Rightful Place (Loki Fan-fiction)

Chapter Sixteen

     The blue sky was beginning to default to a light shade of red as the day started to end. The grass underneath her feet was unlike any other feeling that she had ever felt. Muspelheim was nothing like Midgard. Muspelheim was hot and dark, whilst Midgard was luxurious and, compared to her home realm, peaceful. Though not one Midgardian walked past her with a smile upon his face, she knew that they were much happier than the people of Muspelheim. Even the servants of the land looked to be at ease, if only Muspelheim was in such a serene state

     Rheda suddenly felt a soft hand upon her shoulder, which caused her to spin around on her heal in order to see who had dared to touch her. Rheda had to clasp her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming in fear. There, smack dab in front of her face, stood her dead father. Her real father.

 “My daughter, my beautiful darling, do not fret.” He spoke as he extended his hand towards his little girl’s face. Rheda, not sure if she could trust her own imagination, pushed herself away from his presence. She knew that she was in a dreaming state, but oh how she wished that that was not the case.

     Rheda longed for her father’s touch and comfort. But she feared that if she allowed for him to touch her, she would lose him forever once again. Rheda knew that her heart would not be able to bear such a tragic event.

“My daughter, why do you not permit me to comfort you?” Rheda kept her ground, knowing that her father was not the man who stood in front of her. She knew her father all too well, for he was an understanding, thoughtful, and caring man. He would never ask such an obvious and dim-witted question.

“Show yourself, coward.”Rheda demanded with a firm tone of voice. There was no way that she was going to allow for someone to creep within her head and tamper with lost memoires. No, the man who was responsible for this was going to pay.

     The man disguised as her father chuckled in her presence as if he saw her as nothing more than a bluffing child. Rheda clenched her fists in frustration as she began to grow impatient with her newly found foe.

“Show yourself! Reveal your identity to me!”

“I cannot, for if I reveal myself to you, you will become even more confused and anger filled than you already are. It would be wise to keep me in my current form. We shall save the revealing of identity until later.” Rheda growled and within a half of a second, she had her doubled edged sword shoved up against the disguised man’s throat.

“How does it feel?” He asked.

“How does it feel to threaten your birth father with your own sword? Does it hurt? Does it cause you to undergo thoughts of sadness, or regret perhaps? I know what you have done, child. I know of the darkness that lies within your heart. I have seen your handy work.”

     The disguised man ran his finger down the doubled edged sword. Rheda knew that he couldn’t have been any average eldjötnar, for not even a Fire Giant could endure the touch of her sword without receiving even the slightest of cuts. Rheda’s sword, Zerritha, was one of the strongest, most endurable weapons that had ever been fashion in all the nine realms.

“If you are not going to tell me of your identity, why not simply inform me of your race? No one can lay a finger on my blade and live to tell the tale. What are you?”The disguised man chuckled and clasped the blade within his hand, causing blood to flow down both his arm and Zerritha.

“What I am is far too complicated for your brain to even contemplate. But, because you have so desperately asked of me to tell you, I will leave you with this.” The disguised man grabbed Rheda by the collar of her cloak, and made sure to keep a firm grip on Zerritha. He knew Rheda all too well to knowingly release such a deadly weapon whilst in her presence.

“I am what you dream about in your darkest of nightmares. I am the one who destroyed everything that you held dear. I am the monster that you despise with all of your being.” Rheda furrowed her eyebrows, as she felt her heart beginning to race within her chest. There was only one person who this disguised man could be, and he isn’t even a man at all, but in fact a woman.

“Erica?” The disguised Erica smirked and then suddenly disappeared into thin air. Rheda, who was out of breath and in complete shock, fell to her knees. She glanced over at Zerritha, which was currently coded in Erica’s blood. She watched as it dripped from her mighty sword to the grassy ground beneath her.

     Rheda suddenly found herself becoming extremely emotional. No longer being able to hold back the tears, she allowed them passage through the gates of her eyes. She felt as her back began to shiver and shake uncontrollably. Rheda had never been so emotional, well, that is, not in over four hundred years.

     As she began to submit herself to the darkness of sentiment, she felt a soft hand upon her shoulder. Rheda was not familiar with the feel of her comforter’s touch. It was strange, but soothing.

     Rheda looked up in order to gaze upon her comforter’s face, which ended only in disappointment. The sun that she always loved was now standing between her and her savior. But just as she thought that all hope was lost, she heard the voice of the kind stranger. He called out to her, and even though she knew not the feel of his touch, she knew all too well the sound of his voice.

“Loki.”

     Rheda snapped her head up as she woken from a terrible dream, or was it reality? She was no longer able to tell the difference between the two anymore. Neither one made sense. Suddenly, she felt the soothing hand upon her shoulder. Slowly, she turned her hand in the direction of whence the hand was coming from.

There stood Loki.

“Hello Rheda, you must have had quite the dream, eh?” Rheda rubbed her head as she felt the hard punch of reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Right, that was the difference. Reality hurt much more than ideality.

     Sitting up, she shifted her legs off the edge of the bed and dangled them centimeters from the ground. Thinking back upon the dream, she clenched her jaw in frustration. Why was she dreaming about Loki being her savior? But most importantly, why was she dreaming about Erica disguised as her dead father? Rheda knew that the dream meant something significant, but she couldn’t figure out what, just yet.

     Glancing up, her eyes met with Loki’s. Was he truly there? Or was she dreaming again? There was only one way to find out.

     Rheda extended her hand out towards him, slowly. Loki gave her a confused look, as her hand drew closer to his face. He was about to pull away. But as he saw the look of worry on her face, he allowed for her to continue.

    Rheda flinched as she felt his cold skin underneath her finger tips. She still couldn’t be sure of whether or not her savior was actually sitting in front of her. Rheda hated not being able to tell the different from fantasy and reality. Sometimes it made for odd and awkward situations, such as this one.

     Suddenly, Rheda slapped Loki across the face. She sat there, waiting for a reaction, something that would tell her whether or not he was, in fact, there. She watched as Loki brought his hand up to his face and rubbed the spot where Rheda had slapped him.

“Darling, now tell me. Why would you slap a face that you were so eager to touch?” Loki snapped back still clenching his now red cheek. Rheda smirked. She had gotten her answer, this was reality.

“No reason, just felt like hitting someone.” She lied, but luckily Rheda was a good liar, so Loki didn’t suspect anything.