A Whole Bunch of Loki's

True to Myself

I remember spending many afternoons in Asgard's gardens, running around and playing with Loki, both of us not having a care in the world.

Even then I noticed that she was always different.

Never in a bad way, just a way that always befuddled my young mind, things that I was too young to understand or comprehend.

We were only young, barely six or seven, but I remember us being allowed out into the fields and bunching up the skirts to our dresses so we could crouch down with better ease and pick at the flowers, eager to carry a bunch back to our mothers.

Our hair was tied up to be kept out of our faces, mine in two pigtails held in place with blue ribbons and hers in a high ponytail with a green ribbon.

I remember that I'd always wanted to be like her, she was always so pretty and everyone always said so.

I wanted her complexion, her hair, her peculiar eyes that were primarily blue but could shift to green in certain lights.

The colours her mother put her in always accentuated her perfection, even at that age.

Despite our many visits over the years, I never knew just how much she disliked it.

Not until we were nearing our teen years.

By this time, Loki had taken to wearing trousers rather than skirts or dresses and had asked for her hair to be cut into a shorter style.

It had surprised me when I went for my first visit after a year or so of not seeing her, I had expected to see her in a flowing gown with her hair perfectly done up and instead was met by the exact opposite.

Often the adults would comment on what she would grow up to be like, how stunning she was sure to mature to be and how her intellect and cunning was bound to stun many a man.

I never admitted openly to how jealous it made me, but I also never knew just how much she hated how the adults would speak about her.

It was during the second night of my stay that she opened up to me, as we lay next to one another in her huge bed, the green and black duvet pulled up to our tiny chins.

She spoke my name softly and I replied with a quiet; "Hm?"

"Do you ever feel wrong?"

I frowned and rolled onto my side to face her despite the darkness shielding us from one another, rubbing away the tiredness that had been building behind my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Loki took a moment to answer, I had initially thought that she wasn't going to until she let out a soft sigh.

"Just that you aren't meant to be who you are."

"I'm not sure I follow," I shook my head.

"It's hard to explain," she said softly, "but sometimes I think there's something wrong with me."

"I doubt that somehow."

"But there must be, I want to learn to fight with Thor and practice magic, I don't want to wear stupid dresses that I can't move in, I just want to study magic and have adventures."

"You're not allowed to?"

"Father doesn't like me to," I could hear in her tone that she was scowling by this point, "he says that it's not ladylike and that Mother will teach me basic defense when I'm older, but other than that I must learn how to become a perfect lady."

"You already are a perfect lady," I laughed, "you've always been perfect."

"But I don't want to be a lady, I've told Father that and he says it's just a phase I'll grow out of."