determined not to act on it.
Maybe Mother was right. he pondered irritatedly, Maybe he is still too young. But Father started using seidr at the age of- He cut his thoughts off abruptly, feeling tears gather in his eyes. Father.
oOo
When Sigyn trotted up to the training grounds, her peaceful mood darkened slightly.
She watched from the edge of the square, for a moment, as Vali sullenly shoved his practice blade into its holster. As Jorgumand stood, heatedly lecturing Padraig on some nonsense, and the instructor fought to keep his own temper in check. As Narvi sat against an old tree trunk casting subtle glares at his younger brother who was busy snatching weeds from the dirt.
Only when the golden-haired woman dismounted and led the two steeds over to the canopied resting area, did she catch a glance at the one she searched for.
The tall, slender, black-haired lad was stooped over the water basin splashing his face with the refreshing liquid.
For just a second, the sight gave her pause.
His pale emerald tunic, overlapped with a dark green vest gave him the illusion of being larger than he was.
Just as his Father's always did. the mage woman mused sadly.
"How fares your sparring session, Darling?" she asked.
The child did not so much as flinch at her presence. He'd known she was there all along.
So perceptive... just like someone else I know.
"I defeated Jorgumand and Vali, but Narvi tricked me into losing one of my throwing knives."
She halted. "Throwing knives?"
Her son finally turned to her with a sheepish smile.
"Padraig said I could use them with his supervision."
"And was he supervising you at that moment?"
A pause. Then, "No..."
At this, she bristled. Padraig was a good friend, but she knew he was used to teaching older children. As in, he was used to not having to watch them so closely.
"And why not?"
"Fenris got sand in his eyes, and Padraig was tending to him."
At this, there was a high-pitched sigh.
Fenris. Such a needy child. But as intelligent and talented as any other, nonetheless.
Then, upon his mother's sharp gesture to the honey-colored stallion behind him, the eldest son hoisted himself up onto the animal.
Sigyn smiled at him, though his ever-observant gaze glimpsed a hint of something troubling in the expression, and once she herself had mounted, the grin faded completely into a look of contemplation. And then,
"Let us take a ride, Sleipnir."
oOo
The paths into the deep vegetation that was the Asgardian woodland were littered with pebbles and stones- anything making it uncomfortable for travel on horseback.
"Why are we here, Mother?" the boy finally asked the question that had plagued his mind since their departure.
"Oh, no reason. I simply wished for a place of solitude to have this discussion."
"What discussion is that?"
The young woman sighed once again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
"It has been nearly half a year since your father's death."
The entire sentence tasted bitter on her tongue, but Sigyn had long since realized that forwardness was, more often than not, the easiest way to avoid prolonging painful talks.
The way Sleipnir's eyes shined with more moisture than normal also did not go unnoticed by her. It took a moment for the child to consider a response to the tragic statement, but eventually one came, in a clipped tone that did not suit him in the slightest.
"It's been only three months!"
He immediately shot her an apologetic glance. "And...?" he continued more calmly.
"It does not go unseen the way you boys tire of your practice sessions with Padraig. Even when he shows you the methods of battle used by all of Asgard's finest warriors, you still seem unsatisfied." There was a second's pause. "And reasonably so." she continued. "You've grown up with your father's guidance in the art of seidr and combat, since you were but babes. And even though Padraig has been your instructor for a little more than three years now, I can still sense your restlessness."
Sleipnir contemplated this.
"I do not understand."
She smiled sadly. "Because three years is nothing compared to several centuries."
Reluctantly, the boy nodded, but still seemed at a loss.
"Either way... Padraig cannot assist you with the art of seidr, an art I know at least three of you are very fond of. So my question is... Darling, do you suppose you and your brothers will be more content if I were to spend a little less time at the Courts and a little more time at home, teaching you?"
There was no hesitation.
Without any thought, her son's face lit up and his small head bobbed eagerly up and down.
Sigyn chuckled. "Then it is settled. I shall take leave from the Courts tomorrow."
This seemed to give the child pause, as a more conflicted look forced its way onto his usually calm face.
"But... if you do not attend Court, how will you maintain your position as Head Mage?"
His mother smiled.
My boy, Sleipnir. Selfless. Always worrying for others. Always choosing the mature way of thought. Always forced to be the mature one...
"Do not worry, Dearheart. I will still keep my rank should I choose to spend less time on duty."
Another pause, but lighter this time.
"Besides... the Court is the least of my worries at the moment. I've got to be sure you don't set Jorgumand on fire again, do I not?"
At this, they both laughed heartily at the fond memory. Well, she thought it wasn't necessarily fond at the time, but still...
Such a precious laugh, my boy has. Just like his father...
Then, for the first time in such a long while, Sigyn began to think that things would be okay. Maybe... maybe she could do this alone.
oOo
"Wow. I thought I'd be happy to hear this, but you seem a little down, there, Point Break. Want a shot?"
"I require no alcohol, Man of Iron. And have care how you speak. Loki has long been very confused, and while I agree that his actions against this realm were misguided, he died with honor. I would that you acknowledge this."
"Look, Thor, I know that you said Loki saved you-"
"He did."
Steve sighed. "But that doesn't excuse what he did here."
"Yeah, and it doesn't really matter anymore, right? I mean, if he's gone, why's it important what we think of ol' Rudolph?" Tony piped up.
"In Asgard it is important that those who die a warrior's death be celebrated."
"Sooo... what? You're asking us to throw Mr. 'Kneel Puny Mortals' a party?"
"Nay. I do not expect you to rejoice, my friends. I only wish you to reconsider your opinion of my brother."
Before Tony's flippant remark could escape his parted lips, Steve interupted.
"Fine, Thor. Even if we don't necessarily like the guy, we can still show respect for the dead."
A pause.
"And I'll see about getting everyone to hold off on the insults... at least for awhile."
At this, the golden-haired man smiled appreciatively.
"Thank you, Captain."
Leave a review and tell me what you think!
