Book One: Worlds Apart (Loki)

Chapter Nine

1010AD: Sylvie stands before a 9 year old Arkin who scuffs his feet on the ground, she raises an eyebrow at him and then sighs.

"Ark" she starts. "Did you, or did you not, release the horses from Marico's stable?" Sylvie asks him, Arkin looks away and shrugs. "Ark, we talked about the pranks..."

"But I did not do it" Arkin argues looking to his mother, Sylvie gives him a look making sure he knows she knows he is lying to her. "Very well" Arkin mumbles. "I did, but Marico was mean to Alya, he deserved it"

"Three horses died, Arkin" Sylvie argues. "That's Marico's livelihood, it is how he feeds his family, without horses he cannot pay for food, or clothing...." Arkin looks down.

"I did not mean for it to go that far" he whispers.

"I know that, my sweet boy" Sylvie assures him. "But it did....so you are going to spend the next four moons working the stables" Arkin opens his mouth to argue but one look from his mother stops him, he bites his lip. "And then after that you will help your father in the fields until Marico gets a new plough horse" Arkin nods. Sylvie lifts his chin and smiles softly at him. Every day he looks more and more like Loki, the dark hair, the green eyes, the pale skin.

"Mother?" he asks her, she smiles sadly and kisses his forehead.

"Go play, you start in the stables tomorrow" she tells him pulling back, Arkin smiles and then runs off after his friend. Sylvie smiles sadly after him as Bori wraps an arm around her from behind. "One day someone will get hurt" she tells Bori.

"He is just a child playing games" Bori offers and kisses her head. "Let him has his fun....whilst he can, soon he will be old enough to work the land with me and then all his time will be spent in the fields" Sylvie leans against him.

..............

That night: Akrin looks to his mother as she sits on the edge of his bed with him.

"I told Marico that I was sorry" Arkin tells Sylvie as she tucks him in. "He said I did not have to work with the horses" Sylvie shoots him a look.

"Is that a lie?" she asks, Arkin stares at her then nods. "What did we say about lying?" she asks him.

"Not to do it" he answers. "But I hate horses" he whines. "They smell" Sylvie brushes his hair away from his forehead.

"Then may be you will learn not to pull silly little pranks" she teases slightly and pokes his nose. He smiles at her.

"Will you sing the song?" he asks. "I cannot sleep without it" she smiles softly at him and nods.

"Very well, but you must sleep tonight, no more sneaking out" he looks surprised that she knows this. "I am your mother, I know everything" she tells him with a smirk. "Now, are you comfortable?" Arkin wiggles in his bed a little and then nods. Sylvie begins to sing to him. "The sky is dark and the hills are white. As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night, and this is the song the storm-king sings, as over the world his cloak he flings: Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; He rustles his wings and gruffly sings: Sleep, little one, sleep. On yonder mountain-side a vine clings at the foot of a mother pine; the tree bends over the trembling thing, and only the vine can hear her sing: Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; What shall you fear when I am here? Sleep, little one, sleep. The king may sing in his bitter flight, the tree may croon to the vine to-night, but the little snowflake at my breast Liketh the song I sing the best, Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; Weary thou art, anext my heart. Sleep, little one, sleep" she looks to Arkin to find him fast asleep, she smiles and kisses his head before standing and leaving the room, as she does, Arkin peeks through an eye to watch her go before getting up, he moves towards his window and glances back to make sure his mother hasn't returned before he climbs through it.

.................

Sylvie looks up from her seat and rolls her eyes looking to Bori who cleans his harvesting tools, he smirks a little.

"He is going to end up getting hurt" she scolds.

"Please" Bori scoffs. "That boy is as durable as a old Viking war ship"

"That does not stop me from worrying" Sylvie argues looking down at the embroidery in her lap. Bori smiles warmly at his wife and then goes back to his tools.