Cascades ➝ Loki

chapter one.

Alfheim. A world in which acceptance and prosperity ran thick within the veins of its people; harmoniously living for centuries. One of the nine-realms, it was littered with natural forest life, leaves giant enough to sit in, lakes that tasted oddly sweet like honey-tea, tall trees lined the grounds, and the skies were blue and silver all year round. A huge palace of glass surrounded by waterfalls reflected sunlight, and tiny wooden cabins topped the highest peaks of their mountains. It was home to the light elves, a group of luminous demigod-like beings, more beautiful than the coloured Alfheimian sunsets, a group of guardian angel like creatures who were well in-tuned with nature, art and music. It was a spectacle. It was a place for peace and love.

Nienna called out to her mother and father as she drew back her arrow broadly against her bow. They sat on the grass behind her, the sun hitting her mothers pale face perfectly and lighting up her bright blue eyes. Her father laughed and cheered her on. The arrow she had shot hit perfectly in place on the tree in front of her. Another bullseye. 

The supportive cheers from her parents were now drowned out with screams of terror. A bloodcurdling cry ripping from her mothers throat telling Nienna to run.

She ran hard but felt like she got nowhere. Her entire body shook, her arms were scratched and bleeding as she hurtled through twigs and broken trees to escape the dark force sprinting after her. Her sweaty palms gripped tightly onto her wooden arrows. Then she was on the floor, the grip of the dark elf above her pinning her to the floor by her wrists and she wriggled and screamed but no noise seemed to come out. The sharp blade of a knife pressed against the tip of her pointed ears. The sound of a fleshy crunch and weeping forcing Nienna to bolt upright.

Sweat dripped from her forehead and she calmed her heavy breathing. This happened a lot. Her nightmares had continued for years. She often became afraid to sleep, to relive it all over again, bits and pieces of her past floating into her unconscious mind as if to terrorise her, not always coherent or flowing, but always making sense to her. She sighed. She had lived in Vanaheim just as long as she had lived on her previous planet and yet still she felt so out of place and uncomfortable most nights.

As she swung her legs off of her bed, a flicker of sunlight made its way through her low hanging curtains, signalling the beginning of her morning. She drew back her curtains, the light pouring over her pale form as she took in the view of the deep seas and huge forest plains of Vanaheim. 'I'm lucky to be here,' Nienna thought as she sighed back into her pillows.

The light that filtered through the wooden window panes of her quarters bounced off of her mirror and hit her face brightly. She sighed. She hated sleeping just as much as she despised waking, having that stupid mirror show every inch of her imperfections. Light elves were supposed to be happy and bright and yet she felt dull and glum, but knew, again, she was lucky. She was lucky, and she felt guilty every time a hint of self-pity snuck up into her.

"You awake miss?" Kurt's gentle voice seeped through the concrete walls and cracked wooden bedroom door. Nienna knew he was coming to wake her – she always did. It wasn't hard to hear an eight foot Kronan coming down the Cottage hallways, especially not one as clumsy as Kurt, "Headin' out soon."

"I'm up." She called, stretching her toes out across her soft sheets. Today was the day she would visit Asgard.

Freyr had left out a dress for her, one with flowing white silk, embroidery and trimmed lace. It was beautiful, but a gown she knew was never intended for her, and one she would refuse to wear for their journey. Freyr had always wanted children and, despite getting around many women in the realms, never fathered any.

She dressed how she always did – in her deep green elven cloak and archer's wear. It was appropriate on Vanaheim, even under her position in the Cottage as a stand-in-sort-of-adopted daughter of Freyr, the future ruler of Alfheim, for her to dress as she wished. There was never judgement amongst the Elves or Vanir and they welcomed every race or being wholeheartedly. It was, despite the scars of past wars, still a world of peace and love. Asgard on the other hand was a whole other category.