To be quick, yes this is a very short chapter, but consider it a prologue to the memories that will be written. This has a tiny bit of Thor 2 spoilers, so beware unless you've seen it, which most of you should have. This has been planned to have at least seven more chapters, and then after that, it will be requested memories, so ask away if there is a particular memory you'd like to see. Many memories will be linked to Behind the Trickster's Lips, so there are hints to those you will read here. Enjoy!
Memories, precious yet fading reminders of what had transpired in the past. Some treasured, some thrown aside, many wish to bury a select few into the depths of their minds, locked away. To an Asgardian, nay, to many of the realms' inhabitants, there were plenty of memories that one could make in a lifetime. However, that also hinders their ability to remember them perfectly. Many will forget the ones that were important, not in the way of achievements or other such practical things, but of simple joys that meant so much more. These memories can easily be buried, unless one brought them back to surface to reminisce. In a lifetime that is vastly greater than a mere human, those simple memories will mean so much more.
It's only when such memories can never be recreated or the feelings reproduced, that the consequences of one's actions can be seen.
Weary eyes slowly opened in the eerie absence of light, black and grey colors interchanging around him like a pulsating fog. How long has it been? His real body, he knew, was in the cell, no… Not the cell… Narrowing his eyes in concentration, the young god sat up. Where was he in his lifetime now? Whenever he found his mind slipping into this Seidr-created sanctum in his dreams, it was difficult to remember what time he came from. It happened slowly at first in is time with the Chitari, and then more in his cell, when he passed the long days when his mother…. No, when Frigga visited him. Instead of dreaming of pain, agony, suffering, the broken 'promise' that has yet to catch up to him, they were chased away by the magic he wielded.
The oppression of his memories was staggering, closing in and turning what would have been green light into the dark void it was. Memories that were locked away, ignored, once loved, they tried to force their way back into his head, demanding to be seen and heard. Odinson no longer, Laufeyson had never been his true name either, no matter what his birthright stated. Loki Son-of-no-one, the God who belonged to neither Asgard or Jotunheim, a trickster with no true home. Many times he could slip back into the dreamless sleep he so desperately craved, freeing him of the memories that were forced to play in his head again and again. Yet sometimes he wasn't as fortunate.
How could the onslaught of memories in this strange place make him forget where he was in life? He was either King now, or they have already discovered his identity, no... Loki's half-hearted laugh echoed through the air. They couldn't have. His magic and cunning was too powerful for them to sense it. They all believed him to be dead, even the All-Father had fallen prey to his faked death. Or maybe his brother had caught wind… No, he was still too thickheaded, although his illusions seemed to be less useful on him.
The God of Mischief massaged his forehead, trying to think straight in this compressing state. No matter what thought that attempted to linger in his mind, it always went back to why this strange place had been created, by himself no less. Too long he had sought to get rid of his old life, seeing how false it was. By casting away every memory that could remind him of the family he thought he had been part of - the mother who loved him dearly, the father who had once looked at him with fondness, and the brother who used to believe in him – it had been an attempt to start anew, to make his own future after being cast away.
Tired eyes closed, feeling the realm shift around him. Deep inside him there was the tiny feeling of loneliness, a small thing that he had tried to squash out of his life. Surrounded by the fading remnants of memories almost forgotten, it grew stronger. For a trickster god, surrounding himself with lies and deceit had been all too easy, but lying to himself was one of the most difficult things to do.
As much as he wanted to hate his 'family', to rage at them for being lied to all of his life, to turn from them completely, he found himself unable to. Centuries of memories of spite, envy, and hatred, jealousy and anger… But still there were too many memories that reminded him of the nicer times, childhood memories, when he was finally considered a worthy warrior. A small smile dripping of sadness spread across his pale lips, a quiet sigh whispering past them. It was to these memories that he continued to clutch closer and push away at the same time, even through the madness his life has carved out for him.
To think he still yearned for his younger days, when only envy and the occasional seething jealous rage overcame him. Tricks and pranks were all that mattered, and the brothers still stood by each other. Settling on the ground, he threw his seidr into the air to bring him out of this place. These memories were so far away, like they were someone else's now. Opening bright green eyes, he glared at the ground as he vanished. The past was too painful to look on now, and he had plans to make.
No matter how far the God of Mischief would run, he still will never be far from the memories of old. They still lurk in the shadows of his mind, waiting to be remembered in the most vulnerable of times.