Prologue
Disclaimer: I don't own Thor or anything from Norse Mythology.
She didn't understand much at her young age. The three-year-old didn't understand the need to dress up in stiff, formal clothes so that her parents could walk around the palace of Asgard and laugh and smile at people she didn't know, or the need to bow and curtsy in front of the king and queen so many times. Lady Frigga held a black-haired baby that everyone seemed excited over, but that she could hardly see even if she stood on the toes of her small green shoes. All-in-all, it was a dreadfully boring affair.
"Ow!"
Sól rapidly fell down on her backside with a small thump and a sharp pain in the back of her head. She jerked around and pressed a hand to her red braid, watching a laughing blond as he ran away from her into the crowd.
"My son has no sense of chivalry," a wry voice said in front of her, and Sól turned to see Odin tugging on her hand to help her up.
"Thanks," she replied automatically, the small courtesy put into her by her father.
She studied his eye patch. It was different than the silver one he normally wore. This one was gold and had more etchings on it. But Sól had never really seen it very closely.
"Odin!" Sól's mother exclaimed, rushing over to them in a flurry of red skirts, "I'm so sorry, is Sól bothering you?"
"Not at all," the king replied, standing up and gesturing to his wife while Sól craned her neck to look up at him, "We were just catching up."
She really didn't know what any of it meant. Sól wished that her father wasn't so far away, on the other side of the room with her older sister. He'd always held her up so she could see everyone properly at other parties. Frigga, fairly glowing in a light blue dress, her golden hair tumbling down her back, knelt in front of Sól with her baby.
"Hello darling," Frigga said, smiling gently down at Sól, who easily mirrored the look.
She liked Frigga. Odin seemed nice, but Frigga had hair like her mother's and didn't wear hard, shiny metal clothes all of the time. Of course, what Sól wasn't sure about was the baby in the queen's arms. It was very tiny and very quiet and its eyes were so blue that they were almost white.
"This is my son, Loki," she continued, holding the baby closer to her.
"He's small," Sól said matter-of-factly, warily studying Loki's short, sparse black hair.
"He's almost three years younger than you," Frigga laughed, exchanging a smile with Sól's mother, "He'll grow up. We believe Loki has a great magical gift like you do. Perhaps you two could become friends."
"Thor and Sif get along nicely," Odin commented, "They're both warriors, even at their young ages. A consequence of having myself and Forseti for fathers, I suppose."
Sól wasn't really listening to the adults. She was already bored with everything. The people in the room were starting to move around and talk and laugh, and she looked behind the king and queen to see if she could spot her father or sister. Two blonde heads darted in and out of the crowd as their owners chased each other. Sif and Thor had always been friends, even though he pulled on Sól's hair whenever he had the chance and left Sif's blond tresses alone. It wasn't fair that her sister had a best friend and she didn't, and she couldn't be friends with a baby.
Author's Note: Due to a number of messages I've received, I'm expanding my story and making it full-length. It'll stop when the movie does, as I'm going to wait for the sequel to make it canon-compliant. Also, sorry if the prologue sucks. I haven't been three for quite a long time. .