It makes her sick, the way sadness is addicting. Sadness is familiar. It's comfortable and it's easy in the sense that it comes naturally to her. But everything else about it is hard. The way her body aches with self-hatred. The way her mind spins a...
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Pretty and Perfect. That is how a princess is meant to be seen. Graceful, elegant and polite with perfect hair, perfect posture, pretty smiles and soft, spoken voices. With skinny waists, small feet and they should always smell lovely and sweet. They must only speak when they are spoken to and laugh but only when it's appropriate. But most importantly;
You must never talk back.
That is how Princess Athalia, the goddess of Magic and Witchcraft, was seen by the kingdom of Asgard. Athalia was beautiful in the eyes of everyone who saw her. She had long, silky black hair that flowed down her back in light curls, like waves rolling in the sea. Her eyes, a deep shade of blue, were the colour of the sky at midnight. Her skin glowed in the sun, showing off her clear skin and sharp jawline.
Athalia knew she would never be queen. Once she got older, it became easier to understand. It was always going to be Thor. He was the oldest, the kingdom's favourite and most importantly, he was Odin's favourite. When she was younger, Athalia's mother, Queen Frigga, would tell her that their father didn't have favourites but the goddess knew she was just trying to protect her feelings. Not only was Thor openly everyone's favourite, but he got things she never did.
Growing up Thor used to train and learned how to fight with the other warriors. She wanted that too, but when she went to her father he immediately turned down the idea, saying that it was improper to have a young princess on the battlefield. Since that day, the goddess would watch their training and then teach herself how to do it better, faster, and more elegantly. Some, if not all warriors, would say she was a stronger fighter than any of them.
Being the goddess of magic and having a witch for a mother had its pricks. When Athalia wasn't teaching herself how to fight, she, along with her twin, learn how to use magic with their mother. Over time, she learned how to control her magic. How to fight with it, create and transform things with it and she learned to see the beauty in it.
But now, the day had come. The day people had been waiting for. Asgard was going to have a new leader. A new King and Thor was going to be crowned that new King. Did Athalia think that it was the wisest choice her father was going to make? Not really, no. Was she happy for her brother? Yes, yes she was. All of Asgard was going to be there. To watch him be crowned.
As loud music played and people cheered, clapped and whistled, Athalia watched as her brother walked through the large group of people, toward their father's golden throne. He laughed, flipping her hammer in his hand, continuing to be full of himself. Athalia stood on the gold stairs next to her twin, Loki, and her mother, Frigga. The warriors three and Asgard's best female warrior, Sif, opposite them.
She wore her flood-length, flowy, dark purple dress, with long sleeves that were split down the side. Her dress hid her golden heels that matched her gold corset and accessories. Her shoulder pieces, with gains that draped down her arms, and gold rings that covered her hands. Her hair was down, curled at the ends. She had strands of hair pulled back into a waterfall-like style, with some still framing her face. On top of her head sat a small gold tiara with black gems.
