Chapter One

Innocence

Any human can tell you (with firm resolve) that life is not fair. Ever.

I, speaking from experience, would like to take that one step further and assure you that absolutely NOTHING is fair. Not Life, nor Death, nor damned Immortality.

And now I can hear the wheels of your brain turning. You are most likely thinking that I sound impossibly bitter. If not, you're at least thinking I am impossibly bold; how else could I speak of Death and Immortality so confidently?

Unless I was a God. Which I am. Or was, anyway.

Do I sound confused? I am not confused, simply misunderstood. And I have a way of making things complicated. Am I evil? Righteous? Neutral? By the All-Father, I would rather be anything than neutral...!

Let us suffice it to say that for now I am the humble Narrator of what you are about to read. I am not telling this story to put anyone down. I am not pointing fingers at anyone. This is simply going to be an honest recollection of my past. Once you have heard it all, I will leave it to you to be the judge.

Shall we begin?

My first memory is burned into me, as vividly bright as any sun. I am lying on my back on a sort of cushion, staring up at a high, painted ceiling. Obviously I must have been an infant; I was unable to sit up or even to roll over. I remember feeling quite helpless and foolish, for I have always been an independent fellow, even then.

My clear view of the ceiling is interrupted by a face: a round, rosy face which houses a pair of strikingly blue eyes. (Naturally at the time, Reader, I did not know how to name one color from another, but I did instinctively know they were striking. It might have had something to do with his black eyelashes, I really don't know.) I stared into those eyes with fascination. I think I smiled.

"Haha!" The rosy face broke into a stupid, one-toothed grin. (And yet of course he was still handsome even then, the Bastard.) His small hand pats my head, a little too firmly. I wiggle in annoyance.

Then suddenly another face appears. This face is beautiful, serene, and smiling down at me with so much tenderness that even though I am too young to understand much about emotion, I feel the warmth of that smile seeping all through me. I know I am smiling now.

I can't recall Mother's exact words but I believe they were something like, "Not so hard, Thor. Be gentle." I do know that her voice was light and flowing, like music. I wanted to hear her speak again. I wanted to feel the vibrations of her voice against me. And I distinctly knew how I could achieve that.

I wailed.

It didn't take more than a moment, her arms gathered me up and then I was laying against her chest with her hand gently cradling my back. (And Reader, if you think I was good at getting my way then, you should see me now.)

What a lovely, lovely feeling that was, to feel comforted, favored, and safe. Oh and she was talking again, too. More like humming, she was singing a little melody to me. A breeze came in from somewhere, cool and airy like a dream. From my little nest in her arms, I glance wearily over at the smiling blond buffoon who is watching me intently with those piercing eyes. I can already tell he is annoying, but something about his charming little smile makes me feel warm, happy, pleasant.

I know he likes me. And I like him. I like both of these strange, fair-skinned beings.

If only I'd known then, how quickly that like would spin into love. And how that love would destroy me.

Oh Reader, do not be deceived by this innocent beginning.

We have only begun.