Author's Note: Welcome to Ephemeral Expectations. Before you go ahead and read, I'd like to address a couple of things:
1. I do not own the MARVEL universe in any way, shape or form. This includes the characters as well.
2. And while I did do some background reading on the characters and have decided to include some events that have occurred in folklore as well as the MARVEL universe (of course), the idea for this story is derived from my own brain.
3. If this story isn't your cup of tea, please leave it unharmed so that some other lad or lass can enjoy it to its fullest extent. Thank you.
4. The following Prologue is a Pilot Chapter of sorts. If it garners enough positive feedback/support, I'll continue.
5. Also, please understand that in an ideal world I would be updating everyday. But that just doesn't happen. Sometimes I go for a month without updating and other times I update three days in a row. My schedule is very random-you can ask anyone who reads my other MARVEL story Trading Cards, they will testify for me. Please endure with me when it comes to my rather nonspecific schedule ways. Thank you.
I think that about sums it up so sit back, relax, and enjoy Ephemeral Expectations.
Please note that this story takes place during Thor, Loki and Sif's childhood years. And while I do completely agree that it's hard to draw a line between their childhood and adulthood phases (since their supposedly over 1,000 years old), please bear with me.
EPHEMERAL EXPECTATIONS
By: The Painted Green Door
Prologue:
Year 976:
She bristled.
If Anger could be personified she would be the ideal image, the perfect candidate: the sun's rays seemed to set her golden hair aglow-each strand blazing as her slender childish hands were clenched by her sides-knuckles white from the amount of fury that ran through her bloodstream. To add upon the effect, her brown eyes crinkled from the sheer hatred that was portrayed in them, while her cheeks had (unfortunately) sprung a shade of deep fiery red.
She was Anger in the flesh.
"It's only common knowledge Sif. I don't know why you're so offended by it." Thor boasted, not seeming to care in the slightest that the girl before him was beyond irritated. Perhaps he didn't notice how her teeth were clenched or the heat that seemed to radiate off her skin, (after all, he wasn't the most observant person) for instead of comforting her he decided to carry on, "Girls can't be fierce warriors-everybody knows that. Girls do girlish things, but I'm-I'm going to be the greatest warrior of all time."
He then tossed his head, his blonde hair flopping as he straightened up into a proud heroic pose.
A mistake.
Raw anger finally exploded in her as she instantly swung her fist at his jaw-a true hit. Not enough to make him loose his balance, but enough to wake him up from his idiotic daydream. She immediately retracted, taking a few steps back as she watched his eyes widen in surprise-in astonishment.
She gasped as if she had suddenly ran the perimeter of Asgard's borders while her eyes stung from rage. She took a moment to catch her breath, not caring that he was rubbing his jaw from the sudden impact that was caused by her fist.
"I hate you Thor Odinson."
She swung herself around, marching off in a random direction. Sif didn't care where she ended up as long as it was away from him.
"Pathetic." She thought as a wave of annoyance crashed against her. She made sure her ears were at their best, since she was somewhat curious (read: desperate) at whether he would try to come after her. Letting out a small sigh she exited the courtyard where they were playing only moments ago, and made a sharp turn towards one of the neighboring courtyards. If she was in a calmer mood she would have it wasn't an ideal location if she wanted to get away from him, but instead, she was still fuming.
"He doesn't even try to apologize." She mused silently, huffing slightly at the thought. She tilted her chin upwards as she entered the seemingly desolate area. It was of no importance to her if she was friends with the pigheaded boy. She was better off without him anyway.
"I don't really care for him in the first place." She said harshly.
"Who?"
Startled, she tripped over her skirts and landed on the hard ground-pieces of gravel digging into the palms of her hand. She successfully stifled a cry as she met eyes with a pale faced boy who was hiding near the base of a wiry old tree in the corner of the walled courtyard. She frowned as humiliation started to set in, but then ignored the feeling. Sif wasn't a genius but she was smart enough to realize that she had seen this figure lurking at a distance from time to time when she and Thor played together.
"The brother." A voice whispered in her mind. She pursed her lips, not interested in dealing with another descendant of the line of Odin. But then manners kicked in, and she realized grudgingly that she should at least say something.
"Hullo." She finally said, not remembering his name.
There. She had done it. She had said something to him. Now all she had to do was excuse herself and run indoors where she would be safe from blockhead boys.
"Who were you talking about?" he asked, not bothering to return her greeting. He stretched his arms leisurely before placing them behind his head, creating the picture of someone who was cool and collected. As if he had all the time in the world.
"Thor." She found herself spitting out. She didn't know why she replied.
The girl watched as his green eyes (or were they blue? Sif settled the issue by declaring to herself that it was a mixture of the two colors) studied her cautiously. His eyebrows were arched in surprise as he stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably on the ground and found herself running her delicate hands in her tresses with anxiety.
He finally opened his mouth to reply, "Everyone loves my brother. He's the favorite, you know." He said this in a rather dull tone but Sif could hear the bitter, acidic tone underneath.
She shook her head in disagreement, "I don't like him." She paused, taking a deep breath before she ranted, "He's egotistical, and pigheaded-he isn't very bright."
Humor flickered in his eyes as he stood, slowly making his way towards where she was before halting. His blue black hair glinted in the sun for a moment-then it was over. A cloud had blocked the large star. He looked down at her, "Are you saying you favor intelligence over brute strength?"
She pondered his question carefully, dissecting each word before she lamely replied, "I suppose so. I think intelligence is needed in a king-your father is very wise. He knows when to push onwards, and when to compromise."
In the end she was proud of her answer. She wondered if her parents would have been pleased at her words. She nervously (not that she would admit it) watched for any signs of displeasure on the boy's face.
He then replied, sneering somewhat, "Are you stupid? I heard girls are stupid."
"No." she said hotly, clenching her hands into fists. Her nails dug into the palms of her skin as she tried to wrap her mind around the pure nerve he seemed to possess. He must have a great deal of guts since he asked so bluntly. She tried to say something else to add to her response, "Are you?"
"No." he replied steadily, clearly unfazed at her question. His eyes seemed to penetrate her own for a millennium. She refused to look away.
Eventually, the corners of his lips curved upwards-resulting in something that she supposed could be classified as a smile. He held out his hand, a gesture to help her up from where she currently was. She graciously took it, appreciating at how he seemed to easily pull her off the ground with a strong tug of their clasped hands (even though he looked rather skinny and frail for his age).
"Alright, I can tell you aren't stupid." He paused for a moment as if he silently reached a decision, "I suppose we can be friends." He admitted before placing his other hand on hers-her right hand sandwiched by his two. Bewildered, she could only stare as he smiled brilliantly, his teeth glimmering white.
"I'm Loki."
Note: Leave some love? Review?
Much love,
The Painted Green Door