She stands alone with her back straight in the middle of nothing and everything at the same time. She grows and she watches the world grow. The world is such a strange thing, destroyed and blooming at the same time, the more time pass, the more she wonders. Why? Why can the world still be so hopeful?
Nobody understands her, and she's not sure if she really wants someone to do so. She had always been a strange one after all, born in the wrong place. She's not an Aesir, yet, they keep her. She's a bird in a cage, a golden cage. Her world isn't the place for her kind. She doesn't look like the asgardien kin. She always too much something. Too short. Too fragile. Too pale. Hair too dark and teeth too sharp. Too smart. She could have been great in another place but she's not there.
She stands in the middle of her own little universe. She's gold and charcoal. She's light and she's darkness. When she cries, everything bloom, like an unnatural spring. When she smiles, hell falls upon the rest of the world. She's fire and she's hell, she's ice and she's loneliness, she's magic and the purest sin anyone had ever seen. She's a strange one, Onheil Lokidottir. She's a strange one and she's alone.
She always mess everything up. She's a wreck, she's tangled in her own web of lies and disappointment. She wonders if she can really do anything like everyone's expect her to do. She feels like a kid most of the time, she doesn't even know when her childhood started or ended. Queen and mother by twelve is not an easy thing. She had been afraid and tearful but her father's gentle whispers and promises of great powers and visits from him helped her walk to the aisle. But that night when everything was over and she was staring at the golden celling, she knew he was lying, Loki Odinson wasn't called silver tongue for nothing.
She doesn't blame her husband, he was a kid too after all, barely sixteen to her twelve and she hadn't expected anything from him. She supposes they are kind of friends now but it stills feels strange on her tongue. Friends. She never had any. She never needed them. But she's practically sure you don't let your friends knock you up. But it's a deal after all. A kingdom for another. They're partners.
Onheil loves painting, they are far more eternal than she'll ever be no matter the great length of her life. She has many one from various period of times. They are her brothers and sisters, her sons and even her. They're also the painting she made back in the renaissance days, in her drawers, hidden behind complicated runes and numbers. Because this painting is only for her too see, for once she felt pretty when she saw it for the first time, it was her little secret. One of her many secrets.
Sometimes she's afraid to lose control, to go back to her primal instinct. She had the right genetic for all, it's hidden in her blood, and it's running in her veins and in her genes. It's coded inside her DNA. She's never gonna behave as she thinks she always should, she'll always be far more capable of bad than good. Underneath it all she's just a savage, hidden behind skirts, lipsticks and marriage. How can people expect anything at all from her? She just an animal still learning how to crawl. She feel like a collared beast, refraining her true self.
She has nightmares about it but in the morning when she wakes up and see the familiar metal arm at the corner of a street she squeals with childish delight because the owner of that arm is just as damaged as her, maybe more. And if broken was a form a form of art, they were the greatest masterpiece the world has ever seen.
When their lips move together in this unknown rhythm that create all sorts of new feelings inside, Onheil doesn't feel alone in emptiness anymore. She's in an unknown place, but for once, it feels like home.