It had been a long day—an incredibly long day—but things could've been worse. It was late, but it was always late when he turned in for the night. It was his office, he set his hours, and most of the time he would rather stare out to the city than sit in his suite. Esmarina was by no means a large city, sitting smack dead in the midwest, but it was still a sight to see in the evening. It was so much different than home, despite how much he tried to forget his home.
The process of forgetting was all a lie. He spoke about the history of his people -- or what the human race believed -- every single day in his classes. He taught of the mighty Thor with Mjolnir, of King Odin and the trickster Loki. He tried to separate his family from those names, but it was harder than he had ever imagined. It was in his bloodline to be attached. It was his ancestors he was teaching about not just mythological lore.
He had tried to forget about them: his father and his brother. Though forgetting was impossible, he could push the memories back. He often found himself in old situations in his dreams. He was a child in these dreams, with his trainee magic staff that was far taller than him. It was a test of his strength which his mother had set it up, his father had said. His brother believed it was to prove that he was going to be worthy of the throne. A test of his Kingliness, or whatever. But neither was true.
He always woke up before the sword came down.
As much as he had longed to forget his brother, he couldn't. He had spent years longing for his brother to come home, and when he finally did, he'd been thankful. And he still thought about Thor almost on a daily basis. They both wore the burden of their father's love and feared his anger.
He tried to forget about few friends that he had left behind that he had spent evenings with as he had gotten older. He could still hear her voice, her laugh. He could still picture her face. His stomach twisted at the thought of her reaction to his letter.
No. He had left for a reason, after all, and those reasons were his own.
Though he had never tried to forget his mother; he couldn't, too much of him was made up of her.
His gray eyes roved stared over the city, watching the fellow skyscrapers that made up the city skyline as well as the distant buildings and homes that laid along the river. This place was so innocent, so different, so unaware of what was out there, unaware of what he was and what others were out there. The sky was colorful with the oranges and pinks that were the beginnings of a sunset, but suddenly there was a roar of thunder above his building. It shook his office and the little knickknacks that occupied his desk. The clouds moved unnaturally quick, rolling in and covering what little sunlight there was already. The orange and pinks turned into a dark and dangerous orange.
This storm was unnatural by every means of the word. There were things, people, really, that were out there that could've caused this, but the storms that most could've caused were much smaller in scale. Another roar of thunder shook his chair, and he was drawn out of his chair and walked towards his massively open window view. He placed his hand on the suddenly cold glass, watching as the rain drops drenched the outside. He suspected that had he been outside when the storm had blown over he would have been able to feel the magic stronger in the air, but it was faint enough here now. No, this was not only a person that had caused this storm but an object as well.
His mouth moved with the words of a spell he had learned long ago, one that he had never seen in use until now. His tongue grazed his lips, he ached for the taste of magic, to feel it flowing through his fingers again. It wasn't that he couldn't use magic here, per se. It was that powerful magic, like this storm, lost the ability to be subtle. Even humans could feel magic when it was this vast, and it left the risk of being detected. He had seen, and heard, too many stories about the killings of magic bearers like himself even in his world. Magic lingered on their user like a cologne, sometimes for days sometimes for minutes. All it took was one or two humans that had heard a rumor about magic to get curious when things like this happened to ruin it all.
Or one magic bearer to recognize the smell, the taste, and the thickness in the air of magic and to track that person down. However, funnily enough, it was easier than that for him. Of course, if others knew who he was, then they'd probably have expected it to be so easy. It was in his blood, after all, to recognize the power of Mjolnir.
With his arm fully pressed against the glass, he let out a soft chuckle. This had to be some sick joke caused by his Father, right? It was hard to forget about his brother's bastard; their father had loved to remind everyone how big of a mistake Thor had made. But for him to be here in Esmarina? Surely, this was some trick.
Though as he began to think about it, he doubted that his father knew, or cared, where his grandson lived despite his ownership of the family's legacy. Eighteen years. It had been over eighteen years since his father banished Thor from the human world because of his affiliates with a woman. King Odin the Mighty had not taken any pleasure in his first, and perhaps only, grandson being a half breed. He gained no pleasure when Thor gave away Mjolnir, but it had bothered Loki more than either of them. Thor had taken pleasure in the fact that his son now held their family's legendary weapon, but Thor was naive, and there was little else that Loki had expected from his brother.
Mjolnir was not just a weapon, after all, despite what his oaf of a father believed. It was a weapon forged in magic, something that King Odin the Mighty had turned his back on a long time ago. Mjolnir was not meant to be held just by an excellent warrior, but a fine mage as well. His mother had reminded him of this often when he was young after his father had expressed disgrace towards him for one reason or another.
"Whoever is found worthy, my little one, shall carry our family's weapon. Your father forgets that magic lives in that hammer, precious and old magic. The mightiest warrior can swing the hammer, but the mage will never miss."
He needed to pay his brother a visit. He sighed, and his breath fogged up the glass. Visiting his brother, unfortunately, also involved his father. He would have to grin and bear it, he decided. After all, it was for the greater good in the long run. The thought made him laugh.
He pushed himself into a standing position. If he was going back home, he was going to have to tell the headmistress of his leave. He was thankful it was summer, as she wouldn't pry too much. Professor Luke Owain didn't speak of his family often, except in his classes, of course, but no one knew the truth behind his words.
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Hope you guys enjoyed the new POV. Tell me what your predictions are for Valhalla! You guys are getting the clean, edited version. It may take me a while to go through the chapters to change all the little things that need to be changed for draft 1.5 but nevertheless I'm constantly working on this!
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