Makutu ☆ Thor: Ragnarok [DISCONTINUED]

eight

EIGHT
A REALISATION, OF SORTS
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The sun shone from its midday position through the stained glass window in the princesses bedroom and cast glows of reds, greens and purples across the golden room. Rán stared at herself in the mirror as her mother stood behind her and groomed her matted hair. The wooden chair was uncomfortable and she was bored, having given up counting the brush strokes in her hair once she reached three hundred. Frigga looked as mournful as she felt and her eyes seemed bloodshot as she continued to brush Rán's hair. Her eyes occasionally flickered and met Rán's in the reflection, but she never held her daughter's gaze, as though she couldn't look at her for too long. Rán understood why. She supposed she should've felt sick to her stomach, but instead she couldn't feel anything.

The air was brisk and her skin was so pale that she could see the veins underneath it, freezing to the touch. She found a comfort in tracing the veins on her wrist, as though they reminded her that she was real and alive. She felt neither real nor alive, but rather like she was a walking hallucination, a dream. Frigga let out a shaky sigh and Rán's gaze flashed up to her mother's reflection. A tear fell from Frigga's eye and Rán broke their gaze as a feeling of uncomfort swept through her.

"I just don't understand why they'd do this to you." Frigga said softly as she ran her hands through Rán's now silky hair.

"I was nearly murdered and all you care for is my looks." Rán said with a hollow voice. It never felt like it was truly her speaking anymore, like she was far away. A breeze drafted through the room and Frigga shivered, but Rán remained impassive, as though the cold didn't touch her. Though summer never really seemed to end on Asgard, the Queen had tried to ignore the fact that the room was freezing cold and she could see their breaths in the air. It didn't work as Frigga looked through the reflection into her daughter's sunken eyes and sighed.

"That's not true." She said thinly.  "It means that whatever happened, happened on a much deeper scale - much more than an assassin. Nobody does this to somebody, Rán, without a motive. Nobody has the time to. Assassinations should be a quick job, in and out. I've seen enough in my lifetime to know the truth." Frigga's hold on her daughter's hair got tighter, and in the smallest, farthest depths of Rán's mind, a small grain of fear got a grain larger. Her breathing halted for the slightest moment until her mother's grasp pinched her hair and a small groan of discomfort emitted from the princesses throat. Frigga let go and stepped back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't vent. I'll leave that to the court, though I can't say your father will let me speak over his beloved knights." Rán remained silent as she stood up and slipped on a robe.

The two walked through the castle halls, where the sun shone brightly and Rán found herself breaking into a light sweat as haunting thoughts flooded her mind. Did her mother know more than she let on? Did she know what really happened that night? She should've felt afraid, afraid that if they knew the truth then she would be executed. Instead, she was curious - how much could she get away with? Why are they covering for her? She looked to her right as they passed her favourite courtyard and saw how Thor was flirting with an unknown lady before he saw them pass by the balcony. She looked forwards again with a scowl on her face whilst he quickly dismissed her, much to the lady's dismay.